The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories

by Kristin James; Charlotte Featherstone Mary Jo Putney

  “Stand back,” he ordered the people around them, then swept Amy up into his arms to carry her up the steps to her parents.

  “Oh, Amy!” Mrs. McAlister reached out her hand to her daughter’s head. “Are you all right, honey?”

  “Take her into the back parlor, Jesse,” her father ordered gruffly. Mrs. McAlister followed Jesse, leaving her husband to reassure all the guests, and Corinne trotted behind her, her face alight with curiosity.

  “What happened?” Corinne asked breathlessly. “Amy, what did you do?”

  “Is she hurt?” Mrs. McAlister’s forehead was knotted with worry. “Corinne, honey, stop asking questions and go get a wet cloth for your sister.”

  Corinne grimaced, but turned and went off to the kitchen. Mrs. McAlister gripped Jesse’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “What happened, Jesse? Where’s that Whitaker fellow? Pat Spielman said they left the house together. Did he—”

  “Nothing happened,” Jesse stated firmly. “I found them and I took care of the son—of Whitaker. I don’t think he really hurt her, only scared her.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “I’m all right,” Amy said, turning her head and looking at her mother for the first time. “I’m so sorry, Mama.”

  Unlike Jesse, Mrs. McAlister was not at all surprised at her daughter’s apology, and she understood very well why she offered it. Tears began to pour afresh from Mrs. McAlister’s eyes. “Oh, Amy! What are we going to do?”

  Jesse carried Amy into the parlor and carefully set her on the sofa. Amy took his hand, reluctant to let him go. His quiet strength had been so reassuring.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “No need to thank me.” He squeezed her hand.

  Corinne hurried into the room, carrying a wet cloth, and handed it to her mother, who began to bathe Amy’s face. She stepped back, looking down at her sister. “Everybody’s been running around like chickens with their heads cut off,” she announced, looking rather put out.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy murmured again.

  Mr. McAlister came into the room and shut the door firmly behind him, turning the key in the lock. “Damned busybodies,” he growled. “I wouldn’t put it past that Mrs. Bowen to come bustling in here on some excuse or other.” He strode over to the sofa and shook Jesse’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Jesse. I could never repay you for what you’ve done.”

  Jesse looked embarrassed and shook his head. “There’s no need to thank me, sir. Anyone would have done the same. When I saw Whitaker take her off like that, I figured he was up to no good. I’m just sorry I didn’t get after them any quicker. I had to go back and saddle my horse. I hadn’t figured on him having a horse and buggy hidden.”

  “You were wonderful, Jesse,” Amy told him, her eyes glowing. She turned to her father. “Papa, you should have seen him! He knocked that—that man right to the ground, and—”

  “Yes, dear,” Lawrence McAlister said, interrupting her. “I’m sure Jesse did what was necessary and proper. But now I want you to tell me what happened. Exactly what happened.”

  Amy blushed and swallowed, seeming to search for the right words to say. Finally she began to talk in a hurried, trembling voice. Jesse edged toward the door. He didn’t want to be a party to such an intimate family scene. But he couldn’t escape unnoticed; Mr. McAlister had locked the door and pocketed the key. He retreated to a corner of the room and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and doing his best to appear invisible.

  Amy’s voice faltered as she told of agreeing to go for a ride with Charles Whitaker, and then dropped almost to a whisper as she described how he had proposed to her, then attacked her. Corinne gasped, and her eyes grew huge as she stared at her sister. Mrs. McAlister moaned and leaned back in her chair, as if the last ounce of strength had been drained from her.

  “What are we to do now?” Sylvia McAlister wailed. “Amy’s reputation is ruined! Utterly ruined!”

  “But, truly, he didn’t do anything to me,” Amy protested weakly. “Except for a few bruises. He didn’t…well, violate me.”

  “Hush!” Mrs. McAlister cried. “Don’t even say such a thing!” She began to cry, her hands going up to her face. “You’re ruined anyway. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning! To have been out at that hour with a man—and to come home looking like that, with Jesse carrying you on his horse! Well, anyone could guess what happened. Except that they’ll all presume it was even worse. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “Amy, how could you!” Corinne added. “What if people stop inviting us to parties? What if—”

  “Well, there’s nothing for it. Amy has to marry the fellow,” Mr. McAlister announced heavily. “Whitaker’s seen her in an indecent state of dress, he’s ruined her name, he’s…he’s touched her in a lewd way.”

  Jesse stirred uneasily. His sweet little Amy couldn’t be made to marry that villain! The whole idea was repulsive. His fists clenched as he remembered seeing the man holding Amy down on the ground, his hands moving over her.

  Amy colored to the roots of her hair at the disgust on her father’s face, but her agitation was greater than her embarrassment, and she leaped to her feet, her fists clenching. “No! I could not marry that man! I won’t!”

  “You have to,” her father said wearily. “I don’t like it, either. He’s a blackguard. But the only thing that can save your reputation is for you to marry, and at once. Why, half the county was in the yard and saw you ride in. Hell’s bells, Amy, it’s you I’m thinking of. You’ll be snubbed. People will gossip about you. You won’t have a chance of marrying.”

  “I didn’t, anyway,” Amy replied, fighting back her panic.

  “None of us will be able to hold up our heads,” her mother went on tearfully. “What happened was bad enough, but if you don’t get married, then everyone will say you’re outright brazen.”

  “But I don’t want to marry him!”

  “You should have thought of that before you went out riding with Charles Whitaker at eleven o’clock at night!” Mrs. McAlister retorted. Now that she knew her daughter was safe, her former worry was rapidly turning into anger.

  “I can’t! I can’t marry him!” Amy wailed. “Papa, you don’t understand. He did it so this very thing would happen. He as good as told me so. He was trying to…to force you to make me marry him.”

  “Well, he was right,” Mr. McAlister said grimly. “He knew that the only thing that could bring you out of this disgrace would be an immediate marriage. I know he’s a cad. That’s obvious. But if I pay him something, no doubt he’ll be willing to give you his name and then disappear. Hopefully you won’t have to be bothered by his presence.”

  Amy stared at her father. “But then I’ll be married and have no husband!” It seemed a worse fate than being a spinster or a widow or even an outcast: to be tied legally to a man she despised, with no hope of ever finding love. It would be a kind of living death. “I can’t. Please, Papa, don’t ask me to do that! I’ll do anything else. I’ll go away somewhere, so that you all won’t have to bear the stigma of what I’ve done. Or…or…”

  Her voice trailed off miserably. She could think of nothing else she could do. No other man would want to marry her, now or ever. She would be regarded as Charles Whitaker’s leavings. Her family would bear the burden of the awful scandal that had been caused by her own thoughtlessness. It was only right that she should be punished, not they. But Amy quailed at the thought of the price she would have to pay to make up for her folly. Whatever infatuation she had felt for Charles Whitaker had fled as soon as he began to kiss her. She hated and feared him, and the thought of marrying him made her feel ill.

  But how else could she get out of this mess she had created? She glanced up at her father’s stern countenance. He was a good man, but he abhorred the idea of any sort of blot on his family’s name. He was a man who lived by a strict code of honor, and he expected everyone else to follow that code, no matter what sacrifices were involved. For once, Amy
knew that she could expect no leniency from him.

  She let out a long, shuddering sigh. She would have to marry Whitaker. She drew a breath to speak.

  Suddenly Jesse shoved away from the wall, blurting out, “Then marry me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  THERE WAS A MOMENT OF stunned silence in the room. Everyone turned to stare at Jesse. Amy went white, then pink, and dropped her face into her hands.

  “Are you serious?” Lawrence McAlister studied Jesse, frowning.

  “Yes, sir.” Jesse came toward him. “You know I wouldn’t normally have asked. I’m not nearly good enough for Amy.”

  “Don’t say that!” Amy stuck in fiercely, raising her face from her hands, eyes blazing. “You’re the best man in the world!”

  Jesse cast her a faint smile. “I’m glad you think so, ma’am. But your father knows as well as I do that I’m not the sort of man you should be marrying.” He turned and fixed Mr. McAlister with a serious gaze. “But you can’t deny that I’m a hell of a lot better than that blackguard Whitaker. Sir, you can’t be easy at the thought of giving Amy to him.”

  “No, of course I’m not. But, Jesse, there’s no reason why you should sacrifice—”

  Jesse’s face tightened, and he said shortly, “It’s no sacrifice!”

  “Well, of course, I didn’t mean that marrying Amy would—” McAlister bumbled to a stop, reddening. “What I meant was, you’re young, and you have your whole life in front of you. You’d be giving up the chance to find and marry a woman you love someday. There’s no reason for you to do that. Why, you saved Amy!”

  “I know. But the same applies to me as to Whitaker. I saw her with her dress torn off. I—I touched her.” His color heightened a little as he remembered the wayward reaction of his body to touching her, and he hoped her father wouldn’t guess how lascivious his own response had been. “I held her in my arms all the way back to the house. The only difference is that I didn’t try to harm her.”

  “No. Of course not.” McAlister was still somewhat stunned by Jesse’s offer, but he couldn’t help but feel relief. He loved his daughter, and he hated to think of her marrying a man like Whitaker. She would be safe with Jesse. He would respect her and care for her, even if he did not love her. Jesse knew Amy well, and would not be impatient with her or scornful of her odd, dreamy, bookish ways.

  He glanced toward his wife, who was still staring at Jesse, openmouthed, then toward his daughter. Amy was gazing at Jesse, her face troubled. “Well, Amy, what do you say?”

  She turned to him, frowning. “But, Papa…it wouldn’t be fair. Jesse, it wouldn’t be right!”

  Jesse flushed at her words. “I know it’s not. I told you that. But I don’t see what else to do.”

  “I don’t mean that nonsense about you not being good enough to marry me,” Amy retorted scornfully. “I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You haven’t done anything wrong. I was the one who…who was so stupid and wicked. And there’s no reason why you should be punished because of what I did!”

  Jesse gazed back at Amy levelly. “Sometimes you are foolish. Why do you insist on saying that marrying you would be punishment? Any man would be honored to be your husband.”

  She averted her face. “No. That’s not true. I’m in disgrace. And that’s not all—I’m difficult to live with. Ask anyone in my family.” She gestured vaguely toward the others. “They can tell you. Half the time I don’t pay attention, I’ve always got my nose stuck in a book, I’m not much of a housekeeper, and I don’t care about cooking or clothes or…oh, all kinds of things.”

  Jesse grinned. “Well, now, that is too bad, ’cause I don’t care much for those things, either. We just might starve.”

  Amy couldn’t keep from smiling at his words, and she cast him a glance of amusement. “You think you’re joking.” She stood up and faced him, setting her face into stern lines. “The truth is, I’m not…I’m not like other people.”

  “Now, Amy…” protested her father with a groan.

  “No, it’s true, Papa, and you know it, however much you love me.” She looked Jesse straight in the eye. “I’m a bookworm. I read all the time. I read poetry and novels and…and everything I can. And that’s not all. I write things, too…poems and stories…” she said with the melancholy of one confessing to murder. “I can put my hair up in only one style, and my favorite dress is three years old, and I wear it because it’s comfortable, not because it’s pretty.”

  Jesse’s lips twitched. “You may not believe me this, ma’am, but I count that an advantage. I don’t know what I’d do with a wife who wanted new clothes all the time.”

  “Jesse! Stop being obtuse. You know that’s not the worst of it. That’s just what makes daily life with me so uncomfortable. After tonight, my reputation is in shreds. You can’t want a wife whom everyone in the county has branded a slut!”

  Jesse’s face hardened. “No one would call you such a thing,” he retorted. “I’d like to see anyone try!”

  “Well, they might not in your presence,” Amy admitted candidly. “But they’d say so behind your back. People would—would ridicule you. They’d say that you had to marry me, that Papa made you. That he bought me a husband because I was such a disgrace. I would ruin your name just as surely as I’ve ruined mine.”

  “That’s not true, dear,” Mrs. McAlister answered, feeling on firm ground when it came to social problems. “Not if you married Mr. Tyler. Now, if you remained unmarried, it’s true that it would cast a shadow over you all your life, but if you marry, why, it’ll all blow over in a few months. Before you know it, everyone will have completely forgotten about it. Or at least they’ll stop talking about it.”

  “Mama, you don’t understand.” Amy shot her mother a dark glance. “I can’t bear for Jesse to be forced into marrying me to save my name. And for Jesse’s name to be tarred with the same brush because he married me!”

  “I’m not being forced,” Jesse put in quietly. He looked over at Amy’s father. “Sir, could I talk to Amy alone just for a moment?”

  McAlister hesitated. It wouldn’t be proper, of course, but, after what had happened already tonight, it seemed a minor breach of society’s rules. “Well, all right, I suppose so, but only for a few minutes.”

  He took his wife’s arm and led her out of the room, Corinne trailing reluctantly after them, and pulled the door almost completely shut. Jesse walked over to Amy and took her hand.

  “Let’s sit down.”

  Amy nodded, and they sat down side by side on the sofa. Jesse was still holding her hand. It felt odd, she thought, to have a man’s hand around hers. Jesse’s hand was strong and roughened by calluses, and it completely covered hers. She thought about Jesse and the way he handled the horses, his hands patient and gentle yet strong. It made her feel warm and safe to have his hand on hers, and she remembered how pleasant it had been to lean her head against his chest.

  “It could never be a burden to marry you,” Jesse told her. “It would be a privilege. An honor. You must believe that. You and your father have done so much for me. You took me away from Sprague and showed me how good and kind people can be. Before that I had given up hoping, given up believing that things could be any better. Before I knew you I was nothing…. I had nothing.”

  “That’s not true. You’re very talented. Papa has said so often. Why, remember how that man from San Antonio tried to hire you away from Papa?”

  Jesse shrugged. “I’m good with horses. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Nobody ever considered me as a person before. But you and your pa took me in and…and were good to me. Ah, hell, ma’am, I’m no good at saying things!”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” Amy said reflectively. “You want to marry me so you can repay your debt to Papa and me.”

  Jesse’s mouth tightened. “You persist in looking at every thing the worst possible way. I want to marry you,” he said obstinately. “Why can’t you just accept that?”

  Amy cast a side
ways glance at him, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Don’t you agree that this desire came upon you rather suddenly?”

  He couldn’t tell Amy that he wanted to marry her because he loved her, that he had loved her for years. It would only make her feel bad and guilty. To Amy he was merely one of the workers, someone to whom she was kind, as she was to everyone. It was impossible that she would have any interest in him. She was too smart and educated for an ignorant cowpoke like himself. She had spent her life among fine things and people of good manners. And he was a man who had grown up hardscrabble, fighting for everything he got.

  Besides, she was in love with another man. She was so infatuated with Charles Whitaker, in fact, that she had thrown caution to the winds and gone out driving with him late at night. Jesse was sure that it had hurt Amy terribly to discover that Whitaker was using her for his own ends, that he had not loved her as she had loved him and was not the sterling man she thought he was, but a fortune hunter who was willing to do anything to gain a rich wife. For that reason, she had been repelled by the idea of having to marry Whitaker, but Jesse didn’t fool himself that her refusal meant she didn’t still love Whitaker.

  Jesse was an astute young man, however, and he’d been around Amy long enough to have some idea how to get around her. So he sighed now and stood up, moving away from her.

  “All right. I won’t press you. I know I’m not a proper husband for you. I was presumptuous to even ask you. It’d be absurd for a lady like you to be married to me.”

  “Jesse! That’s not the reason at all!” Amy protested, as he had known she would, her face filled with dismay. “It’s not because I’m a ‘lady,’ or whatever strange notion you’ve gotten into your head.”

  “It’s the truth. Everyone would say we wouldn’t suit. They’d talk about how you had ‘married beneath you,’ and you shouldn’t have to put up with that. I wouldn’t even have suggested it if it hadn’t been for the circumstances. I thought maybe marriage to me would be preferable to the scandal and all. But likely you’ll live that down after a while. No one could seriously believe you’ve done anything wicked. Whereas if you married me, you’d have to put up with that inequity all your life.”