The Man and The Outlaw

Epilogue

Six Years Later

Clara sat in her father's old rocking chair on the porch of the farmhouse that they had shared together. She watched the sun reach its peak above the pastures and then take the slightest of turns back towards the horizon, hinting at its return later in the evening. Around the house and into the front yard tore two young boys, barefooted and hooting like wild animals.
One of them was blonde and blue-eyed. He was the older of the two and he'd make sure you knew that before he made sure you knew his name. The other one was dark headed with the greenest eyes Clara had ever seen. They reminded her of another pair that she'd known long ago. He was younger than his brother, but he was sharp in a way that his elder would never be, and he never found a challenge he didn't face with a cocky little grin.
They were three and four years old, the ripest of ages for tantrums and wrestling matches, both of which usually ended in a lot of tears. As she watched, they began to chase on another around the yard, tagging each other in turn, and screaming "you can't catch me!" at the top of their lungs. The oldest was called Rick, after her father, and the younger was, of course, Hector. She smiled as she watched them. They were so happy and full of life.
Footsteps emerged from the front door behind her, and a hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed gently. Then, a kiss fell on her cheek and Clara's smile broadened.
⁓⁓
She had stayed in Riverport with Hector for two and a half months. He'd lasted longer than Doctor Kines had thought he would, and Clara knew that he'd done it out of pure pride. No bald-headed doctor was going to tell him when he would leave this earth. Even to the end, he was just as stubborn as he'd always been.
After he'd went on, she'd tended to his burial and getting the rest of his things in order. The little house on the east side of Riverport would remain in Hector's family, overseen by Gloria and her caretakers. Though the house itself wasn't much and would probably need tearing down in the next few years, the land it sat on was actually quite beautiful and it deserved to be looked after.
She stayed there alone for the rest of that month, sorting everything out, and then she said one last goodbye to Hector. She cried for a long time beneath that old oak, but she came away like she was breathing clean air for the first time in she didn't know how long. She went into town for some supplies to get her through the trip home and on her way into the grocer's she recognized a face coming out ahead of her.
"Hey!" she'd shouted at the man striding down the sidewalk away from her. He turned around sharply and gave her an are-you-talking-to-me look, raising one eyebrow curiously at her. She nodded and ran over to catch up with him. It was the good Samaritan from that awful first ride into Riverport with Hector bleeding out against her back. Ironically, his name turned out to be Sam, Sam Burroughs. Clara bought him a coffee and thanked him for his help that day.
"It wasn't anything, really," he'd said. "All I did was point you in the right direction."
"He could've died with me looking all over for the right place if you hadn't been there to do just that," she'd told him. "Thanks to you, he got to live out the rest of his life at home, relatively comfortable. That's worth a lot, especially to me."
When they'd finished their coffee, Sam wrote on a napkin and handed it to her.
"I'm not trying to overstep here or force you into anything but if you ever want to talk or...I don't know. If you ever need somebody to waste some time with, just...you know," he said with a nervous sort of flicker in his voice.
It took her six months to reckon her conscience, but she finally called him.
"You probably don't remember me," she'd said when he picked up on the first ring. She heard him laugh over the connection.
"I've been waiting by the phone for you to call every day since that coffee," he'd told her giddily.
They were married a little over a year after that call. The boys came soon after that and they moved out to her family farm to raise them in the fresh air and sunshine. Sam made no objections when she suggested they name their first child after her father. When she mentioned her feelings about the second one, Sam had merely smiled.
"You know, Hector was going to be my suggestion," he'd said, and she had hit him in the arm playfully and kissed him whole-heartedly.
She'd told him the whole story about Hector early on in their relationship, about what they'd gone through together, about how she'd felt towards him and he towards her. Sam had taken it all in with the grace and dignity of a good friend. He'd held her while she cried over Hector again, the telling of the story bringing back all the same feelings and grief. He'd helped her get through it, to a place where she could enjoy the good things without dwelling on what might have been.
"I promise I'll let you name the next one," she'd offered after he accepted the name Hector so easily.
"The next one?!" he had sputtered, shock mixed with a little fear flooding his face. Then, they'd burst into laughter, and he had grabbed her and kissed her neck.
⁓⁓
"They getting along well enough out here?" Sam asked her as he sat in the open chair beside her and took her hand in his. It was rough from long hours spent at work, mending fences, working cattle, and she found great comfort in those callouses. They were pleasantly familiar to her.
"As well as can be expected," she shrugged. "It's about time for a nap, I think."
"For you or for them?" Sam smirked and brought her hand to his lips to kiss her fingers lightly.
"Don't tempt me with a good time, Sam," she replied with a chuckle.
"Boys!" Sam called and both their little heads jerked towards the porch where their daddy was standing up from his chair. "Your mother says it's time for a nap."
Both boys dropped their heads and stuck out their lower lips. Sam giggled. Clara, still seated, slapped his thigh.
"Oh great, make me the bad guy," she scoffed.
"One of us has to be," Sam joked through the side of his mouth as he waved the boys in.
They knew that their father meant business when he spoke, they'd been raised to behave themselves and listen the first time, as Clara herself had been raised. Though they didn't want to interrupt their playtime for a nap, they gave up their game and, slowly, made their way across the yard and up the porch steps as their parents watched them. Sam tickled each of them under the chin as they filed in the door. Then, he helped Clara to her feet and held the door for her to enter first.
When the boys were nestled on a pallet in the back room, their favorite napping spot for the way the afternoon sun cast a lake of warmth across the floor, Clara bent and kissed each of them on the forehead. One hand clutched to her extended belly as she got back up, already protecting their little "next one" that Sam swore would finally be a girl, his girl. He already had his heart set on some pretty cute names too, so many, in fact, that Clara was sure he'd never be able to decide. For his sake, she hoped this one was a girl. Every father deserved the chance to love a daughter. Clara knew better than anyone how special that bond could be, how precious.
As she turned her back to leave her sons to their nap, a small voice stopped her.
"Won't you tell us a story Momma?" Rick asked through a yawn. Clara turned around and narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
"Just one, right?"
Both boys nodded vigorously in unison.
"I guess one's alright then," Clara relented, as they knew she would. "Which one do you want to hear this time?"
She sat down in her father's armchair, the same one that he used to sit in and read to her when she was little. Her sons would never know their grandfather, not in the usual way, but she had told them everything she could about who he was, how he'd built their home around love and how he'd raised her to do the same for her family.
"The Man and the Outlaw," Hector said, eager anticipation in his little voice. Rick's bright smile showed his agreement. Clara was not surprised by their choice. It had been their favorite tale since she'd first shared it with them a few weeks ago. She didn't mind retelling it either.
In a way, it felt like justice to her, being able to help Hector's memory live on the right way, even if it was only through her own children. She hoped that one day they would tell their children and that their children would in turn tell theirs and so on. In that way, Hector and all the right things that he'd done could live on. In that way, Hector Valdez, much like her father through the things she told her sons about him, would never really die. Instead, they would both live on in all their hearts, in their memories, in their souls.
Forever.