Chapter 17
Seventeen
It was the wedding of the century, on the Big Spur, at least. Champagne flowed like water. Tony Garza and Odalie flew down
for it. Dunn Marlowe sat in the pew opposite Duarte Velasquez and two of his bodyguards. Several DEA agents attended, including
Rodrigo Ramirez. All the Everetts were there, and the Brannts. It was a full Methodist church for the ceremony, and even more
full for the reception at the fellowship hall following it. There were magnificent displays of every finger food imaginable
plus confections that had several of the local families almost swooning with delight—rural Texas wasn’t known for such uptown
fare, so it was really an occasion.
“I must leave before my pilot drinks himself into oblivion.” Velasquez excused himself with a warm smile, glancing toward
a tall man who was sipping champagne. “It would be a disaster if I found myself stranded here.”
Cole chuckled as he shook the other man’s hand. “Outlaw or not, you’re always welcome on the Big Spur,” he said, and meant
it. “You saved our brand-new daughter-in-law. We’re in your debt.”
“I’m in yours, for discovering what was done to my poor bulls,” Velasquez replied. “Fortunately, they are all thriving, save for the one we lost.”
“She told us that you built a chapel on your ranch,” John said, sliding an arm around Josie in her beautiful white wedding
gown. “Is that true?”
Velasquez nodded. “I . . . lost my little boy,” he said in a rough undertone. “I was going mad. It seemed an insane thing
to do, but it has become a great asset to all of us who live there. And to my sister, who is the only surviving member of
my family.”
“Your sister is very sweet,” Josie said.
“Considering the tragedies of her life, she is a miracle,” Velasquez sighed. He forced a smile. “But let us think of happy
things. Congratulations to you both. And should you ever be, God forbid, shot in Mexico any other time, I will be happy to
take care of you at my hacienda.”
They both laughed. “Hopefully, we’ll never again have to take you up on that offer. And thanks again,” Josie added warmly.
Velasquez pursed his lips as he looked at John. “I would offer to kiss the bride, but gunshots are painful,” he added on a
laugh. “So I will simply congratulate you.” He gave her a solemn bow. “And I hope that we will all meet again someday.”
“So do I,” Josie said. “Thank you for saving my life,” she added gently.
He shrugged. “It was the least I could do. Dios te bendiga.”
“Igualmente,” she replied with a warm smile.
Dunn Marlowe, who had overheard the conversation, joined them a minute later. He hadn’t known that Velasquez had a child,
or that he’d lost it. He didn’t like thinking about children.
He smiled. “Congratulations,” he told them. “And I’m glad you came back with your shield instead of on it,” he added to Josie.
She laughed. “It was a close call. I owe my life to one of the Die Hard movies, in fact.”
“So I heard.” He shook his head. “Took guts to do that.”
“Exactly,” John broke in. “That’s why if I ever get in trouble, I’m calling her first.”
They all laughed.
They traveled to Holland for their honeymoon, staying in Amsterdam in a plush five-star hotel right on the Dam Square. In
fact, they arrived just in time for high tea.
Josie, who’d never heard of such a thing, was guided by John, who’d been to several. They ate dainty sandwiches and cakes
and drank tea and, finally, went up to their room.
It was unsettling to Josie, who’d never had intimate contact with anyone. She was very nervous, and it showed.
John reached into the small refrigerator and drew out two small bottles of wine. He found two glasses and poured them in.
“False courage,” he teased gently.
She grimaced. “I’m sorry . . .”
He bent and kissed her softly. “First times are hard.”
She narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him.
“If you’re learning to ski, you don’t want an instructor who goes over a cliff on the first slope?” he asked slowly.
She burst out laughing. “Okay,” she agreed, and started drinking.
She didn’t even protest when pieces of clothing came off between slow, hungry kisses that grew in length and pressure until
she was helping him divest herself of the last little piece.
He was slow and very tender, calming her when she was shocked at preliminaries that seemed perfectly natural to John. He only
smiled and kissed her slowly until she relaxed.
She learned so much that was never in the torrid novels she’d read.
It was very different, the feel and touch of a man in person rather than in prose.
At first, it was uncomfortable. Not painful, exactly, but John knew how to handle that.
Seconds later, she didn’t care if it hurt or how much, because past the discomfort was a sudden burst of pleasure that arched her off the bed and caused wild little sounds to come out of her throat.
He covered her mouth as he moved over her and into her, his big body slow and tender, his weight resting on his forearms so
that he didn’t crush her. She clawed at his back, trying to bring him even closer, her long legs twining around his as they
moved together on crisp, clean sheets in the dark silence of the room.
When fulfillment came, she was panting, sweating, almost senseless with delight. But he moved again, and all at once what
had seemed like the pinnacle was only a plateau that led to another, and another and another . . . !
She cried out into his shoulder as the final frenzy arched her up into him, as she felt him so deep and warm in her body that
she thought they must be welded together forever. And she wanted them to be. She’d never dreamed that such pleasure existed.
She was shuddering when he rolled over and pulled her against him, against a body as damp and exhausted as her own.
Her hands were still holding him, digging in as if she were afraid he might float away.
“This,” he whispered heavily, “is why you don’t hire a ski instructor who sails off a cliff.”
She started laughing and couldn’t stop. He joined her. But soon, the stress of the long flight and the long night caught up
with them and they fell asleep, still locked together, and more in love than ever before.
They explored Amsterdam. She was almost run over by a streetcar. John pulled her off the track in the nick of time and then
had to whirl her around to avoid colliding with a cyclist.
He laughed. “Maybe we should get a cab or ride the streetcar,” he chuckled. “It seems dangerous to walk here!”
“Better yet, let’s get a ticket to the boats,” she insisted. “The clerk at the hotel said you can buy them in any shop.”
“Suits me. I’d love to see the canals. Although,” he whispered, “I’d rather be hogtied than fall in one.”
“Me, too!”
The canal tours were fun. There were other tourists from all over the world. They struck up a conversation with a couple from
France who was fascinating to talk to, and a widow from Belgium who was informative about Dutch culture and history. How the
boats managed to go under the bridges was wondrous to Josie, who noted that there was barely an inch of space spare as the
boat headed into the tunnel.
“What an adventure!” she told John, her pale eyes glistening with delight.
He pulled her close. “What an adventure,” he echoed, and kissed her gently before they went on to some of the historic places
on the guide map.
They arrived back at the Big Spur ten days later, exhausted by both sightseeing and passionate exploration.
Heather hugged them both. “You look like you had a very happy honeymoon,” she remarked while they hugged JJ and Cole.
“The best ever,” Josie sighed. “But it’s nice to be home!”
Heather grimaced and looked helplessly at Cole. “We have to tell him,” she said.
He grimaced, too.
“Tell me what . . . ?” John’s face fell. “Precious?” he asked softly.
Cole nodded grimly. “Just this morning,” he replied. “We left him in his cage until you got here. What do you want to do about
him?”
John took a deep breath. He looked down at Josie. “Would it be . . . ?”
“No, it wouldn’t,” she replied firmly, seeing right into his mind.
Cole and Heather exchanged warm glances. They’d always had that sort of silent communication. It was great that John and Josie had it, too. It signaled a long and happy marriage, just like theirs.
JJ had been puzzled at the quiet communication between John and Josie, but he soon discovered what John had started to ask.
They all paraded out to the backyard, where a pet cemetery of years past had been cared for by the cowboys since all three
Everett children had been small. There was a fresh hole, and Precious was inside a small cardboard box. John placed him in
the hole. Josie had a handful of Heather’s amber chrysanthemums in a quart Mason jar with water. JJ was holding a small white
cross that one of the cowboys had hastily assembled before John and Josie got home. Like the grave, already dug, Heather had
been fairly certain about John’s decision concerning his pet.
They all stood over the grave. Everybody looked at John.
He took a deep breath and removed his hat, holding it at his side. “Precious, you were a sweet old snake. I know your reputation
was pretty bad and you scared a lot of people. But you never bit anybody here, and you were a fascinating companion.”
“And John loved you,” JJ added. “I liked you very much, too.”
Josie looked from one to the other and finally looked at the small box in the hole. “Precious, I’m glad that you had John
to look after you while you were here. And I think that you probably would have guarded him if he’d ever needed it. If there’s
a place in the hereafter for snakes, I hope you go to one that has lots of grass and water and . . .” She hesitated. “And
food,” she added, not sure that hunting would be allowed.
They nodded. The cowboy who’d been designated as the grave keeper started shoveling in dirt. When he finished, Josie put the
container of chrysanthemums in water in a hollowed-out place on the grave. The cowboy settled the cross at its head.
On the cross was written, “Precious: the only nice rattlesnake in the history of Texas.”
They all looked at the cowboy.
He flushed. “Well, John, when you think about it, rattlesnakes don’t have many cheerleaders . . . ?”
They all laughed. John clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for his efforts.
They were walking back to the house. JJ ran ahead, full of energy, to tell the elder Everetts about the funeral.
“There was one more bit of thanks you omitted, Mrs. Everett,” John murmured as he held her close at his side while they walked.
“And what is that, Mr. Everett?” she teased.
“That you’ve been spared sleeping in the bedroom with him tonight,” he replied, eyes twinkling.
She ground her teeth together. “Oh, now you’ve made me feel awful,” she said.
He just laughed. “Actually, I had the boys move his cage into the spare bedroom. I wasn’t going to ask you to bunk down with
my pet.”
She sighed. “And that’s why I love you, John Everett,” she murmured, reaching up to kiss his chin. “You’re always thinking
of my comfort!”
“I truly am. I have a wedding present for you.”
She stopped and looked at him. “But I’ve had it.” She held up her two very expensive diamond rings.
He shook his head. He took her by the waist and held her gently. “You now own your family ranch in Wyoming,” he said quietly.
“The foreman who was taking care of it is now the ranch manager. We’ll send one of our men up there to help out and to hire
extra help. But it belongs to you.”
She felt tears running down her cheeks. “Did my father know who you were?”
He shook his head. “I did it through our Realtor here. He doesn’t know who bought it. And he never will, unless you tell him.”
She drew in a breath. “Maybe, someday, down the road,” she said, leaving her options open. “Our family cemetery won’t have
to be moved,” she added softly.
He smiled and shook his head. “And we’ll go visit occasionally.”
She hugged him tight. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I know how ranches get into your blood. I can’t imagine selling the Big Spur. I figured you were that
way about your own.”
“I was, but I could never have afforded to buy it, much less run it,” she said. “John, how can I ever thank you?”
“Well, considering that I’m recently bereaved and extremely affected by my loss,” he began, his voice low and soft, “you might
consider that I’ll need a lot of comforting?”
She hugged him tighter. “You can have all the comforting you need.”
He sighed contentedly. “I’ll need a lot. I mean, it was such a loss . . .”
“Hey, John, is it true you had a funeral for a snake?” one of the mechanics called, wide-eyed.
“Fred Henry, if you still want to have a job tomorrow, you’d better rephrase that pronto!” John called back.
Fred took off his John Deere baseball cap and held it to his chest. “I meant, I deeply regret the loss of your beloved pet,
Mr. Everett!”
“That’s what I thought you said,” John replied smugly.
Josie laughed all the way into the house. And Precious became a local legend.
* * * * *