Guns of the Canyonlands

Epilogue

Four months later Sally Brennan and Chance Tyree were married in the church at Crooked Creek. Zeb Pettigrew stood as best man.

Just about everybody in town attended the wedding, and all agreed bride and groom made a handsome couple and were surely destined for a long, happy life together.

Afterward, at a reception organized by the stalwarts of the fire department, Pettigrew stepped beside Tyree, a glass of champagne in his hand. Zeb had scrubbed up for the occasion and wore a black suit and collarless white shirt.

“First time I ever seen you without a gun, boy,” he said.

Tyree nodded. “It’s back to home at the cabin, Zeb, hanging on a nail.” He smiled at the old man. “The play is over, watcher.”

Pettigrew shook his head. “The old play is ended, maybe so, but a new drama begins.”

“Not for me,” Tyree said. “I’m all through with guns and gunfighting. Soon I hope to be a family man and be known only as a respectable rancher.”

“Who said anything about guns?” Pettigrew said, looking mildly offended. “I’m talking about seeing those young’uns of yours grow up, the girls as pretty as their ma and the boys as tall and straight as their pa.”

The old man sipped his champagne and smiled. “I’ll be watching. . . .”