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“Just Chief’ll generally do,” the man said.
Jackson’s brow furrowed. “Your brother’s the police chief and you...”
“Run the saloon. Yes.” A grin flashed across the man’s face. “It keeps life interesting.” He looked back at Jeremy then. “You want the rest of the story?”
His son nodded, so quickly that hope was really starting to take root. The saloon owner continued his tale.
“They were outnumbered, five to one. But they knew from what happened at the Alamo that the Mexican troops had orders to kill, so they had no choice but to fight. They holed up here in the saloon, since the only other things here at the time were a stable and a trading post, both built of wood. The stone here held, but they ran out of ammunition and thought they were all dead. But that guy”—he echoed Jeremy’s look at the statue—“saved them all with that ammo run.”
“But he died,” Jeremy said, his tone one of protest.
“He did, sadly,” the man said. Jackson liked the way the guy was totally focused on the boy as he went on. “But the others lived, thanks to him. They fought until the troops gave up and moved on, and three months later Santa Anna was beaten soundly by Sam Houston at San Jacinto, in eighteen minutes.”
“That’s fast,” Jeremy said, looking a little awed.
“Very fast. And so, because of Asa Fuhrmann’s bravery, I’m here today to tell the story.”
Jeremy gave the man a puzzled look then. “Huh?”
“One of those he saved was my great-times-five grandfather.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “He was here, back then?”
“He was. And the Highwaters have been here ever since. One took over the saloon, and his son became the county sheriff, and there’s been a Highwater in each line of work ever since. I guess they decided since they’d nearly died for the place, they might as well stick around and make something of it. And so Last Stand was born.”
Jeremy’s expression turned to one of understanding. “That’s why it’s called that? Because there really was one?”
“Exactly,” the man said with an approving grin. “Now, if you want to know the rest, all the details, you go into the library back there and find my wife, Joey. She’ll get you the books that tell the whole story. There’s even one my brother and sister-in-law did for kids, with some cool illustrations that really give you the feel of it. I think you might like it.”
Jeremy looked up at Jackson. “Can we go there?”
“Absolutely,” he said quickly. He glanced at Slater. “Just ask for your wife?”
“Or just look for her.” A different expression crossed the saloonkeeper’s face then, a warm, loving look Jackson recognized painfully well. “She’ll be the very pregnant one.”
“Congratulations,” Tris said with a smile.
“Thanks.” He winked at Jeremy. “And thanks for the practice. Haven’t had much with kids and I’m trying to learn, so every bit helps.”
A short while later they were in the library, and the definitely very pregnant librarian—the librarian and the saloonkeeper sounded like that rom-com he’d turned down a while back—lit up in that same way when they told her who had sent them. She quickly had Jeremy set up with a couple of books that he seemed to be intent on even more quickly.
“Thank you,” Jackson said to her when she stepped back to stand beside them as Jeremy dug in. “I... my wife, his mother, died two years ago, and he’s been totally withdrawn from the world ever since.”
“That’s horrible, for both of you. So this interest”—she gestured toward Jeremy—“is good?” It sounded more sincere than any of the platitudes he’d grown so tired of.
“Very,” Tris said, and proceeded to introduce herself. “I’m Trista Carhart. I live just down Hickory a ways, across from the park.”
“Carhart? As in David Carhart, who spearheaded that wonderful updating of Creek Bend High?”
“Yes. I was his wife.” Tris, being Tris, went on quickly to spare the librarian from having to come up with more condolences. “And this is my brother, Jackson, who’s visiting. You might recognize his famous mug.”
Jackson winced as she said it, but the librarian smiled and said only, “He does look familiar.”
To his relief she left it at that, much as her husband had. She glanced over at the table where Jeremy sat. He appeared engrossed in the book with the colorful illustrations.
“Your husband mentioned that his brother and sister-in-law did that book?” Tris asked.
“Yes,” Joey said with a smile. “There’s a long story behind them, too, but that’s theirs to tell. If you run into Kane or Lark, ask them.”
