Well, thanks to her pa she would smell nice, and her skin would be soft as a spring leaf.
Candy helped her into a dress of palest yellow with a thin, translucent stripe to the cloth. It lay flat and snug in the front accenting her bosom and clinging close to her waist and hips. A small bustle in the back hinted at the round bottom beneath but concealed it like a fine secret. A row of pearl buttons marched up her back and ended at the nape of her neck. A straw bonnet with a little veil sat atop her honey-colored curls.
Micah appeared precisely at two. His little face a study in serious. “I’ve come to take you to the wedding,” he announced. His shirt was tucked in. His pants were belted, and a blue tie adorned his neck. Chase waited by his side. His matching bow a splendid contrast to his silky mahogany mane.
“You and Chase look very handsome,” Melody praised.
“Thank you, Aunt Melody,” Micah said. “I expect we better get on outside. Uncle Mitch is fit to be tied from waiting.”
Candy sorted out the back of her dress until it lay smooth and straight. Melody slid her hand through the boy’s arm. Her heart thumped in her chest like a kettledrum.
She stepped through the door and gasped. The women, no, the entire population of Journey’s End had worked hard to make their wedding day a glory. Tears flooded her eyes and escaped to roll down her cheeks, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.
Sven had built an arbor and covered it with wildflowers and long trails of greenery. He stood beneath it with a Bible in his left hand and Mitch on his right. Lars stood grinning like Christmas morning beside him. A trail of flower petals began at the bottom of the stairs and led with delicious direction to her groom.
Ellie, Caroline and the children waited to Sven’s left. Little Annika toddled back and forth with a basket looped over her arm throwing petals in the air and laughing when they floated down on her head.
The men had carried the long table outside. More flowers laid a path down its center and platters of food lay on either side – fried chicken, fresh baked bread, vegetables from their garden and apples from their tree, mashed potatoes, and homemade pickles. A cake with two layers, frosted and fine, sat in pride of place in the middle of the table.
“Here she is, Uncle Mitch,” Micah declared and went to stand beside Lars.
Melody and Mitch exchanged a knowing glance. No standing with the women and children for Micah. He’d throw his lot in with the men.
“Thank you, Micah.” Mitch replaced the boy at his bride’s side and took possession of her hand.
Sven cleared his throat and speared them with his clear blue eyes.
“Dearly Beloved,” he began, “we have come together today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. This is a sacred estate and not to be entered into lightly.” Melody felt a twinge of shame. Sven was right. Their first marriage had been frivolous in the eyes of God.
“Melody Williams will you have Mitchell McBride for your husband? Will you love, honor, and obey him from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health and forsaking all others remain true to him as long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” she replied.
“Mitchell McBride will you have Melody Williams for your wife? Will you love, honor, and keep her from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health and forsaking all others remain true to her as long as you both shall live?”
He squeezed her fingers before replying in a strong, clear voice. “I will.”
Sven placed her left hand in Mitch’s right. He covered their clasped hands with his own. “I know Melody has been wearing Mitch’s ring for a while, but this is their true wedding day. The start of their life together as husband and wife. I’d like to bless this ring. Let us pray.”
He waited as heads were bowed. “Dear Lord, bless this ring so that he who gives it and she who wears it will be reminded of their promises, evermore living and growing in the spirit of your love. Amen.”
“Amen,” echoed around the bower.
“Before I pronounce you man and wife, the groom requested a special reading from Corinthians. I have to admit it is one of my favorite passages in the Bible.”
He opened his good book to a page marked with a blue ribbon. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not grand. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”
Sven closed his eyes and let the power of the words roll over them in gentle waves.
He smiled at Mitch and Melody. “I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Well, nobody had to tell Mitch twice. He pulled her in close and bent her a little backwards over his arm. Then he sealed his mouth over hers in a kiss of possession and love and promise.
When Lars and Sven laughed, Mitch let her come up for air.
He put his mouth close to her ear and spoke words low and private. His moist breath a harbinger of things to come. “We have to stay and enjoy this party. The ladies have worked since sun-up to prepare this food. But tonight, sweetheart, tonight I aim to love you and love you again and maybe again.”
“Can we eat now?” Micah wondered.
Sweet laughter rippled through the group as they turned to the bounty on the table.
When the sun dipped one foot over the horizon, Mitch took Melody into his arms. “I reckon we’ll be on our way,” he declared. Soft laughter rippled in their wake as he carried her across the yard, into their cabin, and kicked the door shut behind him.
“I love you, Mrs. McBride,” Mitch said. His fingers already busy at the buttons on her back.
“I love you, too, Mr. McBride.” Melody turned to ease her husband’s task.
When that yellow dress dropped to the floor, he swept her into his arms again and carried her into the room they would share.
Mitch was true to his word. Before the sun rose over the western hills, he’d loved her with cautious care. When he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, he loved her with heat and passion. When he woke with his manhood throbbing and heavy, he’d set her on her knees. He’d taken her from behind with a friendly spank or two to sharpen their sharing.
Journey’s End was more than a place. More than a ranch. It was a haven. A nurturing garden of love. A place where burdens were laid down.
Melody lay encased in his warm arms as the first strip of light crept under their door and advanced across the room. Visions of strawberry blond children floated like small promises for the future.
“How many children do you want, Mitch?” Her voice was lazy and thick with waking.
“As many as the good Lord gives us, Sweetheart. As many as the good Lord gives us,” he repeated.
“I hear Lars and Sven.” He swatted her bottom good-naturedly. “Get up, Wife, your husband needs breakfast before hitting the range.”
She pulled a robe on and tied the sash tight. She had a husband, a real one, and she’d reached the end of one road. Her brother had justice. The Bar W was in good hands. Children would come. Love would grow.
“Journey’s End,” she whispered.
One journey ended.
Another begun.
Epilogue
One Month Later, Bar W
Mitch sank into the well-worn leather chair and pulled his bride into his lap. She wiggled this way and that seeking comfort, but he secretly believed his feisty Melody knew the effect all that squirming had on his masculine parts and did it on purpose. She was a tease. Well, two could play that game. She’d find out later when he got her in his bed.
Melody fidgeted. “Are you listening to me, Mitch McBride?” she demanded.
“Sorry, I was gathering wool. What did you say?”
“I said…” She paused for ultimate impact. “I think Candy will
be happy living with my uncle, but I hated to see her leave.”
“I know you did, Sweetheart. But she wouldn’t leave Journey’s End even though it’s on the other side of the river from Oakville. She was always afraid some man would recognize her from the Gilded Garter and shame her. The uncle who sold her into that life is the one who should be ashamed. What kind of man would do such a thing?” Mitch huffed his disapproval.
“People are mighty quick to blame the woman,” Melody said. “It’s not fair, but it’s the truth.”
Mitch studied the grandfather clock standing stately against the wall. “She has another six hours on the train. Your uncle said he’d send a telegram when she arrived. We can visit her, you know. A fresh start, a second chance, it’s what she needs.”
“I know. It’s just that having her at Journey’s End kept Clay closer to me. I can see why he loved her, and I know he’s resting easier now that she’s safe,” Melody said.
“When you were waiting with Candy at the station this morning, I stopped by the Land Office to chat with Tucker,” Mitch said. “The railroad decided on the northern route to Portland. Then they’ll connect the big port cites – San Francisco, Portland, Seattle. It makes sense, but…”
“But Clay died for nothing, Mitch, nothing. Oh, that makes me so mad.” She smacked her fist on the desk. “If the mayor weren’t dead and that terrible Silas already in jail, I’d, I’d, oh, I don’t know what I’d do, but they’d regret they were ever born.” She gave the desk another whack. “I swear to God they would.”
Mitch pulled her close and rubbed circles of comfort on her back. “I know, Sweetheart, I know. Your brother deserved better.”
Melody dashed tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and surrendered to her husband’s embrace.
“Breathe, Melody,” Mitch ordered. “It will help.”
She took three deep breaths. In, out, in, out, in, out. The glacier of her anger melted a bit, but her grief stayed strong. “Poor Clay,” she whimpered.
“I think we better turn our minds to the task at hand,” Mitch declared. “Where do you think we should start?”
“Pa used this desk as long as I can remember. I bet it was here before I was born.” She turned to face the imposing piece of furniture. “Thomas asked us to remove everything of a personal nature. He’ll be more comfortable using the desk if he’s not afraid of running into family secrets. I guess one drawer at a time.” She shrugged.
Mitch opened the long drawer in the middle of the desk. He ran his fingers over the pencils and erasers. He withdrew a ruler and turned it over in his hands.
“I have fond memories of this particular item.” He tapped her leg with the implement.
Melody huffed. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Mr. McBride. I’ve been good, and we have an agreement.”
“Very true.” After slapping the strip of wood into his palm a few times, he dropped it back into the drawer.”
Melody opened the left, top drawer and removed a stack of ledgers. She riffled through the pages. “Each of these covers a single year of Bar W accounts. Thomas will want these to compare current prices and such.” She dropped them back into the drawer.
When she opened the bottom drawer, the scent of tobacco permeated the air. “Oh. It’s Pa’s pipe and smoking supplies. When I was real little, he’d let me sit on his lap while he smoked. He’d tell me stories or read aloud to me. I’d forgotten those days.” She retrieved the pipe and turned it over in her hand. “Do you want it, Mitch?” she asked.
“No, Sweetheart. I haven’t taken to the habit yet, and I don’t aim to start. But keep it,” Mitch said. “It brings back sweet memories of your pa.”
Melody laid it on the top of the desk and gave it a little pat. “I think I will.”
Mitch opened the top drawer on the right and removed a stack of documents. “Thomas will want these. Receipts for items bought and sold. Bank statements. That sort of thing.”
Melody opened the last drawer. A box with a pattern of red roses on the top sat in the center of the drawer.
“That doesn’t look like business.” Melody laid her hand on the oblong container. “What do you think is in there? I’m almost afraid to look.”
“We’ll never know if we don’t open it, Sweetheart.” Mitch lifted the item to the top of the desk.
Melody fixed it with a steely glare before placing both hands on the lid. Pandora letting loose the woes of the world must have felt like this, she mused. Curious and scared all mixed together.
Mitch removed the papers lying on top. “Two certificates of marriage,” he announced, “one to Clay’s ma and one when he married your ma.” He placed them next to the pipe. “Two certificates of birth – yours and Clay’s. Let’s see. There’s the deed to the ranch and a copy of your pa’s will.” He added them to the growing stack of paper.
Mitch peered into the box. “Looks like the family Bible. We’ll take all this home with us, Sweetheart. Family records are important.” He retrieved the black book and was moving it toward the desk when an envelope escaped the pages and landed in Melody’s lap.
“It’s addressed to me,” Melody whispered. “That’s my father’s writing.
They stared at the bold script. It was decisive and strong. The Y at the end of her name had a flourish slanting up to the right, and he’d leaned too hard on the paper nearly tearing a hole. Melody laid a trembling finger on the envelope.
“Open it, Mitch. Please.” Melody leaned into the hard warmth of her husband’s chest.
Mitch retrieved a letter opener from the long middle drawer. He slipped it under the sealed flap, worked it free and pulled two folded sheets of paper from the yellowed envelope.
He held them out to Melody, but she waved her hands as if to ward off evil. “You read it.”
Mitch laid the pages on the desk and smoothed them flat. He scooped Melody into the shelter of his arm.
Dear Melody,
If you are reading this, I have passed. I meant to tell you this in person, but my courage failed me every time. Let me tell you first that I’m sorry. At the time it seemed best, but I have questioned the decision every day.
Your mother died when you were born. That’s the truth. What you don’t know is that you have a twin sister. The two of you looked like two peas in a pod. Your mother’s mother, your grandma, came to help with the birth. She put a pink ribbon on your hand and a purple one on your sister. We couldn’t tell you apart, and that’s a fact. You looked exactly alike. Your sister’s name is Harmony. We knew there were two of you, and we’d come up with names for boys or girls or a mix. But we loved it – Melody and Harmony. Your ma and I wanted you both. We were so in love and looking forward to more children.
Well, when your ma died, I was wild with grief. Your grandma said I couldn’t take care of my babies. She said a man who had to work his ranch with only a little boy to help couldn’t raise babies. She wanted to take you both back to her home in Chicago. I couldn’t bear it, Melody. I couldn’t let her have you both. I told her to take a baby and leave a baby. I’d hire me some help. That’s when Belinda and Thomas came to the ranch.
We agreed to make a clean break, and I’ve held up my end of the bargain. But I feel you have the right to know. Harmony goes by her grandma’s name. If you ever want to contact her, it is Harmony Beckman, 1453 Pioneer Street, Chicago, Illinois. Your grandma will be mad as a wet hen that I told you, but you have a right to know.
Do you remember when you were around seven, and I came running to the house because you were holding your leg and crying to break my heart? I looked at your leg. I took you to town and had Doc look, but there wasn’t anything wrong. Other things happened about that same way. Do you remember? I always wondered if you felt your twin somehow. I’ve heard tell it happens.
If I had it to do again, I’d keep you both. I swear to God I would. I’ve missed her every day, and I guess you have too.
Please forgive me.
Your loving pa
> Melody grabbed the pages from her husband’s hand and leapt from his lap.
“I have a sister, Mitch. I have a sister.” She spun around the center of the room clutching the letter to her chest. “He’s right. I did know. I’ve always felt like someone was missing. At night, I’d talk to her and, I swear, I thought she answered. It was like a hole in my world, and I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure a way to fill it.”
Mitch watched wide-eyed and open-mouthed as his wife celebrated. “There’s two of you?” he gulped.
Melody laughed. “Yes, two of me. Don’t look so forlorn, Mitch. You can tie a pink ribbon around my wrist.” She threw her arms around his middle and gave a squeeze.
“I’d know you anywhere, Melody.” He returned the squeeze and added several friendly spanks to her lush bottom.
“I’m going to write her. I want her to come, right away. I wonder if she’s missed me.” Melody released her husband and stared at the letter. “I love her already. I do.”
“It will take a while for letters to get delivered,” Mitch cautioned. “Best not get too fired up. I know patience isn’t your strongest suit, and I hate to see you all tied up in knots and frustrated.” A flurry of feather-light spanks caressed her backside.
Melody’s eyes glittered with mischief. She stamped her foot.
“Damn, but I feel like celebrating,” Melody declared.
Mitch’s jaw dropped. “Melody. You know the rules. Don’t swear.”
“Damn. Damn. Damn.” Each forbidden swear word was louder than the last.
“You’re asking for a spanking,” Mitch’s voice, low and thunderous, caressed her ear.
“Well, damn,” she replied.
“You best get yourself up to our room and get ready to be spanked.” Mitch pointed at the door. “I’ll expect your bloomers down.”
Melody (Journey's End Book 2) Page 14