Epilogue
The Next Morning
The room was too still. Weak morning light filtered through the lace curtains, casting faint patterns across the floorboards and the foot of the bed where Weston lay.
Nora sat close beside him with her fingers wrapped around his like an anchor she refused to release.
The whites of the sheets made his pallor seem worse, and the bruising along his ribs was too stark against his now paper-pale skin.
He hadn’t stirred since they brought him in.
She hadn’t witnessed a breath heavier than sleep, and it terrified her more than she dared to admit aloud.
The rhythmic tick of the wall clock marked each moment he remained unconscious. Each second stretched long and hollow. Come on…wake up…
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Nora instinctively stood up.
The doctor stepped in, an older man with a sun-weathered face and a shirt stained from a long day’s work.
A pair of spectacles hung low on his nose, and a stethoscope dangled around his neck like it was alive.
He looked tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that came from too many emergencies and not enough time.
“Mrs. Crane,” he said gently, adjusting the spectacles that were now sliding a little down the bridge of his nose. “The surgery went as well as we could’ve hoped. He lost a good deal of blood, but we’ve managed to stabilize him.”
Nora gripped the back of the chair. “Then why hasn’t he woken up?”
“He’s still weak,” the doctor said calmly, only nothing on earth could calm her down at this point.
“And his body’s fighting hard. It’s not uncommon, especially not after what he has been through...
but he'll recover. Rest is everything now.” His eyes flicked to Weston, then back to her.
“I’ll be back shortly to check on him. There are others needing me this morning. ”
She nodded absently, barely hearing his departure over the sudden roar of silence that followed again. Her hand returned to Weston’s. His skin was warm. Thank God. But this stillness… She couldn’t bear it.
“Weston…” she whispered. “You can wake up now. You hear me? You win. You’re more stubborn than me and you proved it. Last night, you proved it, when you jumped into danger...as if you were a cat with nine lives. You can wake up now.”
Her thumb brushed the back of his hand. She felt rough calluses underneath her touch, the line of an old scar by his knuckles, and the subtle rise of a vein, like a quiet river still moving beneath ice.
She leaned forward. “You can’t leave me,” she heard her voice trembling.
“Not now. Not after everything. You hear me?”
Tears welled before she could stop them. She blinked them back, biting down on her bottom lip. “Weston…please wake up. I don’t care what happens next, just open your eyes.”
But Weston didn’t make a single move. Minutes stretched.
Somewhere down the hallway, boots thudded and another woman wept behind a closed door.
From outside, the muffled call of a mourning dove drifted in through the open window, and Nora inhaled the scent of dew-damp earth.
It was fresh, clean, indifferent to the fear she felt.
But inside this room, there was only the soft sound of her breathing, and his.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” she admitted in a whisper now. “You came into our lives out of the blue…And yes, I hated you for it. But then…then, you stayed. You stayed when I needed you, Weston, when no one else ever did. And now I need you to stay again.”
She pressed her forehead to his hand, and the tears fell freely this time. There was no one here to see her break, and even if there had been, it didn’t matter anymore. “Wake up,” she repeated quietly, again and again, like a prayer into his skin. “Wake up…”
All of a sudden, a soft knock startled her from her cries. She turned just as the door eased open again.
“Morning, sweetheart,” June’s warm voice replaced the cold silence of the room. Nora met her eyes. They were bright and full of love.
Sadie followed close behind her with her skirts whispering over the floorboards.
She held her arms wrapped around herself like she was still carrying the chill of morning.
The moment Nora stood, they were both around her.
June was pulling her into a fierce hug, while Sadie’s hand was gently brushing along her back.
“We came as soon as Mary Jane stopped crying,” June said. “She’s all right now. Duke’s with her, he promised her she could see the horses today. Sheriff’s watching the property. Nobody’s getting near her, so don’t you worry, honey.”
Nora nodded, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen. She stayed quiet.
“She kept asking for you,” Sadie added, holding Nora’s hand in hers. “We told her Weston would be just fine.”
At the mention of his name, Nora’s gaze instantly drifted to the bed. “He hasn’t moved,” she murmured. “Not once.”
June followed her eyes. “You know that doesn't mean he won’t. He’s been through worse. And besides, you know that man’s stubborn as a mule.”
That earned a brittle breath of laughter from Nora. She gently slipped from Sadie’s grasp and sank back into the chair beside him.
“But…But he looks like he’s barely holding on.” She faltered. “And I…I don’t know what I’d do if he…” Her voice broke. “I’m not strong enough for this.”
Sadie knelt beside her, laying a hand over hers again. “You don’t have to be strong right now,” she said tentatively. “And besides…we’re here now. You’re not alone.”
June came to stand on her other side, settling her hand on Nora’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared, honey,” she began. “But listen to me. Weston Crane didn’t come all this way to give up now. He’s gonna open those eyes, same as always, trying to get up and get back to work.”
June wiped Nora’s tears away with her soft hands, and cupped them around Nora’s wet cheeks. “He will come back,” she said, looking her in the eye. “Not just for you, but for Mary Jane…and for all of us.”
“June’s right,” Sadie agreed, squeezing Nora’s hand. “You just keep talking to him, holding his hand, and let him know you’re here.”
Nora looked at the women who came to support her and give her their endless love. They’re right. She slowly put her hand on Weston’s and traced the rise of that quiet vein again, trying to reminding herself he was still there. “I’m not letting go,” she whispered.
Just then, his fingers twitched beneath hers, and Nora froze.
A second passed…then another…and she felt it again. It was faint, but it was there, the smallest squeeze, like his body was trying to find its way back to her.
“Weston?” she cried. Her breath couldn’t leave her chest.
His eyelids fluttered, and his brow tightened as though even that small movement hurt. And then, slowly, his eyes opened, tired and heavy-lidded, but undeniably aware. Nora saw that storm-gray gaze she thought she might never see again.
She leaned in, as one hand flew to his cheek. “Weston,” she whispered, “I’m here. I’m here, with you…”
His eyes searched her face, as if even now, when she feared for his life, he still found the time to make fear for hers, to make sure she was unharmed. “Nora…” he uttered with a cracked voice.
Relief broke over her like a flood. She pressed her forehead against his and let her tears slip down her cheeks. “You came back,” she whispered. “You difficult, headstrong man…you came back.”
Behind her, Nora felt movement. Someone laid a soft hand on her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll give you two a minute,” June said gently. She turned to see Sadie nod with eyes misting as she looked down at Weston. “It’s good to see you again, Weston,” she added, fighting tears.
The women slipped out quietly, closing the door behind them with the softest click. Nora turned back to him. She noticed her hand never once left his. Weston’s eyes had drifted shut again, but his breathing was deeper now.
Nora brushed another damp strand of hair from his forehead and kept caressing his face. Weston’s lips parted and a weak sound pushed through. He tried to speak but Nora cut him off.
“No,” she quietly protested, pressing a finger gently to his mouth. “Don’t talk. You need to rest.”
He blinked, and she could see all the fear, the effort, the ache of waking held behind those eyes. And still, he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“I need you to hear something,” she added softly, leaning closer. “I love you, Weston Crane. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone again. So you rest, and you heal, and you stay…because I’m not letting you go.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. With great care, he reached for her hand. “I love you too,” he murmured.
Nora could feel the pain those four words required, and tears blurred her vision.
She leaned even closer and brushed his lips with her own, as if even her kiss should not weigh too heavily on him.
And yet, despite everything, she felt that kiss more deeply than anything before.
It sank into her like sunlight into frozen earth, warming something that had gone cold long ago.
In that brief, fragile moment, hope stirred again. Nora could feel it running through her mind, body and soul. It was the kind of inner feeling that whispered: He’s here, he’s really here. Finally, you can dare to believe that everything is going to be all right.
***
A few days later, a wagon was waiting for them in front of the doctor’s office, and it soon creaked up the familiar rise. Nora sat beside Weston. One hand was braced on the seat, while the other kept hovering near his arm like she might catch him if he swayed.
“You don’t have to ride, you know,” she said softly, glancing at him. “The doctor said you ought to rest another day or two.”
But Weston seemed determined. “I’ve had worse,” he scoffed. “Besides, I’ve ridden with broken ribs before.”
Nora gave him a sharp look, not quite amused. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”