by Verna Clay
Immediately, parishioners descended and offered congratulations. Mrs. Merriweather, the pastor's wife, whom Abby had met at the barn-raising, welcomed them and said a reception had been planned for after the service. She looked almost as nervous as Abby felt. "I just love weddings!" she gushed, and then proceeded to exclaim over Abby's dress.
At precisely ten o'clock everyone found their seats and Mrs. Merriweather played the piano. Lovely songs were sung and then the freckle-faced young pastor took the pulpit, announcing the wedding would be at the end of the service. Thankfully, he shortened his sermon and spoke about the acts of kindness performed by the disciples. He encouraged everyone to perform their own acts of kindness that day. Finally, he said, "Now it's time to join Brant Samson and Abigail Vaughn as husband and wife. After the wedding, we'll be celebrating with food and song. I'd like to thank everyone who brought something for this momentous occasion on such short notice."
Mrs. Merriweather, tall and thin, whereas her husband was short and stocky, walked back to the piano, a huge grin on her face, and began playing a soft tune. The pastor said, "Will the happy couple please come forward?"
Brant sat Ty on the bench beside Jenny, but the toddler climbed to his feet so he could see what was happening. Abby followed Brant into the aisle, pulled her veil over her face, and accepted the arm he offered. Between her excitement and not eating, she was feeling dizzy. In a daze, she walked to stand before the pastor. Unwanted thoughts raced through her mind. Do you really want to marry someone who doesn't love you the way a husband should love his wife? Are you ready to become the mother of three children? Can you handle living in the wilds and not the city?
"Please hold hands," said Pastor Merriweather, and the music ceased.
Brant reached for her hand that trembled and she realized it was now or never if she wanted to call off her wedding. When his warm clasp enfolded her fingers, she knew without a doubt that he was the husband she desired.
The preacher said, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"
Abby listened to the preacher's words in a fog. She really should have eaten something. After a time, he said, "Do you, Abigail Mary Vaughn, take Brant Samson to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health…" Softly, she said yes when he finished his question.
When the preacher asked for the rings, Brant reached inside his pocket and brought out the simple bands he'd purchased the day before at the general store. Her hands shook when it was her turn to place the ring on his finger.
The preacher spoke more words and Abby's head felt fuzzy. Then he said words she understood, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Brant, you may kiss your bride."
As if in slow motion, Brant raised her short veil and touched his lips to hers. When he lifted his head, she saw concern in his eyes, just before everything went black.
A familiar deep voice, speaking from far away, barely penetrated Abby's void. She concentrated on the soothing sound. "Abby, open your eyes and look at me. Abby, open your eyes."
The darkness felt safe and she didn't want to leave it, but the voice was persistent and kind. With difficulty she lifted her eyelids.
"That's my girl. Talk to me."
After a few seconds of confusion, awareness flooded her and she glanced around. She was inside the church being held on Brant's lap like a child. Several people surrounded them looking concerned.
Mortification made her eyes widen. "I'm so sorry I fainted."
Relief passed across Brant's face and he looked up. "She needs to eat. Can someone bring my wife a slice of bread and something to drink?"
"I'll get it," said Mrs. Merriweather.
The pastor boomed to everyone, "Now that we know Mrs. Samson is fine, let's push the benches aside and ready the room for the newlyweds' reception. We'll just leave Brant and his Missus alone for awhile."
Abby listened to the commotion of scraping pews and directions being called out. She said shakily, "I think I can sit up now."
Brant lifted her to sit beside him and Mrs. Merriweather returned with bread wrapped in a cloth napkin and a glass of milk. He accepted the sustenance from her and the woman patted Abby on the shoulder.
Mrs. Mina Priestly walked over and said, "You're gonna be jes fine. Gettin' married to this fine specimen of a man would have any gal faintin'."
Abby felt embarrassed by her words.
Brant acted like he hadn't heard the old woman. "Here, honey, eat some bread." He handed the napkin to her and she gratefully nibbled. After a few minutes, he handed her the milk. The food and drink revived her strength and she glanced around to see they were sitting on the front pew and all the other benches had been moved to the walls to make room for tables placed in the center of the room. Ladies were filling the tables with food. A smaller table held a cake.
Abby said, "Goodness, I didn't expect all this."
Brant said softly, "A wedding is something to celebrate."
Lifting her eyes shyly to his, she smiled her agreement. Soon, Abby got over her initial embarrassment about fainting when the parishioners treated her like one of their own. Never had she felt such a sense of belonging. She was beginning to associate names with the faces of her neighbors.
Brant stayed by her side, and other than a couple of times when she saw a look of sadness in his eyes, he was attentive and funny. Her wedding day turned out to be wonderful; something quite different from what she had expected. To her relief, Lola Pitts and her parents didn’t attend.
One of the younger mothers, Mrs. Lita Brandon, took oversight of Ty and Jenny and insisted that all three of Brant's children spend the night with her family so Brant and Abby could have at least one night alone. Abby protested, but Brant agreed.
The same fiddlers from the barn-raising struck up happy tunes and the country folk celebrated heartily. Brant explained, "Winter's coming, and everyone celebrates as much as they can before then. Gives a person something to remember on cold, stormy nights."
Late in the afternoon, Brant helped Abby onto their wagon and bid everyone goodbye amidst shouts of "Congratulations!"
As he turned the wagon toward their cabin, nervousness infused her chest. She tried to make small talk, but Brant had turned quiet. No doubt he was reflecting on his new state of matrimony. She figured the sadness she'd seen in his eyes earlier stemmed from remembrances of his wedding to his first wife, the love of his life.
Wanting to be sensitive, Abby ceased talking and watched the countryside.
Chapter 9: Honeymoon Blues
Brant drove the horses to the front of the cabin shortly before dusk and helped Abby down. Part of him wanted to carry her inside and make long, sweet love to her. The other part wanted to escape her presence and visit Molly's grave. He chose the latter.
After seeing her into the cabin, he said, "I'll see you in the morning."
She gave him a little smile. "Okay. Good night."
Quickly unhitching and bedding down his horses, he made the ten minute walk to Molly's small gravestone followed by Wally. The dog stood vigil at the foot of the grave and Brant sat and leaned against the old oak whose branches stretched out overhead as if protective of the happenings below. He said aloud, "Hello, Molly, love. Well, I did it. I married her. Now the youngins have a ma. And she's a real good one." Tears choked his next words, "But I miss you so much. I don't know if I can be a good husband to her because of how much I loved you. Eventually, I'm gonna sleep with her 'cause I still have those needs raging in me, but I feel guilty on so many counts. Guilty like I'm sorta cheating on you and guilty because I'll just be using her body for my needs. Anyway, I told her I'd give her time to adjust, so it hasn't happened yet. And then there's Luke. He hates the fact that I've remarried. I don't know how to reach our son."
Wally moved from the grave to stretch out beside his master—whimpering dog words and licking his hand. Brant stroked his fur and leaned his head aga
inst the trunk, staying near Molly's grave until well after dark.
* * *
Abby tossed in her bed until she finally heard the muffled sounds of Brant's return. Curling into a ball, she relived her wedding day, detail by detail. Brant had been so kind about her stupidly fainting. She smiled and whispered, "You are Mrs. Brant Samson and you have three children." Then she rolled over and stared at her door feeling a longing so intense she wanted to rush from her room, burst into his, and throw herself into his arms to partake of the intimacies of marriage. Forcing herself to close her eyes and relax, she drifted to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes, black hair, strong arms, and a deep voice that whispered ardent words she couldn't decipher because of her inexperience.
Sunlight streamed through Abby's bedroom window and she stretched and yawned, still feeling lovely emotions from dreams she couldn't quite remember. She crawled from bed and reached for her pocket watch. Seven o'clock! What must Brant be thinking? She should have been up two hours ago and kindled the stove for coffee and then retrieved eggs from the chicken coop. She rushed to wash up in her basin and dress in her serviceable clothing. Pausing just a moment to lovingly finger her wedding dress hanging on a peg, she smiled and then hurried from her room. Brant was sitting at the table sipping coffee.
"I'm so sorry for sleeping late!" She grabbed the basket for retrieving eggs.
"Abby, I already got the eggs. Besides, I'm glad you slept in. You had a long day yesterday. I'm kinda takin' it easy myself. Sit down and have coffee with me."
Abby set the basket back down and reached for a coffee tin in the cupboard while Brant grabbed a potholder and picked up the pot. He filled her cup and sat across from her. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"Like a baby."
She thought she saw a disappointed look flicker across his face, but wasn't sure. He sipped his coffee again. "I'm gonna leave around noon to pick the children up. Do you want to come with me?"
"Yes, I'd love to."
"Um, I need to warn you that Neal and Lita are gonna think we, uh, you know, last night…"
Abby turned pink. "I understand."
"Anyway, they might jokingly say some things that are kinda…embarrassing."
"Ah, maybe I'll stay here." She jumped up. "Hey, I think I'll take a hint from yesterday and eat something. How about pancakes?"
When Brant left after lunch to pick the children up, Abby opened her trunk and searched the bottom of it. Finding the books she'd packed, she placed them on her bed and looked for one Luke might enjoy that was not already a part of Brant's collection. She'd been hesitant to give him a book before now because of his aversion to her and the fact that he so enjoyed dime novels. She perused her selection until one captured her attention, Treasure Island. Grinning, she set the book aside, and then hurried to ready the house for the children's return and stir beans simmering on the stove. Next, she decided to make cookies. She'd helped Jenny a few times and the stone hard texture had improved to a softer one. Yes, she would surprise everyone with a sweet! Pulling out the ingredients, she set to work, humming and grinning foolishly to herself.
When the buckboard rolled to the front of the house, she had several dozen cookies waiting on a plate. The door burst open and Luke slammed in.
"Hello Luke. Would you like a treat?" she asked cheerily.
He glowered at her and shouted, "No. All I want is for you to leave and never come back!"
His hateful words sent a dagger through her heart and she gasped.
He rushed to the loft ladder and had just stepped onto the bottom rung when Brant stormed in. "Luke!" he yelled. "Get your ass back here and apologize! I won't have you talking to Abby like that!"
She interrupted, "Brant, its okay."
"The hell it is! Get over here, Luke! Don't make me come after you."
"Brant, please, don't…"
"Abby, this is between me and my son. Don't interfere!"
Abby saw movement at the front door and turned to see Jenny holding Ty and both of them with tears streaming down their faces. Rushing over, she lifted Ty into her arms. "Come on, let's go for a walk." She closed the door on the father and son confrontation.
Reaching for Jenny's hand she gently pulled her from the porch and toward a trail leading away from the cabin. Jenny quietly cried and Ty pushed his face into Abby's neck. "Mama," he said, "I wuv oo."
Abby felt tears spring to her own eyes. "I love you, too, baby."
Jenny pulled them toward a smaller path and Abby followed her to a giant tree. Before they even arrived, she saw the gravestone. Jenny stopped in front of the grave and let out a sob.
Abby went down on her knees to hold both children. "It's okay, honey. Just let it all out. It's good to cry."
Jenny fell to her own knees and laid her forehead on the ground, crying her heart out.
Abby sobbed with her. She wept for the woman this family still grieved for and, with purity of heart, wished that she were still alive.
Wally, ever present, sat quietly watching.
After a long time, Jenny pushed up and went to place her small hands on the stone, "Goodbye Mama," she said softly. Ty wrestled away from Abby and copied his sister. Placing his chubby fingers on the stone, he, too, said, "Bye Mama." Then he turned and held his hands out to Abby. "My Mama." Abby reached to lift him and caught sight of Brant standing on the trail watching. She wondered how long he'd been there. His faced looked emotionless when he captured her gaze, but then he looked toward the grave and longing so deep filled his expression that Abby whimpered. He abruptly turned and walked away.
After a few more minutes by the graveside, Abby gathered Jenny and Ty and walked back toward the house with Wally leading the way. When they came within sight of it, Brant rode up on his horse and said curtly, "Luke and I are riding out to check the herd. We'll be back late. Just leave supper on the stove." He didn't even wait for her response before flicking his horse's reins and galloping away. Luke sat on his horse in the distance.
Chapter 10: Awakenings
After tucking Jenny and Ty into bed and telling them a story, Abby retrieved the book she'd pulled out earlier. Slipping it in her pocket, she picked up a lantern and climbed the ladder so she could place the book where Luke would see it. Moving a small framed picture on his nightstand, she laid Treasure Island down. She glanced at the photo and gasped. It was a family photo. Brant and Molly stood behind Luke and Jenny and everyone looked so happy—as if they were trying not to laugh so a picture could be taken. Jenny looked to be about six years old. Abby studied Molly's face. She had a sweetness that jumped out even from a photo. Looking closer she saw that Brant and Molly were holding hands. Blinking rapidly against tears, she set the photo back and hastily climbed down from the loft.
The next morning the routine that had been established before the wedding, resumed. Jenny retrieved eggs and Abby now stayed at the cabin to fire up the stove and wait for Ty to wake up.
When Brant and Luke returned for breakfast after doing morning chores, she couldn't bring herself to look either of them in the eyes. She heard Brant clear his throat and then Luke said, "Miz Abby, I apologize for my behavior yesterday." Her heart pounded and she chanced a glance at him. Was he having a change of heart toward her? Sadly, his eyes revealed he was only speaking the words because his father was making him. She nodded and looked back at her plate. "Apology accepted, Luke."
Over the next two weeks, nothing much changed and Luke didn't acknowledge the book she'd set on his nightstand. She never saw him reading it either. Sadness filled her heart.
One day, Brant said during breakfast, "Miz Abby, I think it's time you learned to ride a horse and shoot a gun. Being on a ranch, those skills are an absolute necessity."
Abby gulped, "Okay. If you think so."
After lunch, when the weather had warmed, Brant gave Abby her first riding lesson. "Now, honey, this is Daisy, a gentle mare that I'm giving to you. I've had her about five years and she's never given me any headache."
; Abby glanced at the horse that wasn't as big as Brant's, but still looked intimidating to her.
He continued, "Just pet her nose and pat her neck. Talk to her so she gets to know your voice. Hold your palm open and feed her a little hay."
Abby did as he said and smiled at Daisy's response. "I think she likes me."
Brant grinned. "I told her I was giving her to someone as sweet as she is."
Abby blushed and turned her head so Brant couldn't see her reaction to his words.
After an overview of horses and their peculiarities, Brant proceeded to show her how to saddle a horse. "We'll repeat this every day until you get the hang of it. Now, I'm going to lift you onto Daisy and then mount the horse behind you. You'll need to hitch your dress between your legs because we don't ride sidesaddle out here. It's too dangerous.
"We'll just circle the corral today. Tomorrow you can ride her alone while I lead her. In a few days we'll ride out together and I'll show you my land…er, our land."
Abby struggled with her dress until Brant showed her how it was done by country women, and then lifted her onto the horse. Even though she tried to refrain from making a sound, a tiny yelp escaped.
"Now there's no reason to be scared. An animal can sense your fear and it makes them skittish. After a few rides you'll be just fine."
Brant's calming tone and patience helped her and she felt herself relax a little. That is, until he mounted the horse behind her. Now, it wasn't the horse frightening her, it was her own reaction to her husband being so close. When he placed his arms around her and gathered the reins, she wanted to twist in the saddle and forget the horse. She wanted to kiss him and wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. She wanted to remove his hat and run her fingers through his jet black hair. She wanted to.... She stiffened at the visions running through her mind.
"Now, honey, you need to try and relax," he said against her ear.