A Bargained-For Bride

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Do we?” Boone asked as a deep frown furrowed his brow.

  “Well, I do,” Doolin said, placing a thankful and reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “I thank you for what you’re doin’ for me and Effie, Boone…and especially for Jilly. I’ll rest easy when my time comes knowin’ she’s in your care.”

  “Does she know, Doolin?” Boone asked then. “Does she know that your time is…is comin’?”

  “Not yet,” Doolin admitted. “I want to get her settled in safe with you first. Then I’ll let her know…if she hasn’t already figured it out. All right?”

  Boone nodded—though he felt things might go easier for Jilly Adams if she thoroughly understood her grandpa’s reasons for giving her away to a strange man.

  “So what do you say we have ourselves a quiet little wedding in a couple of days, hmmm?” Doolin asked with a smile and chuckle of triumph.

  “You bet,” Boone agreed. “I’ll ride in and talk to Reverend Dryer in the mornin’…see if he’s got the time day after tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Doolin said with a nod. “But I do have one more thing I wanna say to you before I leave, Boone.”

  Boone held his breath, for he thought he knew what was coming—a lecture on how to treat a woman with patience and tenderness on her wedding night.

  Instead, he was surprised when Doolin said, “I know you’re the town champion, Boone…that somethin’ in you is so good that it drives you to save everybody from everything. Even what you’re doin’ now—marryin’ my Jilly to keep her safe and cared for—even doin’ this, I know you’re doin’ it because you really are a true hero. But I have to say this to you, Boone. You’re gonna have my Jilly as your wife, and that means you gotta watch out for yourself better. Do you hear what I’m sayin’? Before you go jumpin’ into any more ponds to save little boys, before you go ridin’ off with the next posse chasin’ after some outlaw…you think twice about what you’re protectin’ at home now. All right?”

  Boone nodded, exhaling a breath of relief that Doolin had told him what he had, instead of broaching the subject of how to treat his granddaughter on her wedding night.

  “I do hear you, Doolin,” Boone said. “I really do.”

  “Okay…and I mean it, Boone. You gotta start thinkin’ twice before you risk your own life anymore,” Doolin reiterated.

  “I will,” Boone assured the old man. “I will.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now, boy,” Doolin said. “But you drop by our place on your way home from meetin’ with Reverend Dryer tomorrow, and we’ll settle everything up, all right?”

  “Yep,” Boone answered.

  “You have a good evenin’ then, Boone,” Doolin said as he awkwardly mounted his horse. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Boone nodded and watched the old man ride away, admiring the manner in which he still sat a horse straight and strong, even for his age and invisible infirmities.

  Removing his hat, Boone raked his fingers back through his hair. What had he done? Had he lost his ever-loving mind? Asking Doolin Adams for his granddaughter’s hand in marriage?

  And yet Boone secretly gloated over the fact that Jack Taylor had turned out to be just as yellow a tomcat as he’d thought he was. At least Doolin and Effie wouldn’t have to worry about Jilly ending up tied to that little weasel.

  “Somebody oughta beat the waddin’ out of that boy one day,” Boone mumbled as he pressed his hat back onto his head and headed into the house. He guessed he better straighten up a bit. Boone didn’t want Jilly Adams arriving to find a dirty house and become more despairing than she no doubt already would be after marrying up with the likes of him.

  Chapter Five

  Jilly hadn’t slept a wink the night before. After all, how could she have? Not only was she marrying a man who was nearly a complete stranger that morning, but also her grandma had had a “little talk” with Jilly before she’d retired for the night—“a little added insight to the details of the goin’s-on where the birds and the bees are concerned,” Effie Adams had called it. Though Jilly knew full well how babies were conceived and birthed, Effie had explained that she didn’t want Jilly going into her wedding night as ignorant about “the details” as she had been when she married Doolin so many years before.

  Therefore, considering that she was going to marry Boone Ramsey in the morning, coupled with her new knowledge of the intimacies between a husband and wife, Jilly stood in the parlor with her grandma, her grandpa, and Reverend Dryer, waiting for Boone Ramsey to arrive and feeling like she’d just been run over by a train.

  “Well, this all came about quite suddenly, didn’t it, Miss Adams?” Reverend Dryer asked, pulling Jilly’s attention from her anxieties and to him.

  “Oh…oh yes. I suppose it seems to you like it did,” she stammered.

  Reverend Dryer smiled. “I could’ve sworn it was gonna be Jack Taylor we’d be waitin’ on today.”

  “Oh, quit your fishin’ for gossip, Reverend,” Effie teased. “You know that silly Jack Taylor doesn’t have a well-meanin’ bone in his body.” Effie put her arm around Jilly’s shoulders, smiling with pride. “And our Jilly…why, she’s just the smartest girl in town, acceptin’ a proposal of marriage from Boone Ramsey the way she did. He’s a prize turkey if I ever saw one.”

  Reverend Dryer chuckled. “Well, that does seem to be the general opinion among the ladies in Mourning Dove—accordin’ to my own daughters, that is,” he said. “Why, they were just plum disappointed when Boone showed up on our doorstep tellin’ me Jilly had accepted his marriage proposal and askin’ me to perform the ceremony.” Reverend Dryer removed his pocket watch from his vest pocket. “I suppose Boone oughta be along any moment now,” he mumbled as he checked the time on the face of his watch.

  “I’m sure he will,” Doolin said. “He probably had a mess of things he wanted to tidy up before bringin’ a new wife home this afternoon.”

  Jilly’s knees weakened, and she thought for a moment that she might faint. It wasn’t so much the reverend’s obvious doubt that Boone Ramsey would really arrive and marry Jilly. It was her own doubt—and the sudden realization that she’d be going home with Boone if he did show up and marry her—going home with him to live with him—forever!

  Everyone in the parlor startled at the knock on the front door. And Jilly didn’t know whether she felt relief or terror when her grandpa opened it to reveal a stunningly polished-up Boone Ramsey.

  “Afternoon there, Boone,” Doolin said as he stepped aside and gestured for the handsome bridegroom to enter.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Adams,” Boone greeted as he crossed the threshold and strode into the parlor. He nodded to Jilly’s grandma and said, “Mrs. Adams,” in greeting. Then he looked to Reverend Dryer, offering, “Reverend.”

  Boone looked to Jilly last—and when he did, she could’ve sworn her heart reined to an abrupt halt in her chest. He was so incredibly handsome that the sight of him had taken her breath away.

  It wasn’t so much that he’d really changed at all since she’d seen him the day before. He was clean-shaven, and he wasn’t wearing a hat the way he normally did, but he seemed almost imaginary in the power of his presence and attractive appearance. The only reason Jilly could fathom for seeing Boone Ramsey so much more as he really was was the fact that she was really, really looking at him—meeting his gaze for the first time in years—really, really staring into his fascinating light-green eyes and allowing herself to consciously admit just how powerfully drawn she was to him physically.

  “Miss Adams,” Boone greeted Jilly at last.

  “M-Mr. Ramsey,” she managed in return.

  “Oh, now there’s no need to be so formal,” Reverend Dryer chuckled. “Shall we begin?”

  “Yes,” Boone answered firmly.

  “Now, when I spoke with Boone yesterday, Miss Adams,” Reverend Dryer began, “he assured me that it was your wish that the ceremony be not only very private but without any pomp and circumstan
ce.”

  Jilly nodded. “Yes,” she assured the reverend.

  “Then, both of you, please face me.”

  Jilly did as the reverend instructed, gulped the lump of trepidation and fear that had formed in her throat, and looked up to the Reverend Dryer. She focused her attention on the small brown mole located just above the reverend’s left eyebrow—commanding her knees to not give way under the weight of her anxieties.

  “Boone, please take Jilly’s hand,” Reverend Dryer instructed.

  Jilly held her breath. Would Boone Ramsey go through with marrying her? Would she go through with marrying him? Could she?

  Yet the moment she felt Boone take her hand—firmly and without pause—something inside her leapt with…was it excitement? Delight? Or was it fear? Jilly could hardly tell which. But what she did know was that she liked the feel of Boone Ramsey’s touch—of his warm, callused hand holding hers with such forthright confidence.

  “Do you, Boone Ramsey, take Jilly Adams to be your lawful, wedded wife?” Reverend Dryer began.

  “I do,” Boone said—again firmly and without pause.

  “And do you, Jilly Adams, take Boone Ramsey to be your husband?” the reverend continued.

  “I do,” Jilly heard herself answer—firmly and without pause. The determination in her own voice rather astonished her.

  “Boone, your ring please,” the reverend said to Boone.

  Jilly frowned, for she hadn’t expected to receive a ring. She watched, somewhat mystified, as Boone reached into his vest pocket and produced a beautifully ornate gold band.

  “Repeat after me, Boone. With this ring, I thee wed,” Reverend Dryer instructed.

  Jilly’s hand began to tremble as Boone raised her hand a bit and began to slip the beautiful gold band onto her left ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  “Jilly, do you have a ring to give to Boone?” Reverend Dryer asked.

  Jilly felt the color drain from her face. Of course she didn’t have a ring! She’d only been engaged less than forty-eight hours!

  “I have it,” Boone said, however. Reaching into his vest pocket again, he removed a larger, somewhat worn-looking gold band.

  Offering it to Jilly, he said, “It was my father’s. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No…not at all,” Jilly breathed as she accepted the ring.

  “Jilly, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed,” Reverend Dryer instructed.

  With her hands trembling so violently she could hardly hold onto the ring, let alone push it onto Boone’s finger when he held his hand out toward her, Jilly said, “With this ring…I thee wed.”

  Once she’d finally managed to get the ring onto Boone’s finger, she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. It had been a taxing task for a girl so emotionally anxious.

  “Well then, I will simply say…I pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Dryer finished. Smiling at Jilly and then Boone, he added, “You may kiss your bride, Mr. Ramsey.”

  Kiss the bride? Kiss the bride? Jilly wondered what Reverend Dryer was thinking.

  Yet before Jilly had even one more moment to digest what the reverend had said, or to think of something to say or do in response, Boone Ramsey took her face between his warm, strong, callused hands.

  “Why, thank you, Reverend,” Boone mumbled as the allure of his brilliant green eyes captured Jilly’s gaze.

  The kiss Boone Ramsey pressed to Jilly’s lips wasn’t coarse or forceful, but it wasn’t polite or timid either. Rather, it was soft and moist—warm and alluring—like nothing Jilly had ever experienced before—nothing. In fact, if Jack Taylor’s kisses had once caused butterflies to rise in Jilly’s stomach, then by comparison several flocks of falcons simultaneously took flight in her stomach at the sense of Boone Ramsey’s kiss!

  It was not a long kiss, lasting no more than a few seconds. But it left Jilly breathless, dizzy, and wishing it had lasted oh-so-much longer.

  As Jilly’s eyes fluttered open to find Boone still gazing at her, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks as a conquering grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. He knew he’d affected her far beyond anything else ever had, and Jilly’s blush deepened.

  “You have my congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey,” Reverend Dryer offered, smiling as if the entire situation were solely his doing.

  When neither Jilly nor Boone responded—for Jilly was still held in some kind of bewitching trance by his gaze and Boone was still holding her there—it was Jilly’s grandpa who said, “Thank you, Reverend.”

  “Yes, thank you, Reverend Dryer,” Effie added.

  “And with no reception or weddin’ supper to have to attend, I suppose you two will be on your way now, won’t you?” Reverend Dryer asked, still smiling and looking to Jilly and Boone expectantly.

  “I ’spose so,” Boone said.

  Jilly gasped as he suddenly swooped her up into his arms, turned, and headed for the front door.

  “But…but…” she stammered in a whisper.

  “Lingerin’ any longer will only make you more upset than you already are, darlin’,” Boone told her. “Now smile and wave to your granny. You’ll most likely be seein’ her tomorrow anyway.”

  Feeling as if she were walking in a dream, instead of being carried out of the house by her handsome new husband, Jilly forced a smile and waved to her grandpa and grandma.

  They waved in return, and Boone Ramsey chuckled when Effie Adams awkwardly called, “Have fun, honey!”

  Boone had brought his wagon and team, being that Jilly needed to bring a trunk full of her things with her. With little to no effort, he lifted her up onto the wagon seat and then climbed up and over her to sit next to her.

  Taking the lines to the team in hand, he clicked his tongue, and the team started forward. Jilly grabbed hold of the handle on the seat to steady herself as the wagon lurched.

  She looked back over her shoulder, waving to her grandma and grandpa as they stood on the porch watching her leave. Jilly was terrified! What had she done?

  “Well, that was fairly painless, wasn’t it?” Boone asked.

  “I-I guess so,” Jilly stammered.

  He frowned. “Why don’t you talk a bit? It might settle your nerves some.”

  “I-I wouldn’t know what to say,” she admitted.

  Boone seemed thoughtful for a moment and then suggested, “Why don’t you start out by tellin’ me how ol’ Jack Taylor took the news that your grandpa was sellin’ your soul to the devil? Hmmm?”

  “I hardly think Grandpa sold my soul to the devil, Mr. Ramsey,” Jilly countered, mildly amused by his dramatics.

  “Best be callin’ me Boone from now on…wife,” he said.

  “Well, then maybe you best be callin’ me Jilly,” she offered.

  Boone nodded. “All righty then…Jilly…why don’t you tell me how your beau took the news that I’d asked your grandpa for your hand and he’d agreed?”

  Jilly frowned. Her sense of terror was subsiding a bit. After all, Boone seemed pleasant enough at the moment. But it was the thought of Jack Taylor that kept her brow furrowed.

  “I’d rather not talk about him,” she mumbled.

  “Because he broke your heart?” Boone inquired, kindly.

  “No…and he didn’t,” she admitted.

  “Because he’s a jackass then?” Boone asked.

  “Boone Ramsey!” Jilly exclaimed—though her frown disappeared and she had to fight the urge to giggle and smile. “That is not appropriate language!”

  But Boone only shrugged.

  “Why not?” Boone asked. “All a jackass is is a male donkey. In fact, I own two jackasses myself. I bought them a couple of years back. Named them Nester and Pedro.”

  “Yes…but you called Jack Taylor a…a…a male donkey,” Jilly pointed out.

  “That’s because he’s a jackass,” Boone reiterated. “Jack the Jackass. I’ve been callin’ him that in my head since I was a kid.”

  Jilly couldn’t help herself then, for in trut
h the entire conversation was amusing—whether or not Boone’s choice of words were proper—and she allowed a giggle to escape her throat.

  “Well, you shouldn’t call him that, you know…at least not out loud,” Jilly reminded Boone.

  “And you shouldn’t be laughing at it,” Boone said, looking at her and smiling. “But it don’t change anything. So how did Jack the Jackass react when you told him your grandpa had promised your hand to me?”

  Jilly was quiet for a moment—thoughtful. If there was one thing she’d learned in observing her grandpa and grandma, it was that there should always be pure honesty between a husband and wife. She figured that just because her marriage to Boone had been arranged instead of happening out of a natural desire to be bound to one another, it didn’t change the fact that there should always be complete honesty between them.

  And so with pure, however humiliating, honesty, she answered, “I think he was very glad about it…relieved. Now he can move onto some other idiot girl like me, who doesn’t have the sense God gave a flea.”

  Boone exhaled what sounded to be a sigh of being perturbed and then said, “There’s a big difference between bein’ an idiot and being innocent and trusting.”

  Jilly grinned. “You’re tryin’ to make me feel better, that’s all.”

  “Nope. It’s true,” he assured her. “But now you know why I’ve always called him Jack the Jackass.”

  “Because he is one,” Jilly giggled.

  “Always has been,” Boone added, smiling at her.

  Jilly had forgotten how beautiful Boone Ramsey’s smile was. The fact was she hadn’t seen it for years and years. But that didn’t change the reality that, when he did smile, it seemed the sunshine was brighter somehow.

  Still, she sighed with worry as she said, “And I’m sure he’s already told everyone how you asked Grandpa for my hand and I went runnin’ straight to him, askin’ him to…” She stopped short—midsentence. Her cheeks blushed crimson with embarrassment, for she’d just revealed to Boone that she’d gone to Jack after hearing of Boone’s proposal.