James and Andrew followed but did not try to match them. The chubby man in the saddle was wearing a black coat and had a patch over one eye. Behind him, a familiar face showed over the top of the Reverend Fairweather’s head.

Fairweather said in a hearty, booming voice, “I wish you-all would look who I found back yonder a ways.”

Michael Lewis dragged a long leg across the horse’s rump and slid cautiously to the ground. “Marie!” he called, and she was in his arms. Mordecai threw his arms around his father. It struck James that the boy now lacked only a foot or so of being as tall as Michael.

Andrew glanced at James, tears running down his leathery cheeks. “Praise God.”

Fairweather dismounted. “Praise God, indeed. I have brought home the prodigal father. I hope you good folks have prepared the fatted calf. I am a hungry man.”

It took a while for Michael to get around to hugging his two brothers, then the rest of the family by turns. James stared at him, swaying between gratitude and dismay. He had never seen Michael so gaunt and drawn, his face so pale. He looked to be just two steps shy of death.

James admitted, “We gave you up for dead, Michael, but Marie never did. She always talked like she was sure you’d be comin’ back.”

Marie said, “I don’t know how, but I knew. I had dreams. I heard you calling for me. All the time you were gone, I knew you were out there somewhere.”

Michael had made the rounds of all the family. He came back to Marie and held her as if he would never let her go. “And I heard you callin’ me. I think that’s what pulled me through, hearin’ your voice in my head whenever I felt like I was startin’ to slip away.”

He went into the kitchen, his arm around Marie. She brought him a plate, and one for Fairweather. They devoured the venison as if neither had eaten in a month. Michael finally leaned back in his chair. “I was down there on scout along the Rio Grande when Santa Anna crossed over from Laredo. His outriders took after us, me and two that I was with. They shot the others, and they put a bullet in my back. I managed to hold myself in the saddle till my horse outran them. I must’ve finally gone unconscious and fallen off. When I came to I was lyin’ on the ground. I didn’t see the horse anywhere.

“I wandered a while, till an old Mexican with a burro came across me and took me home with him. It was like twenty years ago, all over again. Remember, Marie, when the Spaniards shot me, and old Mother Moreno and her boys helped me? This old man and his wife, they took care of me the same way. They said Santa Anna had executed two of their sons down in Coahuila. They hid me when the soldiers came around. I came so close to dyin’ that I could smell the angels’ breath. But I’d hear you callin’ me, and I’d hold on tight.”