you.
You’re doing a wonderful job taking care of him. I want you to know that. He’s lucky
to have you.
I don’t want my husband to suffer.
Lorraine put her arm around her mother. The nurse said good-bye and they watched her
go on to the car.
7
W HEN L YLE heard something and looked up they were standing in the doorway watching him. He
was seated at his desk in his office at the rear of the church with the shelves of
books behind him and the framed print of Sallman’s
Head of Christ
hung on the wall together with the picture of Christ knocking at the door wearing
the crown of thorns, lifting aloft a lantern. They were a young couple, the boy maybe
twenty-one or twenty-two; the woman looked to be older. He was a big strong tall boy
wearing new jeans and brown boots and a suede vest over his white shirt and holding
a good Stetson hat in his hand, and the girl, the young woman, was dressed in a short
white sleeveless dress with a silver belt and she had on white high-heeled shoes.
Can I help you? said Lyle.
Are you the preacher here? he said.
That’s right.
We were looking to get married.
Would you care to come in?
They stepped into the office. They did not appear to be nervous or uncertain. The
boy looked around.
Would you care to sit down? Lyle said.
He removed some books from the couch next to the wall and wheeled up his office chair
from behind his desk and sat near them. The woman was not tall and the short skirt
of her white dress rose up on her thighs when she sat down. She took the boy’s hand
on her lap.
This is Laurie Wheeler and I’m Ronald Dean Walker, he said.
It’s good to meet you.
You too.
When were you thinking of having the wedding? Lyle said.
Today, the boy said. He looked at the woman. Now. If that’s possible.
Yes. That’s possible. May I know something about you first?
What do you want to know?
Well, I wonder where you come from. How you met each other.
He comes from over by Phillips, the woman said. He grew up there. Didn’t you, Ronnie.
I was born there. I’ve been other places but I come back.
He works in a feedlot over there, riding pens. But he can do a lot of things.
I’ve done a fair number of things so far, he said.
He can fix anything you want fixed.
And yourself, Lyle said. What about you?
I came from South Dakota. But I’ve been in Colorado for about seven years.
I see. And what do you do?
I run a café in Phillips. That’s how we met. He came in for supper one night and didn’t
have his billfold.
I forgot it out at the trailer. And I didn’t have no money on me to pay with. No checkbook
neither. She thought I might be pulling something.
I didn’t really think that, she said. But you don’t know. You get all kinds in a public
café. So we got to talking and then the next day he brought me back the money. And
then he said, When do you close up shop, ma’am, if I may be so bold.
I was trying to kid her a little.
He’s got a good sense of humor.
And that was the beginning, Lyle said.
That was the beginning, the boy said. That’s how we got started. He looked at the
woman and then at Lyle seated in the chair beside them. Can you marry us this morning
like you said?
Yes. But you’re aware you need a license.
The boy reached inside his vest and unsnapped the pocket of his white shirt and took
out a marriage license that had been duly prepared and stamped and handed it to Lyle.
It had been folded and unfolded and was frayed at the creases. Lyle inspected it.
Yes. This looks fine, he said. It looks legal and official.
They said we could get married if we was over eighteen and we are. Both of us.
I’m older than he is, the woman said. You probably noticed.
That don’t matter to me, the boy said. It’s only five years. She knows a whole lot
more than I do.
Isn’t he nice, she said.
He seems like it, Lyle said.
He is.
But you know in Colorado you could marry yourselves, Lyle said. You