“Evangeline Keating,” he said, when he finally released her from the delightful command of that kiss, “will you marry me?” His grin was as broad and bright and hopeful as a summer sunrise.

She laughed aloud, and spread her arms, whirling once in a great, spinning turn of gladness. “Yes!” she shouted, to the sky, to the future, to Scully. “Yes, yes, yes!”

* * *

The wedding took place that very afternoon, in front of the fireplace in the Springwater station, with Jacob McCaffrey officiating. A tearful June-bug served as a witness, as did Big John and the lovely Tessa, who had since exchanged her trail clothes for a crumpled calico dress taken from her saddlebags. Abigail stood on a chair throughout the short ceremony, just to Evangeline’s left, listening as raptly as if she herself were the bride.

The interval was dreamlike for Evangeline; she had expected, after all, to take another man for a husband. God and the fates had stepped in, however, and when Jacob pronounced it so, she was Scully’s wife. His bridegroom’s kiss was a chaste one, there being witnesses present, but it promised a great deal.

Evangeline was flushed when she turned to smile at the applauding wedding party. Scully immediately reached for Abigail, holding her on his hip the way he generally did. Evangeline planted a light kiss on her daughter’s forehead.

“Is Scully my papa now?” the child asked, her eyes wide and eager as she looked at her mother.

Scully gave Abigail a hug, set her on her feet, and crouched down to look into her small, earnest face. “You’re my little girl,” he said. “You had another daddy before, and you mustn’t ever forget him, because that wouldn’t be right. He’ll always be a part of you. But if you’d let me stand in for him, and serve as your papa, I’d be right proud.”

Abigail beamed, while Evangeline dabbed away tears with the verbena-scented handkerchief June-bug pressed into her palm. Abigail kissed Scully’s freshly shaven cheek. “All right,” she agreed, with a sort of merry solemnity, “but you can’t spank me. Not even if I’m very, very naughty.”

Scully laughed and raised one hand, as if to give an oath. “No spankings, I promise.” At that, Abigail extended her own small hand, and they shook. The agreement was made.

There came a round of hearty congratulations after that—it was a blur to Evangeline—like moving through a dream. Big John’s voice filled the station; he slapped Scully’s back and gave Evangeline a smacking kiss on the cheek. Despite the way she’d dreaded his arrival, she found herself liking Charles’s cousin, and she hoped that he and Tessa would have a lot of happy years together.

Word of the marriage spread through the surrounding countryside, in that mysterious, brush-fire way it had, and people began to arrive for the celebrations, honoring both couples. All were clad in their Sunday best, and one family of homesteaders, Tom and Sue Bellweather, brought their young daughter, Kathleen, who was but a year older than Abigail. Trey Hargreaves stopped by to offer his congratulations to Scully, bringing his young daughter, Emma. The child had great soulful brown eyes, exquisitely high cheekbones and hair so dark it was almost black.