Weddings Under a Western Sky: The Hand-Me-Down BrideThe Bride Wore BritchesSomething Borrowed, Something True

by Elizabeth Lane

  Farrah grinned. “We leave that up to my mother and Dylan. Our job will be to make sure you outdo the dress you’re wearing. I’m going to enjoy seeing my brother finally happy.”

  From your lips to God’s ears, Rhia thought.

  Chapter Eight

  Rhia brought the wagon to a stop in front of Belleza’s hacienda and Dylan rode around them to the hitching post. Quickly tying Rory off, he hurried over to help the women down. And nearly stopped dead in his tracks.

  Women. They really are women.

  In the last day his world had shifted. The girls he’d waited for last night had suddenly grown up in his mind. How had he failed to notice the years passing in their lives yet remain aware of his own age?

  Reaching up, he grasped Rhia around her slim waist and lifted her to the ground. It was a near thing but he resisted the urge to pull her against him and let her slide along his body. If he’d lost that battle, she’d know what a struggle it would be to give her the time he’d promised.

  If indeed she consented to marriage at all. What woman wanted a shotgun wedding when they’d done nothing to deserve it?

  Farrah cleared her throat, having jumped down on her own while he’d stared down at Rhia. “I’ll go get Mama,” she said. When he glanced at her, she wore a knowing grin and winked before spinning away.

  They must have talked about his proposal. He covered his latent desire with a teasing grin. “Got an answer for me, Rowdy?”

  She nodded. Opened her mouth to speak but not much by way of sound came out. She cleared her throat. “On one condition.” She seemed to force the words out. “Promise you won’t let Belleza swallow up Adara. I promised my father I’d make it a success for him. I promised, Dylan.”

  “I’d sooner cut off my right arm than be in league with my father.” He didn’t add that he’d rather try to herd chickens than go back to tending sheep but he couldn’t provide for her safety at Adara if he spent his days working miles away at the Rocking R. She needed his gun as well as his name. “Adara is yours,” he said and added, “you have my solemn promise.” Somehow he’d save enough money to add land and horses and see that his part of the operation grew so their children wouldn’t suffer the way he had.

  “I’m willing to accept your proposal but with one more condition. I run Adara. I might want to bounce ideas off you but the decisions will be mine.”

  “I already told you the operation is yours. I’m man enough to take orders from a woman.” He hoped he hadn’t sounded as gloomy as he felt. He’d be working sheep again. Damn.

  His tone must have sounded okay to her because she looked up at him with such gratitude and caring in her eyes it took his breath away. He leaned forward, drawn to her by that expression, intent on the sweet experience of their first kiss. Her pretty cornflower eyes drifted closed, her thick sooty lashes the perfect foil to her porcelain-doll complexion. He’d brought his lips within an inch of hers when his father’s strident voice jerked them out of the moment.

  “Dylan! I demand to know what you told that upstart sheriff!”

  Dylan stepped back and turned toward the hacienda as the don stalked around the corner with Farrah tripping behind him.

  “Why?” he asked. Sheriff Quinn and Kane, the Texas Ranger now assigned the area, had both spent a couple of hours at Adara looking at tracks, the wounds on the dead animals and helping him bury Angus. Just as Dylan had thought, there were things about each of the recent raids that didn’t add up to Comanche being involved. The Hernandezes’ survival made no sense. Day or night, no one hid from the Comanche.

  Instead of pushing Dylan further and probably knowing it was a waste of breath, the don glared at Rhia. “What about you?” he demanded.

  Before Dylan could object to the don’s disrespectful tone, Rhia said, “I barely spoke to him.”

  She seemed unsurprised by his father’s treatment—used to it in fact. Which could only mean the don always treated her this way.

  Dylan’s anger grew. “Don’t take that tone with Rhia. It isn’t a way to talk to any woman, especially not your future daughter-in-law,” he added, waiting for the explosion Rhia had predicted. Now he understood why she knew he’d object.

  The don’s face darkened even more. “You cannot—”

  “Watch it!” Dylan snapped. “I can and will be more than proud to take her as my wife and it’ll be as soon as I can arrange it. As I said last night, this is America. We’re all equal no matter where our parents came from.” He flicked a look from his father’s eyes to his feet and back up again. “And thank God we aren’t judged by who they are, either. That isn’t a position I’d ever want to be in considering how rude you are.”

  Farrah jumped in then clearly trying to once again be the peacemaker. “Papa, Sheriff Quinn probably heard you’d offered to buy Rhia out from Joshua Wheaton. I mentioned you’d made Rhia another offer this morning. I saw the sheriff ride into town but he stopped to talk to Mr. Wheaton. Then the sheriff turned around and rode out again. I guess to come here. Dylan, I’ll go tell Mama your happy news.”

  “So this is why the Anglo sheriff questions me? Me, Don Alejandro Alvaro Varga. Do I look like a Comanche? A thief? A murderer?”

  Dylan coolly pretended to study his father then shrugged nonchalantly. “Better be more careful what land you try to buy, Don Alejandro, especially from raid victims. It could be misconstrued.” Since he’d promised not to tip Quinn and Kane’s hand, Dylan turned away to watch his mother rush from the hacienda. For her sake, Farrah’s and his own he prayed his father wasn’t involved in the deepening mystery about who was behind these raids. They would all be so ashamed if the don was responsible.

  His mother wore a wide smile, obviously thrilled with their marriage plans, clearly unaware of the don’s mood. Remembering the shadows of destruction at Rhia’s place, he extracted a promise from Rhia that she would remain with his family and not attempt to return to Adara. In turn, he promised to keep watch over the place, couching his request in a need to maintain the greatest measure of propriety before the wedding.

  Ignoring the don, his mother scolded Dylan again for his carelessness last night and instructed him to make arrangements for a wedding in a week or two. Then she bundled Rhia and Farrah inside as the don was getting all set for another tirade. Dylan ignored him and mounted up but he glanced back as Rhia entered the hacienda. A worried feeling stole over his soul. He felt as if he’d left a prize foal with one hoof poised over a snake den.

  That feeling, while unsettling, gave him hope for the future. As he’d told her, many happy marriages had begun with less than they had between them. He had always cared about her so protecting her with his name already began to feel less like a life sentence. He went whole minutes without a spirit of doom settling over him. It was a doom that always stemmed from business concerns. He truly was attracted to this new Rhia who’d emerged at the social. He’d only tried to step back because of bad timing financially and Rhia’s plan to keep Adara a sheep ranch.

  Worries and recriminations were a waste of time and energy. He had no real choice. He’d made a huge blunder by taking her into town with him and now he had to fix it. Still, life might turn out pretty good eventually. Just not like he’d planned. He sighed and prepared to get on with arranging a wedding for as soon as possible not in a week or two as his mother suggested. He wanted Rhia away from his father.

  Dylan encountered Father Santiago on the road as the priest was leaving town. He’d been called to another of the missions he served to perform the last rites and probably a funeral mass for the same person. From there he’d go on to make his regular rounds. Though he sympathized with Dylan’s reason for speed, commended him for facing his responsibility and even agreed to skip reading the banns, he could do no more to speed things along. He’d be back in time to marry them the following week on Friday or Saturday.

&nb
sp; Dylan rode to the Rocking R to draw his last pay from Alex then rode back to Adara, to assess the damage and make a list of supplies. Once there he stood in the midst of the wanton destruction, grateful he had a week to make repairs before Rhia saw the destruction in the light of day. As the list grew, Dylan’s hope of buying the land to the east dimmed. Every pane of glass was broken, the furniture, the doors, the dishes. The list went on. And on.

  As he picked up the broken pieces of Rhia’s world, he remembered something. Rhia always referred to the sweet little house as her mother’s. She always referred to the surrounding land that made up the enterprise portion of Adara as her father’s. But they’d both been gone for some time.

  So why was no piece of this place Rhia’s?

  Not the broken dishes, the dented pots, or even the faded curtains that had been torn asunder had changed from the days his mother used to take him and Farrah for visits. There was no trace of Rhia anywhere.

  He picked up the broken pieces of a teapot to toss them into the waste bin but he stopped, remembering the first time he’d met Rhiannon Oliver. It had been his eleventh birthday and her sixth.

  His mother had urged them into the carriage for a ride to welcome Henry Oliver’s wife and daughter to the area. Henry Oliver had come ahead to build a house for his family then he’d sent for them.

  His mother had brought a pie along that day. Dylan had felt so grown up having been given the job of keeping the treat safely balanced in his lap all the way there. That sunny day Mrs. Oliver had greeted them with a broad welcoming smile, inviting them into the little house to share the pie and a cup of tea.

  From that very pot—the pieces of which lay in his hands.

  He, Farrah and Rhia had become fast friends after that day as had Theresa Oliver and his mother. For six years they’d repeated the ritual, especially on that day of the year, until Mrs. Oliver died in childbirth along with her baby when Rhia was twelve.

  Dylan sighed and wrote “glue” on his list for town so he could mix up a batch and fix the teapot. He only hoped he could put the shards of Rhia’s life back together as easily. And that his own life didn’t wind up as full of unwanted feelings as he felt at that moment.

  * * *

  Dylan paced to the window of San Rafael’s tiny sacristy then turned back toward where his groomsmen sat slouched nonchalantly in their chairs. He, Josh Wheaton and Alex Reynolds all wore nearly identical black suits but his friends wore nearly identical grins. Amused by his nervousness.

  In truth, he hadn’t had time to even think about the wedding his mother had insisted upon because he’d been working so hard trying to put Adara’s homestead back together. Or as back together as his savings had allowed.

  They only had a plate apiece and a few dented tin cups and bowls. But the walls were painted on the inside as were the clapboards outside, along with the doors and window trim. Abby had made curtains and cushion covers for the chairs as a wedding gift.

  Dylan raked a hand through his hair then tried to loosen his collar a bit. He’d thought he’d settled himself about the marriage so his nervousness was a surprise. He’d barely had time to sleep. He probably wouldn’t sleep tonight, either.

  Tonight, Dylan repeated to himself. That’s what had him nearly jumping out of his skin. If she even smiled at him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off her. And a broken promise was no way to begin their marriage.

  Chapter Nine

  Rhia stood in Abby’s bedroom looking into the mirror at the stranger staring back at her. The white silk gown was so beautiful it made her eyes flood with tears. She fingered the delicate lace that formed the high neck of the gown.

  And it truly sank in. She covered her mouth, blinking away tears. Rhiannon Oliver, the girl who eight days earlier had arrived at the Varga hacienda in britches to dress for the spring social, was about to marry the man of her dreams.

  Farrah’s mother had insisted on buying the dress—a betrothal gift, in memory of Rhia’s mother, who couldn’t be there.

  So how could I refuse?

  She turned to the side, admiring the way the straight princess front belled out a tad in back then fell into a train trimmed in flounces of Brussels lace. Cuffs of matching lace fell to her wrists from the middle of her forearm. Her veil was made of light net and lace and was attached to silk flowers.

  “Beautiful,” Farrah whispered behind her, her tone almost reverent. “Dylan isn’t going to see another person in that church once he catches sight of you.”

  Rhia whirled, her heart leaping with joy. “Oh, you came. I was so afraid your father wouldn’t let you.”

  “I told you we’d be here. Mama went to see Dylan at the mission.”

  Rhia could see Farrah looked worried behind her smile. “Your father didn’t come.”

  “Don’t let that bother you,” Farrah said. “It won’t upset Dylan.”

  Rhia sighed. “I didn’t want to be responsible for widening the rift between them.”

  “Mama’s wrong, hermana. That rift is a canyon. And you aren’t responsible. Papa is.”

  Through gathering tears, Rhia smiled at being called sister by her best friend. “I’m so sad for Dylan. I always knew Daddy loved me.”

  “Dylan will have your love, now. It’ll be enough.”

  “He told me outright he doesn’t want love in this marriage. I don’t think he believes in it.”

  “He believes it exists. But you’re going to have to love Dylan until he knows he can trust in it. He already trusts in you.”

  She’d loved Dylan for years already. That wasn’t about to change. She would give him all the love and time he needed. She’d need patience. “I can do that,” she promised, praying she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

  “Don’t you look just like the picture?” Abby said from the doorway, her green eyes sparkling, her smile wide and pleased.

  “The dress is gorgeous,” Farrah said. “My brother will be awestruck.”

  Abby laughed. “And isn’t that what a special gown for a woman’s wedding is supposed to be all about? I’ve been waiting for a special bride to wear this one from the day I saw it in the catalog.”

  Rhia turned and rushed to give Abby a hug. “I don’t know how to thank you. Or how to repay you for all your kindness.”

  Abby blinked away the mist of tears. “I’m grateful for this week at your side as I doubt I’ll ever have a daughter to fuss over.” She swirled into the room, letting out a watery laugh. She and Farrah both wore the kind of full-skirted dress Western women favored. Abby’s was emerald and Farrah’s was sapphire.

  “And don’t we look wonderful in our new dresses, Miss Farrah?”

  Farrah gazed at herself in the mirror and crossed her arms. “Just so we’re clear. I wore this for your sake, Rhiannon Oliver.”

  Abby rolled her eyes at Rhia and laughed. “So, we’re all set?” she asked. “My brother has the carriage all hitched and ready to take us to the church.”

  Rhia took a deep breath. “I’m as ready as I’m gonna get.”

  “Stop,” Farrah shouted. “I nearly forgot. Mama says you have to have…ahem…something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and sixpence in your shoe,” she recited in one breath. “It’s for luck.” She dug into her reticule and pulled out a tarnished coin. “Mama kept this sixpence from her wedding. And since it’s old and borrowed and your dress is new all you need now is something blue.”

  Abby chuckled. “And I have that for you in the hall. From Dylan. It came with a note.” She rushed out then back in with a bouquet of flowers tied with a blue satin bow. “I added the blue and a bit of arrangin’. He is a man and therefore ham-handed,” she teased.

  The flowers were wonderful and bright. Wildflowers every one. Rhia’s hands shook as she opened the note.

 
Rowdy,

  I felt pretty terrible this morning because all I have to give is a ring to show my esteem. Then, as I headed for town, I noticed Adara is in full bloom.

  The daisies made me think of how small and delicate you look but how strong I know you are. The bluebonnets remind me of your eyes when they darken up because you’re riled. Then I noticed a few Indian blankets scattered around. I didn’t think they matched the others but I remembered an old-timer called them fire wheels. Fiery. That’s you past riled all the way to furious. I’ll try to avoid that. I promise. Last time you tried to bean me with my own baseball. Remember?

  I hope having these will be a little like having a small part of your parents with you. I also hope this wedding with all the trimmings makes up for how mean some people were to you.

  Deepest regards,

  DV

  Rhia blinked away tears that had gathered as she’d read. Esteem. Regards. She prayed that would be enough if his love never came her way. She clutched her beautiful bouquet and prayed for patience all the way to San Rafael’s.

  When she got there and peeked into the sanctuary there were more of the same flowers on the altar and she found she could smile again. How many flowers had Dylan picked? He must have denuded every meadow on Adara! And he must care. He must care a lot.

  How far behind could love be?

  A few minutes later Rhia stood alone in the nave still clutching her precious bouquet, watching Abby and Farrah walk down the aisle of the sanctuary ahead of her. The pews were full of people who’d watched her grow and had lent their support through the last week. And there were the newcomers from the East who hadn’t known her. They’d turned a tragedy into a scandal and because of them Dylan was about to sign away his life and she her heart.