his old friend, he shook his head. During the war, Hank had always been on the skinny side. Now, his girth seemed to have grown with the size of his store. "By the looks of things, I'd say you're doing fine for yourself."
"Good enough. We get lots of travelers pressing through to California here. Business is good. So good I'll likely never leave Santa Fe. Where you headed?"
"Colorado."
Hank whistled low. "It's gonna get colder."
"That's a fact." Clayton looked at Vanessa again. Remembering just how little he'd stuffed in that pillowcase, he said, "We're going to need a few things. My wife needs a coat and thick gloves. Do you know anyone who could help her out?"
"Me, for one. I've got some ready-made things out back. A girl named Callie sews them up real fine. You staying at the Las Brisas Hotel?"
"We are."
"I'll send her over to the hotel with a couple of things later on. Mrs. Proffitt can pick and choose there."
"Sounds good."
Clayton watched Vanessa, fingering the bolts of fabric with a rapt expression. Her purely feminine interest brought forth a pull of possessiveness. Though their circumstances were rocky at best, Vanessa had somehow become his wife. His, for the world to see. He felt a surge of pride.
Lowering his voice, he said, "Hank, we got married a few days back, but I didn't have a ring. You got any?"
"Always." Hank chuckled. "I'd hardly be worth my weight if I didn't have some on hand. We get our share of shotgun weddings out here." After unlocking a safe, he pulled out a thin gold band. "Will this do?"
Fingering the band, Clayton felt the metal heat up under his touch. Though there was no fancy scroll work, nothing to signify it as different from any other wedding band, Clayton knew it was the right choice. It represented the vows he'd said, the companionship he felt with Vanessa, and everything he'd hoped their marriage could one day be.
A long-forgotten quotation from 2 Corinthians came to mind. " I will gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well." How true those words felt right at that moment!
When he realized Hank was still waiting for a reply, Clayton nodded. "It'll be fine." Reaching into his pocket, he asked, "How much do I owe you?"
"Not a thing. This is my treat."
Surprised, Clayton tore his gaze from the ring. "Hank, that's not how I do things."
"Good, 'cause this here's my store. It's how I want to do things that counts."
Clayton felt shamed. Was it that obvious he didn't have a lot of extra money? Pulling out his roll of cash, he prepared to salvage his pride. "I don't want charity."
"I'm not offering you charity." Hank stopped the gesture with a hand to his arm. "It's for payment due," he muttered, his voice turning serious. "I owe you, Captain."
Memories of patrolling East Texas hit him hard. In an instant, Clayton could feel the hot, sticky humidity, remember the feel of chiggers on his skin and the terrible gnawing of ever-present hunger settling in the pit of his stomach. They'd been desperate, indeed. His boots had worn out, his uniform was long gone, and only a handful of bullets resided in his pockets. The only thing any of them had had in abundance was respect for one another. "We're both lucky to have survived.You don't owe me a thing."
"I know you don't want to speak of it, but we both know better. Those days when you read the Bible to me, talked to me about your faith and Jesus . . . it got me through more than you'll ever know. Your words pulled me along and carried my weight, Captain. I'll never forget."
Since Vanessa was approaching, Clayton slipped the ring in his pocket. "Then I'm much obliged."
"What was that all about?" Vanessa asked as they walked toward the hotel.
Still stung by the memories, Clayton pushed them away."Nothing. Just talk from the war."
"Hank rode with you, too?"
That surprised a chuckle from him. "No. He was a farmer."Images of them both, far younger and greener, floated back.Hank had been married to Penny, the
"Good enough. We get lots of travelers pressing through to California here. Business is good. So good I'll likely never leave Santa Fe. Where you headed?"
"Colorado."
Hank whistled low. "It's gonna get colder."
"That's a fact." Clayton looked at Vanessa again. Remembering just how little he'd stuffed in that pillowcase, he said, "We're going to need a few things. My wife needs a coat and thick gloves. Do you know anyone who could help her out?"
"Me, for one. I've got some ready-made things out back. A girl named Callie sews them up real fine. You staying at the Las Brisas Hotel?"
"We are."
"I'll send her over to the hotel with a couple of things later on. Mrs. Proffitt can pick and choose there."
"Sounds good."
Clayton watched Vanessa, fingering the bolts of fabric with a rapt expression. Her purely feminine interest brought forth a pull of possessiveness. Though their circumstances were rocky at best, Vanessa had somehow become his wife. His, for the world to see. He felt a surge of pride.
Lowering his voice, he said, "Hank, we got married a few days back, but I didn't have a ring. You got any?"
"Always." Hank chuckled. "I'd hardly be worth my weight if I didn't have some on hand. We get our share of shotgun weddings out here." After unlocking a safe, he pulled out a thin gold band. "Will this do?"
Fingering the band, Clayton felt the metal heat up under his touch. Though there was no fancy scroll work, nothing to signify it as different from any other wedding band, Clayton knew it was the right choice. It represented the vows he'd said, the companionship he felt with Vanessa, and everything he'd hoped their marriage could one day be.
A long-forgotten quotation from 2 Corinthians came to mind. " I will gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well." How true those words felt right at that moment!
When he realized Hank was still waiting for a reply, Clayton nodded. "It'll be fine." Reaching into his pocket, he asked, "How much do I owe you?"
"Not a thing. This is my treat."
Surprised, Clayton tore his gaze from the ring. "Hank, that's not how I do things."
"Good, 'cause this here's my store. It's how I want to do things that counts."
Clayton felt shamed. Was it that obvious he didn't have a lot of extra money? Pulling out his roll of cash, he prepared to salvage his pride. "I don't want charity."
"I'm not offering you charity." Hank stopped the gesture with a hand to his arm. "It's for payment due," he muttered, his voice turning serious. "I owe you, Captain."
Memories of patrolling East Texas hit him hard. In an instant, Clayton could feel the hot, sticky humidity, remember the feel of chiggers on his skin and the terrible gnawing of ever-present hunger settling in the pit of his stomach. They'd been desperate, indeed. His boots had worn out, his uniform was long gone, and only a handful of bullets resided in his pockets. The only thing any of them had had in abundance was respect for one another. "We're both lucky to have survived.You don't owe me a thing."
"I know you don't want to speak of it, but we both know better. Those days when you read the Bible to me, talked to me about your faith and Jesus . . . it got me through more than you'll ever know. Your words pulled me along and carried my weight, Captain. I'll never forget."
Since Vanessa was approaching, Clayton slipped the ring in his pocket. "Then I'm much obliged."
"What was that all about?" Vanessa asked as they walked toward the hotel.
Still stung by the memories, Clayton pushed them away."Nothing. Just talk from the war."
"Hank rode with you, too?"
That surprised a chuckle from him. "No. He was a farmer."Images of them both, far younger and greener, floated back.Hank had been married to Penny, the
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