Rising, Meg took the clothes from him. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."
Blushing, Tom cleared his throat.
"Since you said you'd been watching Clay work, I was wondering if you knew anything about our little girl's marker his pa didn't make it, did he?"
Meg hesitated, wondering how Clay would feel about their knowing the truth. She hoped if these people came to know him as she did, perhaps the hatred would melt away. "No, his father didn't make the marker."
"Didn't think so. I was walking through the cemetery, lookin' at the markers his pa made, the ones he made. The ones Clay made look different. I can't explain it, but it's as if he put his soul into it."
"Carving is very special to him."
Nodding solemnly, he settled his hat on his head. 'Tell Gay that when it's time to harvest, I'll help him with his fields. It's the least I can do to pay him back for the marker."
"Would you do me a favor?" Meg asked.
"Sure."
"Would you run out to the Holland farm and let Lucian know what happened?"
"I'd be happy to, but John and Caroline Wright already went. Caroline said she'd watch the twins if Lucian wanted to come in." He smiled and shrugged. "Reckon some of us are startin' to see things a little different."
He left, and Meg returned to Clay's side. She brushed the hair off his brow. The bloody and bruised knot near his temple frightened her. She had a feeling it frightened Dr. Martin as well.
Leaning over, Meg combed her fingers through Clay's hair again and again. "Please, Clay, I know you're tired of fighting, but please fight once more for me. Wake up so we can go home."
The pounding in Clay's head increased as he opened his eyes. Yesterday was a haze. He remembered Meg kept prodding him to wake up. Every time he did, she kissed him and told him to go back to sleep.
Her actions made no sense.
When Dr. Martin woke him, he'd ask Clay how many fingers he was holding up. Clay figured that as a doctor, the man would be smart enough to know how many fingers he was shoving in Clay's face.
He preferred for Meg to wake him.
He eased his legs off the bed and pressed his hands to his temples. He didn't remember coming home, but home he was.
He stood and walked to the chair where someone had left his carefully folded clothes. He worked his way into them, fighting the nagging ache in his head.
He opened the door to his room and gazed into the living area. A small smile crept across his face. Meg was bending before the hearth, humming.
He thought he could enjoy waking to the sight of her every morning for the rest of his life. The pain in his head increased. He needed to talk to her about that. He has reasons why he couldn't marry her, but he couldn't remember what they were.
Turning, she saw him. A beautiful smile eased onto her face. None of the reasons he had could have been strong enough to fight the lure of that smile.
She crossed the room, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him tenderly.
"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked.
"My head hurts a little."
"You should sit down." Taking his hand, she led him to the table and pulled out a chair.
He eased down. "Something smells good."
"Mr. Tucker from the general store brought over a box of supplies this morning. He said when you feel up to it, to come see him, and he'll extend you credit."
The pain in his head increased as he furrowed his brow. "Why'd he do that?"
She sat in a chair and folded her hands around his. "Maybe because you saved his granddaughter's life yesterday."
"His granddaughter?"
"The little girl you threw yourself over yesterday was Helen's daughter, his granddaughter."
"I didn't know Helen had a daughter."
"I imagine there's a lot about these people you don't know, and some of them are anxious to change thai."
Clay rubbed his brow. "What's that infernal pounding? I thought it was in my head"
Laughing, Meg rose from the chair and pulled him to his feet. "Come outside and I'll show you."
They stepped onto the porch, and Clay stared at a sight
he'd never expected to see again. People were milling about on his land.
His old bam had been torn down. A new frame had already been put up. He recognized Sam Johnson, Tom Graham, and John Wright as they pounded boards into place.
He saw Robert Warner. And then he heard Kirk's father issuing orders, and he felt a lump form in his throat.
Women were setting food on a table beneath the shade of a tree. Children were laughing, playing, and carrying water to the men who were working.
He wondered briefly if they thought he had died and had come to celebrate. "Why are they here?" he asked.
'To welcome you home. Mr. Lang brought some lumber from the mill this morning, and they came to help put up a new bam," she said.
"I can't pay for the lumber."
"Mr. Lang said not to worry about it Your credit is good with him. Besides, he figures it won't be much longer until you're family anyway."
He snapped his head around and glared at her. His head rebelled at the movement. "What does he mean by that?"
She smiled, and the pain in his head eased. "He gave Lucian his blessing to marry Taffy."
Clay pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Meg, what happened yesterday? Or have I been sleeping longer than that?"
Her smile increased. "Nope. Just one day."
Dr. Martin ambled over and held two fingers in front of Clay's face. "How many fingers do you see?"
'Two. Doc, what's going on?"
Dr. Martin shoved his hands into his pocket and looked toward the barn. "Amazing, ain't it? Meg said some things yesterday that got these good people to thinking. You
putting that little girl before yourself got them to understanding." Dr. Martin laid his hand on Clay's shoulder. "Between you and me, Clay, you weren't the only one who could have gotten to her in time, but you were the only one who tried." He dropped his head. "Reckon I'd best go look for Pru. Seems she found out how the fire in Johnson's field got started, and that wild boy of hers was behind it. She's decided she needs me after all. Hope I can adjust to married life."
Clay watched him walk away. Everything had happened too quickly to be true. He couldn't believe
He heard tiny footsteps patter across the porch. He looked down to find a small girl wrapping her tiny hands around his large one. She looked up at him and smiled. "You're my hero."
Clay shook his head. "I'm not a hero."
"You saved Melissa's life," Helen said quietly as she came up behind her daughter. "That makes you a hero."
"I'm shellin' pecans so Miz Meg can make you a pie," Melissa said.
"No, she ain't," Josh said. "She's eatin* 'em. Me and Joe are shelling 'em."
"I don't mind if she eats the ones I shell," Joe said. "I think she's got the prettiest eyes I ever did see." He took her hand. "Come on, Melissa. You can finish helpin' me with the pecans."
"Will you be my hero, too?" she asked as she followed Joe.
"Yes, ma'am, if you want."
Clay looked toward the bam and studied all the activity. "Is your father here, Meg?"
"No, but it doesn't matter."
"It does matter."
"Not to me. You're all that matters to me now."
Holding Taffy's hand, Lucian walked over to the porch. Clay didn't know his brother could produce a smile that big.
"Ain't this something?" Lucian said as he brought Taffy against his side.
"Who raised the shutters on the shed?" Clay asked.
Lucian turned red. "Kirk's father asked if he could raise the shutters so people could see the monument Meg said it would be all right"
Meg slipped her arms around Clay's waist. "You might as well get used to it. People are going to be looking at your monument for a long time."
"It was never meant to be mine, Meg. Yours, theirs, but not
mine."
"God damn it!" Lucian growled. "I can't believe he had the nerve to show up here!"
Clay followed the direction of Lucian's heated gaze. Daniel drew his horse to a halt beside the barn. Meg tightened her hold on Clay's waist.
Daniel walked toward the barn. All the working men stopped pounding their hammers and walked to the other side of the bam, leaving him standing alone, facing a partially completed wall.
Meg sighed. "I guess it is true. You reap what you sow."
"I could tie a rope around him and drag him off," Lucian said.
"Why would you do that?" Clay asked.
Lucian released his hold on Taffy and jerked his hat off his head. "He nearly killed you yesterday. He tore down your wall of the barn at the Wrights'. Hell, he was probably here the night they attacked you."
"Is that true?" Josh asked as he sidled up to Clay. "'Cuz if it is, me and Joe got a plan."
"What's your plan?" Lucian asked.
"We wait until he's built his side of the bam, then we tear it down."
Clay eased Meg's arms away from his waist. "Nope," Clay said. "That won't do."
"How come?" Joe asked.
"Because this matter needs to be dealt with right now."
"What are you going to do?" Meg asked.
He touched his fingers to her cheek. "See if I can build one wall while tearing down another."
Walking toward the barn, he could smell the scent of freshly cut lumber. She rushed to his side and slipped her hand into his. "I'll go with you."
"You don't have to," he said.
"Yes, I do. I need you, my brother, and everyone in this town to know that whatever whatever you decided regarding Daniel I'm standing beside you."
Slowly, he nodded. "All right."
Daniel had just carried a piece of lumber to the side of the bam by the lime Clay arrived with Meg beside him. Daniel placed the board against the frame before meeting Clay's gaze. "Heard they were gonna build you a bam," he said quietly. "Thought I ought to help."
"I'd like to help, too, but I can't hold a nail." Clay jerked Daniel's hammer out of his grasp. "But I can hold a hammer. I just need to find someone willing to hold the nail for me."
Daniel's gaze darted over to Meg, then came back to Clay. "Reckon I could hold the nail for you."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Clay said. "You realize, of course, that years of pounding on rocks has given me a powerful swing. I miss the nail, I'll break your hand."
Daniel's Adam's apple slowly slid up and down. "Reckon you know I'm the one who put the knife through your hand
so I won't hold it against you if you do end up hitting my hand," he said in a quivering voice.
Clay smiled. "I'm glad to hear that." He tilted his head toward the unfinished barn. "Shall we?"
Daniel took a nail out of his pocket, knelt beside the board, and positioned the nail.
"Hold the nail tight and don't move your hand," Clay said.
"Clay," Meg said quietly.
He glanced at her. "Don't distract me, Meg. I need to keep my attention focused on my task because I know exactly how much courage it look for your brother to come here today."
Clay brought his arm back. Daniel took a deep breath, turned his head toward the board, and closed his eyes. Meg balled her fists and pressed her lips tightly together to keep from crying out. Clay swung the hammer, and the frame rattled as he drove the nail home.
Daniel stared at the nail that was now halfway embedded in the wood. In disbelief, he looked at Clay. "I thought"
"You thought what?" Clay asked.
"I thought you'd hit my hand."
"Why would I do that? I love Meg. I'd like to marry her, but I won't unless you and your father give us your blessing. Think you could talk your father into giving us his blessing?"
Nodding, Daniel wiped the back of his hand across his moist eyes.
Stepping away from the wall, Clay staggered. Meg and Daniel reached for him at the same time, grabbing his arms to steady him.
"You tore down your wall," Meg said with tears in her eyes. "Now, let Daniel finish building this one. You need to rest."
"Not yet. I have one more thing to do," Clay said.
Daniel released his hold on Clay, but Meg kept her fingers wrapped around Clay's arm. Clay lifted his brown gaze to the blue heavens. Then he lowered his gaze to the cornflower blue eyes of the woman he loved.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
She smiled tenderly. "I'll marry you in the center of town with everyone watching."
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and deeply.
In front of her brother.
In front of her friends.
Her mouth was hot and moist, and he drank of her sweetness.
He felt her breath, as gentle as the wind, caress his face.
He heard her quiet sigh as soft as the leaves rustling in the nearby trees.
And the promise of a night filled with the scent of honeysuckle wafted around him.
* * *
Epilogue Summer, 1870
Sitting on the bench. Clay studied the monument.
The dappled moonlight filtered through the abundant leaves and danced along the stone.
He'd regained full use of his hand by the time he was ready to carve the finishing details. Sometimes, his hand ached, and it still cramped if he worked too long, but the pain was worth the accomplishment.
He'd given Kirk what he'd asked for Meg as she was the last time he gazed upon her for eternity.
He heard the scattering of leaves and the snap of twigs as someone neared.
"I thought I'd find you here," Meg said softly as she sat beside him.
He draped his arm around her and drew her into the nook of his shoulder. "I like it best at night. I can't see all the mistakes."
"You're the only one who sees the mistakes. The people around here think it's perfect. That's why they wanted the monument in a special place where they could come and reflect on the past and remember their sons."
"So you suggested the land surrounding our swimming hole."
"It seemed appropriate, since their sons came here to discuss 'men' things. Besides, we won't be using it anymore."
He kissed her cheek. "We might if we come back."
"Will we come back?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know, Meg. I got into the habit a few years back of not thinking past today, but I'll need a place to work once I've learned all I can at the university in Germany. Besides, I like Texas granite."
She nuzzled his neck. "I've grown rather fond of it myself."
"And fond of me?" he asked.
"Especially fond of you." She kissed him slow and leisurely to prove her words. Then she nibbled on his ear. "Why don't we finish this at home? My shoulders are beginning to ache."
He laughed. "I have an ache myself."
"I'll be happy to rub it."
Giving him a smile that promised heaven when they got home, she rose from the bench and walked to the monument. "Come along, Kirk. It's time to go home now."
The little boy hunkered down before the monument shook his head vigorously and ran his hand over the carved letters. He was only two years old, but already his hands were becoming as rough as his father's. He loved the feel of stone and carried broken pieces in his pockets.
"Weed," he said.
"Didn't your father read it to you when he brought you here?"
He shook his head, and Meg looked at Clay. He shrugged. "We knew you'd be along eventually, and he likes your voice better than mine."
She held out her hand. "All right, then. Let's start at the beginning."
She led their son to the front of the monument, and Clay heard his small voice ring out, "My name."
"That's right. Kirk. Kirk Warner is the man on the horse."
Clay listened as she filled the night with the names of those with whom he'd played as a boy. They'd leapt into manhood with courage. War had denied them the sweet rewa
rds of a long life.
Clay stood and walked to the monument as Meg and Kirk walked around the comer. He knelt beside his son and together they trailed their fingers over the letters. Clay cleared his throat as he did every night before he read these words to his son. "Within the shadows of honor, courage often walks in silence."
Beneath the words, he'd inscribed the names of Will Herkimer, the man they'd tortured beside him, and Franz Schultz, whom they'd hanged because he wanted to work a stone quarry and didn't believe in the war. Every name on the monument represented a man who had given his life standing for what he believed in.
Lifting his son into his arms. Clay unfolded his body and wrapped his hand around Meg's. Slowly, they walked away from the monument. He felt his son's head grow heavy on his shoulder and knew he'd fallen asleep as he did every night. Clay wasn't even certain if the boy knew how to fall asleep in bed. He always drifted to sleep on Clay's shoulder, and Clay would tuck him into bed in the room he shared with the twins.
Tomorrow, Joe and Josh would leave with them. Lucian and Taffy would stay behind to manage the farm and raise their own family.
Stopping, he drew Meg against his side. They turned to look one last time at the monument they'd created together. Like their love, it would survive the storms that swept over it.
"We'll come back, Meg."
Reaching up, she caressed his face. "Wherever your dreams take you. Clay, that's where I'll go."
"They'll bring us back here."
With his arm around her, he led her into the shadows where their dreams waited.
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