A Tiny Miracle at the Veteran’s Door – Extended Epilogue

Five Years Later

On very quiet days, Dorothy could sometimes hear the railroad’s distant clacking, off by the hills. It wasn’t too loud, not something that would deafen. A person could get used to it, and Dorothy had gotten used to it. 

Something like the railroad couldn’t be stopped, of course, but the deals were renegotiated. Some ranchers sold parts of their land, some didn’t. The railroad came. It didn’t come too close to town. The route was laid around the foothills of the mountains, skirting the town and going on past. 

Still, despite the fact that the railroad didn’t come into town, they all still felt the effects. 

Travelers stopped her more often now. The boarding house was full more often than not, and until the stores learned to keep more stock on hand, the shelves were empty for a few worrying months. Since then, the general store had expanded. There was more meat, milk, and fish to be bought, to say nothing of hordes of eggs. 

Newcomers had settled, too. A bustling, red-cheeked widow opened a boarding house of her own, and after about half a year of awkwardness, the woman who owned the old boarding house realized that there would be plenty of business for them both, now that the railroad was regularly spitting out newcomers and visitors. 

Even the expensive hotel had a bustling trade. 

The saloon, of course, was packed to the brim on most nights. Jane was well-established as the proprietor, which some people seemed to consider as more improper, despite the fact that the saloon operated in exactly the same way it had as when a man ran the place. 

Jane didn’t care, of course. Business was booming. 

Every now and then, some of the locals would get together in the streets and mumble angrily about all the newcomers, and how noisy and crowded things had gotten. 

After their little rounds of complaints, they went their separate ways, going back to bigger, nicer houses than they’d had before, with fuller savings jars and the prospect of earning a good bit more money than they were used to. 

The discontented talk, of course, went nowhere, and Dorothy kept out of it in any case.

Dorothy wasn’t sure that she minded all the changes. The town was improving by getting a little busier, and before Suzanne chose to move to Narrow Creek permanently, the train station certainly made it easier to visit her. 

Our world is growing smaller, Dorothy thought, stretching out her aching legs, pushing herself back on her rocking chair. 

The sun set slowly, sending long red-gold sunbeams across the porch. Tiger had carefully positioned himself in one of these sunbeams, curled up tightly. His fur was more gray than any other color now, but she’d seen him dancing along the porch railings only a few hours ago. He was still spry, still healthy. 

Beyond the courtyard, Dave carefully led Dandy around the paddock, in much the same way he’d once led him with Dorothy in the saddle, for her first riding lesson. 

This time, the saddle was filled with somebody else. 

“Be careful with him, Dave,” Dorothy called. “Don’t let him fall.”

Dave waved at her. “I won’t. Wave to Mama, Sammy.”

Samuel lifted one hand and gingerly waved back. He sat stiffly in the saddle, exactly following his pa’s direction. Straight back, firm legs, hands on the reins tightly but not too tight. He adored horses and had been begging to learn to ride for months. Now that he’d finally been given the chance to ride, it was clear that he had no intention of making any mistakes. 

Dorothy smiled to herself. At four years old, it was already plain how much he resembled her. He had auburn hair and a ferocious curiosity, which he displayed by asking so many questions. 

Why, Ma? Why Pa? That isn’t a good reason. Why did this happen? Who is that? Why, why, why? 

Oh, it was good to have a curious child, but sometimes Dorothy longed to say because I said so, little one, and leave it there. 

Not that he would ever be satisfied with such an answer. Besides, it was healthy for a child to ask questions. 

Beside her, the baby stirred in her crib. She let out a small gurgle, as if deciding whether or not to break into a full-throated wail. Blinking, she stared up at her mother, large blue eyes shimmering with curiosity. 

“Hush, hush, Mary,” Dorothy murmured, reaching down to stroke the baby’s soft head. “You just settle down there, little one.”

The baby stretched, yawned, and closed her big blue eyes again, drifting off. Dorothy allowed herself a small smile. Twisting in her seat, she peered through the open kitchen window. 

“How’s supper coming along, Suzanne?”

Suzanne chuckled. “It’ll be ready when it’s ready. You want my famous roast chicken? You’ll have to wait.”

“It smells delicious. I’m going wild here with hunger.”

“It’ll taste all the better by the time you finally get to sink your teeth into it. Now, for dessert, there’s a cherry pie for us, but an apple pie for little Sammy. I know he prefers it.”

“Oh, Suzanne, you spoil him.”

“I sure do,” Suzanne responded briskly. “Now, I can’t remember what you said. Is Violet coming today, or not?”

“No, she’s out of town, meeting Sheriff Penhale’s mother,” Dorothy responded with a wince. “Married a year, and this is the first time she’s met her mother-in-law, can you believe it?”

“I can believe it,” Suzanne responded. “Those two had the slowest courtship of anyone I’ve ever known. Now, then, let me get on with my cooking, and you just relax, all right? You work hard.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

Dorothy settled back into her seat. This time, she noticed that a cart was trundling up the driveway, raising dust in its wake. A slow smile spread over her face, and she waved her arm above her head. 

Sammy gave a squeal of delight, and begged his pa to put him down. Laughing, Dave lifted him carefully down from the saddle and set him on his feet. Sammy rushed out onto the driveway and turned to face the oncoming cart. 

Gus and Erma Rose sat shoulder to shoulder in the cart seat, with their children crammed alongside them. The new baby was barely a few months old, and then there was Robert, two, and the twins, Minnie and Maggie, three-and-a-half. 

And, of course. Grace Hope. 

She’s five and a half, Dorothy thought distantly, rising to her feet and tugging her shawl around her. I can scarcely believe it. 

The cart came to a rolling halt, and the children scrambled down. They swarmed around Sammy, talking and laughing, eager to show off new toys and tell new experiences. 

“Y’all stay close,” Erma Rose warned. “Supper will be ready soon. Grace,” she added, somewhat pointedly, “Go and say hello to Aunt Dorothy.”

Grace Hope nodded, beaming, and scrambled up the porch. 

“Hello, Aunt Dorothy!” she chirped, and flung her arms around Dorothy’s waist in a tight hug. 

Dorothy stood there for a moment, hugging her back tightly. 

“Hey, pumpkin,” she whispered, patting her head. Grace Hope pulled back, still smiling, but eyes distant. She twisted to look behind her, where her siblings and Sammy were outlining some complicated new game. 

“You want to go and play with the others, don’t you?” Dorothy continued. “Go on, then. Just a few minutes before we sit down to eat.”

Grace Hope dimpled up at her, then turned on her heel and ran back to the others. 

Dorothy watched her go, a small smile playing over her lips. 

Of course, Grace Hope had no idea how tumultuous the first few weeks and months of her life had been. Nobody had ever told her how close she came to death, or how much so many people had risked to keep her safe. She’d be told one day, of course, but not for a long while. Not until she was ready to hear it. 

Gus leaned on the paddock fence, talking to Dave, and Erma Rose clambered up the porch steps, holding her baby close. 

“You look well-rested,” Erma Rose commented. 

“I’m lucky, Mary sleeps through the night,” Dorothy chuckled, glancing happily down at her baby. “Let’s hope my luck holds.”

“Well, I wish I had a little of your luck. So, I had some news today. About … About Father.”

Dorothy stiffened. When was the last time she’d thought about Mayor Carson, or Briggs, or any of that awful business? Not for months, at least. Sometimes, small things would happen to remind her. She’d pass Jane on the street, vigorous and confident as always, and they’d exchange a quick, thoughtful smile, but no words. Sometimes Violet would mention her brother, and Dorothy would imagine for a moment that she had a different life, with a different man. 

Just for a moment. 

Now, however, it wasn’t so easy to turn her thoughts aside. 

“What happened?” Dorothy asked carefully. 

Erma Rose tightened her jaw. “He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Father’s dead. An apoplexy, they think. He just dropped down dead. It was … It was sudden, they said. He wouldn’t have suffered. Is it wrong that it comforts me? After all he did to me, I should want him to suffer, I should want him to die slowly.” 

“That isn’t who you are,” Dorothy responded firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. Do you feel … sad?”

“No, not sad. I suppose he’s been dead for a while, in a lot of ways. I wish that things could have been different. I wish my mother was alive, I wish …” she broke off abruptly, and glanced at Dorothy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about wishing my parents alive. I’m sure that you wish yours were alive, still, too.”

“Yes,” Dorothy admitted. “But I suppose even though we’ve been through terrible things in our lives, we had to go through those things to be where we are. Maybe if we hadn’t suffered the way we did, things would have worked out differently. Maybe better, maybe worse, there’s no way to tell. But we are here now, and I for one am grateful. Very grateful.”

Erma Rose nodded, smiling slowly. “So am I. So am I, Dorothy.”

They embraced quickly, tightly. 

The kitchen curtain twitched aside, and Suzanne poked her head out. 

“Supper’s ready,” she announced cheerful. “Come get it while it’s hot.”

The children cheered in the courtyard and raced onto the porch. 

“Hey, hey, wash up first!” Dorothy ordered, laughing. The children nodded obediently and scampered away. She let her hand trail over Grace Hope’s head first, then Sammy’s, then the others. 

Hoisting her baby higher on her hip, Erma Rose went inside next. Gus bounced onto the porch, chuckling to himself. 

“Hey, Dorothy,” he greeted, and went on inside. 

Dave came last of all. He gave Dorothy a long, slow smile, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“An afternoon of leisure suits you,” he drawled. “You look more beautiful than ever.”

She grinned up at him. “And here I am, being escorted into dinner by the most handsome man in the world. Aren’t I lucky?”

“Not as lucky as I am,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her.

The world melted away, and Dorothy wound an arm around his neck, sinking into the kiss. It was only him and her, and the butterflies rioting joyously in her stomach. 

Was ever a woman luckier than this? 

Somebody cleared their throat. They broke apart, turning guiltily to find Suzanne peering at them through the window. 

“It’s getting cold,” she stated, hiding a smile. “Come on in and pull up a seat. We’re all waiting for you.”

“Well,” Dave sighed theatrically, grinning down at Dorothy. “We couldn’t possibly keep all those hungry mouths waiting. Come on, Mrs. Norton. Let’s get inside, shall we?”

Inside, the table was laid for a birthday. A hefty roast chicken waited on the table, surrounded by dishes of vegetables, roast potatoes, and plenty of gravy. The pies for dessert, waiting temptingly on the side, filled the air with a sweet scent. 

“Happy birthday, Sammy,” Dorothy whispered, crouching down to kiss her son on the temple. 

“Is all this for me?” Sammy gasped, eyes wide. “A whole apple pie?”

Dave chuckled, scooping his son up into his arms. “Well, you might want to share it. A whole pie might be a little too much.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Sammy responded stoutly.

The others took their places, and Dorothy caught Dave’s eye. He nodded, and she handed over the baby to Suzanne, slipping out of the room. She returned with a long, thin parcel, carefully wrapped. 

Sammy’s eyes grew large when the parcel was handed to him. 

“Is this for me?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Suzanne spoke up, dropping him a wink. 

“Go on, open it,” Dave laughed, ruffling his hair. 

Sammy tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a flute. He gave a squeal of delight. 

“A flute! A flute! How did you know I wanted one, Pa?”

“Just a little hunch,” Dave laughed, meeting Dorothy’s eye with a smile. “Now go on, give it a blow.”

Sammy blew with all his might into the flute, producing a reedy, off-key sound. He winced, frowning. 

“It doesn’t sound right.”

“That’s all right,” Dorothy assured him. “You’ll learn. All the best things in the world take practice, and practicing is the best part.”

“Is it?”

“It certainly is. Now, let’s put your present aside for later. For now, let’s eat!”

THE END