“Never mind, it doesn’t matter what they are,” Billy said with a sigh. “You just go your way and I’ll go mine.”
It was dark by the time Billy got into town and tied his horse at a hitching rail in front of the Golden Nugget, which would suggest to anyone who recognized his horse that Billy was in town enjoying a drink at the saloon. But in fact, Billy slipped through the darkness alongside the saloon to the alley behind. Then, with his movements masked by the night, he hurried up the alley to the Garrison house, where he climbed a picket fence, then stood in the dark shadows of a cottonwood tree. The shadows were necessary because the moon was exceptionally large and exceptionally bright tonight, and if he wandered out from under the tree, he could easily be seen.
Looking up to the second floor, to the window on the extreme right side of the house, he saw that the room was well lit. He knew also that this was the window of the room that belonged to Kathleen.
Billy had come down the alley a few times, thinking about calling up to Kathleen, but always before he had lost his nerve before climbing the fence. Kathleen did not know, nor did he ever want her to know. He would come, look up toward her room whether it was lighted or not, and feel closer to her.
Tonight, just standing in the alley wasn’t enough, so he climbed the fence and moved into her garden. It was not his intention to let her know he was here tonight, but as he started to leave, she stepped out onto the balcony and, because the moon was so bright, he was forced to remain, very quietly, in the shadow cast by the tree.
“Senorita Garrison, you should have a coat,” a maid’s voice called from inside the room. “You will catch your death out there in the cold.”
“It is not so cold, Maria,” Kathleen replied. She wrapped her arms about herself. “Oh, the moon is glorious tonight. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
“Yes, I have,” Billy answered, though speaking too quietly to be heard. “You are more beautiful than the moon, the sun, or all the stars.”
“Maria, have you ever been in love?” Kathleen asked.
“Si, senorita. Everyone has been in love,” Maria answered, still from inside Kathleen’s room.
“Yes,” Kathleen said. “Everyone has been in love, haven’t they? Why, then, did it become my fate to love someone who’s very name is an abhorrence to my father? If only I could be a Smith, or a Jones, or even a Gonzales.”
“Senorita, no, you cannot say such a thing,” Maria said. “That would be denying your father.”
“I would gladly deny my father if Billy would deny his,” Kathleen said.
“You cannot ask someone to deny who he is, senorita.”
“You don’t understand, Maria,” Kathleen said. “I’m not asking him to deny who he is, only to deny his name. If he were a Miller or a Kelly, he would still be Billy. What is the old saying? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet?”
“I have never heard that saying, senorita.”
“Trust me, it is a famous saying,” Kathleen said. She giggled. “I just don’t know who said it.”
“Your bed is turned down, senorita,” Maria said. “I am going now. Good night.”
“Good night, Maria,” Kathleen said.
Billy waited until he was sure that the maid was gone. Then he called up to the balcony.
“For your love, Kathleen, I will call myself by any name you choose.”
“What?” Kathleen gasped. “My God, Billy, what are you doing out here hiding in the dark?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’m not frightened of you, don’t you understand? I’m frightened
“I’m not afraid of your father or my brothers,” Billy said. “The only thing I fear is losing you.”
“Billy, go now, please,” Kathleen said. “I think I hear my father coming up the stairs.”
“I’m not going until you tell me you love me.”
“I do, I do love you. Now, please, go. Go quickly.”
“Kathleen?” Billy heard Garrison call from within the house. “Kathleen, are you up here?”
“Good night, Kathleen,” Billy called. Moving quickly, he darted through the moon-splashed garden, then climbed over the fence.
Kathleen watched him until he reached the fence, then breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone before her father appeared.
“I thought I heard voices. Were you talking to someone out here?” Garrison asked, as he came onto the balcony.
“I was talking to the moon, Papa,” Kathleen said, pointing to it. “Have you ever seen it more beautiful? It is huge, and golden.”
“Yes, it’s what they call a harvest moon,” Garrison said. He chuckled. “You know, I proposed to your mother under such a moon.”
Her father suspected nothing, and Kathleen was relieved.
“Why, Papa,” Kathleen said, laughing. “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”
“I said I proposed to your mother under such a moon,” Garrison said. “I didn’t say I stood out on the balcony talking to it.”
