Keara cast a glance over Susanna’s pale features. “I have to make sure she’s going to be okay.”
“Then you have time for another change of clothing.” Jael nodded at the full skirt of the green plaid she’d given Keara to put on in place of the stained wedding dress. This dress, too, was now stained with blood. “It’s good I know you so well, Mrs. Jensen. I didn’t pull out your most elegant gown for you to ruin.”
Keara eyed her fashionable sister-in-law.
“I think the red satin will look beautiful with that long, blond hair of yours,” Jael said, “when I comb out that chignon. You’ll have to promise not to go roughhousing with the children tonight. You’re supposed to be injured, remember?”
“I’d rather take a nap,” Keara muttered. Of course, she was too keyed-up to sleep.
“I have a feeling there won’t be a lot of time for that for a while. Let’s get you changed. And then you need to trust me with Susanna long enough for you to enjoy your wedding party.”
Keara met Jael’s gaze through the gloom and felt the heaviness of compunction. “You and Penelope have worked so hard to put all this together, and I haven’t properly thanked you.”
Jael gave an uncharacteristic snort. “Only about a dozen times this past week.”
“But you don’t really know what’s…you know your brother wouldn’t—”
“I do know my brother.” Jael reached down and squeezed Keara’s hand with gentle pressure, leaning close enough for Keara to catch a scent of that sassafras bark Jael often swore kept her teeth white and free of pain. “He knows his own mind. He’s a good, good man, and you’re a blessed woman. I also know he’s a blessed man to have had you as a friend, and now as his beloved wife.”
“But Gloria was his—”
“Gloria’s in heaven now. You’re here. She would bless this union as God did today in the sight of a church full of witnesses. I think you’ve debated the subject to death in your mind. It’s time to move forward.”
The soft, reassuring voice released—at least for a little while—the taut thrum that had held Keara’s stomach in knots this day. The sudden pressure of Jael’s hands on hers relayed a wealth of kind acceptance. For the first time in a week, Keara felt as if she could breathe freely. Somehow, surely this would all turn out well.
Elam unharnessed Elijah from the buggy, fed him a scoop of oats mixed with molasses, and had picked up a curry comb for a delayed grooming when he heard the sound of feminine voices on the other side of the barn door.
He stiffened and glanced toward the next stall. Duchess loomed there in full view of anyone who happened to walk in. It was darker inside, of course, but enough reflection from the bonfire glowed through the open upper door that he had light to work—and visitors who snooped too closely would be able to see.
The voices drew closer.
“Face it, she beat you. That tiny little tomboy beat you to the man.” It was Cynthia Lindstrom’s voice, if he wasn’t mistaken. “The wedding’s over. You’d better set your cap for Elam’s little brother before Delmar gets away as well.”
There was a soft sigh. “It isn’t as if I can switch affection from one man to another with a snap of my fingers.” It was Raylene’s voice. “And Delmar’s a child.”
“He’s twenty. Older than you by a year, and he likes you, I can tell.”
“He cut off half my braid in school. He was always so ornery. He’s nothing like his brother.”
“Then maybe he won’t be so likely to put a young lady in the family way and have to marry her.”
“Don’t be spiteful. Elam wouldn’t do that.”
“Mark my words, Raylene, that woman tricked Elam into this marriage and she’ll make a poor man of him.”
There was another sigh. “You could show respect for her now that she’s his wife.”
“Respect,” Cynthia muttered. “She was never anything but a servant girl, even in her own family.”
“Didn’t look like a servant today, did she?” Raylene asked. “She didn’t look to be in the family way either.”
“I wonder about her injury, though,” Cynthia said as the barn door squeaked open and the voices and footsteps drew nearer. “You could tell those stays were tight enough to cut off her breathing. You don’t suppose she actually was in the family way and—”
There was a gasp. “Cynthia!”
“Well? I just wonder about that so-called delicate injury of hers. I wouldn’t put it past her to trap the man, then—”
“You remember that sermon Pastor preached about bitterness and envy last Sunday?” Raylene asked. “It’s an ugly thing in a pretty girl. Why do you hate her so?”
“Me? What about you? She took your man.”
“There are other men in town. Lots of them. Why, I saw Timothy Skerit hanging around with some of the other men outside the saloon on Mud Street before the wedding today. Don’t think he didn’t give me a second look when I sauntered past.” Raylene laughed. “Now there’s a good man.”
“Still working on his daddy’s farm,” Cynthia snapped. “He doesn’t have the Jensen money, that’s for sure.”
Elam felt something ease inside him. Those words, spoken with such venom, told him Raylene wasn’t the one causing Keara all the grief.
There was a long silence. “I think you’re more jealous of Keara Jensen than I am, Cynthia.”
“Don’t you dare suggest I’m envious of that greedy little peahen!”
“Greedy?” Raylene laughed. “What makes you think she’s greedy?”
“She married a wealthy horse rancher.”
“Wealthy?”
“She sold that farm of hers, did you know that? Soon as her father was in jail, she sold it right out from under him then pocketed the money, left him to rot, and hitched up to the wealthiest rancher in the hollow.”
Raylene giggled. “Where do you get these stories of yours? Elam’s not wealthy, he’s just a hardworking man who raises horses.” She sighed. “It is a shame. We could have made such a good match. Daddy’s always admired Elam and his sense for good horse stock.”
“Everyone wonders why he remarried so quickly.” Cynthia’s voice was too close to the stall door. “I think it’s because she’s cheap labor.”
“Cynthia, you’re so hateful.”
Elam heard a soft crack and realized he’d squeezed the curry comb so hard he’d split the handle. He eased up on his grip. He’d become so protective of Keara lately. Still, he was relieved to find that Cynthia’s venom hadn’t infected Raylene as much as he’d feared.
There was a nicker in the next stall. Elam was just about to step from the darkness, usher the two women from the barn, and bolt the doors.
“Raylene?” This was Delmar’s voice from outside the barn. “You out here?”
Elam bit back a groan. Soon the whole party would be in the barn with him.
“Well, well, here’s that handsome man we were just talking about,” Cynthia said.
“Oh hush. You were the one talking about him.”
“Delmar, you need to take my friend dancing before she pines away.”
Elam waited for his shy younger brother to say something…say anything.
“Well, okay,” Cynthia said, her footsteps moving away at last. “If you don’t want to dance with Raylene, dance with me. She was just out here wondering why on earth your brother would marry Keara McBride.”
Delmar cleared his throat as his footsteps joined hers. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, everyone knows Keara’s from a rough family. She knows nothing about the gentle life, and your niece and nephews may now grow up to be half wild. What was Elam thinking?”
“Raylene said that?” Delmar exclaimed, his sharp outrage reaching the stall clearly.
“No, I didn’t!” Raylene exclaimed.
“Honestly, Delmar, mark my words,” Cynthia said. “You watch and see if Keara Jensen doesn’t become a simple servant in your brother’s home, and nothing more.”
&nbs
p; There was a gasp nearby, and Elam realized Raylene had not joined the other two as they walked away.
There was another nicker as skirts rustled. Elam was about to move when he heard footsteps along the dirt floor that connected the stalls. The steps halted at the next stall over. Where Duchess had grown restless.
Raylene caught a sharp breath. “Hey, who do you belong to?”
Elam waited, silent, not wishing to be subjected to any questions. Raylene turned and rushed from the barn.
With a heavy sigh of dread, Elam put away the curry comb with the cracked handle, walked from the barn, and bolted it so that no one else could enter tonight. He should have been more watchful. Raylene knew horses, and she was sharp enough to notice the unusual size and shape of Susanna’s regal Duchess. He could only hope it was too dark in the barn for her to have seen much beyond that.
Elam would have to warn his younger brother, once again, of the dangers of womanly wiles, especially the wiles of Cynthia Lindstrom.
What Elam had overheard, however, had served a good purpose. It warned him that if he didn’t show proper appreciation before tonight’s crowd of witnesses, rumors could spread that he had married Keara for the cheap labor Cynthia had insinuated. Keara deserved more respect from the people of Eureka Springs. She already had it from their friends, family, and neighbors along the hollow.
He brushed off his clothing. Time to seek out his wife.
The party noise died again as Keara went down the steps to the kitchen. Upon her appearance, several of the women gasped and surged toward her with exclamations of concern.
Clydene Brown beat everyone to Keara’s side. “Honey, should you be up and around? That scream awhile ago like to’ve clotted my blood.” She held out the cold chamomile tea. “We thought you were dying.”
Keara forced a smile and placed an arm around her friend as she took the tea. “You know I’m not one to tolerate pain.”
Clydene laughed out loud. “Now you’re joshing with me. I remember how brave you were when that old mean bull of your pa’s gored your leg. You were white with pain when they brought you to town but nobody ever heard a word of complaint.”
Keara bit her lip. “Thank you for the tea. Do you like my dress?” She took a large swallow of the honey-sweetened brew then set down the glass and held her arms out to show off her gown.
Clydene and the other ladies were suitably distracted, and Keara warned herself to be more cautious about what she said for the rest of the night.
“I love the lines of this beautiful red satin,” Clydene said. “I always knew it would look better on you than my aunt Hilda. Your skin and hair are perfect for bold colors.”
“It’s always been my favorite. Thank you for giving it to me.” Keara noted that the party had once more picked up the pace—and the noise.
“You don’t look any the worse for wear, I must admit,” Clydene said as the other ladies returned to serving the food. “So glad you took off those hideous stays. You’ve got more color in your face.” She glanced toward the front door, which stood open, allowing smoke to drift in from the bonfire.
The scent of roasted meats on the food-laden table made Keara’s stomach complain. She was suddenly starving.
“Hmm.” Clydene touched Keara’s arm and gestured toward the silhouette of Raylene Harper, who was drawing her father from the crowd. “She seems intent on some kind of business, don’t you think?”
“Maybe she’s asking to go home.” One could hope.
“Dream on, honey. She’ll stay all night if she thinks she can get any attention at all from that fine husband of yours. Oh, there I go again, foaming at the mouth with gossip. But is it gossip if it’s the truth? That girl, I swan, she didn’t get those ways from her mother’s side of the family. No two women could be less alike. I think she’s fallen into bad company since their family moved closer to town.”
Before Keara could reply, Elam came through the front door, filled a plate at the table that had been set up along the wall, and glanced in her direction.
“Oh, here he comes now,” Clydene said. “Knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from you for long tonight. You’re like a trumpet flower to a hummingbird.”
Despite the many men who called to Elam, he politely made his way toward Keara without stopping for small talk, holding the plate high to protect it.
When he reached her, he leaned close. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?”
At his words, several of the partiers turned knowing gazes toward the two of them.
“I—uh—think you did.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Thank you.”
He put the plate in her hands and touched her arm to draw her aside.
She looked from the food to him, surprised he wasn’t joining friends on the front porch.
He stepped back and raised his brows as he looked at the dress she wore then nodded in approval and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. He leaned close again—so close she could barely focus on the food she’d craved seconds ago.
Rowdy laughter reached them from the front of the great room, and Richard Brown called out, “Looks like Elam’s ready for this party to end!”
“You have no idea how much,” Elam called back, joining the laughter.
Keara tried to swallow a bite of beef, but it didn’t want to go down. She tried again as the laughter surrounded her. Elam’s arm tightened. To her great relief, Clydene picked up the glass of cold chamomile, took the plate, and handed the glass to Keara.
“Drink, honey. Don’t pay any mind to those bawdy men. They’re as jealous as all creation that Elam Jensen once more landed the most beautiful girl in the county.”
“That’s no more than the truth.” Elam leaned down and placed a warm kiss on Keara’s hot cheek. She tried to keep her eyes from bugging, but really!
And yet, it felt so very, very good. She could enjoy it a whole lot more if not for the crowd. But if not for the crowd, would he be holding her like this…saying these things…kissing her?
With a chuckle, Clydene set Keara’s plate beside the stove. “This’ll be here when you get your breath back.”
When Keara downed the contents of her glass, Mrs. Harper refilled it, leaning close. “Sweetheart, hold your head up high,” she murmured softly enough that no one else could hear. “You’ve landed yourself a goldmine, and I’m not talking money. I’ve seen how gentle he is with the livestock. You can trust him to be gentle with you.”
Keara thanked Mrs. Harper and gulped more chamomile. Now she was being given wedding night advice by Raylene’s own mother. This day felt like one of the fairytales she read to the children—only embarrassing.
As the well-wishers grew louder and the party atmosphere engulfed them, Keara gave herself up to the joy of the moment in spite of the embarrassment. She could pretend. Those stories she read weren’t real, but she and Britte and Rolfe loved them anyway.
She could dream that the warm touch of Elam’s hand on her arm, his closeness and attentive behavior—the eyes that told her he was interested in only her company tonight—were real. Couldn’t she?
He leaned closer. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, almost…intimate.
She looked up, forced herself to hold his gaze, forced her lips to quirk into a smile. She wondered if he could tell that, no matter what he was feeling tonight, she was honestly, quietly loving him from deep down inside, and that her love wasn’t going to go away with the light of the sunrise tomorrow. It would never go away.
Despite the three glasses of tea she’d already swallowed, her throat was too dry to speak, so she only nodded.
He held his lips near her ear again. “You’re doing fine.”
She hesitated, then nodded. Of course, that was what he was doing. They were both supposed to be putting on an act for the crowd. Her smile began to harden like tree sap. The sudden tightness in her face reached all the way to her heart. She took a deep breath to once again thank him, but she couldn’t say the words.
Not another time. She felt like a beggar.
A movement attracted her attention from the stairs, and she glanced up to see Jael motioning toward her. She appeared calm, but her eyes flicked with fear.
Keara stepped from Elam’s embrace with the excuse that she was feeling peaked. It was the truth now. As she joined Jael on the stairs, she looked back down at the party and saw Raylene and her father making their way through the crowd toward Elam.
“Susanna is demanding to talk to you,” Jael whispered.
Keara turned and ran up the stairs. Elam was on his own.
Eight
Elam watched his bride follow his sister up the stairs and wished he could go with them. Something was up, he could tell by Jael’s expression.
He turned to find Raylene beading in on him. Again. The child had been popping up all day like weeds in a garden, and this time she held her father’s arm and tugged him through the crowd.
“Last time you had a party, Elam Jensen,” she said as they drew near, “you opened the barn for dancing. Won’t there be barn dancing tonight?”
“Of course there will. I hear the fiddler already.”
“But not in the barn?” she asked.
“Why dance in a dirty old barn when you can dance by the light of the bonfire?”
“I think it’s because of that mare you’re hiding.” Raylene released her father’s arm and stood with hands on her hips as the conversation around them grew quiet.
“I have a mare foaling,” Elam said, and it was true, though that mare was in a smaller stable behind the house. “Forgive me if I’m not prepared to host a complete party tonight, but with my wife’s…difficulties and the animals and barn unprepared—”
“Raylene.” Ray Harper turned to his daughter. “Why don’t you find Delmar and see if you can convince him to dance with you.”
Elam wasn’t surprised when she folded her arms over her chest and set her chin. “He’s dancing with someone else right now. And I’m the one who saw the horse—”
“Raylene, this is man talk. You mentioned you wanted to dance, so dance.” Ray took Elam’s arm and urged him away from the main din of the crowd. Raylene tagged along behind.
The Wedding Kiss Page 7