The Wedding Promise

by Carolyn Davidson

  She leaned over the table, her voice barely audible. “Why, I heard just yesterday that Miss Sinclair had danced every dance and turned down three marriage proposals last Saturday night.”

  “Most every unmarried lady there danced every dance, ma’am,” Cord said, his voice carrying an admirable amount of restraint, Rachel thought, his hand tightening on her waist as he spoke.

  “Well, be that as it may,” the woman said sternly, shaking her index finger in his direction, “it isn’t good for a woman alone to be talked about It gives people ideas, and you wouldn’t want Miss Sinclair to be food for speculation.”

  Cord shook his head. “No, ma’am, I surely wouldn’t. I’d better not hear of anyone hereabouts speculating one little bit about my intended.” His words resounded in the kitchen, his voice harsh.

  “Well, I’ll be leaving.” Tugging more firmly at her gloves, Mrs. Bryant stepped to the door, looking back at the couple behind her as she gained the porch steps. “I think Mr. Bryant has this coming Saturday free. Will that be a good date for you?”

  Cord cleared his throat. “How about a week from Saturday? That’ll be more in line with what we had planned.”

  Wilhelmina Bryant eyed him warily, then nodded slowly. “All right. Might as well have time to get the girl a decent dress.”

  Rachel’s strangled gasp was evidence of Cord’s heel weighing heavily against her toes. A decent dress? Next Saturday? She was to be married on Saturday next, and all Cord could do was nod and preen like the rooster in the chicken yard? She watched as their visitor took her leave, Henry untying the reins for her and handing them up into the buggy.

  By the time Cord reached the porch, Mrs. Bryant was ensconced in the buggy’s seat, and he nodded his thanks at Henry as the boy waved a cheery farewell.

  “Cord McPherson.” Rachel had finally caught her breath, wiggling her toes to assure herself they had not been more than pinched beneath Cord’s weight. “What do you think you’re doing, planning a wedding for me, when I haven’t even said I’d marry you?”

  “You want me to lay out the possibilities here, Rae?” he asked bluntly. “To tell you the truth, your choices are kinda limited at this point. Either you marry me and keep on doing the same thing you’re doing now, except for the fact that we’ll be sharing a bedroom. Not to mention that you and your brothers have a home for life. Or you live and work here, and pull out next spring with a year’s wages in your pocket, to head for who knows where!”

  “Are you telling me I can’t make a success of taking my brothers west, of fulfilling my father’s dream?”

  He stepped to where she stood and his hands gripped her shoulders. “I didn’t say that. But as long as we’re on the subject, listen to what you just said. It was your father’s dream, Rachel.”

  His hands gentled against her, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “Rachel…” He held her more firmly, and for a moment she was tempted by the breadth of his chest, lured by the comfort his arms offered. “Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw all that at you,” he murmured, his mouth warm against her forehead, his big hands spreading across her back.

  She cast aside his embrace, even as her hungry heart yearned for his touch. “The only difference I see is that I won’t be making any money at this, once I agree to be your wife, Cord. I’ll just be trudging around here from morning to night, and then trotting off to bed with you like a good girl.”

  “Rachel! That’s not what I said. If you marry me, you’ll have a home here and I’ll take care of you and your brothers.”

  She waved her hands in the air, no longer lured by the promise of his embrace, her temper at the breaking point. “We’re gonna have to talk later, Cord. Part of my duties in your house involve making gravy and mashing potatoes. It’s almost time for supper. The men will be hungry.”

  “I’ll help you, Rachel. Let me mash the potatoes.” Cord snatched up a dish towel from the cupboard and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. “Are these ready?” He lifted the lid of the big kettle she’d filled an hour earlier and she leaned past him to poke at a potato with a fork.

  “They’re about done. You can drain them into this pan.” Every word was bitten off as if she rationed them.

  His brows lifted as he looked down at the empty pan she’d designated. “What are you gonna use the water for?”

  Her sigh of aggravation was accented by a look of scorn, tossed in his direction. “Gravy, for one thing. I’ll mix some of it with the dog’s dinner and the rest with the chicken mash.”

  “We never did that before,” he said, following her instructions.

  She tossed her head. “You never had me here before.”

  “Well, you’re right there,” he agreed. Rolling up his sleeves, he began wielding the metal masher. “Where’d you learn all this stuff?” He halted for a moment as she poured milk into the pan, and added a chunk of butter.

  “I did my homework in the kitchen back home and watched the cook. I possess a fair amount of intelligence, and some things stuck with me.”

  His mouth curled at one corner, then, his head bent low over the potato pan, he nudged her on even more. “You had a cook, and lived in a nice home. Yet your father set out on a wagon with not enough money to put in your eyeball? Seems to me he’d have considered your mother a bit more than that.”

  Rachel paused, her knife lifted over the roast she was slicing. “He lost his business, Cord.” Her chin rose proudly. “I think he was ashamed to stay in town after that, and Mama was certain she would be shunned by the ladies she’d been friends with for all the years of her marriage.”

  “Some friends!” The words were mumbled beneath his breath, but her quick ear caught them.

  “She was lost without her ladies’ club and the circle at church. Our house was sold out from under us, and the bank took most everything. Folks with money tend to set a lot of store by the things money buys, Cord.”

  “How about you, Rachel?” He stilled, his gaze intent. “What do you set store by?”

  Rachel rapidly cut the meat into slices, then slid the platter into the warming oven. She was silent for a few minutes, checking the kettles filled with vegetables, filling the cream pitcher and putting out a new comb of honey.

  “Mostly the people I care about,” she said finally. “My brothers, for sure. Lorena, for the past little while.” Her mouth tilted in an unwilling smile. “She’s been a good friend.”

  “How about me?” As if he feared her answer, he turned from her, spooning out the steaming potatoes into a crockery bowl. The sound of his spoon scraping the sides of the kettle went on for some time.

  “You’re going to scrape the enamel right off that pan,” Rachel said quietly, her features softening as she watched him.

  Cord stuck the spoon into the potatoes and carried the pan to the sink. He turned back to her, wiping his hands on the dish towel, drying them carefully. His eyes met hers and the question was alive in their depths. How about me?

  She relented, unable to hold him at a distance. “Maybe you most of all right now, Cord. My brothers are my responsibility, and I love them something fierce, but what I feel for you is different.”

  “Are you saying you love me, Rachel?” His cheeks wore a ruddy hue, his nostrils flaring as he approached her.

  “I don’t know…I know I care about you. Even after the way you acted the night of the dance, and that’s saying something,” she said smartly. “You make me so mad I could spit sometimes. But I like it when you hold me in your arms.”

  She felt the flush rise to cover her face and she looked away. “I get all flustered when I think about you hugging me, Cord. You make me shaky inside.”

  His laugh was rusty, as if he forced it past a lump in his throat, and she frowned. “Don’t laugh at me!” She lifted her hands to cover her cheeks. “You asked me, and I’m trying to tell you.”

  “I’m not laughing at you, Rae.” His hands were firm as he pulled her into his arms, holding her in
a gentle fashion. “I’m just pleased that I fluster you, and you likin’ me to put my hands on you is gonna help a lot.” He looked over her head, out the door and into the yard, where men were beginning to gather at the pump.

  “We’re gonna have a kitchen full of hungry hands in a minute or so, Rachel. I think we’d better finish this later.”

  She spun away from him to look out the door. “Oh, my word! Let me get the plates on the table.” She reached into the cabinet, looking over her shoulder at him.

  “Call Lorena, will you? She’s turning out the linen closet.”

  He gained her side in two steps, his hands framing her face. “After supper, Rachel. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “I’ll have to talk to the boys,” she said as the thought popped into her mind. “And if I decide to marry you, I’ll have to have a new dress.”

  Cord looked blank for a moment. “A new dress?”

  “For the wedding, Cord! The only thing I have that’s good enough is the dress I wore to the dance, and the preacher’s wife would have a fit if I got married in that”

  “If you decide?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “Maybe I don’t have a choice.”

  Chapter Ten

  “…I now pronounce you man and wife.” The kindly preacher nodded at Cord, his smile a benediction in itself.

  Rachel watched as the man she had just sworn to love, honor and obey leaned toward her, his arms enclosing her in a loose embrace.

  The love part bothered her. She’d never known another man who could set her head spinning like Cord. She’d begun to crave his presence and the touch of his hands, not to mention the pleasure of his kisses. If feeling as though she were walking in sunshine whenever he looked her way was akin to being in love, then perhaps she was well on her way to that state of being. If not, then love would come with time, she was sure.

  Honor was the easy part. Cord McPherson was an honorable man. Obey might give her a little trouble.

  With all that I am, I promise to be a good wife. Your happiness and well-being will be ever uppermost in my mind and heart, Cord McPherson.

  She sighed as Cord’s mouth touched her, his lips circumspectly pressing a chaste, but firm, kiss against hers. It was for sure that this part of being married wouldn’t be a problem. She was managing to become more than fond of the habit, and at that thought, she suppressed a nervous giggle that threatened to erupt.

  Cord’s mouth lifted from hers and she blinked as her vision cleared. His full lower lip was twitching, as if he held back a chuckle, and the corner of his mouth held a small dimple. All spiffed up, hair brushed back and his jaws freshly shaved, he was a fine figure of a man. He smelled like mint and bay rum soap, like the barber shop when the door was open and the breeze was blowing through.

  He smelled like a man set on bewitching a woman.

  “Hello there, Mrs. McPherson.” One big hand brushed against her cheek, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed her from her throat to the top of her circlet of honeysuckle blossoms. “You look like a bride.”

  I promise to keep that shine on your face, Rachel McPherson. I’ll do my best to keep every promise I’ve made to you today.

  She tried to smile, felt her lips tremble and pressed them firmly together.

  “It’s all right.” He bent to her again, whispering in her ear. “We’ll feed them and send them all on their way, quick as a wink, honey.”

  She nodded, blinking away the tears that insisted on welling up. Her mother should have been here. It was her wedding day, and the only family she had was the two small boys who’d stood behind her as she took her vows. Now she turned to them, Cord releasing his hold as Jay and Henry spoke her name.

  “Are you really married, Rae?” Jay asked, wonder alive in his eyes.

  “Of course she is,” Henry said scornfully. “Didn’t you just hear the preacher say so?”

  Rachel bent to hug them, holding them fast for just a moment. “Bless your hearts! I love you to smithereens!” she said, kissing first one rosy cheek, then the other.

  “Aw, come on, Rachel!” Henry pulled back, looking about, embarrassed at being kissed.

  “You’re still gonna be our sister, aren’t you?” Jay asked, looking first at Rachel, then at the man she’d just married.

  Cord squatted, ignoring the gathered guests, the preacher and even his bride. “Sure she is, and I’m gonna be your new brother, Jay. I’ll take care of you and Henry and Rachel, all three of you. You belong to me now, just like she does.” His hand almost enveloped the child’s shoulder as he drew Jay closer, looking up into the boy’s face.

  “Will you be like our pa?” Henry asked quietly.

  Rachel’s heart did double time as she watched the three male creatures she was duty-bound to care for. Hope, fear and something akin to love washed over their youthful features as her brothers awaited Cord’s reply.

  “Maybe more like a big brother,” he said finally. “But I’ll love you like your pa did, same as Rachel loves you like your mother did.”

  “I guess it’s okay then,” Jay announced, a grin banishing the doubtful look he’d borne. “We like livin’ here, don’t we, Henry?”

  Henry nodded, his cheeks red as if he sensed the full attention of the wedding guests behind him. “Come on, Jay. Let’s get out of the way.” Tugging at his brother, he backed from the makeshift altar, moving to where the ranch hands stood watching.

  Lorena had taken the long bench from one side of the kitchen table, covering it with a linen tablecloth and placing it under an arbor of honeysuckle near the apple trees. There, beneath the summer sun, Rachel had met her groom, Jake at his side.

  They’d wheeled him out, Buck and Jamie wrestling the chair over the meadow grass, Sam pacing at one side, delivering instructions.

  Jake had been remarkably good-natured about the whole thing, Rachel thought. Facing the neighbors and several of the townsfolk had not been his first choice, given his isolation for the past few years. But Cord had asked him to witness the wedding, and Jake had only hesitated for a few moments before giving his assent.

  The neighbor ladies had brought food for the occasion and spread it on the big kitchen table, Lorena taking charge. Now Cord raised his voice, calling for attention, inviting everyone to head for the house.

  “You, too, Mrs. McPherson,” he said quietly, watching as the hands began the task of delivering Jake back indoors.

  “I don’t know if I can eat anything,” Rachel told him. “My stomach has been churning since breakfast.”

  “Well, just have a bite of cake and shove the food around on your plate a little. Those women outdid each other, tryin’ to put on a spread for us.”

  “All right.” She held her skirt above the grass, unwilling to stain the fragile fabric.

  “You look beautiful, Rachel.” She stumbled, taken aback by his words, but he caught her up in his embrace. He lifted her high, her skirts enveloping him as he strode across the meadow.

  “Cord!” It was a shriek of surprise, met with a rousing round of spontaneous applause by the ranch hands.

  All about her, the guests laughed and clapped, the men whistling and cheering him on as Cord carried his bride. Rachel felt a warmth she could not fully blame on the sun, staining her cheeks and throat.

  The pressure of Cord’s right arm was firm beneath her thighs, while his other arm embraced her back. His hand almost touched the side of her breast, and she shivered at the intimacy. She clung, her arms circling his neck, wanting nothing more than to hide her face against him.

  “I’m heavy, Cord,” she protested.

  His arms tightened and he laughed, a curiously lighthearted sound. “About as heavy as a young calf, and I wrestle them all the time. Though to tell the truth, I’d rather cart you around any day of the week.”

  Around her, the neighbors she’d never met, the townspeople she’d barely become acquainted with and the men whose welfare she’d been a part of for such a short time watched as she was
carried in the arms of the man she’d married. Laughing at Cord’s antics, they included her in their merriment

  He’d given her this, this sense of belonging, not only to him, but to this place. He’d given her a home, and for the first time since she’d looked back from the covered wagon at the big house in Pennsylvania, she felt secure.

  “Thank you, Cord, for taking on the three of us,” she said, a lump in her throat allowing only a whisper of sound to emerge.

  “I think I should be thanking you, Rachel. You’ve taken hold here and made this place into a home for me. I didn’t know how bad I needed a wife till you came along. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I found you.” He paused to swing her around in a slow circle, halfway across the yard.

  She clung tighter. “You didn’t marry me just because Mrs. Bryant…”

  He shook his head, and his laugh rang out. “Hell, no! I already had it in mind, Rachel. You’re a good cook, and awful nice to look at. And that’s just for starts. Hell, Sam’s been hopin’ for this ever since you got here. He figures he’s out of the kitchen for good.”

  There were worse reasons to be married, she decided. Whether or not Cord was teasing her, it was for sure she was needed here. Maybe she had a lot to thank Wilhelmina Bryant for. Cord was pleased as punch, his gaze admiring, grinning to beat the band.

  Ahead of them, Lorena waited at the back door, Jay at her side. Behind them, the guests followed as Cord carried her past the buggies and wagons parked beneath the trees.

  “You okay?” He lifted a brow. At her nod, he grinned at her, eyes sparkling, teeth gleaming. “It’s a happy day, sweetheart. Enjoy it. Look, even Wilhelmina is smiling.”

  From the porch the dinner bell was ringing, Jay pulling with joyful abandon at the rope. “Lorena says come and get it!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

  And they did.

  Rachel’s wedding dress lay over the back of a chair, the skirt spread wide, buttons mated with buttonholes, tissue paper stuffed in the puffed sleeves. Made of silk organza, it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever owned, bar none.