“Plant your seed inside me,” the giantess Apache Widow told the lone rancher. – thuytien

She put the hammer down on the floor and stared at it for a long time.
—What if giants like me turn out to be born?
—Well, may God bless them. They will be the strongest in Chihuahua.
—And what if they turn out weak like you?
—Well, you will protect them.
Gregoria burst into laughter. It was the first time anyone had ever heard her truly laugh. It sounded like a river after a drought.
They were married on a Sunday in the ranch chapel by Father Pérez, who came from Buenaventura trembling with nerves. She wore a black dress sewn by three seamstresses and a veil that reached her waist.
Crisóstomo wore a black charro suit with silver buttons. When the priest said, “May you kiss the bride?” Crisóstomo had to stand on a small stool. All the cowboys applauded and wept.
Months later, their first son was born. He weighed almost six kilos. They named him Chrysostom, like his father, but they called him “the big one.” Then came Maria de la Luz, who was as tall as a pine tree. Then the twins, Jose and Jesus, who were born with boundless energy, as if they were already eager to explore the world.
Gregoria no longer wore mourning clothes; she donned colorful dresses that she herself adorned with wildflowers, and she smiled. She smiled so much that the cowboys said that when the giantess widow smiled, even the coyotes fell silent to listen.
One night, years later, when they already had six children and the ranch was the most prosperous in the region, Crisóstomo and Gregoria were sitting on the porch looking at the stars. The children were asleep inside.
—Do you know something, Chrysostom? —she said, her voice softer than ever.
—Tell me, my giant.
—When I arrived here, I thought my life was over. I thought I would never feel anything again. And you, you gave me back my heart.
He took her hand. His voice was no longer trembling.
—And you gave me what I wanted most. A home full of noise, life, and love.
Gregoria leaned down, she had to lean down a lot, and kissed him on the forehead.
“Thank you for not being afraid of me,” she whispered.
—Thank you for letting me love you —he replied.

And under that immense desert sky, the giantess widow smiled again, and this time the smile reached her eyes.
And so, this northern tale is not over because even today, when the wind blows through La Soledad de Arriba, they say that the laughter of giant children can be heard, as well as the deep voice of a woman singing lullabies at night.
And so they lived, not happily ever after, because life is never that easy, but together and strong and full of children and hard-earned love, like all the good things in this hard and beautiful land.