Authors: William W. Johnstone

A Lone Star Christmas (31 page)

BOOK: A Lone Star Christmas

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“I'm still Tom,” Tom said. He looked at Maria. “Maria, are you not in any discomfort?”

“No, Doctor,” Maria answered in a calm and strong voice.

“Did you feel no pain during all that?”

“I felt no pain,” Maria said.

Tom looked around for Balthazar. “How did you do that? That's a trick I'd like to ...”

Balthazar wasn't there.

“What the? What happened to Balthazar?” Tom asked.

“I don't know, I didn't see him go,” Smoke said. Smoke walked over to the door of the barn and looked outside. “His horse is gone. Funny he didn't stay around long enough to see that the baby was born.”

“I have an idea that he knows,” Tom said.

“How?”

“I don't know, how did he do anything?” Tom asked.

“Oh,” Rebecca said, as she examined her locket watch by the light of the fire. “It is after midnight. Today is Christmas!”

“Clay,” Maria said, holding the baby close. “Isn't it wonderful? Our baby is a Christmas baby. We will name him after my father. We will call him Emanuel.”

Live Oaks Ranch, March 15

Big Ben Conyers stood out in the little cemetery that had grown up on his ranch. Behind him, he could hear the music and the celebration of the upcoming wedding. But for now, he was communing with his old friend Dusty.

“I wish you could be here for this, Dusty,” Big Ben said. “You were one of the first people to tell me that Tom Whitman was a good man. I should have listened to you earlier, I would have saved a lot of time, and a lot of heartbreak.”

“Pa?” Dalton called to him, and Big Ben turned toward his son.

“Pa, they're goin' to be startin' the weddin' soon.”

Big Ben smiled. “Well now, we sure don't want to miss that, do we?”

Dalton returned his smile. “No, sir, we sure don't.”

The parlor of The Big House was decorated with bluebonnets, tulips, jonquils, hyacinth, and greenery. All the furniture had been removed from the parlor so that additional chairs could be brought in. There were several rows of chairs and they were placed in the shape of a fan, with an aisle through the middle. Every ranch hand was present for the wedding, the cowboys pulling at the discomfort of unaccustomed collars and ties. Neighboring ranchers, and friends and business acquaintances from town were there as well. Also present, having come by train from Boston, were Tom's parents, Dr. Thomas Royal Whitman and his wife, Caroline.

Duff MacCallister had come back from Chugwater, bringing Meghan Parker with him this time. Falcon was here as well, and so were Smoke, Sally, and Matt. Duff was wearing the kilt of the Black Watch, complete with a
sgian dubh
, or ceremonial knife, tucked into the right kilt stocking, with only the pommel visible. He was also wearing the Victoria Cross, Great Britain's highest award for bravery. He had his bagpipes, and after all the chairs were filled, he stood at the front of the room, and off to one side. Then, at a signal from the Episcopal priest who would be conducting the wedding ceremony, Duff began to play the haunting strains of Pachel-bel's
Canon in D.

Tom, wearing a tuxedo, stood in front next to the priest as Sally, Maria, Meghan Parker, and Candy processed up the aisle, along with Smoke, Clay, Falcon, and Dalton. Rebecca had asked Candy, her friend from the Lucky Chance in Dodge City, to be her maid of honor, and Tom had asked Dalton to be his best man.

When the bridesmaids and groomsmen were in place, Duff moved from the haunting melody of Pachelbel's
Canon in D
to the stately melody of Wagner's
Wedding March
.

As the music started, everyone turned to see Rebecca, her long auburn hair back to its original length, coming up the aisle on the arm of Big Ben. The train of the wedding gown was such that it was almost as if she were gliding up the aisle, rather than walking.

When Rebecca reached the front, Tom turned, and they both faced the priest. In his opening remarks, the priest issued the charge that if anyone present, or either of them, knew any impediment as to why they may not be married they should confess it now. With no impediment spoken, the priest turned to Tom.

“Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Tom said.

The priest turned to Rebecca.

“Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Rebecca said.

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

“I do, with great pride and immense joy!” Big Ben said, his booming voice clearly heard throughout the entire room. With a big, proud smile on his face, he placed Rebecca's hand in Tom's, then he withdrew to sit next to Julia, who was wiping away tears.

Tom and Rebecca then faced each other, and repeating after the priest, declared to take each other as husband and wife according to God's holy ordinance.

“Who has the ring?”

“I do,” Dalton said, stepping forward to hand the ring to Tom.

Tom slipped the ring on to Rebecca's finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said.

“For as much as Tom and Rebecca have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce that they are man and wife. The bride and groom may kiss.”

Tom and Rebecca sealed their marriage and their love with a kiss, and then, amidst the applause of those gathered, hurried from the parlor into the living room where the reception was to be held. Here, too, all the furniture had been moved out, and at the back wall was a long table covered with a white linen cloth. A huge wedding cake sat at one end of the table, and a large punch bowl was at the other. Above the table, on the wall, was a long, painted banner.

CONGRATULATIONS TO DOCTOR AND MRS
. TOM WHITMAN

Tom and Rebecca cut the cake, then fed each other a piece, then Maria began serving the others.

“Hold off on that punch,” one of the cowboys called. “I want to see Dalton drink from it first.”

Those who knew of Dalton's “joke” at the town dance last summer laughed, then explained to the others what it was about. Laughing, Dalton strode over to the punch bowl, poured himself a cup, drank it, then held the empty cup.

“Delicious!” he shouted.

As the reception continued, many of the guests came by to talk to the guests of honor.

“I have to tell you, Tom, that when you first showed up, I didn't have any idea what kind of cowboy you would be,” Big Ben said. “But you turned out to be as good as any cowhand I've ever been around, and I've been around some good ones, including Dusty. So if you ever get tired of being a doctor and want to ranch again, you will always be welcome at Live Oaks.”

“I wish Dusty and Mo could have been here for this,” Rebecca said. “Dusty was here from the time I was a very young girl. He was something special.”

“Mo was too,” Dalton said. “I guess you could say that Mo was my best friend.”

“Let's have a drink to them,” Clay said. “Wait, I'll get ever yone's attention, and we'll all drink to them.”

Clay whistled loudly, and all conversation and laughter stopped as everyone looked over to see what it was about.

“Ladies and gents,” Clay said. “As most of you know, we lost two good men bringing the cattle down from Dodge. I'm talking about Dusty McNally and Mo Coffey. I know they would have given anything in the world to be here now, and see these two get married. So, if you don't mind, I'd like you all to raise your cups so we could have a drink to them. Then maybe, take just a minute to think about them.

Everyone raised their cups.

“To Dusty and Mo,” Clay said.

“To Dusty and Mo,” the others repeated, as one.

From the back of the room, Duff began to play
Amazing Grace
. The first sound was from the drones, then, fingering the chanter, Duff began playing the haunting tune, the steady hum of the drones providing a mournful sound to underscore the high skir-ling of the melody itself. It was so beautifully played that it took on the aura of a prayer, and when he finished, Father Sharkey, the Episcopal priest who had performed the wedding ceremony said, “Amen.”

“Amen,” the others said.

Awhile later, Dr. Thomas Doyle Whitman, Tom's father, came over to talk to the bride and groom.

“You're sure now, Tom, that you don't want to come back to Boston to practice? I know the chief of surgeons at Mass General and I'm pretty sure I can get your old position back.”

Tom laughed. “Since you are the chief of surgeons there, I'm sure you can,” he said. “But I like it here, in Fort Worth. I only hung out my shingle two months ago, and already I have built up a pretty good practice.”

“But, son, Texas? You are giving up Boston for Texas?”

Tom recalled something that someone had told him on the train, the first day he came in to Texas.

“Well, Mister, I'll tell you true, you ain't goin' to find any place better than Texas. And any place in Texas you decide to stop, is better than any place else.”

“What?” his father asked, confused by the response.

Tom put his arm around Rebecca and pulled her closer to him. “This is where I want to be, Dad. And this is where I intend to stay.”

The elder Dr. Whitman chuckled, and shook his head. “Then I won't try and talk you out of it,” he said. “But when the children start coming, you won't forget about your mother and me up in Boston, will you?”

“I won't let him forgetâDad,” Rebecca said.

“I saw the baby you delivered in the barn on Christmas Eve,” Tom's mother said. “What a beautiful child he is.”

“It wasn't Christmas Eve, it was Christmas morning,” Rebecca corrected. “Emanuel is a true Christmas gift.”

“I'm proud of you son. I don't know of another surgeon in the country who could have done that.”

“I had help,” Tom said.

“I know, you had Rebecca and the others with you.”

“No,” Tom said. He pointed up. “When I say I had help, I mean I had help.”

PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone's outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone's superb storytelling.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

The WWJ steer head logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

ISBN: 978-0-7860-2909-9

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BOOK: A Lone Star Christmas

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