Laughter and cheerful conversation filled the campsite as the group shared their evening meal.
The nine deputies were divided into three teams, taking turns standing guard.
The women, as they often do, had quickly formed a bond. Edith, Madeline, Mary, and Linda were already chatting like old friends.
"Linda," Edith said happily, "welcome to New York! I'll be there for another two weeks before I sail for England. I can show you and the little angels around the city."
Linda smiled. "Thank you, Edith. But your own schedule must be tight, with your trip to Frisco."
Edith shook her head. "I'm not going to Frisco. After we return to Denver, I'll be heading straight back to New York. If the timing works out, perhaps we can travel together."
"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Linda said, her face lighting up.
"Are you certain, Edith?" Madeline asked. "I agree it's for the best. If it weren't for Sheriff Henry, I can't bear to think of what might have happened."
"Indeed," Richard added. "Sheriff Henry, you have our deepest gratitude."
Henry, still wearing his camouflage clothing, just gave a nod. "It was my duty to help a gentleman who was bravely protecting his wife and friends."
Richard's spirits lifted. The affirmation from a man of such strength was a powerful tonic. "Thank you, Henry. I have never seen a warrior as mighty as you."
"It's true," Pete chimed in, eager to sing his friend's praises. "Back at the department, we call him the 'God of Guns'! Let me tell you…"
He launched into a dramatic retelling of Henry's recent exploits. Though Richard, Madeline, and Edith had already heard the stories, to hear them from an eyewitness, in the presence of the hero himself, was a completely different experience.
The women were utterly captivated, their eyes fixed on the tall, handsome young man who was the subject of these incredible tales.
In the West, a man's skill with a gun was the ultimate measure of his worth, of his very manhood. There was a common belief that a man quick on the draw was a man of integrity, and that those he killed usually deserved it.
The laws in many of the Western states were still in their infancy; Colorado had only joined the Union four years ago. A man had to rely on his own strength to protect himself and his family.
And Henry's strength was in a league of its own.
"Henry," Pete asked after he had finished his story, "is it true you wiped out over a hundred men from the Dodge Gang by yourself today?"
"One hundred and twenty-seven," Henry said calmly. "And one of them is driving our carriage."
"How did you do it? It was an entire mountain!" Pete said, making a wide gesture with his arms.
"With throwing knives," Henry replied. "Guns would have given away my position. And thank you, Charles. The path you told me about was a great help."
"It is I who should be thanking you, Sheriff," Charles said earnestly. He and Owen both knew that if they had been the ones to scout ahead, they likely would have ended up dead.
"But Henry," Pete said, a puzzled look on his face, "I didn't know you were a master with a throwing knife."
Henry just laughed. "Pete, there are many things you don't know about me. Come here, Becky. I have a gift for you."
The little girl immediately wriggled out of her mother's arms and ran to him.
Henry set down his coffee cup and lifted her into his lap. "What kind of treat would you like?"
"Candy?" she asked, her eyes wide with hope.
Henry held up his empty right hand, showed it to the crowd, then made a fist. When he opened it again, a Samuel's Sweetmeat was resting in his palm.
Becky clapped her hands with delight.
Henry unwrapped the candy and popped it in her mouth. "Is it sweet?"
"Sweet!" she said. "Thank you, Brother Henry!" She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
The others were stunned. "Henry," Pete said, "that's not possible."
"Miss Edith," Henry said, turning his attention to the young noblewoman. "You were very brave today. This flower is a token of my respect." He held out his empty hand again, closed it into a fist, and then opened it to reveal a beautiful, blue-violet wildflower, its petals still glistening with dew.
"Wow," the crowd murmured. It had to be magic. A candy could be hidden up a sleeve, but a fresh, dew-kissed flower? Impossible.
"Becky," Henry said, ruffling her soft hair, "please take this flower to Sister Edith."
"But Mommy says she's Auntie Edith," the little girl said, her eyes wide with confusion.
"Oh? Did I get it wrong?" Henry said, feigning surprise. "When you give her the flower, could you please ask her for me?"
"Okay!" Becky took the flower, ran over to Edith, and held it out to her. "Auntie Edith, Brother Henry says you're a sister. Is he wrong?"
Edith happily accepted the flower, then shot a flirtatious glance at Henry before giving Becky a kiss on the cheek.
"Either is fine, sweetie," she said. "What would you like to call me?"
Becky tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Sister," she said decisively. "Brother Henry is so tall, but he's still just a brother."
Linda smiled. "George?" she asked. She had met George Bruce a few times, and like most women, she had found him unforgettable.
Henry just smiled and nodded.
"Of course," Pete said, a look of realization dawning on his face. "That's who it was."
"Who?" his wife, Mary, asked impatiently.
"George Bruce," Pete explained. "Henry's uncle. He claims to be a great magician."
"Bruce?" Richard asked, his eyes widening. "Are you from the Bruce family?"
"I suppose so," Henry said with a shrug. "Though I've never met any of the others."
Madeline and Edith exchanged a look of understanding.