Amos’s expression indicated that he thought he was talking to a lunatic. “Last I looked, she was, but that was before all this yelling and screeching started. Now she’s probably hiding from the madman standing on our veranda,” he predicted. He shouted a question at him, “Just what is your problem, boy?”
To be heard, Cody raised his voice as well and shouted, “I’m in love with your daughter.”
White eyebrows drew together in suspicion. “That would be Catherine?” Amos asked impatiently. “Be specific. I’ve got more than one daughter.”
“Yes, sir. Catherine, sir,” Cody confirmed. Shifting nervously, Cody realized that this was going to be his moment of truth. There was no turning back from this now—not that he wanted to. “I take it that you’re her father?”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not her mother,” Amos retorted, wondering if Cody was dangerous or just some lovesick cowboy.
Cody took in another deep breath, silently warning himself not to hyperventilate. “Sir, I want to ask for your blessings.”
“Done. You’ve got it. My blessings,” Amos parroted. “Now will you go home?”
Determined, Cody plowed on. “I want to marry your daughter. Catherine,” he added in case the man had forgotten he’d specified that earlier.
In response to his proclamation, Cody heard a round of squeals. The noise was coming from inside the house. More precisely, from the young women gathered at the top of the stairs inside the house. Drawn by the sound of raised voices, they’d remained to listen to this exchange between their father and Catherine’s suitor.
Flabbergasted, Amos stuttered, “Well, I—” Before he could finish, he was being gently pushed aside as Catherine came to the front door.
“I’ll handle this, Daddy,” Catherine told him, then turned to look at Cody. Part of her thought she’d just imagined this last part of the exchange between her father and Cody. “Did I hear right? Are you seriously asking me to marry you?”
Cody was at a loss as to what she was actually thinking. Her somber expression gave nothing away. It definitely wasn’t what he was hoping for in response to his proposal.
“Yes,” he told her emphatically.
She wanted to believe him. More than anything in the world, she wanted to believe that Cody actually wanted to marry her.
But what she’d witnessed this afternoon told her otherwise and very nearly negated his proposal. “You’re still in love with your wife, Cody,” Catherine told him crisply.
“Wife?” Amos echoed from inside the house. “This lunatic is married?” he demanded, growing incensed.
Catherine held up her hand, wordlessly asking for her father’s silence. Her father was so stunned, he did as his oldest daughter requested. He held his tongue.
“I saw you at the cemetery yesterday,” she told Cody. “Saw you standing there for a long time, talking to her.”
He had no idea how Catherine came to be there, but that wasn’t the point right now. Getting her to understand why he’d gone to the cemetery was.
“I was,” he confirmed. Then, before she could tell him to leave, he said, “I was saying goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Catherine repeated uncertainly.
Moving closer, Cody took her hands in his. “Yes. I was telling her that I was going to ask you to marry me.” He smiled, certain now that he was doing the right thing. He could feel it in his bones. “I love you,” he told her with feeling. “Ever since you fell into my arms, I’ve been thinking about the future. Our future.”
“What do you mean, she fell into your arms? Fell from where?” Amos wanted to know, still not completely convinced that he didn’t have a crazy man standing on his doorstep.
“I’ll explain it all later, Daddy,” Catherine promised, never taking her eyes off Cody. “Go on,” she coaxed.
Cody shook his head, annoyed with himself. This wasn’t coming out the way he’d planned. The words were all jumbled up.
“Let me start over,” he said to Catherine.
Before she could protest for him to just keep going, she saw Cody getting down on one knee. Her heart began to beat faster as, still kneeling, he took one of her hands in his.
“I promise you that as long as I draw breath, you’ll never know a day without my love.” He paused, wanting to get the words just right. “Catherine Clifton, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”
Stifling a shriek of joy, Catherine fell to her knees so that she could be on the same level with Cody. She threw her arms around his neck and cried, “Yes, oh, yes.”
There was a chorus of cheers behind her as her sisters all ran down the stairs to be part of this joyful moment. Even her father was now beaming at the way this scene had just played itself out.
But all that Catherine would learn later. Right now, she was completely focused on the man who was able to make the entire world fade away when he kissed her.
The world was held at bay for a long, long time.
* * *
It completely astounded Catherine how incredibly quickly a wedding—with all the trimmings, yet—could be pulled together when the members of her family all worked in concert the way they did for her.
The moment she said yes and agreed to be married as soon as possible, Catherine’s family went into high gear. A wedding dress was purchased and subsequently altered to meet with her delighted approval, miraculously ready the night before the wedding. The menu for the perforce large reception was decided upon before the sun set on the momentous day that had begun with such loud pounding on the family front door.
Cody even agreed to wear a modified version of a tuxedo—anything to make Catherine happy and his wife.
A week later, accompanied by a huge flock of butterflies that were flapping wildly and breeding at an incredible speed within the confines of her abdomen, Catherine clutched a large bouquet of pink roses as she stood beside Cody on the steps of her back porch, her sisters and brothers comprising the wedding party and standing up, grinning, behind the nervous bride and the contented groom.
Catherine truly couldn’t remember ever being happier, despite the dive-bombing butterflies in her stomach. Funny how things managed to arrange themselves sometimes. All she’d initially wanted to do was to carve out a little independence for herself by buying the shop and turning it into a success.
She’d gotten her independence and so much more.
Though she’d thought about it a lot, she’d never thought that she would actually wind up getting married. Never thought that she could ever be as wildly in love as she was right now at this very moment.
If she was dreaming, then she never wanted to wake up.
For a split second, Catherine mentally took a step back and looked around. Everyone she’d ever cared about and loved, her family and her friends, were all gathered together to celebrate her happiness.
Their happiness, she amended, slanting a glance at the man who was several words away from becoming her husband.
It just didn’t get any better than this, Catherine thought.
“And do you, Cody Overton, take Catherine Clifton for your lawful wedded wife, to love and honor, through sickness and health, for richer or poor, for better or worse, as long as you both shall live?” the minister asked.
There wasn’t even a microsecond of hesitation on Cody’s part. He gave his answer immediately. “I do.”
“And do you, Catherine Clifton, take Cody Overton for your lawful wedding husband, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and health, as long as you both shall live?”
The minister barely had time to finish his sentence before Catherine loudly cried, “I do.”
With the rings in place and the vows taken, the minister nodded, closing the worn book he’d used for guidance for the last couple of decades. “Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce you husband and wife. All right, you may now ki—”
The minister laughed, aborting what he was about to say. The
re was no need to utter those final instructions. The newlywed couple had beaten him to it.
With a chuckle, he commented, “Well, you certainly took to that like ducks to water.”
His observation was met with laughter from everyone except for the bride and groom. They were otherwise occupied and intended to be so for a while longer.
Epilogue
Twilight was slowly creeping in on dusky feet outside the small, quaint bed-and-breakfast where Cody and Catherine were honeymooning.
And were officially beginning their married life together.
While it was growing darker outside, inside the room where they were staying was an entirely different matter. Catherine was fairly certain that any moment, their bed was going to ignite from the sheer heat that they were generating as they came together time and again.
Almost spent and tottering on the brink of sheer exhaustion, Catherine curled up into her husband as they lay together, waiting for the pounding of their hearts to subside to a normal rhythm.
They had been at the inn for two days and nights now and had yet to venture outside.
Cody brushed his lips against her forehead, sending yet another wave of absolute contentment sweeping through her.
“Any regrets?” he murmured.
“Just one,” she answered after a moment’s consideration.
Cody raised himself up on his elbow and looked at the woman who lay cradled in his arm. Her answer surprised him. Whatever was wrong, he intended to fix it.
“Oh?”
Catherine nodded and ran her hand along his cheek, the small movement testifying to the overwhelming love she felt for him.
“I regret that I didn’t find my ‘real vintage cowboy’ years earlier,” she told him, doing her best to keep a straight face.
Cody’s features softened as he grinned at her. “Well, I figure we can always try to make up for lost time now,” he told her.
“There is that,” she agreed, turning her body into his, the very movement extending a silent, open invitation to her brand-new husband.
Cody paused for a second, overwhelmed by the realization that he was one hell of a lucky man, finding his soul mate not just once, but twice in one lifetime. What were the odds?
“Just let me catch my breath,” he requested, following it up with a very sensual wink.
“I can do that,” she answered, her eyes sparkling as she nodded her head.
Cody’s arm tightened around her, holding Catherine closer than a prayer. “Tell me, how would you feel about having a whole bushel of little real vintage cowboys and cowgirls?” he wanted to know.
“Wonderful,” she answered with enthusiasm. “I’d feel wonderful.” She shifted so that she could look at Cody’s face and gauge whether or not he was serious. To her delight, he was. “How soon can we get started?” she asked eagerly.
He pretended to consider the question in earnest. “Well, you know, it’s a might tricky business, getting these little folks to be just right. I’d say that we’re going to need some practice. Actually, lots and lots of practice,” he amended.
She nodded, as if taking what he was saying seriously. “Practice, right,” she agreed, adding, “Then I’m your girl.”
Damn lucky, he thought again. “You most certainly are that,” he responded, then said it again for reinforcement, in case she hadn’t heard him the first time. “You most certainly are.”
The words were barely spoken before he threw himself into the project they had both just committed themselves to. He kissed his bride long and hard.
“Work” never promised to be more exhilarating than right at this moment.
* * * * *
Look for
THE MAVERICK’S READY-MADE FAMILY
by Brenda Harlen, the next book in
MONTANA MAVERICKS: BACK IN THE SADDLE
On sale October 2012.
* * * * *
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Chapter One
So this was what all the secrecy, giggling and whispers had been about.
Micah Muldare sat on the sofa, looking at the gift his sons had quite literally surprised him with. A gift he wasn’t expecting, commemorating a day that he’d never thought applied to him. He’d just unwrapped the gift and it was now sitting on the coffee table, a source of mystification, at least for him.
His boys, four-year-old Greg and five-year-old Gary, sat—or more accurately perched—on either side of him like energized bookends, unable to remain still for more than several seconds at a time. Blond, blue-eyed and small boned, his sons looked like little carbon copies of each other.
They looked like Ella.
Micah shut the thought away. It had been two years, but his heart still wasn’t ready for that kind of comparison.
Maybe someday, just not yet.
“Do you like it, Daddy?” Gary, the more animated of the two, asked eagerly. The boy was fairly beaming as he put the question to him. His bright blue eyes took in every tiny movement.
Micah eyed at the mug on the coffee table. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” Micah told his son. “Actually, I wasn’t expecting anything at all today.”
It was Mother’s Day. Granted he’d been doing double duty for the past two years, being both mother and father to his two sons, but he hadn’t expected any sort of acknowledgment from the boys on Mother’s Day. On Father’s Day, yes, but definitely not on this holiday.
The mug had been wrapped in what seemed like an entire roll of wrapping paper. Gary had proclaimed proudly that he had done most of the wrapping.
“But I put the tape on,” Greg was quick to tell him.
Micah praised their teamwork.
The mug had World’s Greatest Mom written on it in pink-and-yellow ceramic flowers. Looking at it now, Micah could only grin and shake his head. Well, at least their hearts were in the right place.
“Um, I think you guys are a little confused about the concept,” he confided.
Gary’s face scrunched up in apparent confusion. “What’s a con-cept?”
“It’s an idea, a way of—”
Micah abruptly stopped himself. As a reliability engineer who worked in the top secret missile defense systems department of Donovan Defense, a large national company, he had a tendency to get rather involved in his explanations. Given his sons’ tender ages, he decided that a brief and simple explanation was the best way to go.
So he tried again. “It’s a way of understanding something. The point is, I’m very touched, guys, but you do understand that I’m not your mom, right? I’m your dad.” He looked from Gary to Greg to see if they had any lingering questions or doubts.
“We know that,” Gary told him as if he thought it was silly to ever confuse the two roles. “But sometimes you do mom things,” he reminded his father.
“Yeah, like make cookies when I’m sick,” Greg piped up.
Which w
as more often than he was happy about, Micah couldn’t help thinking. Greg, smaller for his age than even Gary, was his little survivor. Born prematurely, his younger son had had a number of complicating conditions that had him in and out of hospitals until he was almost two years old.
Because of all the different medications he’d been forced to take, the little boy’s immune system was somewhat compromised. As an unfortunate by-product of that, Greg was more prone to getting sick than his brother.
And every time he did get sick, Micah watched him carefully, afraid the boy would come down with another bout of pneumonia. The last time, a year and a half ago, Greg had almost died. The thought haunted him for months.
Clearing his throat, Micah squared his shoulders. His late mother, Diane, had taught him to accept all gifts gracefully.
“Well, then, thank you very much,” he told his sons with a wide smile that was instantly mirrored by each of the boys.
“Aunt Sheila helped us,” Gary told him, knowing that he couldn’t accept all of the credit for the gift.
“Yeah, she drove us to the store,” Greg chimed in. “But me and Gary picked it out. And we used our own money, too,” he added as a postscript.
“‘Gary and I,’” Micah automatically corrected Greg.
The little boy shook his head so hard, his straight blond hair appeared airborne for a moment, flying to and fro about his head.
“No, not you, Daddy, me,” Greg insisted. “Me and Gary.”
There was time enough to correct his grammar when he was a little older, Micah thought fondly.
Out loud he marveled, “Imagine that,” for his sons’ benefit. A touch of melancholy drifted over him. “You two are growing up way too fast,” he told them. “Before you know it, you’re going to be getting married and starting families of your own.”
“Married?” Greg echoed, frowning as deeply as if his father had just told him that he was having liver for dinner for the next year.
“To a girl?” Gary asked incredulously, very obviously horrified by the mere suggestion that he be forced to marry a female. Everyone knew girls were icky—except for Aunt Sheila, of course, but she didn’t count.
Real Vintage Maverick Page 17