Alex Deavers’s eyes narrowed. He studied Stoney and looked to Violet.
“If there’s no treasure, then why do you guard this ol’ place like yer keepin’ watch over a gold mine, Stoney?” he asked.
“Ol’ Bud asked me to, Alex,” Stoney explained. “It was Bud Chisolm who had this house built, lived in it with his wife and family ’til they died of the consumption right after the war. He made me promise I wouldn’t let nobody harm it or disrespect his memories. I swear it. Now…put that gun down. You can blow a hole right through me if ya want, but I don’t want ya missin’ and hurtin’ Violet.”
“It’s true, Mr. Deavers,” Violet said. She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “And even if it wasn’t, what in tarnation are you thinking?”
He was silent for a moment. Violet saw his eyes fill with tears. “I’m thinkin’ I miss my wife, miss her company. Velma Wilson says she’s already been married to one man who didn’t have a dollar in his pocket. She says she won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Then she isn’t worth worrying over, Mr. Deavers,” Violet said. “Any woman who would put money over the love of a good man isn’t worth a second look.”
“I know yer lonesome, Alex,” Stoney began. “Ol’ Bud was lonesome too. But you’ve got friends…just like he had.”
“You sure there ain’t no treasure, Stoney?” Mr. Deavers asked as he lowered the rifle.
Stoney nodded. “Bud told me the house itself was his treasure—the memories of the happy life he lived here with his wife and children.”
Mr. Deavers wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes. “I-I don’t know what come over me,” he choked. “All at once I feel like I just woke up from a bad dream. What was I thinkin’?” he said, dropping to his knees in the grass.
“You were grieving for your wife, Mr. Deavers. Lost in the pain of your grief,” Violet said. Although she was still trembling from the fear of seeing a rifle pointed at Stoney—although she was furious with Mr. Deavers—suddenly she did understand where his madness had originated.
“I promise you, Alex,” Stoney added. “Mrs. Velma Wilson would never have been able to fill that loneliness yer feelin’ over losin’ Mrs. Deavers.”
“I can’t believe I tried to rob ya, Stoney Wrenn,” Alex mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief of his own actions.
“I can’t believe you took a shot at me,” Stoney said.
All at once Violet could not restrain the emotions she’d been holding in. Bursting into tears, she threw herself into Stoney’s arms, clinging to him desperately.
“I was so frightened!” she whispered.
“It’s all right, sugar,” Stoney said, placing reassuring kisses in her hair.
“I’m a yeller-bellied coward, Stoney,” Alex said. “I’ll do whatever you and Coby Fisher decide I should do. But I never took a shot at you. This rifle ain’t even loaded. It wasn’t me that shot at you the other night, though I was here. I about dropped dead from thinkin’ that whoever it was coulda shot me easy as anything.”
“What?” Stoney asked.
Violet didn’t want to let go of him; she wanted to stay safe in his embrace forever. Yet as she heard Alex Deavers step up onto the porch, Stoney released her to accept the rifle as Alex handed it to him.
Stoney checked the rifle.
“It ain’t loaded,” he said to Violet.
Violet looked to Mr. Deavers. He shrugged and said, “I noticed the two of you weren’t at the picnic no more. I figured you were off somewhere together. I figured you were too all wrapped up in each other’s arms somewhere private, that you’d be too distracted to be watchin’ the house, Stoney.”
Violet blushed. They had been wrapped up in each other’s arms—she and Stoney—and it had been wonderful!
“I’ve seen Jimmy Ritter out here at night with ya, but he was at the picnic—him and that little Asbury girl makin’ eyes at one another. I figured it was as good a time as any to come lookin’ for Buddy Chisolm’s treasure. I just brung the rifle in case I needed to look like I could shoot somebody…though I’ve always known I never could.”
“But somebody took a shot at me last week. I got the graze on my shoulder to prove it,” Stoney said.
Violet began to tremble. If it wasn’t Mr. Deavers who shot at Stoney, then who did? Was he in danger still?
“I’m afraid that was me,” Coby Fisher said, stepping out from behind a nearby cottonwood. “I was out here keepin’ watch that night. Stoney had been naggin’ me like an old woman,” he said, smiling. He looked at Mr. Deavers and explained, “I seen you sneakin’ around in the dark. Couldn’t make out who you was, just knew you was tryin’ to get inside this ol’ house. You was comin’ up behind Stoney, so I took a shot at you…but I missed and hit Stoney.”
Stoney inhaled, an attempt at calming his temper. Violet watched as his eyes narrowed at Coby Fisher.
“You shot me?” Stoney growled. “You told Alex about Buddy’s treasure? I just gotta say it, Coby. You need to work on yer sheriffin’ a bit.”
“Don’t I know it,” Coby said. Coby looked to Mr. Deavers. “I always wondered how I found my way to my bed in the jailhouse that night, Alex,” he said. “I don’t even remember leavin’ the saloon.” He shook his head shamefully. Coby looked up at the old house. “So that’s it? That’s all? The treasure Buddy was talkin’ about before he passed…was just this old house?”
“The real treasure is buried out in the graveyard with him,” Stoney said. “He just didn’t want anybody treatin’ his memories bad.”
Coby nodded and looked to Violet.
“I heard stories of a girl Stoney Wrenn used to run out with when he was a child,” he said. “Buddy Chisolm said you two were purty near in each other’s pockets all the livelong day. I guess that hasn’t changed much.”
“And it won’t,” Stoney said. He looked to Violet and smiled as he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.
Coby nodded—even smiled at Violet. “I knew it, that day you were talkin’ to me and Stoney Wrenn waltzed up,” he said to her. “You started into chokin’ on that piece of butterscotch, and he whapped you on the back like he’d done it a hundred times before. Then he just put another piece of candy in your mouth without a word…and I knew, I knew all them stories Buddy Chisolm used to tell me about Stoney Wrenn and Violet Fynne were true…and that I might as well just step back.” He chuckled and winked at Stoney, “I know how mean yer fists are when it’s over a girl that you don’t care a lick for. I wasn’t about to go up against you over this one.” He laughed, and Stoney chuckled. “Sorry about the bullet graze, boy,” Coby added.
Stoney nodded and offered Coby a hand. “Let’s call it even. I give you the beatin’ of yer life, and you added to my collection of scars.”
Coby laughed, accepted Stoney’s hand, and shook it firmly.
“I guess I’m off to jail then,” Mr. Deavers said. “I’m ready to go, Sheriff.”
Stoney shook his head, and Violet wiped an empathetic tear from her cheek.
“I remember listening to ol’ Bud tell me about his pain, that killin’ pain he felt when he lost his wife,” Stoney said. “He used to tell me he wished he woulda died along with her, that he done some right insane things just after she passed, that he was so lonely he could hardly breathe at times.” He glanced at Violet; his eyes narrowed. “It was a pain I understood, a pain we shared,” he said.
Violet smiled at him, letting her eyes convey her promise to never leave him again.
Stoney was quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, he looked up, smiled, and said, “Let’s just call this one even too, Alex. You just keep that butterscotch jar stocked full, and we’ll just forget all about it. Nobody will ever have to know. The four of us will keep this a secret.” He looked at Coby, adding, “All of this. We’ll keep this whole mess to ourselves: Buddy’s treasure, the drinkin’, the trespassin’. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”
Coby chuckled. “Sounds good,” he said.
“Alex?” Stoney asked.
“Yer…yer just gonna let me go, Stoney?” Mr. Deavers asked.
Stoney smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Mr. Deavers’s shoulder. “You remember that time when I was, oh, about six years old?”
Mr. Deavers frowned as if struggling to remember.
“My daddy had just given me a good lickin’, and I come into yer store cryin’ and snifflin’. You gave me a hug, a pat on the head, and three lemon drops. ‘Yer a good boy, Stoney Wrenn,’ you told me. ‘And you’ll be a better man than yer pa—a good, kind man to be trusted and admired.’ That’s what you said to me, Alex. I’m guessin’ you don’t even remember that…but I do.” Stoney gazed at Violet. “I got everything I want. Let’s just call it good and get on with it.”
He kissed her then—Stoney kissed Violet square on the mouth, right there in front of Mr. Deavers and Sheriff Fisher. She wasn’t bashful in accepting his kiss either—or in returning it. His lips were warm, his mouth so familiar.
He smiled at her, rested his chin on the top of her head, and whispered, “I love you.”
“Sheriff…Mr. Deavers,” Stoney said. “I promised Violet she could see the inside of the house again before nightfall. If you don’t mind, we’ll be about our business.”
“Of course, Stoney,” Mr. Deavers said. “Of course.”
Coby Fisher winked at Violet. “Miss Fynne,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. He looked to Stoney and added, “Stoney.”
Stoney nodded, and Violet watched Mr. Deavers and Sheriff Fisher head off toward the road.
The sun sat very low on the horizon. Violet drew Buddy Chisolm’s letter from her skirt pocket.
“Will we make it before sunset?” she asked. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. The curiosity will drive me mad!”
Stoney chuckled, took her hand, and led her to the enormous front door of the old Chisolm place.
“What on earth would he have to say to you in there?” he said, nodding toward the letter as he led her into the house. “And why read it here? Is he plannin’ on hauntin’ us or something?”
“To Violet Fynne,” Violet read aloud as she looked at the envelope once more. “This is Bud. I wrote this letter for nobody but you. So take it and Stoney to the old place. There’s a room there that I like…it’s my favorite. Stoney knows which one. Open this letter in my favorite room just before sunset.” Violet smiled at Stoney. “Which room was his favorite? He says you know.”
Stoney smiled, his mesmerizing eyes burning with gladness.
“I do,” he said. “It’s the bedroom, his and Sanora’s. He always said it was his favorite. He said they’d lie in their bed at night, gaze up at the stars, and talk about their children, the crops, just whatever they wanted to talk about.”
“Well, let’s hurry. The sun is beginning to set!” Violet exclaimed. Hitching up her skirt with one hand, she pulled Stoney toward the staircase. Quickly they climbed the stairs and hurried to the bedroom they’d stood in earlier in the day—the room where Stoney had told her all his secrets of the light of the lovers’ moon, the room where he’d told her he loved her.
Warm light flooded the room—the soft, orange light of early sunset. Violet was astonished at how much sunlight the room captured. It glowed with a welcoming embrace somehow.
“Open it,” Stoney said.
Violet nodded and tore one edge of the envelope away. She pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and began to read.
“Miss Violet Fynne,” she began, “I know you’ll be back for Stoney…’cause I know you love Stoney Wrenn about more than anything, even if you wasn’t full grown when you left Rattler Rock. I also know that the two of you was meant to be together…forever…just like me and my beloved Sanora. In knowing that, I’ve been wishing there was something I could leave to you…to you and Stoney…something that would forever remind you two of me, old Buddy Chisolm, who loved the two of you like you was his own children. I left my land and stock, even this old house, to Stoney. Tell him he can do whatever he wants with it after you get back to him. If he wants to he can sell it…or just let the varmints move in. But I’d like to see him living in it, know from my seat in heaven that this old place will be filled with love again. The choice is his, but I left something in the house for you, little Miss Violet. I left the most beautiful part of the house to you ’cause it reminds me of you, all sparkling with life and love. I left the stars for you, Violet Fynne. They belonged to my Sanora. Many were the nights me and my Sanora would lay in our bed, held warm in each other’s arms, and gaze up at the stars. We’d point to one and name it for a memory we’d shared, then we’d point to another and name it for another memory. The biggest star we could see was the memory of the first moment we saw each other, the first moment we fell in love. Look for the star that shines the brightest. That’s our love, mine and Sanora’s, and it’s yours too, yours and Stoney’s. You and Stoney do whatever you want with Sanora’s stars. I’m giving them to you ’cause she’d want you and Stoney to have them…and so do I. They’re yours to dream under or scatter to the wind. You just remember old Buddy Chisolm knew you’d be back…and that you’d be lying safe in Stoney’s arms under Sanora’s stars one day. Remind Stoney he’s my boy and I love him. Have him kiss your pretty face for me and tell you I love you too. Now, the two of you children, hop up on that old bed and wait for sunset. Count them stars and remember the old man who loved you.”
Violet brushed the tears from her cheeks and looked to see the plentiful moisture gathered in Stoney’s eyes.
“He wants you to live here,” she whispered.
“He wants us to live here, Viola,” he said. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Oh, how she loved him! How had she lived ten years without him? In that moment, she couldn’t believe she had managed it.
“And he’s giving me the stars,” Violet squeaked, her throat tight with emotion. “How sweet, to give someone the stars. What a heavenly gift.”
“Leave it to ol’ Buddy to turn to romance on his deathbed,” Stoney said, smiling at the memory of their dear, departed friend.
Violet glanced out the window. The sky was orange and pink and lavender. The sun had begun to set.
“It’s setting,” she said. She frowned. “Will we be able to see the stars through the window?”
“Maybe that’s why he said we have to stretch out,” Stoney said. “Maybe we gotta be lower or something.” Stoney hunkered down for a moment. “A body can’t see stars by the light of sunset anyway. I don’t know what he was talkin’ about.”
He stood straight and glanced about the room. He chuckled, smiled at Violet, and took her hand. “Come on. I guess this’ll be the first time we’ve shared a bed in long time.”
Violet gasped and slapped his shoulder playfully. “We haven’t ever shared a bed, Stoney Wrenn. My reputation is entirely unsoiled.”
“What about that time you had that fever?” he said, leading her to the bed in the very center of the room. “Remember? I snuck in yer window and stayed the night with you…in your bed.”
“I was seven years old!” Violet exclaimed.
“It still goes toward sharin’ a bed,” he said.
Violet watched as he rather flopped down onto the bed.
“Ahhh!” he sighed as he crossed his ankles and tucked one hand behind his head. “Come on now, Viola. Buddy said to hop up on the bed and gaze at the stars with me.” He patted a spot next to him on the bed.
Violet bit her lip, completely enchanted. There wasn’t any place she would rather be—couldn’t imagine a more beautiful heaven than lying in Stoney Wrenn’s arms every night forever. Violet lay down by him and kissed him sweetly on the cheek as the light in the room grew warmer.
“Well, ain’t that something?” Stoney said.
Violet gasped as the light in the room seemed to intensify. Instead of growing dimmer, it was almost as if the room had been built to capture the last, most radiant sunl
ight of the day.
Violet glanced toward the window. The brilliant rays of the setting sun danced through the room, the sky outside a perfect gold woven with deep scarlet clouds.
“I still don’t see any stars,” Violet said.
“Oh my hell,” Stoney swore in a whisper. “That ol’ son of a gun!”
“What?” Violet said, looking to Stoney. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he stared at the ceiling. Stoney began to chuckle, and Violet followed his gaze—gasped as she saw the ceiling, the twinkling stars imbedded overhead. The ceiling of the room was painted a deep sapphire blue. A very detailed moon was painted there as well, and littering the portrait of a night sky were tiny flashes of light—stars—stars made of something that sparkled like the heavens.
“What is it?” Violet asked as Stoney rose from the bed, still staring at the ceiling.
He laughed. “It can’t be,” he whispered. “I-I always thought he was just tellin’ tales.”
“Tales about what?” Violet asked, rising from the bed herself. Stoney went to one corner of the room and picked up an old trunk. Returning to the bed, he sat it on the bed just at the foot. Violet watched as he stepped up onto the bed and then the trunk.
“Buddy Chisolm? That rich young man from New York City?” Stoney began, running his thumb over one of the stars in the ceiling. He chuckled and looked to Violet. “Ol’ Buddy Chisolm made his fortune mining diamonds!” He shook his head. “I always thought he was just feedin’ me a trough of hogwash. But he wasn’t. I think these are diamonds, Viola!”
“You’re teasing me,” she breathed. Stoney shook his head, however, and offered her his hand. Violet stepped up onto the bed and then the trunk. As Stoney helped her balance on the trunk, she looked more closely at the stars imbedded in the ceiling.
The Light of the Lovers' Moon Page 20