STAKE YOUR CLAIM
Chapter 28: ‘1939’
‘Summer, 1939’
A/N: This is it. The last chapter, with an Epilogue to follow. I have truly enjoyed writing this fiction. Thank you, everyone for letting my story be a part of your life. Luv, S
Buffy sat in her big old comfy chair, the one in the parlor, diligently working her knitting needles. Wynona, Trace’s wife was about to give birth to their second child and Buffy was determined to finish the baby blanket before the baby arrived.
Will, her husband, sat in his big old comfy chair, across from her, reading the Cheyenne Tribune.
“I don’t know why I read this damn thing,” she heard him grumble, “no decent news anymore. No happy news anyway,” he snorted in contempt as he ran his left hand through his silver hair and adjusted his glasses.
“Just a few years ago, seems like all’s the Tribune ran was ‘happy’ items, full of hope. Trying to lull us, I guess, through the Depression.”
“Well, Will,” Buffy sighed, pausing at her knitting, “with the War in Europe, I expect ‘bad’ news is all we’ll hear or read about for a long time now.”
William Giles growled lowly, causing Buffy to giggle (yes, Buffy still giggles!), “bloody little moron, Hitler,” he hissed harshly. “Wants to be King of the World. Arse, he’ll pull the U.S. into it, before it’s over, mark my words. We’ll have to go after him. Stupid git. If I was young again, I’d…”
Buffy gave her husband one of her ‘looks’ and he changed the subject. Spike watched his wife, knitting away, so determined to finish the little baby blanket for Trace and Wynona’s unborn child.
“What are they going to name the baby, if it’s a boy this time,” he asked his wife, warily, knowing full well what the answer just might be. His Princess smiled at him, “you know very well, William Giles that if this one is a boy, it’s going to be named William Rupert Giles IV. And don’t make a fuss, get over it.”
Spike shook his head, “then I hope it’s another girl. A little sis for Elizabeth, that’s the ticket.”
He grinned at Buffy when she frowned at him, “you know, Will,” she mumbled, “I think it’s high time you got over all this anti-junior monikers and such, it’s nonsense.”
Spike shrugged, but kept grinning at his tiny wife. “Ever wonder, Princess,” he began to chuckle softly, “what old Riley Finn would think if he found out that our Grandson, my namesake, married old Ford’s Granddaughter, Wynona? Bet he’d just die of shock, huh? That is, if he wasn’t already deader then a door nail.”
Buffy sighed in exasperation at her ‘Old Man’ and scowled at him again, “now that’s enough, Will,” she hissed. “Riley’s dead, has been for years, we shouldn’t even speak about him. It’s disrespectful and I suppose that he may have turned out okay in the end. Look at our dear Caleb Montgomery. He did a 180 and turned out to be a kind compassionate man, just needed a good woman in his life, like Anne. It’s wonderful, really,” she murmered softly with a smile, “all of us, from the old days, somehow connected together, for always.”
She heard her husband yawn loudly. “Damn, I’m more tired then I’ve ever been in my life,” Will sighed slowly.
“Let me finish this row of stitches,” Buffy said evenly, not looking up from her knitting, “we can go on up and take a nap together.”
Buffy ignored her husband’s wicked chuckle, knowing full well what he was implying by it. “You are incorrigible Will,” she stated evenly, but smiled.
“Will?” Looking up, she realized that her husband had fallen asleep, right in his chair, already. ‘He never does that,’ she frowned, ‘he must be really tired.’
Buffy set her knitting aside and hurried over to Will’s chair, taking his arm in her hand. “Dear,” she shook him, gently and removed his glasses for him, “let’s get you upstairs, we’ll both take a nap, like I said.”
Her Will opened his still indigo colored eyes and smiled at Buffy, wearily, “I’m tired, Princess,” he whispered, “can we rest, Buffy. Can we just rest now?”
His eyes flickered shut, then they fluttered open again and Buffy saw an old familiar light in them, never gone, just a little dimmer in his old age.
“I love you school teacher,” her Will murmered with his lovely grin. Then he closed his eyes once more.
“Will,” Buffy whispered weakly, shaking her husband’s still body a little harder, “Will, wake up now. Let’s go upstairs and…”
But she knew, deep down, He, her wonderful William, was never going to open those beautiful blue eyes of his again. At least, not in this world.
Buffy felt as if someone, some cruel, hateful being had stabbed her through her heart with a knife. At first, she could not even think straight, could not even put enough thoughts together to call out to someone to help Will, and her. Then, when the numbness passed, Buffy allowed herself to embrace the pain and sorrow that encompassed her whole body and soul. She fell into her dead mate’s lap and began to sob, uncontrollably.
‘Days later’
If Buffy Summers-Giles had ever had favorite Grandchildren, which she did not, but if she did? They would have to be her darling Trace and Victoria, who the family called Vicky. Maybe, that’s why it was these two family members that Buffy had asked to stay with her, at the family cemetary, up on the small knoll, after the rest of the family and friends returned to the ranch house.
The service had been lovely, Buffy’s Will was sent off with a fine, fine service. So many family and friends had attended, that the poor ranch cook had to have help in cooking the funeral feast.
However, now, it was just Trace, Vicky and herself standing by the fresh grave that held Buffy’s husband of nearly sixty years.
“Gran,” Buffy heard her Grandson, Trace, call to her softly, “he was good man.” She could ‘feel’ her dear Vicky’s nod in agreement with her cousin’s attestment.
“He was a great man,” Buffy murmered in response. “Like all Giles men. It’s in your blood you know, you Giles males.”
Vicky clasped her Grandmother about her still tiny waist, “yes,” the young woman agreed, “Giles men are the best, Gran.”
Buffy smiled sadly at her Vicky, “the women too, Vic,” she said softly and lay her silver head on her Granddaughter’s shoulder.
“We were supposed to go together, your Grand Dad and me,” Buffy whispered to both of her Grandchildren present.
“I remember,” Trace murmered in response, “when I was about seven, when Uncle Byron was killed and…” he gave his cousin Vicky a sympathetic glance.
“Never knew my real Dad,” Vicky said sadly, “Jesse Harris is the only Father I’ve ever really known.”
Cindy, Vicky’s Mother, had gone out to California to visit her older brother Hank, after her first husband had died. There, happily, Cindy re-met Jesse Harris, Xander and Anya’s second son and made a match with him.
“Yeah,” Trace whispered again, thoughtfully, “I remember when you told Dad and me, Gran, that you and Grandad William were supposed to ‘go together’ and all.
Buffy felt a wave of pain and sorrow shoot through her body again, something she was getting quite used to in the past few days.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without my Old Man,” Buffy sighed wistfully as she patted Vicky’s hand affectionately.
“Well,” Vicky’s voice became instantly lighter, “there is something. I mean, something Trace and I have been thinking about. Go on, Trace, tell Gran about the novel.”
Trace blushed, reminding Buffy even more of her Will, “it’s a series, really, Gran,” he hesitated then continued with more confidence, “at least to start, that is. With Vicky here, working at the Tribune and all, and my first novel, a best seller, well, we thought that we might work together. On a new novel, a serial type story, about you and Grand Dad. The Summers/Giles family in general and the old days. You’re the only one left Gran, from the old days and…”
Buffy was painfully reminded, once more, that she was indeed the only one left from the real old days in Wyoming. She looked over at her brother-in-law, Connor and her little sister, Dawnie’s, graves, longingly.
‘They ‘are’ all gone,’ she thought sadly, ‘everyone from the past. Before Wyoming was a State, before it became so tamed and when Will and me were young.’
“Do you think anyone would really want to read such a book, Trace?” Buffy asked her Grandson, her brows scrunched up in thought.
“Sure they would, Gran,” Vicky answered for both of them. “Trace and I, we think it would do you a world of good too, Gran, help put everything down on paper. About our family and Wyoming’s history, even some of California’s.”
Buffy was silent for a moment then she nodded, “go on down to the car, children,” she ordered softly, “I want to talk to your Grand Dad, alone for a while
The two young people left their Grandmother and walked slowly to the car, some yards down the hill from the cemetary.
“Well, Old Man,” Buffy began quietly, “I’m kind of in a quandry here. On one hand, I miss you so much that I can hardly take a breath, on the other, I am a tad miffed with you. We promised each other we would go together.” She felt tears in her eyes, threatening to fall and ruin her little private talk with her Will.
“Okay, Will,” she whispered hoarsely, wiping at her tired eyes, “I’ll leave it for now. Anyway, what about this book your Grandchildren want to write? Should I help them? I mean,” and here, Buffy giggled wickedly, “some of the things I could tell them might just shock the poor dears.”
“These young people, Will,” she shook her head slowly, “they think they invented ‘love making’ and that includes our own children and grandchildren! If they only knew, huh? You know, Old Man, I just might tell those two some things that could help that book be a real barn burner. Let them know, once and for all, that you and me, we were really in tuned to each other, in a lot of ways.”
“ They, the children and grandchildren, they think that I am blessed, to be the last one left from the old days, Will. But, they’re wrong, it’s not a blessing; it’s a curse. I love you, Will.”
She finished with a small chuckle then blew a kiss at her Will’s grave. “Bye, darling,” she whispered, “next time I come back here, it’ll be to stay.”
Buffy walked down the few yards to meet her Grandchildren at the car
“Now,” she smiled brightly at the two young people, “you get your Granny back to the house. Hank and Jesse brought a case of the new vintage of red wine from their place, HG Winery. I’d like a nice large glass of that and to visit with my extended family. You know, Trace, Vic, I’m thinking, this book is a good idea. But, we best get started, right away on it. I have a funny feeling that…”
But, she let the thought go and allowed her handsome Grandson to help her into the car.
Epilogue:
‘A few days later’
The two cousins, Trace Giles and Victoria Barrington, stood staring, in near disbelief at the day old grave of their beloved Grandmother Buffy.
“God, Trace,” Vicky was sobbing, “I can’t believe it. First Grand Dad, then Gran? So close together. How are we going to bear it, any of us?”
Trace just shook his head and clasped his little cousin closer to his strong body, tears streamed down his chiseled cheekbones.
“We will,” he finally rasped, hoarsely, “we’ll be okay. Everything will be. You know,” Trace wiped his tears and took a deep breath, “they did, Gran and Grandad, they wanted to go together. Pretty much did, too, didn’t they?”
He smiled down at his weeping favorite cousin in his arms. Vicky nodded weakly wiped at her own tears, “that’s right,” she whispered in a childish, awelike tone. “They did want to go together, and they near did. I’m glad, Trace,” she sighed, “glad it happened this way. Sorry about the book, though, for you that is. With Gran gone, well, I guess the family history novel is out, huh?”
Trace Giles smiled through the tears in his indigo blue eyes, “no, Vicky,” he chuckled despite his sorrow, “not out at all.”
Vicky raised her left brow, in question at her older cousin, “how? Without Gran to tell us everything. Get it right?”
The man chuckled, despite his sorrow, “well, it seems that Grandmother Buffy had a feeling that she was not going to be around, to help with the book that is. She left me a letter, Aunt Sarah, she found it in Gran’s hands, when she found her…” but he couldn’t finish the sentence, it hurt too much.
“The letter, from Gran, Vicky, it had a rather large key in the envelope. A short message from Gran, said I was to use the key to unlock the big trunk. You know the one, Vic, in the corner of their bedroom? The one none of us could ever get into to?”
Vicky nodded and urged her cousin to continue.
“Well, I opened it, right away. That old trunk, it held a lot of surprises, Vic,” he laughed again warmly. “You know what I found in there?”
The woman gave her cousin an odd look, then asked, “do I want to know? I mean, Gran and Grand Dad…was the stuff too personal?”
Trace shook his head, “not really, well kind of, some of it. First thing I found was the tea pot Grand Dad William gave to Gran to replace the one that broke on her trip out here.”
Vicky smiled brightly, “the one that Grand Dad always said helped Gran realize that she was crazy about him?”
Trace nodded happily, “however, dear Cousin,” he continued with a smirk, “Grand Dad was a little off about the timing of Gran’s revelation of love for him. But, I’ll explain that later. Anyway, next, I found, of all things, the ransom note and Gran’s lock of honey-blonde hair, from Holden Webster. Leave it to our Grandparents to keep that around, huh?”
The young people laughed together happily, remembering just how ‘wicked’ their Grandparents’ sense of humour could be.
“There was a picture, of Aunt Dawn, when she was just fifteen or so, a tin type and one of Great Grand Dad Giles and Jenny. Some other things, but the one thing, the best thing I found in the very bottom, Vic,” Trace’s voice became shakey as tears threatened again.
“Vicky, it was Grandma Buffy’s Journal. Apparently, however, not surprisingly, she wrote in it frequently, sometimes daily. It’s all there, Vic, the day Gran decided to come to Wyoming. The train robbery, when she and Grand Dad first laid eyes on each other. Everything. I think,” he could barely speak now, from emotion, “that Gran knew she was not going to be around to help with the book. Directed us to the journal, to help us.”
Vicky began to sob, quietly and hugged her favorite cousin to her.
“I’ve read the journal,” Trace continued, “every minute I could, since Gran passed on. Vic, it’s huge. I’m not nearly a quarter of the way through it and I’m almost up to Gran and Grand Dad’s wedding day. You know how Grand Dad always said that Gran realized, or should I say, came to her senses, when he gave her that darn teapot?”
The woman smiled and nodded, despite her tears.
“Well, he was wrong, apparently. There’s an entry, in the journal, marked September 30th, 1881. I won’t tell you everything that’s written, Vic, we’ll save it, for the book. But, I’ll say this much…Granny Buffy suspected that she was already ‘crazy in love’ with Spike Giles by that day. Something about the North Creek and Indian Summer. Suffice to say,” Trace chuckled merrily, “our Grandparents Giles were always quite passionate about each other. No surprise, there, though.”
The cousins left their spot in the family cemetary and walked back down to the waiting car. Trace and Vicky were so engrossed in the memories of their beloved Grandparents, William/Spike and Elizabeth/Buffy Giles, and in their upcoming collaboration, that they did not see the hazy apparitions that seemed to be watching them, intently.
The male shadow, had indigo blue eyes and sat astride a large black steed, also an apparition. The female shadow’s eyes were emerald green, her long honey-blonde hair flowed down her back as she sat on her Palomino pony. The couple held hands between them. When the very much alive cousins had driven off in the car, the ‘spirits’ turned their horses to face the big bluff, the one on the farthest, left side.
They proceeded to race each other over the plain, to their destination, their beloved cabin that was located on that bluff. They galloped over the plain, their gleeful laughter echoing across the empty prairie.
FINIS
Thank you, so much to everyone who read this story. It was my labour of love and I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Please review, if you like. Thanks again, Luv, Spuf
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