Epilogue
Wind from the mountain peaks rushed cool and sweet over the land, setting yellow aspen leaves to dancing. Ishmael’s head came up and his nostrils flared as he caught the familiar scent of the man and woman who walked together into the meadow. Behind them, at the edge of the forest, a large log house and barn gleamed in golden shades ofunweathered wood. Window glass from Denver sparkled like jewels in the sun, a wedding gift from Wolfe.
Ishmael watched Caleb and Willow approach for a moment longer before the horse lowered his head, snorted, and resumed cropping the rich grass of high-country autumn. Aroundhimgrazed four Arabian mares whose bodies shielded and nurtured the foals they would bear in the spring. Nearby, tall Montana mares with rangy lines and deep chests grazed in the lush basin. They, too, would bear foals when winter released the country from its white embrace. Cattle grazed at the south end of the winding meadow, their bodies fat and sleek with the bounty of Colorado grass. Long rows of meadow hay lay drying in the sun, sending the fragrance of a captive sun across the land.
Caleb lifted Willow over the brook that sang down from the forested canyon at the end of the basin. Smiling, she wound her arms lightly around his neck and watched the tawny eyes of the man she loved. A circle of gold gleamed on her left hand. The ring was made from nuggets Reno had found in a high, hidden valley.
«And by next year,» Caleb continued, brushing his lips over his wife’s, «the home pasture should be fenced. Until then, Ishmael will have to keep an eye on his mares.»
«He’s done a good job so far,» Willow said.
Caleb grinned. «I can’t argue that. My Montana mares might have been bigger than what he was used to, but it didn’t put that stud off his stride a bit.»
Willow tried not to laugh, but the gleam of amusement in her husband’s eyes was too beguiling. Laughing softly, she kissed the line of his jaw.
«Will it put you off your stride when I get big?» she asked against his skin.
Caleb went very still and his arms tightened. «Are you going to get big?»
«Come spring, I suspect I’ll be as big as any of the mares.»
«Are you certain?» he asked, trying and failing to keep the concern from his voice as he remembered his sister.
«I’m strong,» Willow whispered. «Don’t worry, love.»
Joy and fear were mixed in the tawny intensity of Caleb’s glance as he looked at the woman who had become the center of his life.
«I’ll be with you,» he said simply.
*
AND he was.
Their first child was born when high-country streams ran full with the wild rush of spring. Like the brothers and sisters who followed, he grew tall and strong and straight, fed by the dean western land and the love that wove brightly between Caleb and Willow Black.
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