“I think I can remember that.” He winked at Clay and clutched the little girl to his belly. “Time for takeoff.” Off he ran with two giggling children.

Wyatt shook his head. “Here I am, the oldest and the last to have kids.”

“Not for long.” Clay nudged him. “Am I right?”

Wyatt glanced across to the tables, where his pretty redheaded wife was setting out food with Violet. Dorothy’s waist was a lot thicker than when Clay had met her in England. Wyatt put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything till we make our announcement, you hear?”

“Better make it soon before her belly makes the announcement for you.”

Wyatt punched Clay in the shoulder and laughed. “Come on, let’s get tamales.”

They moseyed across the lawn toward the food tables.

Mama and Leah came out of the side door of the house carrying trays, Leah wearing a red suit and a little round red hat. Leah called out something, and Dorothy and Violet turned to her and laughed.

Now that Leah had a family, she was doing her best to welcome her new sisters-in-law into the fold.

Leah turned to him as if she felt his gaze, and her smile took his breath away. How was it possible for her to get more beautiful each day?

She set down her tray and placed one hand on her flat stomach. She’d just found out she was expecting again. It was a boy, she insisted, and his name was William Walter Paxton.

William after Daddy, and Walter for Dr. Walter Block, who had been killed by shrapnel from German artillery when the Rangers were battling for Bergstein, Germany, in December 1944. Right before Clay had arrived. The whole battalion had mourned for Doc Block, a fine physician and an even finer man.

The mariachi music stopped, and Pawpaw lifted his guitar. “It took a war to bring my grandsons together again, but here they are, three of the finest heroes you’ve ever seen. On the sea, in the air, and on the ground.”

Clay rolled his eyes to Wyatt, but his usually modest brother smiled with appropriate pride. Across the lawn, Adler set down the two children, avoiding everyone’s stares, not like the boy who’d thrived on adulation as the star of the Kerrville High baseball team.

The war had done more than bring them together. It had changed them all.

“Here they are!” Pawpaw said. “The Gringo Mariachis, together again.”

The tamales would have to wait.

Clay headed up to the wooden stage. He plopped his sombrero on his head and unpacked his violin and bow, while Adler pulled out his trumpet and Wyatt his guitar.

“Merry Christmas, y’all,” Wyatt said from under his broad white sombrero. “We’re going to play ‘Las Mañanitas.’” His voice flickered out at the end.