by Linda Ellen
With that, he went to the door and called for his barouche to be brought around.
The first of December dawned clear, bright, and unseasonably mild.
Sam, who had moved out of his lean-to and back into the homestead in preparation for bringing his bride home, sat up in the spare room—he had decided not to sleep in what he already thought of as their bed until his bride could share it with him—and stretched his arms over his head.
Today’s the day. Today Bethie and I will truly become man and wife, and she’ll come here to live with me...forever.
That thought lit a fire under his backside and he quickly threw back the covers and set about getting himself ready for the best day of his life, thus far.
Splashing himself fully awake with the cold water from the pitcher in the bedroom’s dry sink, he stared at his reflection for a moment in the oval mirror. He had planned on shaving his beard for the ceremony, but...Beth likes it. She had informed him on more than one occasion that she loved to run her fingers through its soft strands and she adored the feel of it brushing her face when they kissed. Since that’s the case, I may never shave again! He chuckled to himself as he continued his morning ablutions.
His plans were to eat a quick breakfast, get dressed—once again in his new suit—and then make tracks for the church. He was far too antsy to stay around the homestead.
As he walked into the main room and looked around at all of the fixings and cleaning his bride had done, he couldn’t help the silly grin that took over his face. Humming the tune to Let me Call you Sweetheart, he set about getting together a quick meal of oatmeal and toast with blackberry preserves. Beth had tried out the new stove the day before and declared she was in love with how it baked bread so evenly.
That had garnered him a good round of hugs and kisses. The lingering memory had him smiling from ear to ear and he couldn’t help the chuckle that followed.
Thirty minutes later, dressed and ready, he headed out the door.
Proxy bride of mine, here I come!
About a mile away...
Beth Ann sat up in the bed in her room in Charise and Finn’s apartment, and couldn’t stop the huge grin that plastered itself on her face. Glancing down at the breathtaking ring glistening on her finger, she brought up her hand and brushed her lips on it, whispering, “Oh Sam...our wedding day is finally here! I can’t wait!”
Contemplating on whether he was yet up and about, she flung the covers aside and set her feet on the cold floor, intending to make short work of her preparations for this most wonderful of days.
Charise had kindly insisted that Beth wear her wedding dress, so that Beth could devote more time to making the homestead clean and comfortable. Not only that, Charise had taken it upon herself to do the alterations, including the shortening of the front of the skirt by about four inches. It now fit Beth Ann like a glove.
Beth Ann and Charise had worked hard on the dress when they were both still living in Louisville—it was an exquisite pure white silk sleeveless gown with a six-foot train and sheer voile overlay for the sleeves and across the bodice.
Charise had even insisted Beth wear her cameo, a light green and ivory Queen Victoria piece, as it hung so well over the rounded neckline. Beth Ann had teared up at this and had given her friend a warm hug, as she knew the necklace was the only item of Charise’s mother’s jewelry she had been allowed to keep when everything else had been sold to pay off her father’s debts after the war. It rarely left Charise’s jewelry box except for rare and special occasions.
Between the two items, the borrowed tradition for the wedding was covered.
Two hours later, Beth Ann had breakfasted, bathed—with her special Honey Landing lavender soap that she’d brought from Louisville—and had been coiffed, dressed, and fitted with Charise’s elegant veil of handmade Brussels lace that depicted flowers, scrolls, and leaves, affixed atop her perfect chignon with a Juliet cap and just a few hairpins, as the texture of her bright copper locks would keep it in place. Charise laughed about this as she pinned the cap in place, telling Beth how her own hair had found a way to slither out of its bindings before her wedding celebrations were over.
Beth Ann’s ladies in waiting, Charise, Dottie Plasters—who was Charise’s friend and the wife of the sheriff, Dave Plasters—and Rachael McKnight, the wife of the pastor, each stood back and admired the finished results.
“Lovely. My dear, you are absolutely breathtaking,” Rachael declared as she gently fixed and tucked at the veil.
“Thank you, Mrs. McKnight,” Beth murmured, giving the genial lady a grateful smile.
“You have your old, new, borrowed and blue, right?” Dottie asked as she finished assembling Beth Ann’s bouquet of English primrose and winter jasmine, with a few purple Violas added for color and sweet fragrance. Tying the last ribbon in place, she turned to show it to Beth.
“Oh Dottie, it’s beautiful!” Beth Ann breathed as she reached out to hold it as the other ladies echoed the sentiment. “You really have a flair for arranging flowers,” she complimented, continuing, “and well, I have Charise’s dress and cameo for borrowed. I’m wearing my new ring, and for good measure, a new pair of boots for my new. My blue is—goodness, I nearly forgot!” Beth gasped, rushing toward her trusty old trunk and rummaging inside.
In a concealed compartment in the top tray, she found what she was looking for—a ruched garter in a pretty shade of robin’s egg blue. “This!” she announced with a flourish. “Can’t forget my garter! I’ve been saving this for my wedding since I was eleven. One of the older girls at the orphanage got married and I was allowed to be her flower girl. She had been given two garters and she gave me the extra one to start my hope chest with,” she added, as the ladies chuckled along with her and helped lift her dress and shimmy the garter up and get it tied above her knee.
“But...I don’t have something old...” Beth began, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
As if she’d been waiting for the sign, Mrs. McKnight reached into her pocket for a lace hanky, and with a flourish, pressed it into Beth Ann’s hand. “Here you are, my dear.”
“Is that the one I carried?” Charise grinned at the pastor’s wife.
Rachael nodded. “One and the same.” Shaking her head, she tittered indulgently. “My, my, I’m sure when my grandmother gave me that for my own wedding forty years ago, she never anticipated it would be carried by dozens of brides down through the years—but it surely has! Seems the bride always forgets the something old.”
All of the ladies laughed with her and Beth Ann leaned to give the dear woman a heartfelt hug.
With that, she was ready to get to the church...and her darling groom.
Chapter 12
S tanding at the altar with his brother at his side, Sam couldn’t quell the anxious nerves buzzing like bees in his stomach.
A serene Elvira was proficiently playing a gentle tune on the piano. Watching her as she performed, her hair in a fairly charming style and wearing a nice dress—and her annoying mouth disengaged—he realized she was actually a somewhat attractive woman. Hmm, I’ve never noticed before, although I’ve seen her play the piano a hundred times... The thought caused Sam to let out a quiet snicker that her talent for music seemed in direct contrast with the rest of her personality.
“Nervous?” Finn asked, giving Sam a sidelong glance.
Sam straightened his cravat and stuck out his chin. “Nope. Excited. Grateful,” he returned, then added with a risqué grin toward his sibling. “Wanting to get this show on the road so’s I can be one step closer to taking my bride home tonight.”
Finn laughed and clapped Sam on the back. “I know the feeling, brother. But, you know...I think I heard some of the old timers talking about giving you two a shivaree, so, you might not get to be alone with her for quite a while.”
Sam shut his eyes with a groan. A shivaree. Oh man not that. But...it would serve me right, cause I’ve participated in my share of them over the years—and
never cared one iota about what we were putting the poor saps through on the receiving end of the fun. He groaned again, remembering one particular time—when Jim and Ida Walters had gotten hitched—where the men had kidnapped the hapless groom and left him hogtied in his neighbor’s barn for three hours, stripped down to his long drawers. Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, what if they do that to me tonight...or worse?
He opened his eyes and glared over at his brother. Finn held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot me, I only thought to warn ya. You are, after all, my only brother.”
Suppressing a growl, Sam leaned closer. “Listen, Finn. I’ll owe ya—big time—but you gotta keep everybody away. I’ve got plans for tonight...romantic plans...I want everything to be beautiful for Beth. If those fools come—ooh and I can just imagine who it would be...Vic Hesston and the regular gang from the Buck, right? And the Three Old Musketeers, Cyrus, Charlie and Cliff, Charlie Cooper...dang I bet even Elvira would come—it’ll ruin everything. You’ve gotta keep ‘em away. All right?” he pleaded, pinning his brother with the most desperate glower he could manage.
Finn snickered softly and reached over to clamp a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. Just thought I’d have a bit of fun and get you all riled up. But, I’ve got it all in hand. I’ve already worked it out with Sally over at the boarding house. You guys will go in there like you’re going to spend your wedding night upstairs, but then we’ll smuggle you out the back door and I’ll have a buggy waiting behind the mercantile. By the time they figure out why no one is coming to the window to bellow at their irreverent noise, they’ll be too tired, and probably too drunk in a few cases, to make the trip out to the homestead.” He punctuated that with a wink and a nod.
Sam drew in a deep breath, feeling a bit better, and turned to give his brother’s hand a good shake. “Thanks, Finn. You do that, and you just tell me how you want me to pay you back. Anything. Anytime.”
Before Finn could answer, there was rustle from behind the swinging doors at the back of the church, and Elvira seamlessly changed the song she was playing to the processional.
Instantly, Sam’s heart flipped and his mouth went dry as if he had climbed up to the top of a cliff and he was about to jump off—and soar like an eagle!
The doors opened, and Dottie stepped out to begin her stroll down the aisle.
Beth Ann felt herself begin to tremble as she heard the music change to the traditional wedding processional. As the introduction played, she marveled at the notion that Elvira was the church’s pianist and how when she had been told, she’d assumed they were trying to pull her leg—but Charise assured her it was true. My goodness...that seems in direct contrast to the rest of her personality...
Dottie had already started down the aisle, and Charise was next. Making sure one last time that all was perfect with the bride’s dress and veil, she leaned over and gave Beth a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful, Bethie. Don’t be nervous; just try to enjoy today. And aren’t we lucky that we both ended up with such wonderful men as husbands? Who would have thought it when we first started looking through the matrimonial advertisements that night back in Louisville?”
Stepping back and turning to look forward, Charise added, “See you down front,” before slipping through the doors.
Beth pulled a deep breath in through her nose and let it out again, striving hard to calm her nerves. The word matrimonial had brought a chill with it. Why am I so nervous? It’s more of a feeling of fear, though... Like a specter of something is hanging over my head. Like something bad is headed toward me, but I can’t see it... Oh Lord Jesus, don’t let anything happen to spoil this day! Let Sam and I have a delightful wedding to remember and tell our grandchildren about. Let us be happy, Lord...
“Don’t you worry, sweet girl. I’ve got ya,” a familiar voice cajoled next to her ear, and she felt his hand pat hers as she gripped his arm through its sleeve. She turned her head and met Zeb’s familiar, faded blue eyes.
“And don’t you be fretting that something or someone will somehow spoil things, like a certain someone we both know. There’s no way he could cause trouble or he would have done so by now. Put all that behind you,” he reassured, giving her an exaggerated wink, resulting in a small chuckle. “Your man, Sam—he’s one lucky fella. I just hope he knows that...or I might just have to take him to task.”
At that, Beth giggled sweetly and determinedly tamped down the unexpected thoughts and resurgence of fears regarding the man who had caused them all so much trouble. Papa’s right. This is silly. That man can’t hurt us now. I’m just borrowing trouble. Stop it, Beth Ann!
As the music changed to the wedding march, Mrs. McKnight opened both of the swinging doors.
Looking into the sanctuary, Beth saw every person in the church stand up and every head turn her way, and she was hit by a sudden fierce attack of shyness.
Zeb’s dear voice whispered in her ear again. “I’ve got ya, sweetie. Let’s go—your man is waitin’!”
Beth’s vision cleared and she sought out the familiar face of her husband, standing all the way down at the altar, next to his brother. All at once, her attention focused in on him and when she saw his pleased expression and the adoration glowing in his eyes, everything else just seemed to slowly fade away. She was so in tune with her groom, she wasn’t aware her feet were moving as Zeb led her down the aisle toward him. There was only Sam...
In mere seconds, she was at his side. Zeb kissed her cheek and with the air of a man bestowing a precious gift, handed her off to Sam. Her big, handsome, bearded husband smiled reassuringly, took her hand, and led her forward a few steps until they were standing before Reverend McKnight.
She seemed to be floating on a pillow of air. Sam’s strength and warmth, however, served to anchor her in place. The moment was at hand...
Reverend McKnight cleared his throat and opened the book he held in his hands. Looking around at the assembled crowd, and then at the newlyweds, he smiled joyously.
“Dearly beloved...”
Sam knew he would remember their wedding ceremony for the rest of his life. Although he realized they had been legally married from the moment Beth and Zeb had stood before Judge Perry, Sam was elated that they had agreed to retake their vows, as it meant so much more to actually hear them and say them to one another.
As he vowed to be true to Beth in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish her until they were parted in death, he had felt his eyes begin to well with emotion. Then, when he had heard her sweet voice promising to keep herself only unto him and be true to him from this day forward, for better or worse, richer or poorer, as long as they both shall live—and to see those emerald eyes of hers mirroring his with their own moisture, he had teared up even more.
He wasn’t much of a crier. He hadn’t cried about anything since...well, since he and Finn had lowered their mother into the ground. But his feelings for Beth ran so deep and true, he felt them with every fiber of his being. It almost scares me...I never thought I could love someone the way I love her. If she ever left me...if someone ever hurt her or took her away...I’d lose my mind...
“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” his beloved’s voice interrupted his musings and he shook himself free of his thoughts before glancing down at his hand holding hers. They were sitting together at a table on the first floor of Finn’s building, having decided to hold their marriage party in the same place that Finn and Charise had.
He looked into those amazing eyes of hers and smiled contentedly. “No, darlin’. Everything’s great. Just thinking about the ceremony.”
She returned his smile. “It was so beautiful. Thank you for being willing to have another wedding ceremony. It was so different from our first one, it’s like night and day,” she added with a melodious giggle that wrapped his heart with joy. Then, she waxed serious again and added, “Our wedding was more than I had ever hoped to have, Sam. I love you so much.”
His heart sped up and he leaned for
ward and pressed a kiss to those sweet lips he knew he’d never be able to resist. Finally pulling back, he murmured, “I love you too...only more.”
At that, her eyes sparked as if he’d thrown down a gauntlet. “Oh yeah, mister? I love you more,” she teased, and they laughed together.
“Well, I’m glad to see the newlyweds enjoying their party,” old Cyrus Ames remarked as he came near, a glass of sarsaparilla in one hand.
Sam turned his head to share a smile with the old man. “That we are, Cyrus. Thank you for coming, by the way.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Wouldn’t miss it,” the old man declared, tipping his glass and taking a deep drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he directed his beady eyes toward Beth and asked, “So, have you ever heard the tale of the travelin’ porcelain tub, girlie?”
Sam groaned and beside him, Beth let out one of her sweet laughs. Bless her, she answered, “Why yes, I have, Mr. Ames. Charise was so fascinated by the tale—I believe you told her about it at her and Finn’s party—that she wrote me all the details. It’s a wonderful story. Amazing how it arrived here all the way from Chicago, the crate it was in so badly beat up—and only one pinky toe broken.” She shook her head. “Purely amazing.”
The old man’s eyes had grown larger with every word she said until finally, he cleared his throat and sputtered, “Y...yes, yes it is, downright amazin’. Well...congratulations on your weddin’,” he mumbled as he turned to seek out another person willing to listen to one of his stories.
Beth placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes rounded large. “Oh goodness...I think I hurt his feelings...maybe I should have let him tell—”
“No,” Sam interjected with a laugh. “Thank you for saving us both from the saga. I’ve heard it so many times I could quote it word for word,” he added with a chuckle. “You can make it up to him the next time you see him. Ask him about the flood back in ’56 and how his mule got stuck up in a tree.”