Epilogue
Guerrero refused resolutely to reveal his name, but they had the name he'd used when hired by the German farmer, Leon Weber.
There he claimed his name was Juan Moreno, so he was tried in Comal County district court and found guilty of kidnapping and assault with intent to murder four federal marshals.
The jury deliberated for only ten minutes.
Elena, Del and Will had all been called to testify, and the verdict was a foregone conclusion.
The man they knew was Guerrero was sentenced to fifteen years in the new Rusk Penitentiary in Cherokee County.
Del and Elena had read Philip Morgan's letter to Judge Freeman and were doubtful at first, living their lives carefully and taking all precautions.
Every day for a while they lived in fear of another snatcher.
Carlos was allowed to play around the house, but Del or Elena or Lupita was always there to play with him, or at least keep an eye on him.
Del rode his fence line each morning looking for hoofprints or footprints that might mean trouble.
Later, Del and Elena read a small story, only three paragraphs in length, in the San Antonio Express that reported on a prison fight at the penitentiary, and in the aftermath, a prisoner named Juan Moreno had been found dead from a knife wound.
Since there were several prisoners involved in the fight, his assailant couldn't be positively identified.
Will Fain found himself in his office one morning with Isum in downtown New Braunfels.
Isum was there going through the accounts and making sure each had the receipts so that the U.S.
Treasury would pay for their mileage traveled and court documents delivered.
Marshals had to supply their own horse, but the Treasury paid them seven cents a mile when on official business.
And they were paid for delivering criminal and civil writs, warrants, subpoenas, and summonses.
As Will sat down he saw a letter on his desk from Lemuel Pritchard, his cattle buyer in Kerrville. Will opened it and found a one-page letter.
Will,
Just a note to shine some light on the cattle I bought this spring while you were out of town. Your son, Jacob, brought the herd down, and when I offered to buy them for last year's price, Jacob told me he'd need a penny higher a pound.
I reminded him that you and I had sold for my price for three years, and he told me the St. Louis price was up this year for the first time in years. Said he kept up with the price by reading the two newspapers you passed along to him. Insisted that the extra penny was fair, and I paid it.
When I reminded him he was only seventeen years old, he said, "Doesn't matter, Mister Pritchard. It's just business. Doesn't have anything to do with my age." Just wanted you to know, you got a hell of a son, and I didn't bargain hard against him.
Lem
Will laughed out loud, and Isum asked, "What's so funny?"
"When we were gone, Jacob sold sixty head of our cattle, and when Pritchard wanted to buy for the same price as last year, Jacob told him he needed a penny higher because prices were up this year. He never said a word to me about it, just told me he'd put the money in the bank."
"And you won't say anything to him about it, will you?"
"Maybe I will and maybe I won't. He's growing into a fine man, and he doesn't need my praise. Doing a good job and knowing it is praise enough for him."
In late summer Lupita went with Elena to the harvest social at the German Lutheran hall out past the Fischer place. Almost everyone attended since the Lutherans welcomed the whole community.
It was a Saturday afternoon. There were trestle tables in the yard and beer in kegs and two old men, one playing fiddle and the other an accordion under the oak.
Half the county was there. The Fains were there.
The Woods were there. Father Kellermann from St. Peter and Paul's was there because the priests and the pastors all went to each other's socials, which was one of the things Lupita liked about New Braunfels.
Lupita wore her one Sunday dress, which was dark green.
A man was standing near the fiddler with a glass of beer, and he looked over at Lupita once and then looked away, and then he looked again a minute later.
He was tall, dark hair, about thirty, clean-shaven, dressed for the social in a flannel shirt with his sleeves pushed up a little because it was warm.
Elena, beside her, said quietly, "Friedrich Meyer."
"Who is Friedrich Meyer?"
"Has a farm down on the Guadalupe River, about ten miles from here maybe. His wife died in childbirth two years ago. He has two children, a boy, four, and a little girl, who's two. Virginia thinks highly of him.
Lupita did not look at Friedrich Meyer directly for a while.
She drank lemonade with Alberta, and she spoke to Virginia and she played with the Fain children and Carlos, and she helped serve at one of the tables and she was, generally, Lupita.
But every so often she looked up, because she was twenty-four and she had not come to Texas to become a nun, and each time she looked up he happened to be looking up too, and each time one or both of them looked away, and by the fourth time, they were both chuckling about it.
He came over shortly after.
"Miss Hidalgo."
"Mister Meyer."
"They have a table of pies over there. I understand you had something to do with two of them."
"I had something to do with one. The peach. The pecan is Mrs. Wood's."
"Would you be willing to come with me and point out the peach, so that I do not make the wrong selection by accident?"
Lupita looked at him a moment and chuckled.
"Mr. Meyer, you could find a peach pie on your own."
"I could, yes."
"All right. Then I understand what you are asking. Come on."
They walked to the pie table together. She cut him a large slice of the peach. He asked her if she would sit with him a little while at one of the trestle tables in the shade and tell him about Hidalgo de Parral, because he had been told by Mrs. Wood that she was from there.
Lupita sat with him and told him Parral was about five times bigger than New Braunfels, and that she'd lived in the area most of her life.
She told him about her family, and he listened.
He asked questions. He seemed to be a good listener, which was a thing Lupita had learned, in the course of living twenty-four years among men, to value above most anything else a man could be.
He told her, in turn, about his farm. Sixty acres of bottom land along the Guadalupe.
Two children, Otto, age four, and Lisel, age two.
His property A barn his father had built in 1859 that was still standing in good condition, though it needed a new roof on the south side, a job he intended to do himself in the fall.
A team of two mules and a milk cow and an orchard of young peach and plum trees that had not yet come into full production.
"Peach trees," she said.
"Yes."
"Then perhaps next year your wife will not need to ask a neighbor for peaches to make a pie."
Friedrich had smiled and said, "Perhaps."
Lupita had shrugged, "You never know."
The next Sunday afternoon, Friedrich surprised Lupita when he drove into the Cole's yard with his two children.
She thought the children were adorable. He asked Lupita if she would take a ride with them.
She'd asked if Carlos could come, to which Friedrich had readily agreed.
He'd brought along a picnic lunch, and they spent the afternoon together sitting on a blanket talking, while the children played along the banks of the stream.
He also came the following Sunday, and as they sat on a blanket together, Lupita had asked in her own frank way, "How many Sundays do you think it'll take for you to decide?"
He smiled and said, "I've already decided, but there's the matter of propriety."
"I've decided too," she said.
He stared at her for a minute. "Does that mean...?"
"Possibly," she said, "but only if I'm asked in the right way. I'm a little worried. I don't know anything about cooking German food, but I'd like to learn."
He smiled again, and she thought he had a very pleasant smile. "I can eat anything, and there are plenty of hausfrausen who'll teach you. I promise to be patient, and my children, they're not picky at all. I'll bet you could teach them to love Mexican food."
"Then all you need to do is ask," Lupita said.
"Let me speak to your brother-in-law and ask permission." She nodded.
When they returned to the house, he asked to speak to Del, who had been rehearsing for some time what he would say.
After Friedrich asked permission, Del had said, "She's too good for you...
and you're too good for her, so I think it'll be a good union.
So you have my blessing. Go ahead and ask her. "
While the children played in the yard, Friedrich took Lupita aside and said, "I care for you deeply, and I promise to be good to you. Will you consent to marry me?"
"Do you love me?" she asked.
"I loved you from the first moment I saw you," he said. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you."
Lupita leaned against Friedrich and kissed him. She looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes, I'll marry you."
A month later, Little Carlos, then seven years old, held her hand as he walked his Tía Lupita down the aisle in the wedding dress that Elena, Virginia and Alberta had helped her sew.
Father Kellerman joined the couple in holy matrimony in Saints Peter and Paul Catholic Church on Happy Stocking Hill.
Everyone greeted them with hugs as the newlyweds walked down the steps of the church. Del and Elena had hired a photographer who took a dozen photographs of the occasion.
There was a big picnic dinner outside the church, and the newlyweds went from table to table and thanked everyone for attending. When they rode off in their carriage, Elena and Carlos stood together with tears in their eyes.
Elena leaned down and said, "I know why I'm crying, but why are you crying, mi amor?"
Carlos sniffed and said, "Because I've lost my best friend, my tía."
"She'll be back to see us," Elena said. "And it won't be too long."
"Won't be the same," Carlos said. "Soon she'll have her own children."
"Speaking of that," Elena said. "How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?"
Carlos looked up at her in surprise. "You?"
"That's the only way the baby will be your brother or sister, mi amor."
Carlos smiled. "How did that happen?"
Elena made a funny face and said, "You'll have to ask your father."
Carlos nodded, "Okay, I will. Will I be able to hold the baby?"
"Of course, I'll need your help. We'll raise this child together...with maybe a little help from your Pa."
The End