I wore a clean cream-colored shirt, my best vest, and the black hat my wife insisted had become too battered to qualify as respectable.
She wore a beautifully made buckskin dress decorated with careful beadwork and a pale shawl over her shoulders.
Her long black hair was braided.
Her dark eyes shone.
And when she approached me, I forgot every word I'd planned to say.
She stopped in front of me.
Then smiled.
"You're staring."
I laughed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I looked into her eyes.
"Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Her cheeks warmed.
She lowered her eyes.
Then looked up again.
"Good answer."
The little boy stood beside us holding a small wooden horse.
He had insisted on bringing it.
Nobody argued.
When the ceremony ended, the boy reached toward me.
I lifted him.
His mother stood beside us.
For a moment, I looked across the gathering.
The younger woman held her daughter beneath a tree.
The widow was wiping tears from her eyes.
The ranch hand was laughing with the baker.
And Chester stood beyond the fence, apparently wondering why nobody had offered him an extra handful of oats.
I looked toward my wife.
She smiled.
Then rested one hand against my chest.
"You look happy."
I considered that.
Then nodded.
"I am."
For the first time in years, the words felt completely true.
That evening, after the guests had gone, we sat together on the porch.
The boy was asleep.
The house was quiet.
The mountains stood beneath a sky filled with stars.
My wife leaned against my shoulder.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she asked something I had not expected.
"Do you ever think about that day?"
I looked toward her.
"What day?"
"The tree."
I became quiet.
Of course I thought about it.
Sometimes I dreamed about it.
I remembered the ropes.
The deputy.
The frightened faces.
The way the younger woman's voice broke when she accused the men of taking her daughter.
I remembered how close I had come to riding past.
"Yes," I said.
She looked toward the stars.
"So do I."
I took her hand.
She continued.
"When I was hanging there, I thought my life was finished."
I swallowed.
"I know."
"I thought nobody would help us."
I looked toward her.
She squeezed my hand.
"Then you came."
For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
She turned toward me.
"Do you know what I remember most?"
I shook my head.
"What?"
"Not your gun."
I smiled faintly.
"I didn't draw it."
"I know."
She continued.