The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

Epilogue

May 1867

The sun hung high in a brilliant cloudless blue sky early one afternoon, the first day of warm weather after a long, brutal winter.

Quincy and several of the newly hired ranch hands had left with the thaw in March and were halfway to St Louis with the two hundred head of cattle they were driving to market, and provided all went as well as everyone hoped, Declan planned on making the trip with them next year.

Between heeding his uncle's directive for light duty with minimal weight bearing and with Quincy and the boys gone, Declan's days were busy, even with a significantly fewer head of herd to care for.

Allowing the other hands to roam afield while he stayed close to home today, he finished his chores as quickly as possible, exited the barn, and rolled the doors closed as the warm breeze carried Eldon's peels of contagious laughter to him. Then, turning, he chuckled as he approached the porch near Luella.

"Hello, sweet Girl," he murmured, crouching to bestow an affectionate scratch behind her ears before straitening to his full height and leaning his right shoulder against a supporting column, waiting for his cue to join in the fun as a slow smile crept across his face.

It was something he found himself doing for no particular reason over the past several months, starting Christmas Eve when he and Wren confessed their love for one another and continuing when Kildare dropped by in February to announce a guard at Fort Bulldale had killed Chet and two other prisoners while the three men attempted escaping.

Then Declan's smile became a near-permanent fixture as Wren's expanding belly provided evidence that their little family would be adding a tiny human in August—confirming their night of warming had changed things between them more than they had realized, and they couldn't be more pleased.

But the excitement and joy of expecting a baby aside, Declan was more than willing to admit his newfound bliss and contentment came from loving Wren with his whole heart, savoring the feel of her against him every time he touched or held her, and thoroughly enjoying each day as it came instead of worrying about the future—more difficult some days than others to accomplish—but a feat he applied himself to with fevered tenacity.

"This can end peaceably, Leftboots," Wren cackled, loading her slingshot with a large pinecone and taking careful aim. "Admit I caught you red-handed, and accept your punishment."

"NEVER—YA AIN'T GONNA TAKE ME ALIVE, SHERIFF WREN," Eldon hollered with a giggle as he ducked behind a cottonwood to avoid getting pelted.

"We'll see about that," Wren chuckled. "You got nowhere's to run—Marigold the Merciless has abandoned you, and I'm burstin' with ammunition."

"She wouldn't," Eldon declared as he poked his head around the tree, his face lighting up as it fell on Declan. "WHY SHE DONE DOUBLE-CROSSED ME AGAIN," he dramatically wailed, "AND BRUNG GOBBY GOO ALONG."

His lips twitching with mirth, Declan swaggered over, Luella keeping pace with his loose-hipped gait until he stopped and winked at Wren, "What do we have here, Sheriff?"

"Oh good, I was hopin' you'd show up," Wren smiled, and the blinding force of it sank deep, warming Declan to his soul. "Caught him tryin' to rustle one of the four apple pies I'd made 'specially for the picnic when I wasn't lookin'."

"No," Declan gasped. "Why that's the foulest of crimes worthy of receiving the severest punishments I can think of."

"And they're all near perfect, too," Wren beamed at him over her shoulder, loading her slingshot again. "Luckily, I caught him 'fore he defiled it with fork or finger."