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Many years later
“Never thought the sun could set so fiery here, huh?” a voice called out from the doorway of the bar as Cole walked in, his boots kicking up a bit of the Cuban dust that lined the streets. The bar, a quaint building with wide wooden shutters and a roof of faded tiles, seemed a world away from the life Cole had once known.
Many years had passed since Cole, Molly, and Roddy had left behind the arid lands of the American West for the lush greens and deep blues of Cuba. Life had been kind here, especially after Molly inherited Garrett’s fortune, allowing them a comfort they had once only dreamed of.
Cole sauntered to an empty table, his old bones aching a bit more than he cared to admit. The wooden chair creaked under his weight as he settled in, ordering a drink from a passing waiter—a young man with a bright smile and a quicker step than Cole could manage these days.
As he sipped his rum, the warmth of the alcohol mingled with the humid air, wrapping him in a blanket of reflective solitude. He thought about the years, about the battles fought and the peace hard-won. His family had grown, flourished even, with children and grandchildren who knew nothing of the hardships that had forged the earlier years of his life.
Lost in thought, Cole barely noticed the figure who approached his table until the man sat down directly across from him. The man was older, his face marked by the kind of lines that told stories of laughter and sorrow in equal measure. Cole squinted, the features stirring memories of a past life.
“Marquez?” Cole’s voice was tinged with disbelief. It had been decades since they last saw each other, and the years had draped a curtain of age over both of them.
The old man chuckled, a sound raspy with time. “In the flesh, Cole. Or what’s left of it anyway,” Marquez replied, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You look well, old friend.”
Cole shook his head in amazement, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be. Marquez… I thought—”
“That I was dead?” Marquez interrupted with a wry smile. “Not yet, though not for lack of trying, I suppose.”
The two men laughed, the sound mingling with the clinks of glasses and the low hum of other conversations around them. It was a laughter filled with the depth of lives fully lived, and perhaps, lives redeemed.
“So, tell me about this new life of yours, Cole. How have you managed here, far from the dusty trails and gunsmoke?”
Cole leaned back, his hands clasping the glass tightly. “It’s a different world here, Marquez. Peaceful, mostly. Molly’s happy, the kids too. And the grandkids…” His voice trailed off as he considered the young faces that now filled their home, faces untouched by the violence and chaos that had once defined his days.
“And you?” Cole asked, turning the conversation away from himself. “What brings you back to Cuba? Last I heard, you were up north, chasing fortunes.”
Marquez’s expression sobered, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Chasing fortunes, yes, but never catching them, not really. I spent too many years hunting money and power, thinking they’d fill the emptiness. But they don’t, Cole. They never do.”
He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the window where the last light of the day painted the sky in strokes of orange and pink. “I came back here to find some peace, I suppose. Or at least to drink myself into forgetting the lack of it.”
Cole listened, the weight of Marquez’s words heavy in the air between them. The rum in his glass suddenly seemed less comforting, more a reminder of the demons they both had wrestled in their time.
Marquez glanced down at his own untouched drink, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass absentmindedly. “You know, Cole, I’ve seen more of the bottom of these glasses than I care to admit. Thought maybe if I drank enough, the Almighty would take pity on me and take me sooner rather than later. But it seems I’m not so easy to be rid of.”
Cole nodded, understanding more than he wished to. “You’re too tough for that, Marquez. Always have been.”
A somber smile tugged at Marquez’s lips. “Perhaps. Or maybe there’s still something left for me to do here. You ever think about that? That maybe we’re still here because there’s something left undone?”
“It’s crossed my mind a time or two,” Cole admitted. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked intently at his old friend. “What do you think it is, for you?”
Marquez sighed, his eyes losing focus as he stared into some distant memory. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not about what I need to do, but what I need to make right. I’ve made my share of mistakes, chased after the wrong things…”
“You and me both,” Cole interjected, his voice low.
“Yes, but you, Cole, you found something good. You built a life, a family. You’ve got love around you. That’s worth more than any fortune I chased.” Marquez’s voice was tinged with a mixture of regret and admiration.
Cole watched Marquez, seeing the stark contrast in their lives laid bare in just a few sentences. “Marquez, I won’t pretend to know all you’ve been through, but it’s not too late, you know. Not for peace, not for making things right.”
Marquez’s gaze returned to Cole, a flicker of hope warbling through his old, weary eyes. “You think so?”
“I do. And I think you starting here, with this, is a step in that direction.” Cole’s voice was firm, encouraging.
Marquez took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as if releasing a burden he had carried for miles. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to stop running from the past and start living for today.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cole said with a supportive nod. “You’ve got time, Marquez. Use it well.”
The old gunslinger allowed himself a small, wistful smile. “I suppose I could try at that. It’d be a change of pace, at least.”
Cole chuckled. “Change can be good. Keeps life interesting.”
Their conversation dwindled into a comfortable silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Marquez finally broke the silence, a more resolute look hardening his features. “Cole, I have to ask… how do you do it? How do you find the strength to forgive yourself for… for everything?”
“It’s not about forgetting, Marquez, or even forgiving yourself entirely. It’s about accepting that what’s done is done and focusing on what you can do now. Making the most of the time you’ve got left, doing good where you can.”
Marquez nodded thoughtfully, digesting the words. “I suppose there’s some peace in that, in accepting and moving forward.”
“There is,” Cole confirmed, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of years marred by both mistakes and achievements. “And it’s never too late to start.”
The old man across from him seemed to absorb this, his shoulders lifting slightly as if a weight were beginning to lift. “Thank you, Cole. It means a lot, hearing that from you.”
“You’re welcome, Marquez. And remember, there’s still good in you. I’ve seen it. You’re not all the things you did or didn’t do.”
Marquez smiled genuinely for what seemed like the first time in a long time. “I’ll try to remember that.”
It was then that Cole glanced at the window, noting how the light had begun to fade, casting long shadows across the dusty street outside. He knew it was time to head back, back to Molly, to his family.
“I should be getting on,” Cole said, standing up and placing a few coins on the table for the drinks. “You take care of yourself, Marquez. And maybe try to find some of that peace we talked about.”
Marquez stood as well, extending a hand. “I will, Cole. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find something resembling happiness too.”
With a firm handshake and a final nod, Cole walked out of the saloon, his steps slow but steady as he made his way back along the dirt road leading home. As he walked, his mind wasn’t on the fading light or the encroaching night but on the warmth waiting for him at home.
The road back to his home was familiar and comforting, each bend bringing back memories of days spent with his children and grandchildren, the laughter echoing in his mind like a beloved melody. The soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mixed with the earthy aroma of the surrounding foliage, a testament to the rich, vibrant life he had come to cherish here in Cuba.
As Cole approached his home, the sounds of play reached his ears before he could even see the figures. The joyful shouts of his grandchildren playing near the water’s edge painted a picture of bliss in his heart. His steps quickened with anticipation.
He passed through the modest gate, his eyes immediately catching sight of Molly and their oldest daughter, Marie, bustling around in the open kitchen that overlooked the backyard. The sight of them, so engrossed in their task and yet so seamlessly part of the tapestry of their family life, filled him with an immense sense of pride and gratitude.
“Grandpa!” The excited cry came from the youngest of the pack, a sprightly little girl with curls as wild as the wind. She dashed towards him, her small feet kicking up sand, followed by her siblings and cousins in a less orderly fashion.
Cole set down his bag of assorted goods gently on the ground and opened his arms wide, just in time to catch her as she leaped into his embrace. “Well, if it isn’t my little sunshine!” he exclaimed, lifting her high into the air as she giggled delightfully.
“Did you bring treats, Grandpa?” another one piped up, eyeing the bag with undisguised curiosity.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You’ll have to wait and see,” Cole teased, winking at the older children who had gathered around, each one buzzing with barely contained energy.
He set the youngest down and took each child’s hand in turn, leading them back towards the house. “Let’s see what your grandma and mom are cooking up first. I bet it’s something good.”
As they approached, Molly looked up from where she was stirring a pot on the portable stove. Her face lit up with a smile that still had the power to make Cole’s heart skip a beat, even after all these years. “There you are,” she called out, wiping her hands on her apron. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Smells wonderful,” Cole said, leaning in for a kiss that was both familiar and thrilling. “I brought back some fruits and fresh bread from town.”
“Mmm, perfect timing as always,” Molly replied, her eyes twinkling with affection.
The children, now somewhat distracted by the prospect of food, ran off to wash up under Marie’s watchful eye. Cole helped Molly set the outdoor table, their movements synchronized by years of partnership. The sun was setting now, casting a golden glow over the scene, the light flickering through the leaves and reflecting off the water.
As they sat down to eat, surrounded by their family, the conversation flowed easily, filled with updates, plans, and laughter. Cole listened more than he spoke, his eyes often drifting to the faces around him, each one dear to him in a unique way.
After dinner, the adults lingered at the table, sipping on coffee while the children played nearby. Cole looked out towards the ocean, the waves gently lapping at the shore under the deepening twilight.
“It’s been a long journey,” he mused aloud, more to himself than to anyone else.
“But a beautiful one,” Molly added softly, reaching for his hand across the table. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Cole squeezed her hand, his gaze meeting hers. “Neither would I,” he agreed, feeling the weight of his earlier conversation with Marquez lift slightly. Here, with his family, with Molly, he found not just peace, but a profound joy.
The laughter of the children, the comforting presence of his wife, and the home they had built together in this unlikely paradise, reminded him every day that he was, indeed, truly happy. The shadows of the past had no place here, washed away by the tides and replaced by the promise of many more sunsets just like this one.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Guns and Justice in the West", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed my new western adventure story as well as my extended epilogue! Let me know what you think below.