Jeff was a hard worker. Cowboys in general were hard workers. It was not an easy life. But Jeff also had ambitions that set him apart from most of the others who were content to trade their lives for food and shelter and the chance to go to town every couple of weeks and take their pleasures hard and fast. Jeff saw past the immediate. He would improve his lot in life.

They saw the other rider from nearly three-fourths of a mile away. He was coming toward them in no particular hurry but not ambling like a man out for an afternoon ride. Jeff reached back behind his saddle and untied the cloth bundle he had secured there. He brought it up and set it in his lap without unwrapping it. Inside was a Remington Navy .44 older than he was. The action was a little loose, but it was, all in all, serviceable. He did not expect that he would need to use a gun, but he took no chances. He was, after all, about to become a husband and assume the responsibilities of that position with all attendant duties, including protection of his family, or soon-to-be family.

“Afternoon,” the stranger said as he pulled up closer to them. Jeff slid his hand under the edge of the bundle but made no move to touch the revolver.

“Afternoon.”

“It would seem that you two have had a hard ride.”

Jeff nodded. “A couple of hours. We've a bit to go.”

“We're going to Junction City to find a preacher to marry us,” Martha said, ignoring the sidelong glance Jeff shot her.

“Is that right? He works in mysterious ways, don't He?”

“How's that?”

“David Crane Brabson,” the man said. “The Reverend David Crane Brabson of the Anointed Church of the Holy Brethren on my way to Austin to do the Lord's work.”

“Could you marry us?” Martha asked.

“I could. In the eyes of the Lord, though, not in the eyes of Texas. You need a license for that. But if it's an emergency, the Lord's law supersedes the law of man, though we strive to honor it as well.”

“We have the license,” Jeff said, letting go of the Remington and pulling the document from his pocket.

“Well, so you do,” the preacher said, reading over the license. “Official, from the state of Texas. I suppose we should dismount, though. It wouldn't be right to be too casual about the significance of joining a man and a woman.

“In the name of the Lord, under the law of the state of Texas, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Thomas, and you can remount and resume your journey, joined in matrimony and pleasing the Lord. Bless you both.”