Savage Arrow

The pews were filled with people.

She smiled as two women scooted over, giving her a place to sit. After getting settled in among the people in the back row, Jessie stared straight ahead, at the man who stood behind the pulpit, then softly gasped.

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Her cousin was at the pulpit. He was reading verses from the Bible as the Methodist minister stood aside.

Reginald’s reddish brown hair, which at one time had been so thick, was now thin, yet hung long to his white collar. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and narrow tie.

He seemed even tinier than Jessie remembered. In fact, he seemed almost shrunken, his shoulders slouching, as though they carried a heavy weight.

When Reginald was finished, the minister thanked him. “Reginald, every town should be as lucky as Tombstone to have such a fine citizen as you,” he said, placing a gentle hand on Reginald’s thin shoulder. “You know the Bible well and practice its teachings in your daily life.”

Everyone said, “Amen.”

Jessie watched Reginald go to his seat among the congregation.

She co

uld tell that he was still a man very much caught up in himself. He was obviously pleased by what the preacher had said about him.

She was puzzled that he had shown no sign of recognition as she came in the door. He couldn’t have helped seeing her as he had glanced up from the Bible when she’d entered.

Had she changed that much since they had last seen one another?

She didn’t think she looked so different. The only real change in her was not yet apparent: she was pregnant.

She placed a hand on her stomach. She had only realized that she was with child during the long, tedious journey from Kansas City.

But it wasn’t at all obvious to anyone else. She would not be showing for a while.

Finally the church service was over.

Jessie slipped out of the building before everyone else and stood back. She watched Reginald again as everyone came up and shook his hand; he stood beside the preacher as though he belonged there.

She saw how he peered through his thick eyeglasses as though he had difficulty seeing. Surely that was why he hadn’t recognized her. His eyes must have weakened since the last time they were together.

And he had other signs of physical decay. She could hear him wheezing and wondered if he had some sort of chronic lung problem.

She began to pity him and decided that it would be her job to make this man happy. She would care for him when he was ill. She would make him glad that he had taken pity on his widowed cousin.

When everyone else had gone past Reginald and the preacher, and even the preacher had left the church, Jessie shyly went up to Reginald. She reached out a gloved hand toward him.

“Hi, Cousin,” she murmured, watching for his reaction.

Reginald gazed intently at her through his thick glasses, even adjusted them on his long, thin nose, then smiled and reached his arms out for Jessie. “Jessie,” he said between wheezes. “I’m so glad you made it safely to Tombstone.”

He stepped away from her, still peering at her through his glasses. “I thought you were to be on a later stagecoach,” he said questioningly.

She started to tell him about the ambush, then stopped. She didn’t want to get into it again.

And she still didn’t want to tell anyone about Chief Thunder Horse. Not even her cousin, whom she should trust with anything.

But . . . there was something about Reginald, a strange sort of demeanor, that made her hesitate to tell him much of anything. It was a cold aloofness, which was vastly different from the way he had treated the people of the congregation. He had welcomed them heartily as they walked past him and the preacher for handshakes and embraces.

She wondered now if he truly wanted her there with him. Was she going to interfere in his life?

She would soon find out, for he had walked her to a horse and buggy as fancy and fine as those owned by the wealthiest families in Kansas City.