by Neva Brown
Mattie Lou’s Scottish cousin hovered with the bouquet of white roses Casey would carry down the aisle. Casey took the bouquet, kissed the tiny woman’s cheek then turned to Mattie Lou. If she’d ever had any reservations about yielding to Mattie Lou’s plans, they had long ago vanished.
Mattie Lou’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “You have fulfilled a treasured dream for me, darling child, just like you fulfilled J.D.’s dreams. I guess we both needed a daughter to nurture. You helped J.D. realize a dream of his name being a legend in the horse world. Now, I’m realizing my dream of planning a special wedding for someone I love. Thank you for allowing an old lady to make a dream come true.”
Before Casey could swallow the lump in her throat so she could respond, Mattie Lou said, “Time to get you downstairs and into the carriage that will take you to the south lawn.”
A gleaming white barouche hitched to two freshly bathed white horses outfitted with white leather harness waited at the north entrance to MacVane Manor. Todd, dressed in a black tuxedo, sat in the driver’s seat and let out a low whistle when Casey appeared. Once the maids had Casey’s dress just so according to Mattie Lou’s instructions, Todd clucked to the horses. They pranced down the driveway as if they knew what a special occasion they were taking part in.
On that late, sunny afternoon in May, the carriage stopped at the end of the red carpet rolled out onto the lawn to make the aisle. Hundreds of guests rose with an audible whisper of awe. Four of the young people, who had helped her show horses the day she was so badly hurt, helped her down from the carriage and straightened her gown then stepped back as the organ, behind a bank of flowers on the porch, rang clear and true in the open air. Along the aisle lined on either side with arrangements of red, pink, and white roses in baskets, Casey moved toward Tres to the traditional “Wedding March”.
Tres held his breath as he waited at the bottom of the porch steps for her. If ever there was such a thing as a real live fairy tale, he was living it. Casey glowed, a vision in white as the sun danced off her sorrel hair adorned with glistening pearls. The sun lit the heavy satin of her dress making it shimmer as she walked in measured steps, getting closer and closer to him.
He took her hand and together they ascended the porch steps as the last notes of the organ music wafted away. The minister clipped tiny microphones onto them and announced to the sea of people seated in white chairs on the lawn, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Jordan Delaney Spencer III and Casey Lee Mason.”
The microphones made it possible for all the guests to hear; regardless of how far away from the porch they were sitting. At the conclusion of the traditional ceremony, the minister said, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Spencer III.”
Everyone rose as the organ filled the air with the recessional music. The crowd stood transfixed while the picture-book couple made their way along the aisle back to the carriage. Many of the guests had seen Casey performing at horse shows and rodeos or working on the ranch. Many had seen Tres in the boardrooms of high finance or working on the ranch. Some had even seen both of them come out of Dark Canyon covered in mud, shivering in the freezing cold, but none had seen them as splendidly gorgeous as they were today.
Tres assisted Casey into the carriage. Todd clucked to the horses that bowed their necks and pranced their way toward the sprawling, white tent where food and drink awaited the guests. The crowd moved along behind the carriage, a beehive of motion and noise.
The hours passed. The newlyweds greeted guests who came in an endless stream. At twilight, fairy lights began to twinkle in the shrubs and trees. Sounds of country and soft rock music drifted out of the pavilion that had sheltered dances and barbeques for almost a hundred years. In the ornate ballroom of the Manor an orchestra tuned up to play ‘old-time’ dance music.
To the music of a song about unconditional love, Casey and Tres started the dance under the pavilion. High-spirited cheers and clapping kept time with the music for the first few moments of the dance then guests swirling and turning around the newlyweds in the center of the dance floor created a kaleidoscope of color. Tres whispered something in Casey’s ear and they slipped away to the house.
In the more sedate atmosphere of the ballroom, Casey and Tres started the first dance after bowing to Mattie Lou, Pauline, and Jake, who had not been able to bring himself to walk down the aisle with Casey and give her away to Tres.
Casey and Tres swept onto the dance floor to a waltz that sent them whirling around in graceful dips and spins. Mattie Lou and her stately gentleman partner soon joined them inviting everyone else to join them to celebrate the occasion.
When Tres and Casey left the ballroom, they did not return to the pavilion but hurried upstairs to change and leave to a hideaway in the hill country of Texas where a private honeymoon cottage with all the amenities awaited them. Todd waited for them in the closed garage where they slipped into a tinted-glass Mercedes. He took them to the municipal airport where Tres’ plane stood ready.
Casey and Tres Spencer had begun their life together while family, friends, and acquaintances enjoyed the grandest party of parties.
Epilogue
Three years later
The late-spring sun lost its warmth as it slipped toward the horizon and sent long shadows across the spacious lawn of Spencer Mansion. Tres and Casey sat in a glider and watched their eighteen-month-old twins, Jordan IV (Cuarto) and Justine, vie for their Granddad Jake’s attention. They raced around on chubby little legs showing off new antics they had learned while Jake had been away. He had arrived only hours before from a successful rodeo circuit trip with the teams of competing Running S horses and riders. Tres and Casey heard his laughter as he encouraged the twins.
They both smiled, happy they had overcome his prejudice and kept his love.
For a while, after Pauline’s death, Jake lost his zest for life, so they had approached him about giving up the ever-growing responsibilities of the Running S horse operation to supervise and travel with the ranch’s horses on the circuit. He loved that way of life and flourished in the competitive rodeo and show atmosphere.
When he did return to the Running S, he lived at Spencer Mansion in the suite once Casey’s rehab area that had been remodeled for his private domain.
Mattie Lou’s suite at the Mansion stood ready for her visits but she made her home at MacVane Manor, where she enjoyed the comings and goings of a continual stream of family and friends.
With Mattie Lou’s tutelage, Casey had learned to handle Spencer responsibilities as if she had been born to them. Last night, the governor and his entourage, along with the county government dignitaries, had dined and spent the night at Spencer Mansion. Early this morning, they had traveled to the rim of Dark Canyon, now lined with tall white windmills that generated electricity. There, with bustling media coverage, they had a renaming and dedication ceremony for the area.
The once brush-choked, dark, unproductive abyss had been cleared to become a lush, grassy, deep valley with a clear creek gurgling along the bottom. Cows and calves enjoyed the bounty of the months of hard work done to clear the brush and reseed the land. Of course, the canyon walls still stood straight and high in places, giving the area a majestic aura.
The governor’s somewhat pompous speech had been wafted away by the winds that swirled up from the canyon. He gave tribute to Casey and Tres for their continuing contributions to the conservation of the state’s environment. Finally, he officially renamed the canyon Bright Hope Canyon.
Tres let his arm slide off the back of the glider to rest on Casey’s shoulder. She nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.
“Do you suppose the Kentucky great-grandparents will be as crazy about those two as Mattie Lou and Jake are?” he asked as he watched the twins climb up into Jake’s lap.
Casey chuckled, at peace with herself and the world. “How can they not be? Our little cherubs are perfect.”
Looking for Casey’s roots had seemed like a wort
hwhile thing to do when they found out Casey was pregnant. Finding a starting place had not been all that difficult. Tres reasoned that Ira had probably known Cheyenne. He and Jake had traveled the rodeo circuit together in their youth.
Tres visited Ira, whose mind was clear as a bell about the wild, redheaded Cheyenne. He confessed to Tres he’d loved her but realized early on she didn’t feel the same about him, so they’d become buddies and at times even confidantes after a few too many drinks.
Ira knew Cheyenne’s last name was Murchison and that she’d been a change-of-life baby born into a family that had solidified before her arrival. Her parents were accomplished horse-people and her two brothers, who were in their twenties when she came along, were also accepted and respected in the horse business. The four of them ran their small, prestigious horse farm in Kentucky and were well off financially and happy with their way of life. They never could bring themselves to make a place for the little girl. Catherine Anne Murchison had rebelled at the constraints they’d placed on her and ran away, later becoming Cheyenne.
With the information Ira offered, it wasn’t difficult for a private investigator to complete the search. When the time seemed right, the Spencer lawyers contacted the Murchisons and things had moved along with correspondence and phone calls to the point they had been invited to Spencer Mansion to see their great-grandchildren. They would also be meeting their granddaughter and her father for the first time. With a few simple tests, Jake had proven to be Casey’s biological father, not just the man who had shaped her life for so many years.
Casey was looking forward to meeting her relatives, but it was not the earthshaking event she had once thought it would be.
For right now, the heat building deep inside her, as Tres’ hand ever-so-lightly brushed her breast to the motion of the glider, seemed more important. Sliding her hand high on his warm thigh and stroking in rhythm to the motion, she watched his jeans tighten and a primal glint come to his eyes. Heaven help her, she did love this gorgeous, precious man who still tried to protect her and smooth her way.
Tonight they’ll kindle this heat with sensual fun and soul-satisfying joy as they stoke passion into a molten fire that will soar high then explode with ecstasy.
Oh yes, the prominent, proper Tres and Casey Spencer, known for their philanthropy and political influence, will disappear and soul mate lovers will emerge to frolic and play the night away.