Peacemaker

Chapter 5

I headed back east a ways. Rode for five and a half days before I saw the gateway leading up to the front porch. The trail had taken its toll. The hairs on my face were long and wiry. I was covered in dirt and sweat, along with Abel. As soon as I got within a few hundred feet of the house, I could smell supper cooking on the stove. The warm, succulent, buttery aroma of fresh biscuits wafted out from the opened window in the kitchen, and filled my very soul with a nostalgic melancholy. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was home. 

I climbed out of the saddle and led Abel over to the barn, took my saddle off his back and bridle out of his mouth, then tossed him some hay before walking up to the house. After taking off my hat, I knocked on the door. I could hear my mother laughing and another voice chatting in the front room, but the commotion ended when I rapped on the roughcut, pine wood door.

My mother opened the door, then stopped and stared at it for a moment, shocked at  the appearance of this strange man on her front porch. I grinned through the grime and whiskers on my face, then sheepishly spoke. "Hey, momma. I'm home."

Her shocked expression melted away as tears welled up in her eyes. "Micheal?" She whimpered through a smile.  

I gave her a nod, choking on my own tears. She reached out and wrapped her arms around me. My mother squeezed me tight, almost to say You aren't leaving my sight again. I wrapped my arms around her in return, fighting back the tears and losing. 

She let go and looked me over, stopping at the guns around my waist. "Michael, what are those?" She said, a stern tone backing her words. 

I looked down at the guns, sighed, then looked back at her. "I've been traveling a lot, Ma. A gun or two at my hip keeps bad men modest, and thieves' hands don't tend to find themselves in your wallet as often."

She sighed, "You know better than to lie to me. What are they for Micheal?"

I sighed, then hung my head for a minute. "They were gifts from a few friends I met while I was running with some out-"

My mother shouted, "Outlaws!?" I winced as she cuffed the back of my head. "My son had better not of been out robbing honest folk and killing. What did I tell you would happen if you kept raising hell and gallivanting around like some dimenovel gunman?"

I muttered, "I'd get hung or shot."

She sighed, "My darling boy, you haven't changed. Even after a year, you still think you're untouchable. What will your father say?"

I paused for a moment, then looked up at her. I could feel that aching in my chest. The tears I was fighting went from overjoyed to sorrowful, preventing me from holding them back. I guess she saw the change of emotion, because she stopped too. "No..." She whispered. She fell to the ground, sobbing. 
"No! He couldn't!  He said it was just a simple hunt, something he had done countless times before."

I helped her back to her feet. "He died trying to save me. I'm to blame. If I hadn't been there, he would have been home by now."

She looked up to me, then to the Peacemaker on my left hip. "No, he could have done his job in the middle of Denver in broad daylight with people all around him and still would have walked away alive. If he was killed, then you were damn lucky to walk away alive." She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Come, I have some stew on the stove. Let's get you fed, there will be time to mourn later."
I nodded and followed her back into the house, resting my hat on one of the coat hooks by the door. As I walked into the living room, Fira greeted me with a smile and waved. I saw red for a moment, my hand inching toward one of the guns at my hip. Fira chirped "Hello, Mister O'Neill! It's a pleasure to see you again."