Reverend Timothy Johnson sat in a corner of the church, polishing the chandeliers. He had discovered this was one of the things for which sight was not needed. He felt the clean unblemished metal under the soft oiled cloth he was using to rub them, he could even smell it. Somebody pushed the door open with a loud creak, and he took a mental note. Shouldn't be too hard to take it off the hinges and grease it.
    "Reverend?" Alison Lowell called softly.
    "Afternoon, Reverend Johnson," said a not unfamiliar male voice.
    "Please, come in," he said heartily, "Alison and..."
    "Sgt. McKay."
    That was it! The commander of the old army camp, the one who had searched for Sully when he had gone missing. The Reverend had heard he'd come back as part of the Fort Lafayette garrison. "May I do somethin' for you, my friends?"
    "Actually..." There was a pause in Alison's answer. "We thought, you see, we'd like to get married."
    "But of course!" exclaimed Reverend Johnson. Then thought about it. "To each other?"
    "... yes," answered the sergeant.
    Now this was unexpected. Alison was a faithful and serious parishioner, and he thought highly of her. He was aware of her past difficulties and was sorry that she'd given up all hope of building a family. It was such a good thing that she had changed her mind - but for a soldier?
    And anyway, who was he to judge the desire of two souls to unite? It was just a matter of checking their intentions. "And when are you plannin' to get married?"
    "Now," McKay said.
    "What?!"
    "Yes," Alison said.
    "Really," the Reverend said, concerned, "don't you think it's too hasty? When did you first meet?"
    "At the end of June," McKay admitted.
    "But I gather that you left Colorado Springs immediately after the Windy Creek mission, Sergeant," the Reverend objected.
    "Yes."
    "An' when did you come back?"
    "Two weeks ago."
    He shook his head. "Listen, you must have actually seen each other for a few days!"
    Alison started ticking on her fingers. He heard the soft tap of the fingertips. "Well," she said, "the first day at the League in June, then Sunday in church..."
    "That afternoon when you came to talk to me at the camp," McKay added. "Makes three. An' it was so important to me."
    "The day we met in front of the saloon..."
    "I think it's more like ten days, all in all."
    "All right, all right," the Reverend intervened, "It was just a manner of speaking. It's not enough anyway."
    "But we wrote to each other for two months," McKay contributed. "I sent you five letters, you three, isn't it?"
    "Just because he wrote first," Alison explained patiently to the Reverend, "and his last letter said that he was coming back to Colorado Springs in September, and I was afraid that another from me wouldn't reach him."
    "One doesn't keep up an engagement by mail." The Reverend sounded severe.
    "Yes, if one got no other option," answered the sergeant, dourly. "Never a full day's leave, while I was in Denver. Not even time to jump on a train, come here, say hi an' be gone."
    Reverend Johnson heard a sort of rustle. The two were holding hands. "Well, don't stand there." He nodded towards the nearest bench. He remained standing, just to let them know who was in charge there, if only by higher decree. "I see your point. There's no reason to doubt your commitment. But if you're so serious as you claim to be, it won't be a problem to delay it a few months longer."
    "A few months?" they said together.
    "Yes!" he said encouragingly. "To test your resolution. You've waited till now, it won't be too hard, will it?"
    This was met by an awkward silence.
    "I know," added the Reverend in a fatherly tone, "or rather, I can imagine, when two people are very much in love as you appear to be, the wait seems impossible."
    The silence went on.
    "Well?" he urged them, suddenly suspicious.
    "Well," repeated McKay, and didn't go on.
    The Reverend's shoulders slumped forward. "Better have a good talk on this..."
    
    Alison sighed. Reverend Johnson and McKay had been cooped up in a corner of the church for more than twenty minutes. The Reverend had insisted to talk to each alone about what had passed. He had been rather indulgent with her, but it seemed he was giving McKay a proper grinding.
    Finally they got up and approached her. McKay seemed suitably humbled, an effect enhanced by the way his face still looked after the Red Needle ordeal, with the cut lip and the hollow cheeks. The Reverend nodded at him to sit down and prudently took place between him and Alison. "You two have done a very bad thing," he said severely.
    McKay didn't object.
    "It was bad," intervened Alison, "but you must understand, Reverend, it was my idea..."
    "Of course, an' Sgt. McKay put up a strenuous resistance!" he countered ironically. "At least now I understand the hurry. I agree with you, Sergeant, marryin' her at once's the next most honourable thing."
    McKay bristled. He leaned his elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't wanna marry Alison just for a matter of honour," he said. "Actually I forgot my honour because I love her, an' she loves me." There was wonder in his voice. "That's the reason why, not to put things right in the face of the world." He looked intently at her, his eyes warm.
    Alison already knew his abrupt declarations of love. She felt as if she was having difficulty in breathing. All that talk had simply recalled to her their one delicious night together, when they had shared their souls as well as their bodies, before he was sent to near-certain death at the Red Needle. She couldn't imagine not being able to take care of him after all his troubles and to find her own comfort in that. She didn't want to fight conscience and conventions anymore. "Listen, you two," she said firmly, "stop debating honour. I don't care about honour right now. Reverend, you say he's got to marry me? Then let him."
    "I can't," he said earnestly. "Not before being sure of your intentions."
    "But you said you could tell -" began McKay.
    "I can tell you're in love. Nobody says you'll stay in love long enough to bring up a family. I know the world, my friends."
    Alison noticed in surprise that her reaction was not the cynical one she would have had only the year before. She felt an utter safety and trust in McKay's feelings. As for her own, they couldn't be more solid. They shared a look over the Reverend's shoulders, and McKay reached out to her.
    "Hands off, Sgt. McKay!" the Reverend warned him.
    The sergeant let his arm fall. Then he expressed her very own thoughts. "We didn't wait so long for a false start," he said. "We're old enough to distinguish between love and a childish crush." He looked at her with amusement. That had been one of the topics of their letters.
    "All right, you say it's love," said the Reverend. "Let's see. What made you love each other? You go first, Sergeant." Before McKay had even opened his mouth, he added, "I'm talkin' of moral qualities."
    McKay lifted his eyebrows, Alison smirked. "That's easy," he said. "Alison's special. I saw it at once. There she was, in her makeshift Temperance League, all set to save my soul." She still blushed at the thought. "Susan had all the enthusiasm, but you looked so much more stable, if you don't mind me sayin' this of your sister."
    "You're welcome," said Alison, a little bitterly.
    "Then, the way you took care of Susan," he added. "I still don't think you did anythin' wrong. You did what you thought best, an' she turned out well. She did some good to Markham. Been keepin' an eye on 'em in Denver, an' though I personally consider the man a fool, he's holdin' her in the palm of his hand."
    Alison shrugged. "He'd better."
    "Last but not least, this lady here climbed down a canyon with an injured ankle to see if anybody needed help," McKay went on. "That was the moment I felt certain."
    "Remember, you had probably hit your head somewhere," she told him gently.
    "Just imagine if I hadn't," he answered. "I'd have asked you to marry me right there. An' then... there's all the rest, all she is, Reverend. I'd need a whole day to tell you. But I don't have a whole day. I want to marry her now."
    The Reverend turned his face skyward. "A real one-track mind, Sergeant. Your turn, Alison. What on earth interested you in this individual?"
    "I hope that's a rhetorical question, Reverend Johnson," she smiled. "Have you ever met any officer who brings his men to a Temperance League meeting in his spare time instead of carousing with them in the saloon? Or even - may I tell him, McKay?"
    McKay grasped at once what she meant. "As long as it don't reach the fort..."
    "He's been taking Corporal Winters to the theatre in Denver," she said proudly.
    "Just 'cause he's a promisin' lad," he hastened to add.
    "Oh, come on. Stop playing the loutish soldier. You did like The Cid."
    "Is that so?" exclaimed the Reverend, interested. "Did you see anythin' else?"
    "Some Shakespeare. Yeah, there's this small company in Denver, quite lively. Then a new thing, an opera by some Italian composer, somethin' 'bout Egypt. Real grand."
    "Now, I do think the theatre can be a place of sin, but if carefully approached - Shakespeare, you said? You know, our Dorothy stages plays an'..."
    "Gentlemen," cut in Alison, "we don't have all day."
    "Right," said the Reverend, chastened. "You were sayin', Sergeant?"
    "It was my turn," she pointed out. "And I was saying McKay here is the best man I've ever met who doesn't have a wife already, and even among those he ranks rather high. Apart from trying to improve on his soldiers, he treats ladies kindly, spares his horse and is nice to his cat."
    The Reverend was impressed.
    McKay shrugged. "Garrison's cat. Somebody's got to feed him an' prevent Sgt. Flaherty from cookin' him for dinner. Nothin' else. Got no time for pets."
    "I found him sleeping on your cot this morning when I came to look for you."
    "Ain't responsible for what he does while I shave."
    The Reverend patted his hands on his knees. "So. Let's try to be short. In a word, how would you sum up what's most important for you in each other?"
    Alison looked at McKay. He stared at her with that small movement with his lips he made when he was thinking. For a moment they studied each other like duellists.
    "Care," she said.
    "Safety," he answered at once.
     She smiled gratefully.
    "And peace," he added, with a wistful look.
    "That's two," protested Alison, winking. "Then I say constancy."
    "All right, you can stop." The Reverend smiled, and she began to feel more relaxed, and excited at the same moment. "It really seems you're sure of what you're doing. Let's get a little into the technicalities. No previous unresolved engagements?"
    "No."
    "Definitely not."
    "Been true to each other in these months?"
    "Yeah."
    "Of course."
    "Sgt. McKay, Denver's a place of temptation..."
    "Everywhere's a place of temptation, Reverend, if one wants to be tempted. As for myself, my only temptation's here. 'sides, I had no time for women in Denver, I was always goin' out with Winters."
    Alison burst into laughter. She placed her hand on her mouth. She was in a church.
    "A serious commitment indeed!" The Reverend pressed his hands together. "Now, your attitude towards children?"
    This caught them a little by surprise. Alison leaned on the back of the bench, trying to sort out her emotion from her rationality. She turned to look at McKay over the Reverend's shoulder and found him staring at her, moved in turn. "I don't know," she said, trying to be truthful, talking to him more than to the Reverend. They had never seriously tackled the topic before. "If we had a baby we'd probably have to make some sacrifices. It would be better to wait some time. Yet..." She couldn't help imagining it, all the love they shared, coalesced inside her into a new little being, a new person to watch grow and live.
    "I'll feel blessed whenever it comes," she whispered at last. McKay smiled slowly, and whatever answer he was going to give got stuck in his throat. His eyes filled with delight and he reached out to touch her arm. This time the Reverend did not notice, or had nothing to object. She too held out her hand and gently brushed McKay's face with her fingertips.
    The Reverend sighed happily as they regained their composure. "That's the right attitude. But I gotta know if you'll raise properly your children in the faith. Alison, I know you're a devout believer..."
    "I try to be," she answered. "Sometimes I am full of doubts."
    "Who isn't?" said the Reverend in a low, long-suffering voice. "How about you, Sergeant?"
    It was a serious question, and he took his time to answer. "My father raised me very strictly in that sense," he said at last, crossing his arms. "Then - the world's large, an' years are long. I wish an' hope for a better world, here or elsewhere, an' I feel a great comfort inside this church. I try to be a good man, I try to remember to give thanks sometimes." He stopped, looking down. This had to be an intensely personal topic for him, and Alison was surprised he had allowed it to be dug out of him, at least partly.
    The Reverend nodded. "It's a start. I'm reassured about it. Yet..." He shook his head. "There's somethin' about you two that I don't get."
    "What?" asked McKay, suddenly suspicious.
    "You - you just can't agree on everythin'. It's inhuman. There's gotta be somethin' you don't like of each other. Somethin' you could quarrel about."
      "Why?" protested Alison. She had been so miserable in the last days, so afraid McKay would never come back from the Red Needle, that his presence filled her only with thoughts of joy. Quarrelling with him? When all she longed for was to draw him to herself and give him all her sweetest love?
    "Because... Why, even the most solid couples have their disagreements! Sully an' Michaela almost split up before my very eyes when I gave 'em this same talk I'm givin' to you!"
    "An' this was a good thing?" asked the sergeant, perplexed.
    "It was an excellent thing! They took out all their hidden rage and worry. Had they kept it inside, it would have eaten them from within."
    Alison looked into McKay's wondrously clear, transparent eyes. She thought she could see all the way to the bottom of his soul and see herself reflected there with equal clarity. "But we don't have any hidden rage or worry," she said.
    "That's the problem! It's because you don't know each other very well."
    "All right, if we have to quarrel," McKay said, pragmatically, "let's quarrel." He looked at Alison and thought hard, drawing his eyebrows together. "I think you shouldn't wear all those dark dresses. You look great in red."
    "Hmmm," she answered admiringly. "And I think you... you should wear your hair longer. Scrap the army barber. Jake's better."
    "Got that. Uh... you're too dark-complexioned for a lady."
    Alison stifled a laugh. It was true, and he loved that. She had to come up with something equal. "You smell of horses."
    McKay's eyes widened, and he sniffed at the sleeve of his uniform.
    "But not now," she added.
    The Reverend's shoulders fell. "I thought I said moral qualities."
    "Right," McKay said. "In that case, you're too hard on people, Alison."
    "Look who's talking. You're always judging others, then being miserable when you discover you were wrong." He briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, and she added, "And that's exactly your contrite expression."
    They smiled at each other.
    The Reverend sighed. "You're not really tryin' All these are little things. How can you be so sure that nothin' serious'll come up in the future?"
    "I'm sure," said McKay flatly. "There's nothin' of Alison I couldn't stand. I told you, Reverend, I ain't gonna get bad surprises from my feelings. I never felt this way before. I got enough experience to tell, an' so does she."
    This did not seem to have a particular implication, but the Reverend lifted his head. "What do you mean, Sergeant?"
    It was awkward, and McKay seemed to grasp it too. "Well, Reverend," he said, even more brusquely, "what kind of a man d'you think I am? D'you believe I'll spend the rest of my days with her wringin' my hands 'bout the past? I - This discussion's beginnin' to seem pointless to me. You can't keep bringin' up objections." His face had reddened, and he was staring at the Reverend as though he'd been able to see him. "You don't want to marry us, say so an' be done with it!"
    So much for hidden rage and worry, thought Alison. Had she not known that McKay's anger was not turned on her or on the Reverend either, she would have been anguished by his reaction. But then again, in a civilised meeting the topic wasn't going to surface anymore.
    The Reverend's next words shocked her. "I did say so. I won't marry you now."
    The hurt look in McKay's face wrenched her heart more than anything. As she was about to reply, the door of the church swung open and in came Loren Bray.
    "Your oil supply, Rev," he called, mindful of the pile of bottles in his arms. "How's the cleanup goin'?" Then he lifted his eyes and saw McKay and Alison sitting on both sides of the Reverend, turning to stare at him with troubled faces.
    The lady jumped on her feet and came up to him. "Here, let me give you a hand, Mr. Bray," she said, taking the bottles from him and setting them on a bench.
    "It - it seems you don't need my help," said Loren, uncertain.
    "No, thank you, Loren," answered the Reverend. "I'll let you know."
    Loren nodded, tarried a little on the threshold, then turned hastily and was gone. Alison closed the door behind him.
    
    All of Colorado Springs was enjoying the warm lazy September afternoon along the main road. Michaela was reading to Dorothy the latest letter from Colleen and Andrew. Horace sat on the steps of the clinic, demonstrating to Brian and Katie the many wondrous capabilities of an unused piece of telegraph wire. The little girl, hand in hand with her brother, stared captivated at the loops and flowers and bunnies coming out of his hands, and so did Sully, crouched beside his daughter. Matthew was approaching from the library, brushing cobwebs from his shoulders and blowing dust off some serious-looking volumes. Grace and Teresa loitered just outside Loren's store; the older lady was by now some six or seven months pregnant and looked resplendent. Teresa was having a very intense talk with her, which seemed to worry Jake, leaning on the Gold Nugget's wooden banister, unwittingly side by side with a smug Robert E. In the background hovered Hank, smirking. Cloud Dancing was quietly taking possession of Loren's shop window, laying pelts and beaded ornaments artistically inside it. Preston and Daniel contemplated it all, one from the steps of his bank, the other sitting under the bell in the centre of the square.
    Loren started calling when he was still some twenty meters from them. "Listen... hey, listen to this!" He reached the square as fast as he could and stopped, puffing. "There's Sergeant McKay an' Miss Lowell in church with the Rev!"
    "That's very laudable of 'em," commented Dorothy. Michaela and Sully exchanged a look and kept their composure.
    "No, no, you don't understand." Loren took a deep breath. "She's wearin' a mighty fine blue dress, an' he's shaved! I think they... Hey, you there, whatcha doin' with my window?"
    "You think what, Loren?" inquired Dorothy.
    "I think they wanna get married!"
    "About time," commented Jake. A pause. "Ya mean to each other?"
    "Jake! Of course to each other. But they didn't look too happy."
    "Who could blame 'em," was Hank's comment.
    "How can you be such a cynic, Hank?" said Preston, approaching. "A new family is a source of hope and a step towards the future."
    "An' new business for your bank," joined in Robert E.
    "I'll be the first to publish the news in the Gazette," said Dorothy.
    "But why should they get married?" objected Grace. "They barely know each other."
    "We barely know him," intervened Michaela. "We don't know how much they've been seeing each other."
    "Come on, let's go an' see how it's goin'," said Loren. Everybody started to move.
    "Hey, just a moment," cried Michaela, exchanging a distressed look with Sully. "It's none of our business... Hey! Hey, stop!"
    
    As Alison closed the door behind Loren, McKay turned again and leaned back, closing his eyes. He'd had lunch with Alison at the fort, but now he was hungry again, and very tired. He wanted to fall asleep in her arms. Or in her proximity anyway, given his hurting ribs. He felt dejected. Talk about unlikeable things - she had not yet discovered the deep fatalistic streak against which he had to fight constantly. He didn't like to talk about himself. He'd hoped they'd have all the time to let it come out, then the Red Needle had disrupted their plans. It could be that the Rev was right. They had to get to know each other a little more. And yet, as he lifted his eyelids and watched Alison come back slowly in the rustle of her dress, he felt he needed nothing else. He couldn't be without her another moment. His weary brain couldn't elaborate much further, not even to be pessimistic.
    Alison did not come to sit beside the Reverend. She picked up her purse, walked to a window and stared out. "Maybe it's for the best," she said bitterly. "You couldn't stand me for long anyway, McKay. Nobody does."
    "Alison, how can you -" He was about to rise, but the Reverend stopped him with a sharp gesture.
    She tried to contain herself a little more, then threw her purse violently on the floor.
    "Alison..."
    "And that's nothin'! You should see what I did to Sergeant Flaherty."
    "Why, what did you - ?"
    "I hate this!" she exclaimed. "Reverend, you should be on our side - what's got into you? I trusted you. What's - what's this? There's a lot of people misbehavin' in this town, and you come to pick on us who have the best intentions? I don't understand. And I hate it when I don't understand. All I know is that I love him, and I'm so tired. Hidden worries - what could be worse than knowing he's a soldier and one day he may not come back again? What else do you want? This is not hidden. It's there all the time." Her eyes filled with tears. "You couldn't imagine the things I picture when I think that he... And yet I want to marry him. I don't want to lose a minute more. Why must we -" She covered her face with her hands.
    McKay rose. The Reverend did the same, but the sergeant stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Now don't you move." He went to Alison and took her in his arms. "Shhh, there," he whispered, pressing his lips on hers and laying his cheek against her lace bonnet. "It's all right. Who cares how many purses you throw or what you did to Flaherty - though I'm curious. I'm sorry to be a source of pain to you." She shook her head against his shoulder. "But I love you, Alison." Whatever she answered was muffled by his uniform, but to him it made sense. He looked at the Reverend who stood there, arms crossed. "Today we want to go home together," he said, softly caressing her back. "That's all that matters to us."
    Just at that moment the doors of the church burst open. "Scuse me," said Loren, the whole of Colorado Springs behind him, and stared at the scene. "Hey, don't tell us it's already over!"
    "Actually not..." said the Reverend. Alison looked over McKay's shoulder and her eyes widened. He turned, and was astonished at the sight of the townsfolk swarming inside the church. At the back, Sully opened his hands in a "not my fault" gesture, and Michaela's look was eloquent enough.
    "Come on, Reverend Johnson," said Jake, sitting down in the front row with his wife. "You know how much we all like a good weddin'."
    McKay was taken aback just for a moment. Then he smiled at the equally flustered Alison and turned to the Reverend. "Shall we proceed, then?" he asked nonchalantly.
    The Reverend sighed. "Reckon it's a sign," he said. "Well, ladies an' gentlemen, be seated. Sergeant McKay, if you would approach..."
    "Got to tell you about Flaherty," Alison whispered to McKay, her lips warm on his ear.
    "Later," he answered. "I'm sure it won't make me change my mind."
    "But..."
    "Not even if you tell me it's you who broke his nose," he joked.
    She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "That's something I would never do to you," she said innocently. She smiled at his astonished expression and gently took his arm. "Later."
    McKay tilted his head amusedly. "Later," he agreed softly. Later he'd learn all about Flaherty's nose, and it would be just the beginning of the infinite surprises he knew Alison had in store for him. Later they would go home, their home, and start their life together. Later, rest awaited them, and love. He pressed Alison's arm against himself and led her towards Reverend Johnson.

The End