Epilogue
On April 15, 1886, Alanza Yates stared down at the small face of her first grandchild. Her name was Maria Elizabeth. She had a head full of dark hair and was perfectly formed from her tiny toes to her beautiful golden eyes. Alanza could barely see the one-hour-old baby through her happy tears.
Mariah, she’s beautiful just like her mama.”
And her abuela,” the very tired Mariah offered with a smile.
Being called abuela made Alanza’s eyes fill with even more tears. “Thank you for her.”
You’re welcome.”
I’m going to give her back to you, because I know Logan is going to lose his mind if we don’t let him in.”
So she handed the precious child back to her nuera, and after placing a kiss on the brows of both, made her exit.
Logan tipped inside.
Hello,” his wife called sleepily. “Come see our Maria.”
He walked over and the sight of Mariah holding the product of their love nearly knocked him to his knees. He was so overwhelmed his emotions wouldn’t let him speak. “She’s so beautiful,” he finally managed to say.
Yes, she is. Do you want to hold her?”
He leaned down and Mariah very carefully transferred their daughter into her father’s strong arms. “Hey, little miss,” he said softly. “Welcome to the world. I’m going to teach you how to ride, and shoot, and all the things a girl needs to know. Uncle Noah will teach you to sail and to fight pirates. Not sure what your Uncle Andrew can teach but I’ll make sure it has nothing to with bordellos.”
Logan!” Mariah laughed.
Logan thought his daughter just perfect. “She has your eyes, querida.”
And will probably have your height. The midwife says she’s quite long.”
He tenderly handed Mariah back the baby and kissed his wife softly. “I’ll let you two sleep. Get some rest.”
Logan?”
Yes.”
I love you so.”
I love you more. I’ll be back in a little while. There’s something I need to do.”
What is it?”
Start gathering rocks.”
As he left the room, the happy Mariah looked down at her beautiful daughter, thanked heaven for both her child and her husband, and drifted into sleep.
In a small boardinghouse in San Francisco, another baby was born—a little boy with dark hair and dark eyes. His tired mother, a stranger to Mariah and Logan, peered down at him sleeping so peacefully and smiled at him lovingly in spite of all her worries. Because of her profession, determining who the father might be had been a conundrum, until the midwife showed her the small birthmark on the child’s back. It resembled a sunburst, and the mother knew of only one man similarly marked. He wouldn’t be pleased to learn he’d fathered a child, especially not with her, but the baby was his, and she’d not let their son be denied. Kissing her son’s tiny forehead, she snuggled him close, and she, too, drifted off to sleep.