David Robbins - Dakota Run

“I mean,” Hickok went on, ignoring Blade’s comment, “we could starve to death, couldn’t we? If we’re ever out in the world, on our own, what happens if I can’t deliver? What happens if I can’t do my job as a man, as the provider for my family?”

“Are you planning to leave the Home soon?” Blade interjected.

“Well, no,” Hickok admitted.

“Then you won’t need to worry about providing, will you? The Tillers take care of our needs here, as far as food is concerned. All you have to do is your job as a Warrior. The rest will take care of itself.”

“But what if I get shot?” Hickok queried, his face a study in self-torment. “What if we have kids and I get killed? Who’s going to look after Sherry and the kids? Who’s going to stare into their cute little faces and tell them their papa was blown away in the line of duty and won’t be home that night to tuck them in or read them a bedtime story?”

“More to the point,” Blade stated, “who’s going to look into their cute little faces and inform them their dad was a dimwit?”

“I’m serious about this,” Hickok snapped.

Blade gazed skyward and shook his head. He placed his right arm around Hickok’s shoulders. “Nathan, listen to me. You’re working yourself up over nothing. Sherry knows you’re a Warrior and I doubt she’d want you to change. We’ve had Warriors in the Family for a century, and many of them have married and reared children. Sherry knows the best she can expect is a cabin in the Home and the security it provides. At least, in here, she’ll have a safe haven, somewhere she can raise her offspring with confidence.”

“But…” Hickok started to speak.

“Let me finish,” Blade cut him off. “As far as you’re being killed is concerned, every parent faces that prospect. You should talk to Yama sometime. He has an interesting philosophy about dying. He says death is inevitable. Everyone and everything dies. So why in the world do so many people get upset about dying? Death is merely the method for getting from where we are right now, from this planet, to where we’re going from here.

Plato and Joshua say we pass on from here to the mansions on high. So…”

“But…” Hickok tried to interrupt.

“Will you let me finish?” Blade demanded. “So it’s useless for you to become so upset over death. Besides, Sherry is a Warrior now, and it could happen to her as easily as to you. Your children will understand, and they’ll have everyone in the Family here to look after them. I personally guarantee Jenny and I will treat your kids as our very own if something ever happens to Sherry and you. What more…”

“But…”

Blade, annoyed, removed his arm from Hickok’s shoulder. “Here I am, trying to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, and all you can do is interrupt. But! But! But! But what?”

Hickok’s face was decidedly pale. “I appreciate what you’re saying, pard,” he said, “but the whole matter is moot.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because binding time is here.” Hickok pointed.

Blade turned and saw several of the Family beckoning for them to approach.

“They’ve been wavin’ at us ever since you started yapping,” Hickok mentioned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried,” Hickok replied. “But you were on a roll.”

They walked toward the Family, which was divided into two groups of comparable size, standing with their backs towards the two Warriors. The entire Family was facing due south, their eyes on the man presiding over this most meaningful of ceremonies, the Family member viewed as the most intensely spiritual man ever to arise in Family history.

“I hope old Josh doesn’t flub his lines,” Hickok whispered as they neared the clustered Family.

“Joshua is the same age you are,” Blade absently remarked, his mind on the impending ceremony.

As was Family tradition, the two Warriors stood at the rear of the narrow aisle between the two waiting groups. Standing alone in front of the Family, at the end of the cleared pathway, was Joshua, his long brown hair blowing in the cool breeze, his beard and moustache meticulously groomed, his large Latin cross visible in the center of his chest, suspended from a golden chain draped around his neck. He wore a faded but clean black suit and a white shirt with a ruffled front.

“Josh looks like a sissy,” Hickok quibbled.

Blade turned toward B Block, wondering what was keeping the women.

That’s when he saw them, already half the distance to the gathered Family.

“Maybe I should give Sherry more time to think about this,” Hickok was thinking to himself. “After all, you don’t want to rush into anything as important as marriage. I’ll bet…”

Blade smacked Hickok on the left shoulder and nodded toward the women.

Hickok swiveled, his mouth dropping. “Dear Spirit! Aren’t they a sight!”

Blade was experiencing similar emotions. In all his days, he could recall nothing as beautiful as the vision of Jenny coming toward him, dressed in a replica of the typical wedding garment worn by women in the pre-war society. She’d taken a photograph from one of the books in the library and, with the aid of several of her friends, after sewing and cutting and experimenting with crude patterns for two days, produced a marvelous reproduction of a wedding dress.

Sherry had opted for a white pants suit, remarkable because white clothing was at a premium. One of the older women owned a swatch of white material preserved from the pre-war times, and she generously gave it as a gift, after bleaching it to remove the discoloration.

Smiling, the two women reached their intendeds.

“You’re beautiful!” Hickok whispered to Sherry.

Blade stared down the long path to Joshua, then at Hickok. “You can go first,” he graciously offered.

Hickok gazed along the rows of expectant faces, then grinned at Blade.

“Thanks, pard, but you can go first.”

“No, you go first.”

Hickok politely shook his head. “No, you go first. You’re bigger than me.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Joshua was watching them in bewilderment, perplexed by the delay.

Jenny glanced at Sherry, rolled her eyes heavenward, and took Blade’s right hand, forcefully pulling him the first few feet down the aisle.

Hickok leaned toward Sherry. “Listen,” he said softly, “if you’d like to postpone this for a year or so, I’d under…”

He nearly lost his footing when she unceremoniously yanked him along the pathway.

Joshua, hoping his beard and moustache hid his grin, stood solemnly until the couples reached him. Blade and Jenny standing to his right, Hickok and Sherry to his left.

Plato and his wife, Nadine, were in the front row of the Family, Nadine with tears in her eyes.

Joshua raised his hands over his head.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, “fellow children of our loving Creator, we are gathered here today for a very special ceremony, for the eternal binding of these two couples. As the Spirit is our witness, we pray for their happiness together as husband and wife.”

Joshua lowered his arms and stared at the four people in front of him.

“Binding,” he continued, “is a serious responsibility. A union of a man and a woman should be an equal partnership, a mutual sharing predicated on love and loyalty. The woman agrees to go through life with her man, to assist the man in dealing with the hardships of life, and to diligently shoulder the burden of bearing and rearing children.”

Joshua glanced at Hickok and Blade.

“The man must appreciate the sacrifice the woman makes in carrying, bearing, and usually assuming the far-greater share of responsibility in raising the children. The man must be willing to offer not only protection from the evils of this world, but also the loving companionship and consideration the woman deserves.”