Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Forty-One

A/N: After five and  half months of feeling like a medicated zombie, I have finally stopped taking my bipolar meds (I'm going to find other less damaging ways to manage my disorder) and the urge to write is returning! I hope y'all enjoy the chapter. 

Chapter Forty-One

Zachary stood beneath the large oak, his back resting against the rough bark as he puffed the cigarette between his lips for all he was worth. Lamp and lantern light illuminated the darkening park. Water trickled in the large stone fountain and the aroma of flowers filled the evening air.

It hadn't been hard to decide that this was where he wanted to become Samantha's husband. Neither of them were church going people and most of their most loving and intimate moments had taken place outdoors among nature. And so, Zachary had found a preacher, found the nicest place in the park, and now was simply waiting for his woman to show up.

"You sure you don't mind sharing your wedding?" Timothy asked, tapping his fingertips on trousers of his dapper black suit. Zachary was wearing a similar suit and he felt awkward as hell.

"Of course, I don't mind. I would want you here as my best man even if you weren't getting married."

"Why don't you look nervous?" Timothy demanded, tapping his fingers harder. "I'm scared as hell the woman is gonna change her mind."

Zachary blew out a long puff of smoke. "She would be a fool to change her mind, Tim. She would never find a better husband than you'll be to her."

Tim's green eyes widened. "Oh..." He smiled. "Thanks Zach.. that means a lot."

Zachary tipped his head. "I mean it. And if it makes you feel any better, I am nervous." Something he wouldn't have admitted to most people. "Nervous that something will happen to take this away. I just want to marry the damn woman and get our lives started. I've wasted too much of my life and lost too many things in my life and I'm not eager to waste or lose anything else."

Tim nodded as he patted Zach on the back. "You won't lose anything else. Neither one of us will. Only good things for Zachary Marston and Timothy O'Neil from here on out."

A chuckle rumbled from Zachary's chest. "That sounds damn good, Tim."

Tim put his hands in his pockets and rocked back. "Sure does. Don't it?"

The clearing of a throat behind them reminded Zachary that the preacher was there. He turned to face the man who offered a friendly smile. "Do you men want to say special vows to your ladies or simply repeat simple ones after me?"

"I'm not much of a public speaker." Zachary shook his head. "I'll just repeat after you."

"Me too." Tim agreed.

The preacher nodded and went back to scanning a piece of paper. Zachary took another puff of his cigarette. "I'm surprised you don't want to say your own vows," he admitted. "You've always been a talker."

"Haha." Timothy kicked at the stones. "There's a lot I'd like to say but Eleanor is a lot like you. She's not much for public speaking."

Exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke, Zachary smiled. "Don't worry, Tim. You'll have the rest of your life to talk the lady's ear off."

Silence fell between the men. In the distance the faint laughter of children could be heard as could the din of the city. Zachary hated cities. He was growing more and more anxious about the fact that Samantha was out in that city without his protection. Sure, he knew Sam could handle that gun of hers just fine but Zach knew all too well that an evil enough group of men wouldn't be deterred by a woman with a gun—Clinton Matthews and his followers were evil enough men.