Chapter 12 – Trouble at High Noon
"Jesse!"
Normally, Jesse loved hearing Ashe scream his name. But this was different than the other times. The other times, they were in each other's arms, naked as the day they were born, him deep inside her, both of them sharing a moment of pure ecstasy; now, Ashe was banging on the metal bars of the cell she was in.
"Let me out of this cell, Jesse!" She demanded.
"Ashe, we've been over this," he sighed. He pressed the palm of his hands against his ears; they were still ringing from the dynamite. "It's over. We stopped you. We'll put out word that we caught you, and a paddy wagon will be sent to bring you and the Gang in."
"Like hell! This isn't over! Let me out of here, Jesse!"
"Now we're just talking in circles," he sighed.
Ashe continued to bang on the cell bars. Being the only woman didn't give her the privilege to have a cell to herself; the entire Gang took up every single cell, pressing it to capacity. Jesse tried not to think of the men that were killed in the attack, the men he had spent years riding with, but it was hard not to notice who was gone. And he tried especially hard not to think that it was a little bit of a blessing that they hadn't made it; the eight that had died meant there was a little more space for everyone.
The Bricket brothers and their accomplices had to share space with the Gang, leaving about five to a cell. Jesse felt a little sorry for the men who had to share with Bob; the big man took up most of the space. At the moment, Bob was lying down, still rattled from being blown up.
"Jesse, you turned your back on us!" She spat. "This demands blood, Jesse!"
"You got that blood when that bag of dynamite went off."
"Oh, you think that is it?" She pressed. "Just wait 'till I get out of here! I'll show you what it really looks like for me to lose my temper!"
"If you ever get out of jail, I'll be right here, Ashe."
The door to the sheriff's office opened. It was Morrison himself.
"Why the hell are you still here?" The sheriff asked.
"I'm watching the prisoners."
"I'm no prisoner, Jesse!"
"You're in the cell, Ashe. That kinda limits what you are."
"Jesse, you need to get to the saloon with us," Jack said.
"Are you drunk?"
"Working on it," Morrison grinned. "Come on, we got the Deadlock Gang, and you're the man of the hour. Enjoy it."
"Jesse, don't you fucking dare leave me here alone!"
Now he had to get up and walk out. Ashe screamed bloody murder as he closed the door to the office. Not that it mattered; with the dynamite destroying all of the glass in town, and the Gatling gun putting dozens of holes in various buildings, Ashe's hollering could be heard down the street.
"Thank you, sir," Jesse sighed. "I guess I was looking for a reason to get out of there."
"Not a problem. Like I said, you're the man of the hour now."
"It doesn't feel right to celebrate after such a big gunfight," Jesse said. "We lost several people in the attack. Between them and the Gang, the streets got plenty of blood today."
"It is a terrible thing," Jack admitted, "but in terms of battles, this wasn't that bad. Not compared to fighting the Rebels in an open field, anyways. We'll mourn them, but right now, we need to celebrate that we survived such a gunfight, and captured one of the worst gangs in the West! You need to take these small victories, Jesse. Take it from me."
"Alright," Jesse smiled, "I guess I will."
Morrison held his hand out, and Jesse took it. He realized that Jack wasn't shaking his hand, but giving him something. In the dying light of the day, and the lanterns of the saloon, he saw that it was a brass deputy badge.
"You don't mean—"
"I do," Jack said. "You proved you're a good man, a trustworthy one. This Deadlock business showed me that I could use another deputy. Fareeha is a great help, don't get me wrong, but she's only one woman; she can't be everywhere she's needed. Having a third deputy should help out a lot."
"T-thank you, but…"
"You gotta think on it, I know," Jack smiled. He slapped Jesse's back. "Take your time, son. It's not like there's anyone else who might take the job from you."
"Right," Jesse croaked. "I don't mean to make things weird, but…could you not call me 'son?'"
"Sorry, shouldn't have assumed," Morrison said. "Bit of a habit from home. I'll mind my tongue."
"Thank you." Despite the awkwardness, Jesse couldn't help but stare at the badge in his hand. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think that he'd be lawman material. Jesse pocketed the badge as they walked to the saloon.
Like the rest of the town, the saloon was in bad shape. The glass was destroyed, of course, and there were enough bullet holes in the building to let a very generous breeze in, but that didn't damper anything. In fact, it seemed to be making the party even more lively.
The entire town was celebrating. Even the men who were injured in the attack were there, not to mention Orisa, who was in a big, plush chair, her bandage-wrapped leg propped up on a bench. She had taken at least one bullet, and a handful of fragments, to the knee. Angela was next to her, making sure she didn't go too overboard in her revelry; Fareeha was glued to the lovely doctor's side.
Not that Orisa needed someone to keep an eye on her. Because she was so big, Orisa was easily making her way through her own bottle of whiskey, and didn't look any worse for the wear. Efi was next to her as well, celebrating with bottles of crème soda, root beer, and sarsaparilla.
"Ah, the killjoy gets the other killjoy out of killjoy central," Father Reyes cried, raising his glass of beer high.
"Shove it up your ass, you piss-poor excuse for a priest," Morrison roared, walking over to the man. The two embraced for perhaps a moment too long. Jesse could tell there was some love despite all that hate they spat at each other.
Jesse sat down next to Orisa, Efi, Fareeha, and Angela.
"I'm sorry about your leg," he said.
"I still have it," Orisa said, pushing a bottle of beer into his hands. "I got that going for me."
"Then thank you to our amazing doctor."
"Oh, you're welcome," Angela beamed, her delicate face ruby red with drink. "It was nothing. Really. I'm just so happy I was able to help everyone."
"That's why you're so lovely," Fareeha drunkenly droned. Her arms were tightly wrapped around the blonde doctor, breaking only to grab another drink. "You're just so helpful to everyone."
The two women went to drunkenly nuzzling each other. Jesse looked away out of respect. Orisa was too busy drinking, while Efi was practically hanging off her older sister, glad she was still alive. He knew there were plenty of women here, even a few men. Maybe he should make a night of it.
He idly wondered where Madam Lacroix and Lena were at. Or Ana and Reinhardt, for that matter. He shrugged as he drank his beer; those were better questions for someone other than him.
But then he saw a chair and a guitar on the stage of the saloon. No one was playing it.
It had been forever since he had played guitar. But now he had a song in his head. He chugged the rest of his beer, and went to the stage. He took the guitar, and set it on his leg, striking a few cords just to see if it was tuned or not.
Humming a few bars, he was glad to see that it was tuned, and sounded pretty good to boot. Then he realized that the talk had died down. Damn near everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to play.
Well, he always did well with an audience. He strummed out the cords, and got to singing.
Early in the morning when the sun does rise
Layin' in the bed with bloodshot eyes
He could see plenty of men and women trading knowing looks. They'd all been in the same spot after a hard day of drinking.
Late in the evenin' when the sun sinks low
That's about time my rooster crows
I got women up and down this creek
And they keep me going and my engine clean
Run me ragged but I don't fret
Cause there ain't been one slow me down none yet
Get me drinkin' that moonshine
Get me higher than the grocery bill
Take my troubles to the highwall
Throw 'em in the river and get your fill
We been sniffing that cocaine
Ain't nothin' better when the wind cuts cold
Lord it's a mighty hard livin'
But a damn good feelin' to run these roads
That got a whoop from the crowd, specifically the women working the saloon. He grinned as he kept strumming the guitar, then launched into the next verse. He liked this place, this little Crease in the map. And he found himself liking the idea of wearing that brass badge.
Maybe he would stay here.
The night went on, and Jesse stayed on the stage, strumming out songs, both ones that he picked and also taking requests from the crowd. Eventually, Fareeha joined him on stage with her harmonica. They made a strange duo, but thy made great music together. But it was getting later, and Angela didn't want to share Fareeha with Jesse and the crowd, she wanted Fareeha all to herself.
So she whispered to Fareeha to follow her upstairs in a few minutes, while she scouted out an empty room. She'd never been up here before, but she knew there were rooms where Madam Lacroix and her girls entertained the men who bought them. There had to be an empty room she could drag Fareeha to.
Just thinking of taking Fareeha in a whorehouse got her even more hot and bothered.
She cautiously opened a door, and was struck dumb. On the bed were Ana and Reinhardt. Reinhardt was flat on his back, buck naked, and Ana was riding him like he was a prize stallion put to stud. Reinhardt, meanwhile, had both of his hands wrapped around her waist. One of Ana's hands was pawing at her breast, while her other hand was holding onto Reinhardt's, keeping her balance.
Angela quickly closed the door, her face burning. Neither of them noticed her, they were too caught up in their own little world. She realized that this whole idea to find an empty room in a whorehouse was just a really, really bad idea. She almost ran from the second floor, but ended up running into Fareeha.
"Hey, where you going?" Her lover grinned, more than a little buzzed. "You told me to meet you up here."
"Did I?" Angela croaked. "I…uh, I meant, meet me up on the second floor of my clinic!"
"You want to leave, now? When everyone is looking at us?"
"No one would notice."
"But my mom—"
"She's fine!" Angela blurted. "Trust me! Come on, let's get us back to my place!"
"Are you—?"
A kiss convinced Fareeha to not take another step into the hallway, and to start walking back to her house. Angela wasn't sure there was anything that could get the image of Ana and Reinhardt out of her head, but damned if she wasn't gonna try.
Jesse woke with the sun, as he usually did. His back cracked as he sat up. He had fallen asleep on a bench; not exactly the place he thought he'd spend in a whorehouse. He cracked his neck, and stretched a bit, his back popping.
There were plenty of painted ladies who wanted to give him their thanks, even a few cute cowboys, but something about it all just felt…off.
He turned them all down, something he'd never, ever thought he'd do. Then again, he expected a good man to not carouse his way through a town. Maybe he was becoming that man, the one he always dreamed of becoming.
Looking around, he could tell that he was the only one that was up. He didn't want to wake anyone else up, so he got up, left the saloon, and walked to the sheriff's office, rubbing his fingers. He had played the guitar until his fingers ached, which was something he hadn't done in quite some time. It felt good.
The Gang were sleeping in their cells. All but one woman, who looked up at him as he walked in.
"Well, this is a surprise," Jesse said.
Ashe sat on the floor of her cell, her knees drawn up to her chin. She looked like she had been crying all night.
"Did you get any sleep?"
Ashe shook her head 'no.'
"What's going on?" He asked, pulling up a chair. Sitting next to her, he was able to keep his voice down. "You don't want to go to jail, and think a few tears can change my mind?"
"That was our song," Ashe mumbled.
That got Jesse to stop.
"The one you first played," she said. "The one 'bout runnin' these roads? Sleeping in 'till the night, sniffing cocaine, and drinking moonshine? That was our song."
"Ashe…"
"'Ashe' what?" She snapped up from the ground. "We made that song together, don't you remember? When we were still getting the Gang together. It was just you, me, and Bob."
"Good old Bob," Jesse chuckled.
"Why the fuck did you play that song? You only used to sing it to me."
"I played it a few times for the Gang."
"But it was always to me," she pressed.
Jesse paused.
"Yea, I guess it was," he mumbled.
"Why did you play it?"
"…It just, it just felt right, you know?"
Ashe turned away from him, snorting.
"I put my heart into that song," she said. "You came up with the chords, but I got the words."
"I never understood why you'd have me say that there were women lined up and down the creek we grew up on," he said. "I mean, it was just the two of us."
"Because there was no women who could really keep you tied down, not like I could," she said. "I was the only one. The only one, Jesse, the only one who understood you, who knew you. And you only knew me."
"Ashe, that was a long time ago."
"Was it?" She pressed. "Why'd you have to go and ruin our song by playing it to others? You promised you'd only play it to me."
Jesse sighed.
"Ashe…"
She looked at him with bloodshot eyes. She really hadn't slept a wink.
"Ashe, I really loved you," Jesse said. "For the longest time, you were the only one who really got me. We clicked, we understood each other—"
"We had each other's backs," she snapped.
"Yea…yea, we did."
"It was a damn good feelin' to run those roads, wasn't it?" Ashe pressed.
"It was the best I'd ever felt. For a time, that is."
"Then why, Jesse? Why throw it all away?" She asked. "Why throw me away?"
"You understood me, Elizabeth." Jesse paused. He didn't mean to use her first name, but hearing it, it made her stir. She looked like she did when they first met: young, wild, into him and him alone, and burning with passion. "You understood me better than I knew myself. But things change. We both made the Deadlock Gang, but you made it a real family. I don't know how you did it, but you did. We all had each other, and for the longest time, it was great.
"But I wasn't playing that things changed, Elizabeth. The Gang started taking its toll on you. There were times when we'd break into something, a bank or an office or even a badly manned garrison, and we'd turn the money down. Maybe we kept some, maybe we burned the rest, shit, we even threw it into the wind and let a town go wild trying to catch it all. We did it because we could, and fuck everyone who said we couldn't. Lord, I miss those days.
"But then…but then, the money started poisoning you. You'd plan a heist for bigger banks, with more money, and more danger. You kept as much as you could. I killed too many men those days, Elizabeth. I really did. All for a few scraps of green paper.
"You let the money and the gold change you. And I changed with you. One morning, I woke up, and I didn't even recognize myself. Do you know how scary that was? Not being able to recognize the man in the mirror?"
Ashe buried her face in her hands.
"I do," she mumbled.
"Then you know why I had to leave. I had to change, I had to become a man I actually liked."
"Is that why you're not spitting and cursing at those colored—"
"Ashe," Jesse snapped. "Mind your damn manners!"
Being called 'Ashe' hurt her more than him yelling at her, Jesse could see it on her face.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
Jesse sighed.
"I hit my low point after the Rio Grande robbery," he said. "When did you realize that you hated yourself?"
"When you left me all alone."
Jesse's temper froze.
"That's why I had to get you back," she said. "That's why I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I love you, Jesse. I've told you that before, I'll tell it to you again, and I'll keep saying it even when you don't want me to. You're my everything. You're my real family, not the bullshit family I was born into. When you left, shit, it felt like I was thrown into the Gulf of Mexico. I was drowning. I needed you."
"But I couldn't be with you, Elizabeth. You know that."
"I did," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Be a good man, Jesse. Even if it's to her.
He handed her an unused kerchief. Elizabeth took it, and blew her nose.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
"You're welcome."
"I never wanted to drive you away."
"I know. But you did. You changed too much, Elizabeth, and I couldn't go that way with you. Not anymore."
"I know," she mumbled. "But I still want you here. I need you here."
"I can't do that with the way you are now."
That finally made Elizabeth cry.
"Was it the robberies?" She asked. "The banks we knocked off on our way up here?"
"That was part of it."
"Was it the killings?"
"Another big part of it."
"Then what made you stop loving me?"
"It's the thing that made you Ashe, not Elizabeth."
"I don't get it."
"I've been telling you what it was since I got here."
"But I don't get it! Was it one thing? Which thing was it? What drove us apart? Tell me!"
Jesse sighed.
"I'm sorry, Ashe, but you'll have to figure it out yourself," he said, getting up. "When you do, come talk to me."
"I will," she mumbled.
Jesse dragged the chair back to the desk he took it from. The sun was rising, and some of the Gang members were stirring.
"Morning, Bob."
Bob cracked his neck, and rubbed his ears.
"Yea, I still got a ringin' in mine," Jesse sighed. "Well, better get you all breakfast. Don't raise hell while I'm gone."
The bed shook, waking Angela up.
"Up so soon?" She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Someone's knocking at the door," Fareeha said, getting up. She slept in a simple nightgown, but was taking the time to put on a pair of pants. She squeezed into them and pulled a shirt on. "Be right back."
Angela grabbed her, and got a quick kiss before Fareeha slipped away, giggling like a school girl. She rolled around, trying to go back to sleep. But the bed was so empty and cold without Fareeha. Sighing, she got up.
The door to the room opened, just as she was looking for something proper to wear.
"That was Jack," Fareeha said. "Lena's back with the paddy wagons to take the Deadlock Gang away."
"So soon? I thought they weren't going to be back for another week."
"I guess hearing that we have the entire Deadlock Gang in our cell made the government move faster," Fareeha grinned.
"Five weeks is fast?"
"For government work. It's not just arranging wagons to take them away, it's making sure they'll be sent to the right jail. And considering they're being sent back to Texas, that means transportation has to be arranged, the jail has to be contacted, messages sent to and from, protection arranged to prevent a breakout, and there's only so much you can do by telegraph. Lena's been gone for a long time; maybe they hired her to carry some messages herself."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Come on, let's see them off."
Angela decided to wear jeans. Putting on a dress would make her sit in front of a mirror to make sure the rest of her was presentable, and she didn't want to miss the hand off. She pulled the jeans on, threw on a simple shirt, and made her way out with Fareeha. Nearly all of Crease was in the middle of town, outside the sheriff's office. Even Orisa was there, despite her cane and heavy limp. Six paddy wagons were there, with massive iron locks on the outside, ready to take all of the Gang away.
Men and women cheered as the Gang was lead from the jail cells, to the waiting paddy wagons. Nearly a dozen Federal Marshalls were there, watching over them. The men of the Gang looked at them with scorn. But Ashe, she had her eyes glued to the ground. Angela actually felt bad for her; the woman seemed to change overnight from a loud, crazy firecracker to one who rarely talked. Even though she hadn't known Ashe, Angela could tell that she was a shell of her former self.
Angela had tried to talk to Ashe before, making sure she was properly cared for, but Ashe hardly spoke more than five words to her since then.
She was defeated, broken, more so than Angela could have ever expected.
"Good work here, Morrison," one Marshall said, shaking Jack's hand.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "But my deputies deserve the credit, too."
"Ah yes, the lovely Ms. Amari and Mr. McCree," the Marshall said. He shook Jesse's hand, but skipped over Fareeha, instead ogling her chest.
Angela saw red at that. Somehow, she kept her peace, but just barely.
"Thank you for the fine work."
"Not at all, sir," Fareeha said tightly.
"Thank you," Jesse said, "but Fareeha deserves more praise than I. She was the lynchpin."
"I see. Keep it up. I'd stay around, but we have to move this posse off."
The wagons were loaded up, and began pulling away. The town gave a cheer as they were carted away.
Angela sighed, looking the town over. In the weeks since the gunfight with the Deadlock Gang took place, Madam Lacroix had funded the entire rebuilding efforts. Many buildings, such as the saloon and sheriff's office, now had stone and brick walls. They looked more homey and inviting, as well as proof against most bullets.
"Dr. Ziegler!"
Angela turned around. People only called her 'doctor' when someone was hurt. Sure enough, Ana was being led to her, almost pushed along by Olivia and Anastasia.
"What's the matter?"
"Mama is sick," Olivia said.
"I'm not sick!" Ana said.
"She puked just a few minutes ago," Anastasia said. "She barely made it outside."
"It's just something I ate that's giving me grief."
"Come, I'll take a look at you," Angela said.
"I'm not sick!"
"You might not be, but you're the one cooking the food. If you are sick, you could get the whole town sick by spreading it through the food."
Ana sighed, realizing she wasn't going to win.
"Fareeha, I'll meet you for breakfast," she said.
Fareeha nodded, sparing only a parting look at her mother. Ana returned the favor.
Now it was time for Angela to sigh. The mother and daughter were supposed to talk after the Deadlock Gang was taken care of, but both had seemed to be putting it off for over a month.
"Thank you, I'll check her out," she told Olivia and Anastasia.
She walked Ana back to her clinic.
"I'm not sick," Ana said, showing her stubbornness.
"I'm not saying you are. But we have to check."
The lower floor of her clinic had several examining tables. Fortunately, nothing had happened over the night where people were waiting for her in the morning. Both she and Ana had the clinic to themselves. Sighing, Ana sat on one of the beds.
"How have you been feeling?" Angela asked, placing a wrist to Ana's forehead. With her other hand, she took her pulse.
"Just a little queasiness in the stomach," she said. "Feels like I might be losing my balance, but it passes quickly."
"How often does it happen?"
"Mostly in the morning."
"Well, you're not running a temperature, and your pulse is nice and strong. Are you sleeping well?"
"Yes, but I've been feeling tired a lot." Just saying the word 'tired' made Ana yawn.
"What about going to the bathroom? Any changes there?"
"I've…been going to the outhouse a lot," she blushed. "I think I've been drinking a lot of water, though."
"Hmm." Angela paused. "You need to talk to Fareeha."
Ana's face fell at that.
"I've been avoiding her, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have. Fareeha said you wanted to talk to her before, just before the Deadlock Gang showed up. You need to make good on that."
Ana shifted in her seat.
"And you need to tell her about Reinhardt."
That made Ana's eyes open, and a blush to creep on her cheeks.
"How did you know?"
"I…"
She cautiously opened a door, and was struck dumb. On the bed were Ana and Reinhardt. Reinhardt was flat on his back, buck naked, and Ana was riding him like he was a prize stallion put to stud. Reinhardt, meanwhile, had both of his hands wrapped around her waist. One of Ana's hands was pawing at her breast, while her other hand was holding onto Reinhardt's, keeping her balance.
"…I was able to figure it out," she said.
"Oh. I see." Ana stopped and started, but eventually found the right words to continue. "Yes, I guess I'll have to tell her about us."
"Good," Angela said.
"And I have to talk to her about you, too…"
"I think it would be better to talk about Reinhardt," Angela said. "You should bring him, too."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Ana, how late is your cycle?"
"My cycle?" She cocked her eyebrow at that. "I'm not sure, I haven't been keeping track of it too well. I have to be coming up on it, but things have been stressful. Between putting the town back together, working out menus with the farmers, and—"
She suddenly stopped, her eyes wide. It was a little unsettling, seeing so much of her glassy, dead eye, but Angela was used to it.
"Y-you…" Ana stammered. She suddenly realized she was clutching her belly. "You mean…?"
"Nausea, fatigue, going to the bathroom often, drinking plenty of water, the signs are all there," Angela smiled.
"But, but I'm going on forty."
"It's not that unheard of for a woman to have children into her forties. Have there been any changes with your breasts?"
"They're a little sore and sensitive." Ana gasped, reality sinking in. "I'm…I'm going to…"
"Yes," Angela smiled. "You are."
Ana wrapped her in a hug, tears spilling from her eyes, even her dead one.
"Oh," she stammered. "Oh God, this is…this is just…"
"You need to tell Fareeha, and I'm sure Reinhardt would love to know," Angela smiled.
"I will, oh, I will!"
Ana let her go, and Angela handed her a spare kerchief. She dabbed her eyes and then blew her nose.
"I'll tell Fareeha right now," she said. "And I'll bring Reinhardt."
"No, let me bring Fareeha," Angela said. "She's probably going over paperwork with Jack, I'll have to drag her away. You just bring Reinhardt."
Ana nodded, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
"And no drinking, even occasionally."
"Yes, of course!"
Ana sat at the table, waiting for Fareeha to arrive. She had picked a table in the corner of the saloon. It offered the most privacy.
"She'll come," Reinhardt said, taking her hand.
"I know," Ana sighed, "but I'm worried I might…"
"You're the most loving, kind person I know," Reinhardt smiled. It was the kind of smile that made her feel strong. "You'll do fine."
Finally, Ana saw her daughter walk in. And sure enough, Angela was with her.
"Mother," Fareeha said, walking over. She was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. The lovely brass star sat pinned on her chest, and a big smile was plastered on her face. Maybe it was because Angela was wearing jeans again. Ana had to admit that, unlike most white women, Angela was able to properly fill out a pair of pants.
"Fareeha," she smiled. "I'm so glad you're both here."
"Where else would we eat?" Angela politely laughed.
"Yes, now that we have the best cook in the territory, where would you go?" Reinhardt smiled.
"Thank you for cooking, Mama," Angela grinned again.
Ana blushed at that.
"Ah, not this again," Fareeha said, rolling her eyes.
"Don't worry about me," Ana smiled. "Besides, I want to talk to you. The both of you."
"About what?"
"About the both of you."
That made both Fareeha come to a stop. A blush crept into Angela's cheeks.
"Mother—"
"Please, I know about you two," she said. "I'm your mother. I might be down an eye, but I'm not blind. When you didn't come back home after Angela's move-in dinner, that's when I knew that all those looks and glances weren't just looks and glances."
"T—then, then what's this about?" Fareeha asked. "I thought you'd be all fire and brimstone on me."
Ana grinned.
"I had the most beautiful moment when you were born."
"Oh God, not one of these stories," Fareeha groaned.
"Yes, one of these stories," she snapped. "This was before we moved to Pennsylvania. I was in Virginia then. I moved when I was becoming visibly pregnant with you. A single, pregnant black woman, by herself, in Virginia! Could you imagine? I only had one friend there; fortunately, she was a midwife. She helped me bring you into this world.
"She was the first to hold you. She slapped your back, got you breathing and crying, dried you off, and handed you to me. God, you were just so beautiful and precious…I was trying to bring you to my breast, but you were fussy, tossing and turning.
"My friend, she told me to run my finger along your cheek so you'd turn to me. So I did. I ran my finger along your cheek. And then, you stopped crying. You turned your head to me, looked me in the eyes, and…and you smiled. It was such a pure, wonderful smile, it cut me to the core."
Reinhardt offered her his fresh kerchief. Ana dabbed at her eyes.
"The way you smiled, I swore a vow to God that I would do everything I could to get you to smile like that all the time," she said. "There've been times when it was hard, but I always thought back to that moment, with you smiling, and it kept me strong.
"So when I saw you looking at Angela, I saw you smile at her like you did at me all those years ago. I saw you smile like you used to before the war. I know how happy that woman makes you, and I want you to have that happiness. I don't like it that you're with a woman, but when I see you smile at Angela, it brings me back to that moment I held you to my breast, and that vow, that pledge that I made, and I don't care what I think or feel. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, more so than what I feel comfortable with."
Fareeha was trying not to cry.
"So you better treat my girl right," Ana said, turning her gaze to Angela.
"What?"
"You heard me," she snapped. "If you break my girl's heart, I will break you in half."
"Wait, I thought this was about Fareeha!"
"It is. I never want her to be sad, or cry bitter tears. I know how happy she is with you, so you better take damn good care of her, and make sure she always smiles!"
"Mother!"
Reinhardt was the only one laughing, but Ana could see the humor in the situation. Angela was beyond flushed.
"Why is Reinhardt here?" Fareeha stammered. "This is a private talk!"
"I'm here because of your mother," he said. "Like her, I don't like seeing two women being together. But, I suppose that I'm not one to judge."
"What do you mean?"
Reinhardt took Ana's hand. In the open.
"Your mother wants you to be happy with the woman who makes you smile," he said. "I can sympathize. I want to make your mother smile as much as I can. I know there are plenty of people who would call me a pervert because of this, but I don't care what they think."
Fareeha glared at him.
"Fareeha, please," Ana sighed. "Reinhardt and I both fell for each other. I want you to know that."
"Really? Then when did you make it official?" She asked.
"When Angela moved into her new house, the night you didn't come home."
"What?!"
"I'm glad you didn't," Ana laughed.
"It would have been quite a sight," Reinhardt howled. "You'd have gotten an eye-full of an elected official!"
"Oh my God, I don't need to know that!"
Ana was laughing with Reinhardt, but Angela was blushing wildly. With his big laughter, it was easy to get swept up in it.
"God, aren't we a pair of minorities," Angela said, trying to regain her composure. "I mean, I'm with a woman, a woman that I love…Lord, I never thought I'd say that out loud. I love a woman. I love Fareeha. And I'm a white woman who loves a black woman! And you, Reinhardt, you're with a black woman, too! Wait, isn't there a law against interracial couples?"
"Not in this town," Reinhardt said. "Not as long as I have a say in it."
"Oh, thank God," she sighed. "Then look at us! We're, like, super minorities!"
"We are, aren't we?" Ana laughed. She took her daughter's hand. "I'll find a way to love you, no matter how I feel."
Fareeha finally started crying.
"And…and I guess I have to stop thinking like I have to protect you," her daughter said, tears rolling down her face. "I'd love for you to be happy, with the man who makes you happy."
"Thank you, Fareeha," she smiled. "Besides, there's some news I have to tell everyone."
"What's that?" Reinhardt asked.
"I'm…well, Angela figured it out first, because she's a doctor, but…" she couldn't help but smile. "I'm going to have a baby."
Both Fareeha and Reinhardt stared at her.
"Y-you what?!" Reinhardt demanded.
"I'm having a baby," she smiled. "I'm pregnant."
"And…and…" Reinhardt's eyes got wet in record time. "It's mine…?"
"Who's else would it be?"
"Mein Gott!" He yelled. "Ich werde ein Vater sein?"
"Ja, das bist Du," Angela smiled.
Ana didn't speak German, but she didn't need to understand him to know what he was saying.
Reinhardt wrapped her in a fierce hug, pulling her up and spinning her around, all while crying more than Ana ever saw a man cry.
"Ich bin ein vater!" Reinhardt sobbed. He struggled, nearly choking as he changed back to English. His loud voice echoed in the saloon, drawing everyone's attention. "Everyone! Everyone! I'm going to be a father!"
That got the bar to stop dead in their tracks. Everyone from Jesse to Lena to Madam Lacroix to the serving girls stopped, staring at their mayor.
"Ana is with child! My child! Mein Gott!"
He let her down, and collapsed into a chair that Angela pulled out for him.
"I'm a father…My God…"
"To the father to be!" Jesse yelled, raising his glass. The entire saloon cheered for the crying Reinhardt. Ana held him as he cried tears of joy.
"I'm going to be a sister?" Fareeha gasped.
"Yes, you are," Ana smiled.
Fareeha was crying herself, clutching at Angela's hands. She turned to Reinhardt, who looked back at her.
"I was going to tell you to stay away from my mom," she said, "but seeing you now, God, you're just so happy. You're going to be a great father."
"I'll do my very best," he promised. "I swear it before God himself!"
Madam Lacroix walked up, carrying a glass and a cold bottle.
"The finest whiskey for the father, and the freshest, coldest root beer for the mother," she smiled.
"Thank you," Ana said. Reinhardt was so busy crying, he could barely speak. They toasted, drinking deeply.
"I'll have to make you an honest woman," he croaked.
"W-what do you—?"
"Ana, please, be my bride," he said, taking a knee.
"Mom, you better say yes," Fareeha said, laughing through her tears.
"Of course!"
She wrapped him in a hug, kissing him deeply. The saloon cheered again.
Never in her life did she expect to be marrying a white man, or even announcing it to an entire town. But everyone was cheering for them, rooting them on, and Ana knew she picked the right place to call her home.
Note: The song Jesse sings is "White House Road" by Tyler Childers.
