"There's a delivery for you down at the station, LaBoeuf." The gray-haired man looked up from his pipe and wondered at the look of amusement on his old friend's face.
"Couldn't you have brought it here?" These days, he liked to stay in his barn with his horses, Jack and Millie, and his pig, DeCourcy. He would not go into town without the most important of reasons.
"It's too big for that—needs a wagon." LaBoeuf began to wonder at Morgan's sanity.
"What is it, then? More mattress stuffing from my fool sister?"
"Nope, ain't nothing like that. You gotta come and see."
With a shake of the head, LaBoeuf tipped his cigar ash onto the barn floor and got to his feet. "This had better be worth the trouble."
Morgan didn't say a single word the whole way into town, for once. LaBoeuf was glad of the silence, but he couldn't understand why his friend had picked this one time to be quiet or why he kept looking over at him and laughing. He'd better tell Mabel, he figured. Maybe Morgan had been into the whiskey again.
"It's inside, waiting for you," Morgan finally said in a funny, strangled voice as LaBoeuf pulled the wagon up to the train depot. Wordlessly, he threw the reigns to his friend and jumped to the ground, proud of the fact that he felt no pain in spite of his age and years of hard work.
He wondered if he were imagining the strange looks that greeted him instead of the usual pleasantries as he came to the entrance of the station and opened the large wooden door. Inside, he saw a group of people clustered around something he couldn't see.
"…and I assure you, Mr. LaBoeuf will see to it." The voice was unmistakable, both in tone and timbre. He pushed through the crowd.
Mattie Ross stood beside the stationmaster's desk, wearing a black coat. Her hair was not plaited; it was twisted atop her head. "Miss Ross." He had no idea what else to say.
"Good afternoon, Mr. LaBoeuf." She smiled. "Please inform these people that we are to be married. I believe they think I am untruthful."
LaBoeuf stared at her a moment, but it was not a very long one. "Miss Ross and I are engaged," he heard himself utter, "and furthermore, we are on our way to be married this afternoon." He held out an arm, and Mattie took it determinedly. He wondered if he should tell her he was pleased to see her, but of course, she already knew.
"I hope that my present course of action is as desirable to you as it is to me." She spoke quietly, for his ears only, and her voice was confident, but even so, he felt the tiniest tremble in the hand that rested on his arm, and he knew that he held the fate of her happiness. It was a strange thing, to finally have the power over Mattie Ross that he'd wanted at the very beginning.
"I assure you, ma'am, that I consider myself a fortunate man." Her relieved sigh was nearly imperceptible, and she did not pull away when he placed his hand atop hers. He thought that he would like to place his arm around her waist, but he would not dare to do so until after the service.