Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  “Thank you, David,” she said, grinning. “Please tell the groom that I shall do my very best to be there at the appointed time. And if perchance I should faint upon the way, he has my permission to pick me up and carry me to the altar.”

  Everyone laughed, David guffawed – nearly choking on his pancakes – and Georgia felt much less nervous. Humor had always been her way to take the edge off things and she suddenly knew that their big day would go fine.

  * * *

  At two o’clock, after a light lunch, Georgia retired to her room in the ranch house accompanied by her mother and Aunt Martha. The older women were there to help the bride don the wedding dress that had been ordered from the Sonora Mercantile catalog many weeks earlier. It was made of white muslin material, decorated with touches of lace as well as colorful orange-blossom embroidery here and there which symbolized happiness and fertility. Even though Georgia was used to having clothes fitted by the finest tailors in Boston, she felt that the dress was simply wonderful. After all, she thought with a smile:

  What could be more fitting for a mail-order bride than a mail-order wedding dress?

  As she prepared to put it on, Emilia looked around the room. “Where’s your corset, dear?” she said with concern.

  “I won’t be wearing one, Mama.”

  “What? Of course you are. Was there none available?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to be squished into one of those awful medieval torture instruments. They pinch, they hurt, and make it hard to breathe. I want to enjoy my wedding day not spend it tied up in a something that won’t even let me raise my arms above my waist.”

  Emilia was shocked at this breach of fashion and custom. She looked at Martha for assistance. Her fellow matriarch shrugged. “I never been partial to them things myself,” she said diplomatically.

  “Georgia, really!” Emilia protested. “Must you play the rebel even on your wedding day?”

  “I’m not playing anything, Mother. But you’re right, it is my wedding day and shouldn’t a woman be able to dress as she pleases?”

  “Yes, of course, but within reason, my dear! What will people think if you don’t wear a corset, for heaven’s sake?”

  “This isn’t Boston, Mama. None of our society friends are here. So don’t worry: there will be no scandal. I don’t think anybody will mind one bit! James certainly won’t be concerned about it. I haven’t worn a corset since leaving for Texas and I’m not going to start now.” She looked at Martha. “What do you think, Auntie? Will anybody besides my mother be upset if I don’t wear one of those awful contraptions today?”

  Martha pursed her lips and gazed at both of the women in turn. “Honestly, Emilia, I don’t reckon anybody at the weddin’ will take offence if Georgia wears the dress without a corset. We don’t stand on ceremony too much out here. But Georgie, if it upsets your ma you got to consider her feelin’s about it too. This is an important day for her.”

  Mother and daughter looked at each other in silence for a moment, each considering their position on the issue. Then Emilia slowly broke into a smile. “Oh, why not? I’ve always hated wearing those stuffy things anyway.”

  Georgia threw her arms around her mother. “Thank you, thank you, Mama! I’m so glad you understand.”

  Martha looked at them and grinned, happy that the two had worked out their differences and dodged a bullet of an argument just minutes before the wedding ceremony.

  * * *

  James had spent most of the day in and around the bunkhouse with Francisco, playing a few games of cards, talking about life in general, and the McCloud brother’s plans for a new ranching operation. After breakfast the two men had gone out for a ride – supposedly to see how the herds were doing. But for James it was because he had a brief bout of the jitters and wanted to get some fresh air. It worked. When they got back to the bunkhouse, he felt ready and confident again.

  At two o’clock he too was dressing for the ceremony. He put on his best Sunday-go-to-meeting suit, slicked back his hair in the small bunkhouse mirror, and shined up a pair of cowboy boots saved for special occasions.

  “You look like a vaquero on the way to a dance on Saturday night,” Francisco chuckled.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Fran,” James smiled as he combed his handlebar moustache in the mirror. “What time do you got, amigo?”

  Fran pulled out his pocket watch. “2:30, sharp.”

  “Perfect. Time to head over to the dance. Where’s my best man?”

  “He should be here at any moment, Señor James.” Francisco had dressed in his finest for the occasion as well and felt honored to accompany the McCloud brothers to the wedding ceremony. A knock sounded on the bunkhouse door. “That must be Señor David now.”

  “Howdy, gents,” David said as he strolled into the room, dressed like a dandy. He wore a tuxedo with a top hat and held an ornamental cane in his hand.

  “Good gracious!” James laughed, “where’d you find that highfalutin get-up?”

  “Ha! I thought you’d like it, brother. Ordered it special from the Mercantile catalog. I figure everybody knows I’m an eccentric anyway so it wouldn’t be upstaging the groom if I dandied it up a bit. After all I’m the best man, ain’t I?”

  James smiled. “The best-dressed man anyway. Okay, amigos, it’s time to roll.”

  “Any last words?” David asked with a wink.

  “As Admiral Farragut said: full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes!” James cried out and headed for the door with a quick stride.

  * * *

  About fifty guests were gathered in front of the Golden Lane veranda as the three amigos – James, David, and Francisco – strolled into view after leaving the bunkhouse, walking side-by-side. A murmur of recognition rippled among the people as the men went to the front of the crowd and took the seats that had been saved for them.

  When Emilia saw David’s tuxedo she smiled. That resplendent, attention-grabbing suit would perhaps distract some from the fact that Georgia was not wearing a corset. She grew more confident that she had made the right decision about it and relaxed. Her sons sat next to her, one on each side, just as they so often had been on the long train journey to Texas. She was proud of how both of them had conducted themselves on the trip and during their stay in Sonora: William faithfully helping his brother stay sober, Elias battling through the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal and now almost three months without a drink.

  Most of all, Emilia was thrilled that her boys’ relationship had been restored. They no longer treated each other as virtual enemies in the same household. They had become friends again. For this she was deeply grateful.

  At ten minutes to three, Reverend Wilkinson appeared on the veranda and beckoned for James and David to come forward. They both removed their Stetsons, placed them onto the seats, and walked up the steps. At three o’clock sharp the foot-bellows organ struck up a romantic theme as the ranch door opened and Charles stepped outside, followed by Georgia. She took her father’s arm and they walked slowly across the veranda to the front where her husband-to-be stood waiting. James smiled with delight as Charles delivered his bride to him. Then the older man stepped down to take a seat with Emilia in the front row.

  “Dearly beloved,” Wilkinson began, “we are gathered here today to witness the joining together of James McCloud and Georgia Warton in holy matrimony, an estate that is honorable before God and man. If there is anyone here present who knows of any lawful reason why these two persons should not be married, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” The reverend looked out at the crowd for a moment. Hearing no objections he continued:

  “James and Georgia, you have chosen to covenant with one another in the estate of holy matrimony. To that end I call upon you now, please, to exchange your marriage vows before this congregation.”

  James turned to Georgia, pulled a ring from his pocket – a gold band with a diamond set in it – and slipped it on her finger. Looking into her eyes he said: “I, James, take
you, Georgia, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death do us part. And here in the sight of God and man I pledge myself to you.”

  Tears welled up in the eyes of Emilia and Martha as James completed his vow and Georgia put a golden ring on his finger. She took a deep breath and smiled, then looked up into his gray eyes and began: “I, Georgia, take you, James, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death do us part. And now in the sight of God and of man I do pledge myself to you.”

  “Georgia and James,” Wilkinson said, “as a minister of the Gospel and according to the laws of the great state of Texas, having heard your vows of covenant love to one another I do hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, sir.”

  A round of applause went up from the congregation as the newlyweds tenderly kissed each other on the lips. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Wilkinson announced, “may I present to you James and Georgia McCloud!” Louder applause mixed with whoops and whistles greeted the announcement. The happy couple stood before the people, holding hands and smiling. James lifted Georgia’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Really, Charles!” Emilia complained, “do they have to whistle at them like this is a rodeo or something?”

  “Oh, come on, Emmy. It’s Texas after all.” Charles put his thumb and forefinger into his mouth and let go a huge, piercing whistle. James heard it, looked at him and laughed. Taking their cue, William and Elias stood up, whooping out their congratulations like cowboys in town on a Saturday night.

  29

  William, along with Gaston Castonguay, the junior cooks and wait staff of the Sutton had been working all day to prepare the wedding feast. At five o’clock the guests were invited into the Golden Lane dining room and seated. Fifty people plus the McCloud and Warton families were treated to the amazing menu of food that Aunt Martha and Georgia had decided upon: ham, turkey with stuffing, beef prepared in every conceivable form, creamed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fresh vegetables, baked beans, shrimp and chicken salad, fruit salad and hot rolls. Iced tea, milk, water and coffee were provided in liberal amounts to wash it all down, in addition to fine wines from the Sutton’s cellar.

  Besides this traditional Texas fare, Gaston and his assistants had also prepared some of Georgia’s favorite Boston dishes according to the recipes that she provided him. All of it had turned out perfectly.

  David was in his gastronomical element as one course followed another. “Goodness gracious, dear Auntie,” he exclaimed to Martha, who was sitting beside him, “this wedding feast is gonna be a legend in Sutton County before the week’s over.”

  “This here week’s over in seven hours,” she observed wryly.

  “Exactly. It’s just that good!” he laughed and took another bite.

  “I must concur, David,” Charles said, “this food is as good as anything we’ve ever had in Boston. Don’t you think so, dear?” he asked Emilia.

  She nodded and smiled. “Everything is exquisite. Simply tres bon! What an amazing chef the Sutton Hotel has in its employment.”

  “That’s Gaston Castonguay,” Georgia said to her parents. “Isn’t he great? He even did the Boston dishes to perfection. What until you taste the cream pie for dessert.”

  “Looking forward to it, Pumpkin,” her father smiled.

  “Yes, indeed,” David agreed, smacking his lips in anticipation. Then he gazed at Charles and said in a crisp Boston accent, “‘I must concur’.”

  * * *

  After dinner the square dance in the Golden Lane barn was scheduled to begin at eight o’clock. A special puncheon dance floor had been built for the occasion. This was done by taking logs, hewing them flat on one side, then joining them together to make a smooth surface. The inside of the barn was decorated with ribbons strewn from the rafters and walls, and lit by a dozen large oil lamps hung from the same. Rough benches, chairs, and a few tables lined the perimeter to make room for the dancing which oftentimes went on until dawn the next day.

  As people came in for the event Elias noticed that many were not wedding guests from the dinner earlier. James was standing next to him and said, “Yep, that’s right. It’s our custom for square dances in West Texas that ‘everybody’s invited and nobody’s slighted.’”

  “That’s beautiful,” Georgia said, standing on the other side of her brother. “There’s such a strong community feeling here.”

  The three of them watched the people arrive. Most of the women and girls wore long dresses of simple material with wide skirts and tight waists. Their long hair was pinned up into coils on their heads or hung down in long braids tied with colored ribbons. The men who had not been at the dinner wore their everyday clothes with perhaps a touch of color like a red handkerchief tied around the neck or a pair of dancing shoes.

  Elias looked at James. “I noticed there were gun belts with revolvers in them hanging from some of the saddlehorns outside.”

  James chuckled. “Welcome to Texas, Elias. It’s a sign of friendship for the fellers to leave ‘em outside. We don’t usually get many fights at square dances but they’re always fist fights. Seein’ this is a weddin’ dance there probably won’t be any at all.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Georgia said, “I don’t want our dance to be marred by fisticuffs.”

  “It would be a good story for your grandkids though, wouldn’t it, sis?” Elias teased.

  “We’ve lived through a few violent stories already since I came to Texas,” she replied. “We don’t need any more, I think”

  “Amen to that, Mrs. McCloud,” James smiled.

  She stepped over to him and gave him a hug. “I like it when you call me that, my love.” They gave each other a tender kiss.

  “Should I leave you two alone now?” Elias asked, only half-joking and a little embarrassed by their display of affection.

  “Maybe we should tone it down a little, darlin’; I see that Reverend Wilkinson is here. He might ask us to leave if we start gettin’ too hot under the collar,” James teased, stepping back from the embrace.

  “He wouldn’t dare!” she teased back and hugged him again.

  “Okay, well, I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” Elias grinned and walked away. The two young lovers kissed again. Lost in the moment, they didn’t hear what he said.

  A makeshift stage had been set up by pushing a few tables together. When the musicians were ready and the wedding party was all present, the dance caller stepped forward with his fiddle in hand. Behind him stood a guitarist, accordion player, bass fiddle player, and a second fiddler.

  “Good evenin’, folks,” the caller said. The barn grew quiet except for a few young children playing among the crowd. “I’d like to welcome y’all to the weddin’ dance of James and Georgia McCloud. Let’s give the newlyweds a nice hand of congratulations, if you please...” The building filled with the sound of applause, whistles, whoops, and hollers. “We’re gonna start the evenin’ by givin’ up the dance floor for the happy couple. This is the first dance of their young marriage – and what else but the Texas two-step!”

  As James led his bride out onto the puncheon floor the band struck up a slow, romantic tune. He stretched out his left arm, Georgia her right and they clasped hands. His other hand curled behind her back, resting on her shoulder blade, her hand rested on top of his shoulder and they began the dance. Two quick-steps followed by two slow-steps, one after another, their bodies not slowing down or speeding up, they floated around the floor gracefully.

  The Warton family were utterly astonished. They had not expected the Sheriff of Sonora to be so graceful on his feet, or Georgia to follow his lead with such confident ease. She had always been somewhat of an awkward dancer growing up in Boston, so they were amazed and moved by the scen
e before them.

  “They make a right fine lookin’ couple, don’t they?” Martha said to Emilia, sitting beside her at the wedding party’s table.

  “I am in awe of how they dance together, Martha. Georgia has always been somewhat stiff on the dance floor, but she looks like the queen of the ball out there, so poised and elegant!”

  Martha chuckled. “Well, James has always been a natural dancer and they did practice a couple times over the summer. Reckon maybe some of it rubbed off on her? Or maybe they was just born to be together,” she said wistfully.

  “Perhaps both, wouldn’t you say?” Emilia mused as she gazed at the couple.