Duster tossed over her shoulder and the McCoy pistol temporarily back in her hand, Rebecca leaves the sick room quickly, her long legs eating the yards between her starting point and her destination. The house is empty so she thinks nothing of yanking her belt from her jeans and pulling her shirt over her head before she makes it back to her old room. It too is empty now; the children temporarily housed in it already moved, her furniture stored in the barn except for the dresser and wardrobe. She blanks her mind as she turns on the taps for the shower. She is sure they had been doing without a lot of things, but water will never be one of them.

While the hot water works its way up the pipes, she flings open her wardrobe and pulls out a robe while shucking her boots off – followed by her now filthy jeans. She eyes the contents of her wardrobe and huffs.

What the hell am I doing? Years of avoiding this and now I’m the one pushing for it. Black Road bastards couldn’t leave Cimarron alone. Rebecca scowls and yanks through her remaining clothes. Can’t get married in work jeans. Ma’ll haunt me for sure. Knew I shouldna taken all my good stuff with me to Amber. Pausing, she considers what’s in her saddlebags currently stashed in the kitchen, and then discards that notion. They might be very much right here, but she is saving those for playing the part of the King of Amber’s daughter in Graymoor. Giving it up for a lost cause for the moment, Rebecca steps into the shower and tries not to think too hard.

Inspiration comes to her as she’s towel drying her hair. She may have taken all her good stuff when she left, but her mother hadn’t. She grins as she hurries to the other side of the house. Tristan had gotten rid of a lot of Catherine’s things, but the sentimental lawman wouldn’t have parted with all of it.

Demon gives her a good natured ribbing all the way down to Horsethief Basin. Rebecca let him with remarkable self control. She was more worried with messing up her mother’s dress then she was her impending nuptials. Wasn’t his fault he’d never seen in her in a dress. She hadn’t worn one since Cat had started letting her pick her own clothes. Certainly no one had ever seen in her like this. The white of the calf length skirt and the white fitted blouse shine the moonlight. The small metal buttons march precisely down the front of the flat pleated starched cotton; from the high banded collar to the narrow waist, to disappear under a reticulated silver belt that Rebecca has cause to know was a gift from Eric years before she was born. Even her boots are white with silver toe covers. She has forgone the hat, choosing to let her hair hang free and unbound.

She can smell the sage burning before she sees her destination. Looking down at the bundle of wild flowers tied with a blue ribbon, she smiles faintly at the lengths of tiny purple flowers among her choices. She didn’t remember until this very minute the importance of the flowering herb to weddings in these parts.

Reckon he’ll even recognize ya?

Rebecca smiles as she looks down from the ridge into the natural basin. She can see the white of Wyatt’s dress shirt, the gleam of Uncle T’s silver hair shining in the flickering light of four sage torches at the cardinal points of the stone circle.

“Wyatt will always know me.”

Just outside the pools of torchlight, right before the line of dogwood trees, Rebecca stops Demon. She watches two of the most important men in her life speak quietly with one of the remaining hands they have roped into acting as witness while they wait and she wonders again what the hell she’s doing.

Cold feet?

Rebecca dismounts silently onto the moss covered ground and moves to stand by Demon’s head. “No. Not really. Is this the right thing to do though? Now?”

I’m a horse. What do I know? He nudges her shoulder with his muzzle, careful of her dress. Will it make you happy?

“It’ll make Wyatt happy. It makes Uncle T happy.” She looks away from the men and at her horse. If horses had eyebrows, one of Demon’s would be raised. “What?”

I suspected as much.

“They may die here,” she murmurs. “When I’m hell and gone away. What is it going to cost me to make them happy? I do love Wyatt. Just….” She looks back to the torchlight. “No. It’s enough.”

Go them. I’ll watch over you. Like I always have.

She smiles at the stallion and gives him a fond tug on his ear. “I appreciate you.”

He nudges her again. Go.

Tristan had expected it from the moment she asked him to do this, but his breath still caught in his throat, his heart skipped a beat, and he almost said her name when his step-daughter stepped into the light at the Circle’s edge. Then it passes, and he’s standing when Wyatt’s breath hitches. He doesn’t have to look at the younger man to know the expression he wears as he too stands; he had one just like it all those years back.

Tristan smiles at the couple in front of him. Rebecca looks radiant, and Wyatt, well, he hasn’t seen a grin that big since he stood in that same spot. He finds amusement in the fact that horses now stand at the cardinal points outside the Circle; the places where family would normally stand for the couple. He clears his throat to get their attention off each other and on him.

“Ya ready, sweetheart?”

Rebecca smiles at Wyatt before looking at Tristan. “Yeah.”

Tristan’s smile turns to the groom. “Don’t reckon I need to even ask.”

“Nope,” grins the younger man.

“Awright then,” he nods and opens his book as the pair turn to face him. Not that he needs the book anymore, and certainly not for this one. He has waited a long time for this moment.

“Above ya are the stars, below ya are the stones.
As time does pass, remember:
Like a star should your love be constant.
Like a stone should your love be firm.
Be close, yet not too close.
Possess one another, yet be understandin’.
Have patience with the other; for storms will come, but they will go quickly.
Be free in givin’ of affection and warmth.
Make love often, and be sensuous ta one another.
Have no fear, and let not the ways of words of the unenlightened give ya unease.
For the Great Spirit is with ya, now and always.”

Tristan nods to them both. “Ya know what ta do.”

Wyatt’s grin grows even broader as he turns to the woman at his side. But he makes an effort at solemn “I, Wyatt, take ya Rebecca, as my wife. I do solemnly avow my love for ya. I will comfort ya, keep ya, love ya, defend you in sickness or in health, in riches or poverty, in sorrow or joy, seeking only to be with ya until death parts us. All these things I pledge upon my honor.”

She smiles at what she sees in his eyes. Now, she decides, is not the time to pretend she still has an accent thick as oatmeal. “I, Rebecca, take you Wyatt, as my husband. I do solemnly avow my love for you. I will comfort you, keep you, love you, defend you in sickness or in health, in riches or poverty, in sorrow or joy, seeking to be with you until death parts us. All these things I pledge upon my honor.”

Tristan curls an amused eyebrow at his girl, and then gives them both a warm smile. He holds out his hand to Rebecca. He is already holding her grandmother’s wedding rings. She places gently places a silver band worked with a braided design older then Cimarron beside the other rings. She chuckles softly at Wyatt’s surprise. She had made it to be a birthday gift, but it suits now.

Tristan closes his hand around the rings and holds them over his heart. “Circles have no beginnin’ and no end, an’ so in the long an’ sacred tradition of marriage, rings have come ta symbolize eternal love an’ endless union of body, of mind, an’ of the spirit. Bless.”

He again extends his hand and Wyatt plucks up the set of emeralds and diamonds. Lifting her hand, he slips it gently onto the center finger of her left hand – as is Cimarron’s tradition – and gazes lovingly into her eyes. ”This ring is a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor ya, and pledge to ya my love and life.”
At her turn, Rebecca takes the ring again. As she looks at him, she sees everything. Every moment of their lives together; from their first meeting to their first kiss of childhood innocence to the tentative exploratory ones that turned into the passion filled embraces of adulthood. She sees the possibilities, the ones that cannot be and the ones that can still be stolen within Wyatt’s comparatively short lifetime. He was her best friend, her oldest friend, and if knowing she was his wife made him even a little happier even when they were separated by worlds and a war, she can willingly give him those relatively few years.
She kisses the ring before slipping it on his finger. ”This ring is a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, and pledge to you my love and life.”

Tristan has to restrain himself from hugging them both. Instead he nods and slips the book in his pocket. He lays his hands over theirs.
“Now ya will feel no rain, for ya will be shelter to each other.
Now ya will feel no cold, for each of ya will be warmth to tha other.
Now there is no more loneliness, for each of ya will be companion to tha other.
Now ya are two bodies, but there is only one life before ya.
Soon ya will go to your resting place, to enter into tha days of your
May your days be good and long upon tha earth.

He steps back and holds his hands to the sky. “Father Sky an’ Mother Earth, creator an’ nurturer of all life, we give heartfelt thanks for the moment that brought Wyatt and Rebecca together in the Holy State of Marriage. Bless.”
He lowers his arms and lays a hand on each of their shoulders. “Cat an’ I saw this day comin’ a long time ago. Know that ya have tha blessin’s of tha both of us.” He leans in, kisses Rebecca fondly and squeezes Wyatt’s shoulder before stepping back. Rebecca looks suspiciously bright eyed.

“Well, whatcha waitin’ on? Kiss her already.”

Rebecca barely remembers to let Tristan know he needs to go fetch Zach and the Doc when Wyatt sweeps her up in his arms and strides to meet Demon. He doesn’t let her go. Between he and Demon, they get the both of them up on the horse with him still holding his bride.

As it turns out, Wyatt has been busy while waiting for Rebecca; the tree house has been forgone, and his cabin behind the main house cleaned and scattered with flowers and candles. He had always had more of a romantic streak then Rebecca, and this was a damn good excuse to exercise it. At least he thought so, and she isn’t inclined to argue.

For her part, Rebecca didn’t care about the setting. She has eyes only for Wyatt. They had many memorable nights between them, but with single-minded focus she endeavors to make this one the most memorable. It was one that was going to have to last him longer then usual, she suspects.

In the afterwards, Wyatt wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest with a very satisfied sigh. She doesn’t protest. Rebecca wraps an arm around him and gets comfortable.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Why, Mrs. Morgan. Are we gonna snuggle?”

“I believe we are, Mr. Morgan.” She doesn’t have to look at his face to see the grin on it. For a space of time they just enjoy the quiet that’s only broken by the sounds of their horses standing watch outside. Wyatt’s fingers card through her hair gently.

“Reckon you’ll be gone ‘lot longer then a few months this time,” he murmurs.

“Probably,” she replies quietly. “This mess has been goin’ a while. Before I went to Amber.” She shifts and props herself up on her arms resting on his chest. “Then again, it could be over next week.”

“But ya don’t believe that.”

“No,” she sighs. “I don’t.” She frees one hand to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing over his cheekbone gently. “I’ll be back, Wyatt.”

“Ya better,” he replies in a fierce whisper. “I meant what I said; I’ll come get ya myself if ya don’t.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible, darlin',” she chuckles.

Wyatt scowls. “Don’t test me, woman. Won’t nuthin’ keep me from ya – even crossin’ worlds.”

She smiles. “I know. But it won’t be necessary. I will be back. I don’t know when, but I will be back. I didn’t go to all the trouble of getting’ dressed up just ta ride off inta tha sunset an’ leave ya with nothin’ but fond memories.”

Wyatt chuckles and pulls her back down to his side. He kisses her forehead. “And what memories they are… an’, sweetheart. Ya don’ need ta pretend with me. I heard ya back at the ceremony, ya know.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs. Rebecca nuzzles his neck. “Habit. Dad’s the only one that knows. I’ll pull it out when it’s important. In the mean time, people underestimate me when I sound like I just rode in from cattle rustling.”

“Idjuts,” he snorts. He plays with her hair for a time before speaking again. "We need ta talk about Finn."

She exhales and sits pushes herself back up to see his face. "What about him?"

"I know I said it was alright before - Tha Spirit knows I can barely keep up with ya when yer home, an' it ain't fair ta ya ta make ya go without." He holds up a hand to stop whatever protest she was going to lodge. "It's longer fer ya then it is fer me. So hush." He purses his lips briefly before exhaling harshly. "It's gonna be longer this time, Becca. I'd just rather it not be Finn."

Her face screws up with honest confusion. "You want me to sleep with someone different?"

Wyatt shrugs one shoulder. "Well.. truthfully, no. But I'm tryin' ta be realistic here."

"But …"

"Look," he interrupts. "Finn visits here. He's liked. He's welcome. But I don' reckon I could look at him tha same way, knowin' he has sex with my wife when she's away. Awright?"

"Ahhh." Rebecca smiles faintly. "I see. So if I have to seek — relief, you'd rather it be someone you don't have to ever deal with."

"There ya go."

"The same goes for you, you know," she says for what isn't the first time.

"Ain't int'rested. 'Sides," he smiles wryly. "Silver Dollar's girls hie tailed it outta here so fast they left dust devils behind 'em."

Laying back down, Rebecca chuckles and snakes her arm back around him. “You should get some sleep, Wyatt.”

Wyatt rolls them over so he is again over her. He smoothes a hand down her curves and leans in to kiss her. “I can sleep after yer gone….”

She smiles and welcomes him back into her embrace. “I reckon ya can…”

The sunrise finds them on Wyatt’s front porch, wrapped in their favorite blanket and sipping coffee to watch the sun come up over the mountains. Neither one is willing to be the first to bring up her impending departure. Not that she has plans to leave immediately. She wants to make sure Zach’s made it through the night, and that things are alright in the warrens.

“You better be here when I get back,” she says eventually, breaking the silence.

Wyatt’s response is to tighten his arm around her and kiss the top of her head.

“I mean it, Wyatt. I don’t care if there’s a timber left standing on this land, or horse one, when I get back, but you better be. We can rebuild the ranch and replace the herds.”

“I’ll do my damndest,” he replies soberly, looking down at his wedding ring. “I got ever’thin’ ta look forward to.”

“Damn straight.” She lifts her head from his shoulder and smirks. “Wanna make out until Uncle T comes to check on things?”

Wyatt sets his coffee down and then hers before pulling her into his lap with a happy grin. “I have a right brilliant wife.”

“You have an insatiable wife.”

“Reckon tha Great Spirit loves me….”

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