The Colt

He sat on the veranda in the cool night air, the light breeze bringing the fragrance of the rose bushes to him. He smiled as he inhaled the pleasant and familiar scent. The light from the great room spilled out behind him, casting a warm glow around his relaxed form.

He held it comfortably in his hand, having just cleaned the weapon, and examined it closely. Even in the dim light, his keen sight could detect the smallest smudge of dirt, the tiniest smear of leftover oil. He considered the weapon as he had so many times before.

Smiling to himself, he remembered coming into possession of this particular Colt. It wasn't his first by any means and most likely would not be his last. Peacemaker; that's what they called it. Shaking his head ruefully, he thought it was anything but a peacemaker, more of a peace disrupter.

Still, it had been his compadre when he had no other. His best friend and worst enemy. The only thing that stood between him and death so many times. He sighed softly without realizing it and looked out over the yard and outbuildings beyond.

Funny, but now, even holding this weapon of destruction, he did feel at peace. He knew it really had nothing to do with the Colt. It was familiar and gave him comfort in the darkest hours of his life but it no longer had the same hold on him. It was no longer the most important thing in his life.

This place where he sat, this land he rode day after day, this was what gave him true peace. This and those low voices he could hear from inside the house, quietly discussing who knew what, and he could discern each of them.

Scott's voice, quiet and determined, calm and confident. Murdoch's gruff tone that seemed to be annoyed even when he wasn't. Teresa's soft yet strong lilt. Jelly's even gruffer tone with it's underlying tenderness. He smiled as he listened to the voices, not the words, but the tones. His family.

It still amazed him, even now that they had become so familiar with each other, so comfortable in each other's company. They belonged to him as no one had before. Even now, the Colt he held was no more than a tool to ensure no one took what belonged to him. His family, his land, his peace, his happiness.

He slid the Colt into his holster and stood up. Taking one last deep breath from the roses, he smiled and turned to walk inside and join his family.

The End

winj

2003