Epiphany 28

 Epiphany 28

By: Sprite

 

January 6th

 

 

Murdoch lit the kitchen lamp and stirred up the banked coals. He pumped water into the coffeepot and set it on the front of the stove. It was his usual morning routine and while he waited for the water to boil, he went out to the living room and started the fire there as well.

 

He could easily assign this job to someone, but he enjoyed the homey tasks in the early hours when the house was silent and still. He also liked making the house warm for his family.   

 

He’d just used the poker to stir the ashes when he heard the unmistakable sound of a buggy in the drive. He tossed a log on the fire and went out to see who would be rolling in this early in the morning. The sun was just barely rising, the sky turning pale pink with streaks of orange and yellow. He tapped the barometer beside the door and it told him that it would be another clear day.

 

Toledano was standing next to the rig, offering a hand down. “You are okay, Doctor?”

 

Doc Poovy was standing next to his rig, blinking slowly.

 

“Sam? I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.” Doc Poovy was the doctor from Cross Creek. “What brings you here so early?”

 

Dr. Poovy looked his way slowly then raised his hand in greeting.

 

“I’ve been out to Hard Luck. And I wanted to come to your party today, but I was afraid if I went home, I’d never get back here.” He moved around the back of the buggy while Toledano took hold of the bridle.

 

“You’re dead on your feet, man.” Murdoch said gruffly. “Head on upstairs and get some rest. I’ll wake you before luncheon.”

 

The doctor let out a long sigh as if he’d been waiting to hear just that. “I’m not sure I can go much further. I’d have taken a bunk in with your cowboys if needed.”

 

Murdoch gave a huff and with a hand on the doctor’s elbow, steering him toward the stairs. “Do you need something to eat?”

 

“No. I’m fine. Just tired.”

 

“Top of the stairs, third door on your right.”

 

The doctor held up his right hand as if reminding himself which way to turn and then trudged up the stairs.

 

“Doc?” Johnny passed him on the way down.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Johnny, Toledano is putting up the doctor’s rig. Go see if he got any news.”

 

Johnny glanced up the stairs and with a quick nod, walked past the creche and out into the yard.

 

@@@

 

 

Johnny came back a few minutes later and took up his coffee.  Murdoch had poured it when he saw Johnny crossing the yard.

 

“Doc’s buggy smells like fire smoke, but Toledano just says Doc was coming from Hard Luck. Maybe we should send someone over there?”

 

“Perhaps. Let’s wait until Dr. Poovy wakes up and tells us more, but we should send someone for Sam’s wife. She’ll want to come to the lunch, and they can go home together in his buggy.”

 

Johnny nodded and they turned together to look out over the meadow.

 

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Teresa loved Epiphany morning. It was only the second year she had been in charge, but she got up early and made breakfast for the family, letting Maria and Juanita spend the morning with their own families.

 

She cooked often with Maria, but there were only a few times a year when she was in charge of the kitchen all on her own.

 

When she was six her father had given her a store-bought doll that came in a small crate. Every year after she set her crate outside her bedroom door on Epiphany Eve and the next morning she got little trinket gifts. Sometimes, penny candy and one year, nine shiny new pennies, one for every year of her age.

 

She’d had Diego make replica boxes and at the bottom of each she put a new wash basin towel, then each got an orange and a pomegranate and a handful of candied almonds. She made one extra for the grandfather and Dr. Jenkins.

 

Once those were ready and set them next to their plates before she finished breakfast.

 

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Breakfast was a casserole of eggs and vegetables with onions. There was a dish of pan-fried potato cakes and an apple pie, cooked for Hogmanay, that had been warmed up and bubbling. There were two loaves of bread and a jar of tomato and lemon marmalade. Teresa had finished the feast off with a lemon balm tea that complimented the food nicely.

 

Scott stared at his pomegranate and shook it once.

 

“I know a trick to get the seeds out an easy way,” Johnny said, “but I’ll show you in the kitchen. If it goes wrong out here we’ll be sleeping in the barn for a month of Sundays.”

 

After they had eaten their fill and Teresa had brought out a fresh pot of tea, they moved to the living room and Johnny stoked up the fireplace to exchange Christmas gifts.

 

Scott explained to Harlan in a low voice that this was the day the Magi had arrived at the manger, and so this was the day the family exchanged gifts. It was another of the Spanish traditions that had been adopted.

 

Teresa had already been given her pink dress for the winter season and the shawl sent by his Murdoch’s sister, Anne, from Scotland.  Teresa pulled forward a small stack of packages before her. She tried to hide her childish joy at opening presents.

 

The first was from Murdoch. A piece of velvet ribbon wrapped around three pearl tipped hatpins. Harlan gave her a simple brown package that held four handkerchiefs in a fine French cambric, simple but perfect for embroidery. The next was from Scott. She looked up at him with a puzzled look in her eyes.

 

She held up a single white glove with seed pearls sewn in the back in the shape of flowers and ivy.

 

“I had to buy it when I saw it. It was just so pretty. It made me think of you.”

 

She tried to hide her confusion at just being given one glove and looked up to see Murdoch shaking his head, matching her muddle.

 

“It is pretty. I know just where I’ll keep it.” Her smile was genuine, and she smoothed the soft kidskin glove against her knee.

 

The last gift was a tiny box not bigger than an inch square. It was tied in an intricate tangle of twine and knots. She huffed a bit before Harlan took out his pocketknife and sliced it open.

 

“Spoilsport,” Johnny muttered under his breath.

 

Harlan slipped the blade under the edge of the box and pried the lid away from the tacks holding it closed.

 

“Now before you open it,” Johnny said leaning forward. “I didn’t have a lot of time.”

 

“Or money.” Scott added with a wink.

 

“But I just knew you’d like it.” Johnny finished with a glare at his brother.

 

Teresa grinned. “I know I will.” She finished opening the box and lifted off a small piece of scrap cloth to find a white ball of something jammed inside. She pried out the wad and with a rising smile she realized it was the match to the other glove. “Oh, you two!” She playfully scolded them with a finger wag. They both laughed with her.

 

Johnny opened his next, a large package only to find his sheepskin coat he’d been looking for. It had been cleaned and brushed and back to looking new. He was a little sad it no longer smelled of wood smoke, but he knew it wouldn’t take long to break it in again. He put in on and modeled it for everyone, only to find his new black gloves in the pockets again.

 

Harlan gave him an envelope that held a long piece of white silk, smooth and shiny. “Thank you.” Johnny said as he fingered the cloth.

 

“It’s the wrong one.” Harland said with a huff. “That’s for Scott.”

 

Johnny passed the cloth over to Scott who handed him back the envelope that had been in front of him.  Johnny opened it to find a vibrant red kerchief made from soft cotton. “Oh, this is much more like it,” he said as he tied it around his neck. It was long enough to tie securely and lay smooth on his chest. “Thank you, Abuelo.”

 

“My pleasure, Mejo,” Harlan responded with a smile.

 

“And thank you grandfather. I’ll enjoy this cravat very much. There’s not a hint of oil or grass stains on it anywhere.”

 

Johnny leaned over to whisper at him, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. “Yet.”

 

Scott opened his one other package. A crate, the top set on, not nailed in like Teresa’s little box. It was a stack of books. Murdoch had given him a book on wine making.

 

Johnny spoke as he lifted a leather-bound book out. “Sorry, someone wrote in it first.”

 

Scott gawked when he opened the cover to find the title page of Count of Monte Cristo signed by Alexander Dumas.  Teresa gave him a copy of Walt Whitman’s Democratic Vistas.

 

Scott touched each one reverently. “I’m going to have to ask Diego to build me a bookcase.”

 

“I’m sure he’d be happy to.” Murdoch said with a smile. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

 

Murdoch gave Dr. Jensen a fine bottle of 15-year-old Scotch and Harlan a 10-year-old bottle of Brandy.  Johnny and Scott had pitched in together to buy him a hip flask with a detachable silver cup lid.

 

Finally, Murdoch got to his small pile. Harlan had given him a silk cravat in shades of brown and cream. The other box was handed to him by Scott. “It’s from all three of us.”

 

Murdoch held the it for a moment, studying the lovely oak box decorated with carved ducks on a pond on the lid. When he opened it, he pulled away the wood chips to find a shaving kit. The razor was fine Sheffield silver steel. The brush was badger hair. The shaving cup was the new style, with the tipped spout that kept the brush dry between uses and a small tin of shaving powder. The talcum powder had a soft scent that would not be overpowering.

 

“That is a fine set,” Dr. Jenkins couldn’t help but interject.

 

Murdoch touched each piece gently, his fingers gliding over the smooth polished handles. “Quite fine indeed. Thank you all.”

 

There was a small silence while the family admired their gifts.

 

“I’ll make some more tea,” Teresa said as she gathered up her things.

 

“And I’d like to put these in my room before people show up and want to borrow them,” Scott said gathering his books to his chest.

 

“You boys take these things upstairs,” Murdoch said, reluctant to let his fine gift out of his sight. “Gentlemen, let’s move some extra chairs around the dining room table.”

 

@@@

 

At the same time a buggy crested the top of the hill, Maria and Cypriano came into the living room. More than a friend, but less than a guest, Maria fisted her hands into her skirts and tried not to straighten the tablecloth. Murdoch could tell she wanted nothing more than to take over the kitchen, the placements of the food, the drinks. Murdoch took pity on her and brought her to the sofa so she could keep her back to the table. He handed her a small sherry and admired the new bracelet of engraved silver. Murdoch knew that Cypriano had saved for months for that bracelet.  “It’s stunning Maria.”

 

“Too extravagante,” she said with a blush.

 

“You are well worth it.”

 

He followed her gaze across the room. Cypriano was in a chair beside Harlan, their heads close in conversation.

 

Murdoch had to admit, Harlan had gone out of his way to make conversation with Cypriano most evenings if even for only a moment or two.

 

Murdoch was glad that Cipriano was indulging his father-in-law. With a wry smile, he realized it was much the way Cipriano had indulged him when he’d first taken over the ranch. Cipriano had really stepped up as foreman to the ranch after Paul had died. Honestly, probably had never stopped being foreman. He’d been the translator when he first arrived, and then teaching Murdoch Spanish and then teaching the ranch hands English.

 

The Dawson’s arrived and Murdoch made introductions, realizing he’d forgotten to add Clay’s sister to his count, so they brought out more chairs. Teresa gave out drinks, until Clay came back from putting up the horse and buggy.

 

Jelly came in with Mrs. Poovy just as Doc Poovy finally came down the stairs looking better for 4 hours of sleep. He nodded to everyone with introductions and headed for the table.

 

“The Addisons sent word they are headed to San Francisco, so they won’t be with us this year.” Murdoch told the group.

 

“Oh, had you heard,” Teresa added the news of her friends. “Mr. and Mrs. Jennings are headed to Europe for a tour now that Abigail is moving to Sacramento.”

 

And with that, the local gossip flew around the room.

 

Dr. Jenkins started to tell of the fire in Cross Creek before Dr. Poovy brought up where he had been. The town of Hard Luck had burned to the ground.  Not a house or barn left standing. Doc Poovy mentioned that he used to have an office in Hard Luck along with the one in Spanish Wells, and then he and Doc Jenkins started to explain how they made rounds and shared offices and how they had planned to use their junior doctors to start taking the longer home visits.

 

“How did it start?” Murdoch said bluntly.

 

Dr. Poovy shook his head. “Christmas tree caught fire.”

 

“That settles it,” Harlan said with a grim finality to his voice. “I’ve been toying with the idea of a brickworks. And Señor Cypriano and I have been talking the best location to service all three communities.”

“Si. I have a cousin who was a mason in Mexico. He knows how to build kilns.”

 

Murdoch seems surprised the people around him were going into business right under his nose. “Seems a worthy proposition,” he finally said.

 

“Whenever there has been a fire, it’s always good to rebuild in brick,” Halan said bluntly.

 

“Sí, and the Spanish, they like the adobe and the anglos they like the brick. We could do very well with both,” Cypriano agreed.

 

Both doctors added their support. “If all it does is slow a fire in town, it would be worth it. Cross Creek was bad enough, but Hard Luck is a disaster. Most folks are camping on the mission grounds in Moro Coyo.” Poovy said. “But I’m sure most will move away all together.”

 

“I doubt the town will reestablish,” Murdoch said. “It was never much of a town to begin with.”

 

“Should make a law not to have Christmas trees in the house.” Jelly said with a grumble.

 

Poovy took another one of the little cookies on the side table which prompted Maria to get to her feet. “I think this is good time to bring out the food.”

 

Maria went out to the kitchen and soon Juanita, Isabel and Gracia began to load up the dining room table. They brought all the left-over food from Hogmanay. Turkey and ham and beef. Rolls and sliced bread filled a basket in one corner of the table. There were empanadas, both beef and pork at one end and apple, fig and pear at the other end of the table. There was a chicken and rice casserole as well as a dish of potato pancakes.

 

They sat where they wanted, conversations changing as plates were filled and refilled.

 

“We have to keep the doctors separated,” Scott said teasing. “Let them sit next to each other and all they talk about is disease and wound care, which is not a topic during a meal.”

 

Dr. Jenkins poured himself a cup of coffee. “He’s not wrong.”

 

“Who will treat patients if you are both here?” Harlan asked.

 

“We both have our junior doctors fresh from the east working for us now. This area is growing by leaps and bounds. And Santigo Gonzales stays in Moro Coyo if needed., Dr. Jenkins said.

 

“Before you know it, we won’t have to refer our extra patients to the veterinarian,” Dr Poovy added with chuckle as he went back for another helping of roast beef.

 

“Oh good, you use Santiago, too. He’s not the veterinarian,” Dr. Jenkins explained to Harlan. “He’s quite a good doctor, but back in the old days we had to use the veterinarian a time or two. But if we don’t burn them down, the towns are growing.”

 

Jenkins raised his cup in salute. “The veterinarian, however, is quite good with potions and elixirs.”

 

Johnny came back and set the plate before their guest. “You’ve got some competition for your concoctions.”

 

“Oh. I like concoctions,” Dr Poovy said with a smile. “We’ll talk after supper.”

 

“I think that’s enough medical talk, gentlemen.” Murdoch said gently. “That is why you two are supposed to be opposite ends of the room.”

 

Mrs. Poovy, her eyes twinkling as she leaned toward Mrs. Dawson. “We really need to get Dr. Jenkins married.”

 

Dr. Jenkins frowned dramatically.

 

“Oh, a project.” Mrs. Dawson joined in with a smile as she picked up an empanada. “Have you met the milliner? She’s a widow.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I think the ladies need to be separated.

 

The ladies giggled.

 

Murdoch heard a horse outside and looked up to see Val Crawford letting himself in. He took his hat off and put it on the coat tree. “Hope you didn’t eat everything afore I go got here,” he said gruffly even as he walked past the still heavily laden table.

 

Johnny got up and served Val up a plate. “Glad you could make it.”

 

“Been kinda busy in town. Gabe won’t make it. Did you hear about Hard Luck?”

 

“Doc Poovy brought the news.”

 

“Gabe’s getting folks over to Moro Coyo. Eight people died. Christmas tree caught the curtains on fire and once the house caught the whole street went. They just stopped it from jumping to the meadow.” Val sounded tired and more than a little worn down.

 

“What can I get you to drink? Whiskey?”

 

“Got a good Bourbon?” Val asked hopefully.

 

“We do,” Johnny said as he got up and fetched it from the liquor sideboard.

 

Val sat at the far end of the table and passed Murdoch a stack of mail and a couple of newspapers. “Might want or might not to read the story on page three of the Gazette.”

 

Murdoch handed the newspapers to Scott who scanned them as Murdoch flipped through the letters.

 

Scott opened the Green River Gazette and folded the pages back to read the headline: “‘Local Hero Saves The Day’”.

 

All eyes were on Scott as he put on his orator voice. “‘Local hero, John Lancer, saved the day when he single-handedly saved two of our local schoolgirls from the clutches of a band of deranged bank robbers, bringing them safely back to their homes on Christmas Eve.’”

 

“Single-handedly?” Murdoch said with a raise of one eyebrow.

 

“I hope the Marshal and all the other people in the posse don’t see this,” Johnny said, dropping his chin to his chest.

 

“Oh wait, it goes on,” Scott said with glee. “‘The son of renowned rancher Murdoch Lancer, president of the cattlemen’s association, gunned down the desperado in the early morning hours after laying a trap for him in the mountains to the east.’”

 

“The prose leaves something to be desired,” Harlan said while adding cream to his coffee.

 

“Never mind the lack of facts,” Johnny added.  “This is going to cost me in the saloon next time. I’m going to have to buy drinks for everyone who knows the truth.”

 

“And I’m no longer the president,” Murdoch added his dismay.

 

Val tossed back his first drink from the bottle and then refilled his tumbler.  “Not just in Green River,” he said with glee. “Whole county is buzzing.”

 

Johnny shook his head dejectedly.

 

“Oh look – here’s another story about us,” Scott continued as he folded the paper to the last page. “‘Feud at the Festival. Is Harlan Garrison,’ ha, didn’t even get your name right, ‘father-in-law of, the prominent and respected local businessman, Murrdock Lancer’ - spelled wrong,” Scott said in an aside. “‘whose ranch is the most prosperous in the area, stirring up trouble or just visiting our fare valley?  According to Mr. Garson’ – spelled different from above,” he said as everyone laughed, “‘all is well in the family, and he looks forward to the visit, but do they look forward to it as well? A previous visit by the said Mr. Garison,’ -good grief this is wrong for the third time. What is going on with the typesetter? ‘Mr. Garison was a cause for concern due to the arrest and conviction of the Degan Brothers, now serving 5 years each in the Sacramento Penitentiary. Heretofore, it seems, the annual New Year’s party at the home of Mr. Lancer, Murdo to his friends,’”

 

“One person used that name, ever,” Murdoch muttered.

 

“Your friends know better,” said Mr. Dawson.

 

“‘was always a grand event,’” Scott continued, “‘and this year’s was no exception as it was a dazzling spectacular event which started with a mock battle between good and evil fought in the meadow beyond the ranch house. The damp muddy field did not seem to dampen the moods of the participants.  We have been told that good prevailing is a sign for good fortune of the next year. I suppose we will have to see if the prediction comes true. The grandiose finale was a fireworks display that rivaled even his efforts of last year. Hopefully, no such fireworks occur between family members.’”

 

“Who invited the reporter?” Murdoch said with a sigh.

 

“Probably no one – I’m sure he just showed up.”

 

“We need a guest list next year.”

 

“I agree,” Teresa said. “We can’t feed this many people every year.”

 

“I need to write a letter to Edmond Hobbs Porter. This is just frivolous nonsense,” Murdoch fumed. “Not to mention all the factual errors.”

 

“Not to mention spelling errors,” Scott added with a grin.

 

“And the literary mangling.” Harlan added.

 

Dr. Jenkins chuckled. “I hear Porter is looking to sell his paper. For good reason, I’d think.”

 

Jack Dawson reached for the coffee pot. “His typesetter quit a few weeks back, moved over to the paper in Moro Coyo. Juan Aberill’s increased his papers distribution there.”

 

Clay leaned over and whispered something to Teresa and she glanced at the clock.

 

“Murdoch,” she said softly, placing her hand over his clenched fist showing he was still irritated at the gossip column. “We need to head out soon, to get to the dance.”

 

“Oh, of course.” He glanced over at the clock, too.

 

Scott and Johnny got up, Clay following them to hitch the teams.  The rest of the party stayed seated, letting the young folk go about their day.

 

Juanita and Isabel came in and took plates away and Gracia bought out the Rosca de Reyes, The King’s Cake. A round loaf of sweet bread, “garnished with jewels” of dried cherries.

 

“Tradition says whomever finds the baby Jesus in their piece has to host the party at Candlemas,” Murdoch warned. “So if you don’t want to see this motley bunch again next month, reach for the cookie tray instead.”

 

Everyone laughed and accepted a dessert plate except Val, who made a sandwich and headed outside.

 

 

@@@

 

While the men hitched the buggies, Teresa went up and changed her jacket. She met Juanita on the stairs. “Are you ready?”

 

“Sí. Antonio said he will pick me up in twenty minutes.”  They both laughed. Since they both lived on the ranch, he didn’t have to go out of his way to get her. Teresa admired the pair of tortoise shell hair combs Antonio had given his intended. Juanita had her hair up in a complicated swirl of sausage curls held with pins and the pierced scroll of the comb shone against her jet-black hair. 

 

“Well, I better get moving or they will leave without me.”  Teresa dashed up the stairs to change from the plain brown jacket she wore at lunch to the fancy jacket with pink fabric inserts and cream lace cuffs. She tied her hair with matching pink ribbons and pinned on her brown hat.

 

She grabbed her heavy cloak and her overnight bag. She would stay the night in town with friends. She went down the stairs to say her goodbyes to Murdoch and his friends gathered before she left.

 

When she got to the buggies, the men were discussing just how they were going to arrange chaperone duties. It was determined that Antonio and Juanita would follow Clay and Teresa and Constance over to Randy Brewster’s home and from there they would go on to the dance. That left Scot and Johnny free to go into town where they would pick up Alice and Prudence.

 

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The gathering settled in the living room with the coffee pot on the coffee table and the fire keeping the room warm.  They discussed the news that the doctors brought from around the countryside and the ladies brought from town.

 

Harlan and Cypriano discussed the merits of locations for a kiln, the foreman having a much better idea about the needs and locations of water, limestone and sand.

 

Murdoch glanced at the mail that had come in, setting aside a few letters for Scott, the newspapers, for future reading, and there was one for Harlan. He set them all aside as Isabel brought the Rosca de Reyes from the dining room and set it on the coffee table.

 

Murdoch picked up the knife.  “Now,” Murdoch reminded, “bite carefully. There is a marzipan doll in one of the slices.” 

 

The slices were cut and served with a fine Sherry.

 

@@@

 

Scott and Johnny drove to the Britland’s first. Scott was escorting Prudence, but the family wasn’t going to allow her to go alone with them, even if it was only four streets away to the Saunder’s home, so they also loaded Honor, who Scott had taken to the dance last fall, in the back of the buggy. It would be a tight fit when they got Alice in the back as well.

 

Johnny handed Alice up and the ladies all laughed as they squashed up their skirts and squeezed in.   They got to the Grange Hall just as the band was setting up. Long tables lined one wall, covered with white cloths and red and green bunting. There were small treats of cookies, cakes and pies.   Johnny and Scott each paid their nickels, ladies got in free, and they gave each lady a cup of punch.  

 

The ladies were each handed a dance card, and Scott filled his name on two lines on each one, including Alice’s. He showed Johnny how to do the same on his, so he wouldn’t stand any lady up.

 

They spent a lovely evening mingling and Scott made sure to check in with Teresa and Juanita as they arrived.  

 

Johnny had to jostle Scott’s shoulder as the band struck up a lively tune. “Ladies seem to be treating Alice good.”

 

Scott knew that Johnny had been worried that Alice and Lizzie would be treated badly, especially, by the ladies of the town, but instead, Alice seemed to be a bit of a local heroine. About an hour into the evening Lizzie and Jerry showed up. Jerry looked proud enough to bust in his new frock coat. Lizzie was wearing a dress in pale pinks and cream that set off her blonde completion.  As soon as she saw Johnny she came quickly through the crowd.

 

“Mr. Lancer.” She held out her hand.

 

He took her delicate hand in his.  “Miss Holcomb.”

 

“I’m not sure I ever said thank you for your efforts on my behalf.”

 

“My pleasure, uhm, I mean,” Johnny stammered to a stop. “Glad to be of assistance, ma’am,” he finally said with a grin.

 

She smiled back and him and gave a little half curtsey as he let go of her fingers.

 

Jerry stepped up smoothly and held out his elbow for her to take and before they headed over to the punch bowl, Jerry tipped his hat to Johnny.

 

It was a fine night all around.

 

@@@

 

The guests were headed up to bed. The young crowd would stay in town for the night, with friends or family, as the days were so short this time of year and the dance would go at least until midnight.

 

Harlan had found the marzipan doll in his slice and teased that he’d send for a French chef from San Francisco so that Maria wouldn’t have to cook. She teased back that there was no way on earth a Frenchman was setting foot in her kitchen.

 

As the house settled and Murdoch shut the doors and turned the lights out, Harlan opened his letter from San Francisco.

 

“Oh,” he said softly.

 

“Problems?” Murdoch inquired. 

 

“Prescott is planning to marry my cook, Mrs. Hardy.”

 

“Oh that’s something.” Murdoch had never actually met the man who had been at Harlan’s side, but Scott had told a tale or two on long evenings.

 

“He wants to stay on, and says Mrs. Hardy, uhm, well soon to be Mrs. Prescott does, too, but understands if I don’t approve.”

 

Murdoch stood by, not adding to the conversation.

 

“Of course, l don’t mind if he should be married,” Harland said with a huff.

 

Murdoch nodded his approval.

 

“Oh, it says he wants to be married by Candlemas.” 

 

“That seems soon,” Murdoch interjected.

 

“According to the letter, he says that as old as they are, they don’t want to wait.” Harlan looked up. “My life has taken some very strange turns recently.”

 

Murdoch followed as Harlan headed toward the stairs. “It seems good turns, don’t you think?”

 

Harlan stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Yes,” he paused as he considered. “Yes, all good things.”

 

@@@

 

Just before midnight Murdoch heard steps on the stairs but nothing else, so he assumed it was one of his guests getting a snack and he rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

TBC