Bravery in the Face of Danger – Extended Epilogue

Logan had been at San Quentin for six months. Regina wrote him several times a week, telling him about Errol or Mary, humorous stories about Father or Martín, and funny things that happened with parishioners. It was the high point of his days, and he drank in every word.

At first, he wrote often, but usually only a few sentences because prison life was so dull. He volunteered for everything—extra cook prep, extra dishwashing, extra laundry duty, just to have something to do. He was at liberty to visit the library and the chapel, and he did those things regularly. The prison chaplain, a young Catholic priest, saw Logan’s enthusiasm, and worked with him. They studied the scriptures together, and he helped the father as far as he was able. 

Once he began to read, his head expanded, and he had more ideas of what to write to Regina. She responded enthusiastically. Sometimes he even copied love poetry for her. But those poems often seemed cloying, setting his teeth on edge. Rarely did they express the feelings he held so deeply for her.

At times, he feared she would grow tired of him, or find the burden of writing to him too great to continue, but she never seemed to.

He began to seek the kind of love poetry that spoke the volumes he wanted to say to her. To tell her how much he loved and missed her, praying that she would wait for him and not grow tired of waiting.

Regina began writing letters of Father O’Reardon, seeming fearful that his health was failing. Her correspondence reduced to a couple of letters a week, and her despondency seemed to grow with each one.

He realized it was not that she was forgetting him, rather that she was probably caring for everything—an ailing uncle, a growing Errol, plus as much of the parish duties as she could take on. She had mentioned that she’d had to write to St. Patrick’s parish in Angels Camp to have them send their itinerant priest to say Mass for them as often as he could since O’Reardon no longer had the strength.

His boredom turned to worry. What would happen to her if O’Reardon died? Where would she go? What would she do? What if she just disappeared? He would go to the ends of the earth to find her. But he was getting ahead of himself.

He requested the chaplain’s assistance to write to the parole board. The chaplain not only helped him with his letter, but he also included a recommendation based on what he had seen of Logan’s behavior.

The application was denied—Logan couldn’t even get a hearing.

He started using Matthew 6:34 like a mantra. “Do not worry about tomorrow; each day has enough trouble of its own.” He prayed more. Even that didn’t seem to help. His worry was rising to fever pitch.

Finally, an old friend’s words burned through his fog. He remembered hearing, “You can’t rein in all the horses in the field. You can only rein in the one you’re on.”

All the balls were rolling downhill. The only ones he had left were self-restraint and letter writing. So, this time, he wrote to Boles, praying he hadn’t moved to Chicago yet. The last time he’d heard from him, he was living in one of the rooms at Ada’s. Logan smiled at that. She’d fatten him up and have him rebuilding his strength in no time. He told him about O’Reardon and Regina, requesting that Boles write a letter to the parole board, as well.

He heard nothing back.

Then, he got the letter—the one that sounded as though Regina was ready to break. Father O’Reardon had passed away. They had assigned a new priest to the post, but she had no way of knowing whether she would be kept on, nor what it might mean for Errol.

Asking permission of the guard, Logan ran all the way to the prison warden’s office. 

He pled his case to an impassive face. 

“My family is in danger,” he cried, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the man’s desk with both hands in order to bolster himself. “The man who provided for them has died, and they could be forced to leave where they are!”

The warden looked up at him, then spoke softly. “Mr. Hardwick, if you’re quite finished…” Before he completed his sentence, he withdrew an envelope from his desk drawer and held it out for Logan to take.

“What’s this?” Logan said, anxiety shaking his voice. Was it an official denial, or a letter from the bishop telling him of Regina and Errol’s fate?

“It came this morning.” 

Logan turned to the back of the envelope which stood open. “Somebody’s reading my mail now?”

“Calm down and read it.”

Logan fumbled with the envelope and the document within tore slightly as he struggled to free it. He opened it. He read it twice. Before he had a chance to finish the second reading, the warden said, “You are pardoned. Released, effective today. Everyone from Wells Fargo to Calaveras County to the governor of the great state of California is satisfied with the time you’ve done.”

“The governor? You mean, as in Governor Stanford?”

“That’s right. Apparently, you impressed some very important friends of his, and when he found out you were trying to get parole, he ordered your pardon.”

Logan was thunderstruck. The very people who were instrumental in bringing him in were also the ones instrumental in getting him out.

“You will take the ferry across the bay in the morning, and from Oakland, the train will return you to San Andreas. We’ll feed you breakfast and give you some pocket money if you need it. Otherwise, you will leave with what you had on you when you arrived.”

Logan was speechless. His eyes clouded with tears, and he pumped the warden’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you, sir. You’ve made me the happiest man alive today.”

He almost couldn’t trust his ears. He felt giddy, and like he was floating down the corridor. Ten months and three days. He’d made it. He would wire St. Andrew’s from Oakland, so she would know he was coming.

But he sobered when he thought of Father O’Reardon. He very much wished the old man could know the results of his tutelage, and even more, that he could have held the man’s hand as he left this world for the next.

The words from his favorite poem of John Donne’s came to him: 

“So let us melt, and make no noise,
    No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
‘Twere profanation of our joys 
   To tell the laity our love.”

He understood the words much better than he had before. Now was not the time to weep. He and Regina could mourn when the work was done. When they were together, alone.

Released now, he sought out his young friend, the chaplain. They both rejoiced at the news, but they also shared a moment of silence for Father O’Reardon.

“I would ask you to keep in touch, but you will not want to be tied to memories of this place,” the chaplain said. “Go in peace, my friend. Peace be with you.”

“And also with you, Father.” Logan embraced him and left.

He said goodbye to the few friends he had made. He returned to his cell, where he laid out his clothes for the morning and packed his meager bag. He refused dinner. Breakfast was about the only tasty meal in that place, and then, barely. But it would give him strength for the journey.

Then he lay down to sleep, knowing, as every good child knew, that the earlier you went to sleep, the quicker the next day would come.

***

He never moved from the aft deck of the ferry. He could have been inside, behind glass, watching where they were going, but he needed to be out in the air. He knew he was looking at the past, but he was saying goodbye to it and letting it go.

As soon as he disembarked in Oakland, he hurried to the telegraph office and paid for a telegram to San Andreas, in care of Regina O’Riordan at St. Andrew’s parish. He had always found it peculiar that Father had changed the spelling of his name to O’Reardon, but he supposed it was a concession to the American melting pot. Regina was more recently from the Old Country, and she had chosen to keep the original spelling.

It said:

COMING HOME 4 AYE STOP
CATCHING THE TRAIN IN OAKLAND STOP
ARRIVING SAN ANDREAS 6:35 FULL STOP

On a whim, he also sent one to Boles at the Coventry House in Valle Verde, where he mentioned O’Reardon’s death in case he didn’t already know. Logan knew Boles would also apprise Ada.

The train ride from Oakland seemed interminable, but he occupied himself by just watching the varied and increasingly beautiful countryside as it crossed his vision.

The train passed through Valle Verde at six, and as he looked out at the station, Boles and Ada were standing on the platform, waving. It made everything seem more real.

The train came into the San Andreas station precisely at 6:35. He grabbed his bag and his faithful slouch hat and debarked the train.

He surveyed the platform, but no one greeted him. He thought Regina might have her hands full, but he had hoped that at least Martín would be there. No matter. Perhaps they had lost track of time, and he would surprise them by walking into the rectory.

Just then, he felt a tiny tug on the hem of his coat. He turned to look, but the tiny tug had been deceptive. The beaming face that greeted him was on a tall, curly-headed boy. Logan threw down his satchel and caught the boy up in his arms.

“You’re home. For aye, Gina said to say.”

“I am. For aye,” Logan said through a mist.

Logan held the boy close, kissing his face and hugging him again. 

Then Errol, who was looking over Logan’s shoulder, nodded and giggled. He turned, and there were Regina and Martín. Her long, flowing, copper hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a modest dress of the most beautiful turquoise-colored fabric Logan had ever seen.

He set Errol down, but kept his hand on the top of the boy’s head. Regina stepped forward and folded herself into his warm embrace. He kissed her temple, touching the hair alongside. She pulled back slightly then, and he knew she didn’t want to make a spectacle in front of either Martín or Errol.

“I imagine ye’re famished. I didn’t have to cook a thing—the parishioners ha’ flooded us with food and drink. Tomorrow, we’ll ha’ an Irish wake from two until six, and then, he’ll be buried on Thursday. The priest from Angels Camp will come t’ say Mass and do th’ funeral rites.”

Logan smiled and nodded his head. He couldn’t believe she had just taken charge and arranged it all. But why wouldn’t he believe it? This was the Regina he knew. He supposed that was why he worried so much when she seemed so despondent—it just wasn’t like her.

The next morning, he helped himself to some of Mrs. Johnson’s blueberry buckle on which he poured a bit of cream, and then quietly left the house before anyone else was up—or so he thought.

He went to ask about any houses or land that might be for sale around there. 

When he got back, he tried slipping back into the house, but he looked up and saw Regina leaning against the door frame that passed from the kitchen to the hallway, sipping from a tin of coffee.

“An’ just what we’re ye up to, slipping outta here at seven o’clock in the mornin’?”

“Why should I tell you?” Logan asked with a grin. “I might have been out looking for a present for you.”

“Ach, ye’re such a liar,” she said, and he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to him. “Ye might want to be careful o’ triflin’ with a woman with a cup o’ scaldin’ coffee in her hand.”

He pulled back a little, still grinning. “I was out seeing about finding a place we can call our own.”

“Ach! We need to get reacquainted first, so don’t get a head o’ yersel’.”

He pulled back a bit farther and knit his brows together, giving her a concerned look. “Get reacquainted?”

“I don’t mean that quite the way you think I do. What I’m sayin’ is, ye need ta learn my ways again.”

“Your ways?” Logan asked, still puzzled. 

“Aye. Like, I want to have some say up front about what we do and where we go. So, don’t go tryin’ to surprise me with something like tha’, or ye’ll have hell to pay.”

“Regina!” he said. “I’m shocked!”

“Ye’re lyin’ again. Ye’re not shocked, you’ve just forgot. That’s why I say we need to get reacquainted again.”

Then they both smiled, and he could see the mirth in her eyes.

They had to go outside. There was no place to sit in the kitchen. Every square inch was covered with food dishes.

They sat down at the familiar table and chairs, and Logan recalled the last conversation he’d had with O’Reardon while sitting at that table, when the priest had told Logan he would have to leave. He looked up at Regina and could tell she knew what he was remembering. “I wish so much that he had been able to see me come home.”

“I know,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “But he was proud of everything you did, helping to recover the money and putting dangerous men behind bars.”

“Putting myself behind bars.”

“Aye, that, too,” she said. “He knew in his heart of hearts that you had done the right thing, and that you would be home to take care of me very soon. I think that’s why he felt he could let go.”

Logan looked down at his coffee cup, which he had balanced between his legs on the chair seat. He nodded. 

“But I was so worried,” he said. “I think it was very hard on you.”

“I’ll not deny it, because I just didn’t know what it would mean for Errol and me. And, although he went peacefully in the end, he was very restless for weeks, and very needy.”

Logan smiled, wanly. “He was always needy when it came to you, Regina.”

“Ach. Don’t I know it? But what you saw was nothing like having him bedbound.”

First, he nodded, then he shook his head. “I’m sure I can’t even imagine.”

Logan sat up and looked around. “Where’s Errol?”

“School day. You scared him to death when he found you were gone, and that your bed hadn’t been slept in.”

“Oh, that. It will take a while to get used to sleeping in a bed again. I slept on the floor.”

“Ah. I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. “But don’t get too used to sleepin’ alone. I won’t let ye sleep on the floor in our room.”

Our room. Logan’s heart did a flip-flop.

“Oh, but Gina. Don’t get ahead of yourself. We have to get reacquainted first, remember.”

Now it was her turn to look non-plussed. “Surely, you aren’t—”

“Surely, I’m not. You’re right,” he said, with a wink.

***

Charles and Ada came to pay their respects to O’Reardon, even though neither of them had met him. That’s just the kind of people they were. Ada brought a huge Coventry House apple pie, one of her specialties.

Logan and Charles stepped away to talk, and the women stayed where they were.

“We would love to have you come for dinner, soon,” Ada said.

“We?” Regina asked.

“Oh, um, yes. Charles has become… a permanent resident.”

Regina gave her a sly smile. “When would you like us to come?”

“Would Tuesday work for you?”

“That would be lovely,” Regina said. “The usual dinner time, then?”

“No, later. Let’s say eight o’clock.”

Regina nodded her head in assent. “Until Tuesday then,” she said.

Logan came to her side, and they watched as Charles helped Ada into her Coventry carriage, then went around and took up the driver’s seat.

“So,” Regina said, “we’ve been asked to the Coventry House for dinner at eight o’clock on Tuesday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Aye. She said they would love to have us come.”

“They? You don’t think that…”

“Aye, I do.”

“Well, I’ll be.”

***

On Tuesday evening, after an aperitif, they sat down to a lovely dinner, replete with top-tier California wine. Boles and Ada proved to be generous hosts. Logan looked back and forth between them, then turned and whispered to Regina, “It fits.”

“Aye, they fit, nicely.” She smiled at their little secret.

When Charles and Ada returned from the kitchen, Ada brought dessert, along with a bottle of Lillet Blanc.

“Are we celebrating something?” Logan asked.

“I believe we are. We are celebrating what is and what’s to come,” Charles responded.

“Do tell,” Regina said.

“Well, first, Ada and I are celebrating our joining…” he gave Ada a twinkling, knowing smile, “of business ventures. Coventry House will be expanding its services. In fact, we’re not even sure what all yet. One thing will be Coventry carriages for hire. Other things, we hope you might be able to help us figure out.”

“Us?” Logan asked.

“The two of you,” Ada responded.

“I know I said you could help with ideas,” Charles said, “but I already have a few myself. What if we bring your business over here, Logan? You could be the farrier and saddler for Coventry horses, as well as your own work in saddlery.”

“What about Martín, though?” Logan said. “I feel I have some obligation…”

“Bring him along! Many hands make light work—isn’t that what they say?”

“Wait, if you’re thinking about all of this, that old barn isn’t going to—”

“Of course, not. Way ahead of you there, son. We’ll build barns. Great big barns. I’ve already purchased two adjoining properties.”

Charles’ eyes sparkled as he talked. Logan could tell that Ada had really put some life back into him. 

Now it was Ada’s turn to speak. “And Regina, I absolutely do not want to make any presumptions whatsoever on you, but you know how I’ve been struggling to hold the Coventry House together, and not just financially.”

“Aye. I know it’s been hard on ye since yer sister died.”

“I’m guessing that with all the expansion we’re doing, Coventry House will be very much in demand for lodging. So, we’re considering expanding the Boarding House into the New Coventry Hotel. We’ll even have a staff, and I’d love you to come aboard at any point, to help me make this come true.”

“I’m very flattered, Ada, and I think it sounds like a splendid idea. Logan and I will need time t’ think about it and make some plans. But this does sound very excitin’.”

“Yes, yes,” Charles said. “Take your time to think about it, but just know that the sooner we get started, the better.”

“Why, Charles,” Logan said. “I never took you for the salesman type, but that’s just what you’re doing here.”

“You never considered me for a salesman? Why, I could make somebody think that goin’ to prison was for their own good.”

Logan’s face got red, and he smiled crookedly and nodded. “So true, so true.”

They sipped the Lillet and tucked into their dessert. 

“I have a priority request in this carriage business, though,” Logan said. “You need to buy a beautiful white carriage.”

“Why should that come first?” Charles asked, looking genuinely curious.

Ada elbowed him in the ribs. “Silly man,” she said, “for their wedding.”

“Of course!” Charles hailed enthusiastically. “Like I said, we’re celebratin’ the things that are, and the things that will be.”

***

A few weeks, later, Logan and Regina had rented a small house in Valle Verde, but it needed some repairs. The new priest had not yet arrived, so they stayed at the rectory. Regina was hoping that Errol could finish out the school year with Sister Bridget before they moved. 

When they went to see Mary, they told her about the new house and business, and gave her the option of living where she wanted. “Let me think on it,” she mused.

A couple of days later, she walked up to the rectory. As Logan watched her climbing the hill, he realized that all vestiges of the harsh, caustic Mary were gone, replaced by a young lady of beauty and reserve.

She came in just in time for tea. She sat at the table with them, making small talk. She looked around, then looked back at Logan and Regina. “I want to thank you for all you have done for me, especially sending me to Sister Bridget’s. I really appreciate your offer of allowing me to come to live with you in Valle Verde, but I think Sister Bridget needs me. I do a lot of the teaching now with the younger ones, and it has enabled her to admit more students.”

Logan was in awe of the words that were coming out of the mouth of this young lady. Mary had always been very smart and very clever, but he never imagined she could become so refined, and without pretense.

“I need her, too,” the girl admitted. “I still miss my mother, or at least I think of her from time to time, but it’s all like seeing through a cracked and dulled mirror.” She brightened, then, and asked, “When’s the wedding?”

“In just a couple of weeks,” Regina replied.

“Am I invited?”

“Of course! You and Sister Bridget, too. In fact, would you like to be my maid of honor that day?”

Mary’s eyes grew wide. “Will you have a big dress with a long train?”

Regina blushed and then giggled. “Yes.”

“Can I carry your train?” 

“You can do whatever you want. You can carry my train, then stand beside me as we say our vows.”

“That’s a great idea! And Errol will stand beside Logan?”

Regina and Logan looked at each other in surprise. “Aye! I’m so glad you thought of it.”

***

Even though the carriage business had not yet begun, Charles managed to come up with a beautiful white carriage. Regina and Mary dressed at the Coventry House, and the three ladies were ferried to St. Andrew’s in the coach, which shone like mother-of-pearl. The driver was in formal livery with white gloves.

Before the ladies arrived, Charles drew Logan aside, pressing into his hand a check for fifteen hundred dollars. Logan started to protest, but Charles wagged his finger. “Uh-uh,” he said. “It’s your wedding gift.”

“I’m just curious, Charles, all this buying and building, fine dining, and now this—where do you get your money?”

“Well,” he said, “I still get a commission off your hoard, I’m still working for the bank for the time being, and, I have my own stash.”

“Your own stash?” Logan asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Yep. All that money that I got from all those robberies was buried for a lot of years, and I never spent a single gold piece. It’s been in a hole in the ground all this time, I just wasn’t stupid like Callahan, sitting around obsessing over it until I went crazy. Eighteen thousand dollars in all.”

Logan was amused. “So, you’re livin’ off Wells Fargo, still. In more ways than one.” 

Charles just winked. 

***

People said that Logan and Regina’s wedding was like none other before them in the parish. There was a reception in the parish house, and then special invitees came for dinner at the new Coventry House. 

They hadn’t yet had a chance to expand the house, but Ada had redecorated, and it was quite up to date with dark wall coverings in some areas and San Francisco Victorian drapes.

Guests left, except for those who were spending the night at Coventry House, including Martín and Errol. 

The white coach made its way back to San Andreas with Logan and Regina tucked inside. They were both suddenly shy and held hands in silence as they rode.

The arrived and stepped out of the coach. They stood hand in hand on the rectory lawn and gazed into the night sky. It was not many days past the dark of the moon, and the moon had not yet risen. 

“I wish I could take a picture of this sky to remember how it looked on our wedding night when it’s a memory long past.”

Logan moved back, holding Regina at arm’s length. “And I wish I could capture this moment with you.”

“Ach. I think we’ll remember it fer a long time t’ come,” she said, winding herself back toward him and taking the liberty of a kiss.

The night air was chilly, but neither of them felt it. A fever had come upon them both—one that would soon be quenched.

THE END

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