Spirit of Love

by Duncan, Alice

  Her father came next. Georgina knew for a fact that she’d changed almost beyond recognition when she hugged her father. She hadn’t hugged her father since she was five or six years old. But she was a westerner now, and her eastern inhibitions had disappeared as completely as Devlin O’Rourke.

  In other words, they only showed up occasionally, and today wasn’t one of the occasions.

  Saturday morning dawned as clear and as sweet as a day in southeastern New Mexico Territory ever dawned. There was the slightest nip in the air, no wind to speak of, and clouds like white horses bounded across a deep-blue sky.

  Ash was ready. He wasn’t even hardly very much scared.

  The last couple of months had cured him. Life with Georgina was a pure treat. She was as unlike Phoebe as a rock was from a puff of eiderdown. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever it was, Ash was in love, and he was ready to tie the knot. In fact, he was eager to, especially now that Georgina was expecting.

  He wanted a boy. Unless it was a girl, in which case he wanted a girl.

  And her parents weren’t bad at all. Her father had taken quite a shine to Uncle Bart, so he couldn’t be all bad, even if he was a banker and a little bit stuffy. Georgina’s mother reminded Ash of Vernice, which figured. And her brother Simon was a brick. Simon had been raising hell with the other young bucks in town ever since his arrival. Ash was sort of glad the Witherspoons would be heading back to New York in a week because he didn’t fancy having to arrest Simon for rowdy behavior.

  Hell, he probably wouldn’t have to arrest him. He’d just let Georgina go after him with her derringer. If that didn’t calm Simon down, nothing would.

  He straightened his tie and tapped his top hat. He hadn’t worn a high beaver since his wedding to Phoebe. He looked better in it today than he had ten years ago. Hell, everything looked better today than it had ten years ago—especially his wife-to-be.

  His shoes were polished to perfection. He glanced down at them, glad he was dressing in the choir room so he wouldn’t have to walk through the dust outside to get to the church. Frank Dunwiddy and Simon were seeing to last-minute arrangements in the sanctuary. Frank was Ash’s best man, and Simon was acting as an attendant, whatever that was. Georgina knew, and that’s what counted.

  Ash was ready. He was absolutely, pure-D, sure-as-spit ready. He wasn’t even nervous. Not even a little tiny bit.

  “So, you’re going to do it at last. About time, I’d say, Ashley Barrett.

  “Ack!” Ash leaped a yard in the air and whirled around, Devlin O’Rourke’s voice having nearly caused his heart to stop. “Dammit, Dev! I thought you were gone for good. Well, except for Maybelle.”

  “A little nervous, are we, boyo?” Dev grinned at him most devilishly, which Ash guessed also figured.

  “Nervous? Me? Hell, no. I’m ready. I’m happy, even.”

  “As well you should be. Georgina’s a prize, Ash. You treat her well or I’ll come back and haunt the dickens out of you.”

  “I don’t need your threats, Dev. I aim to treat her well. I love her.” Ash couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud to Dev. He’d been telling Georgina he loved her pretty much daily, but he hadn’t said it to anyone else recently. Not since he’d shrieked it to the skies on Maybelle Murphy’s front porch.

  “Aye, I believe you, son.” The ghost sighed. “I’ll be glad when I can marry Maybelle.”

  “Well, you’ve got her promise now at last.”

  “Are, and Saint Pete’s blessing. I only wish I’d been as bright as you and done it while I was still alive.”

  “You should be glad the universe allows second chances, Dev. You’re lucky.”

  “I suppose so. Anyway, I’ll be happy to watch you and Georgina tie the knot.’’

  Ash wasn’t especially happy to know Dev would be watching, although he didn’t suppose it mattered a whole lot. A body could never trust Maybelle not to cut up, and he didn’t guess interference from a ghost would be any worse than one of Maybelle’s capers.

  Lordy, sometimes he thought Georgina was the only truly sane member of her family. Ash could handle her, though. It was a damned good thing he’d got her instead of one of those other fellows.

  Frank Dunwiddy came through the door and Ash whirled around, reaching for the gun that wasn’t tucked into his waistband today. Frank laughed.

  “Lordamercy, Ash, you’re jumpy as frog legs in a skillet.”

  Ash ran his finger under his collar. “Maybe I’m a little bit skittish, Frank.”

  “I’d say so. A little bit.” Frank laughed again. “Reverend Voorhees is ready, Ash. How about you?”

  Ash tugged his tie again, and again tapped his top hat. He inspected his shoes, which were as shiny as they’d been the last time he looked. He pulled out the watch his uncle had given him and checked the time. Eleven-thirty. Oh, God, it was time. He snatched up a handkerchief from the table and wiped his brow.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You don’t have to sound like you’re facing an executioner,” Frank told him with yet another laugh. “You’re marrying Miss Georgina, who’s about the prettiest gal anyone in Picacho Wells has ever seen. And the nicest.”

  “And the most useful,” Ash reported dutifully.

  Frank said, “Useful?” in a puzzled-sounding voice.

  “Never mind.”

  Mrs. Voorhees had been playing some tunes on the piano that Ash didn’t recognize. All at once, the opening notes of Wagner’s “Wedding March” from Lohengrin sounded, and he swallowed hard. His heart gave an enormous spasm, and he hoped like hell he wouldn’t pass out. How humiliating that would be.

  He’d contemplated trying to talk Georgina into eloping with him. He’d abandoned the idea when he remembered that most folks in this part of the territory who eloped did so in Picacho Wells because, as Betsy Bailey had informed Georgina, Picacho Wells was one of the few towns in the area with a resident preacher.

  As soon as Ash and Frank took their places by Reverend Voorhees, Ash glanced down the aisle and he saw Georgina on the arm of her father, walking toward him. His nerves smoothed out as if someone had ironed them. There she was. The most beautiful, wonderful, special woman in the universe, and she was his.

  His bride. She was walking down the aisle, straight at him. Georgina, the only woman in the world for him, was coming to him this very minute. She was giving herself over to his care. She trusted him to treat her as a wife should be treated. She was going to be his helpmate, his lover, his friend, and the mother of his children. She loved him.

  She loved him. Ash’s eyes filled with tears, which he swallowed mercilessly and immediately. Hell’s bells, the sheriff of Picacho Wells couldn’t cry at his own wedding. It was unheard of.

  Georgina and her father reached him, her father handed her over to Ash, and Ash and Georgina turned to face the preacher.

  Mrs. Voorhees played another chord, and the choir lifted their voices in “Blest Be the Tie that Binds.” By God, they were on key!

  Ash decided that if God had wanted to send him a sign that he was doing the right thing, this was it. The very last of his nervous flutters flew out the window.

  George Ashley Barrett came into the world with a squawk and a vigorous kick on the ninth day of May, 1897. His mother, Georgina Witherspoon Barrett, came through the ordeal of his birth with flying colors. His father, Ashley Montgomery Barrett, who swore he wasn’t one bit nervous, fainted with relief when Maybelle Murphy brought his son to him from the bedroom where Georgina had given birth.

  “Shoot, the lad’s a sensitive sort, isn’t he?” Devlin O’Rourke hovered over Maybelle’s head, making cooing noises at the baby, who ignored them.

  “Oh, poor Mr. Barrett! I’ll get him a little sip of brandy.”

  Vernice bustled off to do so.

  Maybelle eyed Ash and shook her head. “Men. They’re all alike.”

  In later years, Georgina was careful never to refer to Ash’s undignified behavior on the day of his fir
st son’s birth. Anyhow, he had lots of practice after George was born. The Barrett brood eventually numbered eight, and they were, by anyone’s reckoning, as happy a family as the New Mexico Territory had ever seen, especially after Uncle Simon moved to Picacho Wells and set himself up as a hotel keeper.

  Ash taught every one of his sons and daughters the fine points of good horsemanship. Dev tried to interfere, but Saint Peter made him stop. Ash also taught them how best to invest money and make it grow.

  Their mother taught them all how to shoot, since she was reckoned to be the best shot in the territory.