Priscilla's belief in Beulah's psychic abilities was still in doubt but she had to admit that the housekeeper's understanding of Rawhide Murray was as correct as it was insightful.
It was also exact. Not two hours after she had spoken her words of prophecy a rider brought the message that the posse would be home by sundown. Priscilla prepared for her father's homecoming with mixed emotions and some trepidation.
When Ian came to call at noontime she met him at the door and told him of Beulah's return and of the message she'd received telling of the posse's expected homecoming.
Ian grimaced. "Yes I know. The same message was delivered to Milo's housekeeper this morning." Then he asked anxiously, "When can I see you again?"
Priscilla thought of the loving she would be missing now that she couldn't see Ian every day and tears filled her eyes. "I don't know, soon." Then she thought to ask, "What are we going to say to Milo once he's home?"
"We will tell him the truth, that we are in love and that we're going to be married on Thanksgiving Day if that date pleases you."
Priscilla could think of nothing that would please her more. "Oh yes, Thanksgiving Day will be perfect."
Ian's eyes caressed her as he said, "Milo's housekeeper came to his office to tell me of his homecoming." Her questioning look made him add, "I moved back to the boarding house two weeks ago." He brushed his fingers across Priscilla's cheek. "I love you so much."
Priscilla felt her skin tighten and the space between her legs began to twitch. "I love you too but you must go before Beulah knows you're here and starts asking questions."
"I suppose I must," Ian agreed reluctantly. "Don't worry about a thing. I will talk to Milo as soon as he's home and then I will speak with your father."
Priscilla didn't want Ian talking to Rawhide without her being present. "I need to be there when you speak to Father."
Ian protested, "I don't think--"
Priscilla interrupted him. "Go, we can talk about this later."
Ian took the time to kiss Priscilla passionately before he hurried down the steps and toward his horse. As he lifted one foot into the stirrup, he called to her, "I love you, Prissy Murray."
He was going to alert the whole neighborhood of his presence. Priscilla blew him a kiss. "I love you too. Get out of here." She watched him ride away before going inside, closing the door, leaning against it and staring into space. She must speak to Rawhide before Ian did.
Rawhide Murray arrived home just as the sun was sinking behind the western horizon. He was bedraggled, weary and out-of-sorts. Priscilla soon learned the reason for his ill-temper. After three weeks of searching for and finding no trace of Toby Matthews and his Kickass Gang, the posse was ready to give up and go home. Not Milo Stanton, he insisted on continuing the search. The posse members delivered an ultimatum to Milo. He would either go home or continue to track the gang alone. To no one's surprise Milo opted to go on alone. A quarrel between Milo and some of the posse members ensued. Finally Milo rode away but not before he called the posse members some most unflattering names.
When Rawhide had completed his story, Priscilla asked, "What will happen to Milo now?"
Rawhide shook his head sadly. "I doubt if we will ever see Milo Stanton again. Going off to chase a whole outlaw gang single-handed is like signing your own death warrant."
Priscilla wondered aloud, "Do you really think that Milo's dead?"
"If he isn't now he will be soon because he will keep chasing down every clue and running up every cold trail until sooner or later he's going to run into Toby and his gang. That's when he's going to be in real trouble. There is no way he can capture that Kickass Gang single handed and he sure won't show his face around here without the gang and the money." Rawhide took a sip of his drink. "Dead or alive Milo is gone and as a city we have to face that fact and move on."
Tentatively Priscilla asked, "Who will be our mayor now?"
Rawhide drained his glass and set it on the table beside his chair. "There's a meeting of the city council tonight. We will discuss the matter but the way I see it the only person who can fill Milo's shoes is Ian Alwin."
Priscilla's heart beat a little faster. "What if Milo isn't dead? What if he shows up later asking for his job back? What would happen to Ian then?"
"Milo Stanton is finished in Cactus Gulch. He won't come back here with his tail between his legs asking for anything."
Priscilla found it hard to imagine Milo Stanton with his tail between his legs. "Father I don't think that…."
Rawhide interrupted. "This is not something that you should be bothering your pretty head about."
The old Priscilla would not have dared challenge her father. The new Priscilla said boldly. "I'm going to the city council meeting with you tonight, Father."
Rawhide waved her announcement aside. "Not this time, this will be a rough and tumble meeting. I forbid you to go."
Priscilla thought of the many times that her father had, with the best of intentions, run roughshod over her wishes and requests. If she ever intended to assert herself it had to be now. In a calm voice that belied the fear that kicked in her stomach she said, "I'm going to that meeting and you can't stop me unless you subdue me physically." She drew a deep cleansing breath as she realized that she'd wanted to say those words for years.
Rawhide's mouth literally fell open. As it snapped shut he said, "I forbid you to go. The matter is settled. This council meeting is no place for a well-bred young girl like you."
"The matter is far from settled." Priscilla smiled as she realized that he was speaking what he perceived to be the truth. "Father, I am not a girl, I'm a woman and I have a vested interest in the outcome of this meeting."
Rawhide was resolute. "I said no." A look of confusion spread across his face as her words seemed to register in his brain. "And what would that vested interest be, pray tell?"
Priscilla had, until now, had every intention of breaking the news about her coming marriage to Ian slowly and gently. Her father's dogmatic decree and his domineering attitude made her forget her high resolve. "I'm going to marry Ian on Thanksgiving Day. Therefore, I have some concern about him accepting the office of mayor of Cactus Gulch."
Rawhide roared, "Get married, hell no! You will do no such thing." His voice dropped as he asked, "Who will take care of me if you marry Ian?"
So his concern was not for his daughter, but for himself. "You have Beulah and you could learn to do a few things for yourself."
Rawhide squared his shoulders. "I will not allow you to marry Ian Alwin or anyone else for that matter. You are far too young to be thinking of matrimony."
Priscilla held onto her anger and stood her ground. "I am twenty-one-years old. I will marry whom I please and you can't stop me."
Rawhide's bravado wavered. "You wouldn't marry without my permission and my blessings." He tagged his statement with a feeble, "Would you?"
Priscilla hung her head and blushed as she confessed, "Father, I have already given myself to Ian." She couldn't make her position any clearer than that.
Rawhide jumped to his feet and shouted, "The bastard, I'll kill him."
Very softly, Priscilla asked, "Would you murder the father of your grandchild?"
"Oh, my God!" Only a state of dire distress would have allowed Rawhide to use profanity in the presence of his daughter. He fell back into his chair as his shoulders slumped. "Priscilla, are you... in a family way?"
"I don't know but it's a possibility." Reaching across the space that separated them she took Rawhide's hand. "Now do you understand why I'm concerned about Ian's future?"
Rawhide swallowed and nodded his head. Priscilla was surprised to see tears standing in his eyes. "The child will be a boy of course."
She smiled. "Father, I'm not sure…" She bit her bottom lip. "Of course it will."
Rawhide surrendered and without one more dissenting word. "Under the circumstances I suppose you should come along."
Priscilla almost choked on her o
wn amazement. "I'll be ready in ten minutes." She hurried to fetch her shawl and bonnet thinking as she went that she should have spoken her mind to her father years ago.
Chapter Nine
Thanksgiving Day or Hell's Bells - Wedding Bells
Ian sat in the only decent chair in his room at the boarding house and stared out the window. The sun had scarcely risen and already Main Street was crowded with people and stirring with the bustle of activity. Today was an occasion for celebration and thanksgiving for all the inhabitants of Cactus Gulch. The City Council had, by unanimous decree, declared Friday, November twenty-ninth, 1877 to be the first annual Cactus Gulch Thanksgiving Day Festival and Celebration. It was a day for Ian to give double thanks. Today was also his wedding day.
He sighed as he thought how his life had changed over the last few months. Those changes reached their culmination at last Thursday night's city council meeting. At the onset of the meeting the entire town had seemed determined to toss Milo out as their mayor and install Ian in his place. Ian felt that it was his civic duty to make them understand that they could not do that. At first he had tried appealing to the assembly's moral sensibilities. He soon discovered that they were sadly lacking in morals and possessed even fewer sensibilities.
He then tried another approach. It had taken a great deal of persuading and no small amount of explaining on Ian's part to make them see that tossing Milo out of office was not a legal option. When they understood the situation, they then voted, to the last man, to keep Milo as their mayor. Avoiding the reach of the long arm of the law was something the citizens of Cactus Gulch could understand and appreciate.
After their vote to keep Milo as the Mayor of Cactus Gulch, Ian felt a little more confident. Standing, he addressed the crowd and pointed out that Milo had promised to be back by Thanksgiving Day and that was a week away. They should exercise patience and wait to see what happened on that day before rushing to judgment.
Someone from the audience called out, "Yeah and he promised to have the money with him when he got here too. Fat chance he's got of doing that."
A female voice yelled from the back of the room, "Forget Milo and get on with the business at hand."
Ian shouted over the ensuing cries and jeers, "My friends, listen to me." Much to his surprise the noise ceased as all eyes turned in his direction. At a loss as to what he should say next, Ian voiced the first thought that popped into his mind. He invited the entire city of Cactus Gulch to his wedding. After that the coming celebration took on a life of its own. By the end of the meeting the council had forgotten about Milo, declared that next Thursday would be the first annual Cactus Gulch Thanksgiving Day Festival and Celebration and set about appointing committees and assigning tasks for the much anticipated event.
Priscilla began the next day to plan their swiftly approaching wedding. They would be married at high noon in the First Baptist Church. After the wedding the guests would assemble in the church's hospitality hall to enjoy a time of festivities and a Thanksgiving feast prepared by Mother M's Restaurant.
On that same day Ian wrote a letter of resignation as the assistant to the mayor of Cactus Gulch. He put the letter in his pocket and resolved to carry it on his person at all times until he either met with Milo face to face or had proof of his demise.
The following Monday Ian graciously accepted the newly established position of loan officer at the Cactus Gulch Bank. This was not a position that he had sought; on the contrary, it was one that Winthrop Throckmorton, the bank's president, had begged him to accept.
The next day Ian, with the bank's sanction took over the payments on a little repossessed cottage on Pine Street. It was not a big house but it was clean and neat and almost new. Priscilla fell in love with the house and set about furnishing it along with making plans for their wedding.
Ian pulled his mind back to the present. He had a busy day ahead of him. Hurrying out of his room, he found his way to the dining area of the boarding house. During breakfast he endured good natured teasing from the other residents. As quickly as possible he excused himself and went to his room to dress for the event of his life, his wedding to Priscilla.
He took his time. First he put on his best white shirt, the one with the pleated frills in the front. Then he donned his straight cut dark trousers and slipped into a low-cut vest. As he carefully tied his tie around his neck and stepped back to view his image in the cracked mirror above his dresser, a troubling consideration crossed his mind. This was the day Milo had promised to be home. Was there a possibility that he would return? No there wasn't, Ian decided as he pushed the thought aside. Sitting on his bed he slipped his feet into clean socks and leather ankle boots. Today was his wedding day. He would not borrow trouble. He did, however have the forethought to put his resignation into the inside pocket of his velvet cuffed cut away coat before he donned it and then put on his top hat and hurried out the door. The thought that Priscilla would soon be his lawfully wedded wife made him quicken his pace.
In less than ten minutes Ian was at the church and being greeted by deacons and church elders as well citizens from every segment of Cactus Gulch's society. It seemed that every person in town as well as most of the residents of the surrounding countryside had turned out for the wedding and the Thanksgiving Day celebration. Excitement fizzed through Ian's veins and his heart sang with happiness. This was his wedding day.
That excitement escalated as Sister Elvira Thompson, the president of the church's Ladies Auxiliary took his arm and escorted him to a room behind the sanctuary. "You can't see the bride before the ceremony. That would be bad luck." She wagged her finger in his direction as she stood in the doorway. "You stay put until someone comes for you." With that admonition she slammed the door behind her. Ian could hear her hurried footsteps as she sped back toward the church sanctuary.
After what seemed an eternity of waiting Sister Elvira returned to open the door and motion with her hand. "Get a move on. Reverend Hogan wants you in the sanctuary before the bride starts down the aisle."
As they walked the short distance to the sanctuary organ music began to play. Ian clutched his top hat in his hand. Excitement and anticipation were making him euphoric. "Sister, this is a happy occasion for me."
Sister Elvira beamed. "It's a happy occasion for everybody in Cactus Gulch." She quickened her pace. "Hurry, the music's already started."
At the entrance to the sanctuary they paused. Ian's breath caught in his throat. Reverend Hogan stood behind an altar banked with a gorgeous array of late blooming wild flowers. Directly over the podium was a huge hand written sign that read, hurray for Ian and Priscilla.
The sanctuary was decorated with pink, blue and white streamers. Ian was so taken aback by what he saw that he seemed rooted to the spot where he stood. The decorations were gaudy and overdone. The message of caring and good will that they conveyed was absolutely beautiful.
When Reverend Hogan saw Ian he motioned with his head for the bridegroom to enter.
Sister Elvira pointed to the altar. "Reverend Hogan wants you to stand to his left." When Ian failed to respond she nudged him with her elbow. "Go on, get out there." As he walked toward the altar she called after him in a loud whisper, "Put on your top hat. It makes you look distinguished."
Ian set his hat on his head and gave the top a little tap as all his anxiety vanished. He was going to make Priscilla his wife. Suddenly his world was bright and beautiful. With quick decisive steps he took his place before the altar.
The strains of the wedding march sounded from the old pump organ. Ian turned to see Priscilla coming down the aisle on Rawhide's arm. She was wearing a white silk gown with a long train that was trimmed with ribbons and lace. A lace panel inset ran the length of the dress. The long tight sleeves had matching lace cuffs. As she came nearer he could see that she wore a string of pearls around her neck. Her hair was done in some elaborate style with ribbons and lace peeking through her ebony curls. Ian had never been seen anything so exquisitely l
ovely. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
Priscilla held onto Rawhide's arm and came toward him with a smile curving her full lips. As she came to stand by his side she mouthed the words, "I love you."
Ian was so overcome with emotion that he could only nod his head and stare at his beautiful bride.
The music stopped. A hush fell over the congregation. Reverend Hogan began to speak, "Dearly beloved we are gathered together in the sight of God and in the presence of this congregation to join this man, Ian Alwin, and this woman, Priscilla Murray, in holy wedlock."
Ian tried to hang onto every word the Reverend spoke. This was a day he wanted to remember and cherish for the rest of his life. But when he looked into Priscilla's velvet brown eyes he forgot everything except that he loved her and wanted her and… His mind drifted to the time they could be alone.
Once again Reverend Hogan's sonorous words impinged on his ears bringing him out of his reverie. "Do you Ian Alwin take this woman, Priscilla Murray to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Ian thought that his heart would burst with happiness as he said in a loud clear voice, "I do." Over the rapid beating of his heart he heard the Reverend ask the same of Priscilla. "Do you Priscilla Murray take this man, Ian Alwin to be you lawfully wedded husband?"
Priscilla dropped her head and stared up at Ian from under her long thick lashes. "I do."
The reverend spoke in grave and somber tones. "I now pronounce you man and wife." He cleared his throat and added in a much lighter tenor. "You may kiss your bride."
As Ian took Priscilla in his arms and kissed her with loving passion, the sanctuary erupted with happy shouts and loud cries of congratulations. Then as suddenly as they had begun, the cries and shouting stopped. Tension tightened the ensuing silence.
A disembodied child's voice called out, "Look, it's the ghost of Mr. Stanton come back to haunt us."
Ian lifted his face and turned his head. What he beheld was not a ghost but Milo Stanton in the flesh. He was standing just inside the sanctuary. His clothes were dirty and torn and his hair looked as if it hadn't been combed in days. A heavy growth of beard covered his ruddy face. He dropped his hand to the six-gun he wore strapped to his waist. "Hell's bells, what's going on here?"
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