Happy Is The Bride Page 2

  Dear God, help me. I couldn 't take the humiliation of another wedding gone wrong and cancelled.

  Tomorrow morning she would be mistress in her own home, subject only to sweet Mason's directives— but no more than he would be to hers. Then the folks in town would be forced to admit she wasn't jinxed. It might take a couple of children to convince them she wasn't cold, but surely her marriage to Mason would put an end to the constant gossip about her. That thought cheered her. Today was indeed a special day.

  Two

  Mason forked straw from the loft onto the wagon. The sun shone brightly overhead, but he thought rain clouds gathered low on the southwest horizon. He figured the church grounds needed the coarse stem roughage spread to prevent buggies from sticking and help keep folks' feet dry if it rained before the wedding.

  His ranch hand, Rowdy Vines, worked beside him. "Boss, you sure this marriage is what you want?"

  "Yep, dead level positive." Mason had loved Beth for as long as he could remember, but had never told anyone. He thought of her eyes when he looked at a perfect spring bluebonnet Her hair matched honey, or maybe cornsilk. He couldn't decide, but it didn't matter. He loved her, and after tonight she'd be his forever. Nothing could please him more.

  Thinking about her made him grow hard and his denim britches fit too tight. Dang, he wanted Beth so much he had trouble sleeping nights, but he wanted more from her than her body. He loved talking to her, wanted to spend his life at her side. Until now she'd had little love in her life, but he planned to protect her and shower her with the love and devotion she deserved.

  For years he'd dreamed of building his future with her as his partner. She was the woman he wanted as mother to his children, and he hoped their future held a couple of blond, blue-eyed girls like her and a boy or two to carry on the ranch. With or without children, they'd have a grand life together.

  Mason knew how hard her parents were on her, always wanting her to be a society leader, sending her to that fancy school when she wanted to stay home, never saying anything nice no matter how she tried to please them. The Pendletons had never consulted Beth to ask what she wanted. He'd see Beth had anything she desired that was within his power to give her.

  Though Beth and he had been friends since he was eight and she was seven, she'd never given him any indication she returned his affection other than to tell him she thought of him as her brother and best friend. That was, until her proposal three weeks ago.

  Wait. He stopped and scratched his head. Come to think of it, she hadn't said a word about love. No matter, she must love him or she wouldn't have asked him to marry her.

  Mason wiped his brow with his bandana. "All I have to do is tolerate the endless details Mrs. Pendleton insists on and make it through today. Come nightfall, Beth'll be my wife, and we can live out here without anyone interfering."

  Mason didn't know what, but since he'd announced his engagement, something had bothered Rowdy. Now the lanky older man mumbled something under his breath.

  "What was that?" Mason leaned forward to hear.

  Rowdy stopped and leaned on his pitchfork. "Sorry, boss, I didn't mean you to hear that."

  "Not sure I heard right. Say it again."

  Rowdy took a deep breath before he spoke. "You know folks say she's jinxed?"

  Yeah, Mason knew and he hated it, but he counted to ten and reined in his anger. Losing his temper

  seventeen years ago had landed him in the fight that resulted in his smashed leg. Since then, he'd tried to control his fury and succeeded—except in one area. Hearing things against Beth always riled him. He'd done his share of brawling in vain attempts to silence the talk. Folks loved to gossip, and evidently that included his hired hand.

  Mason vowed nothing would spoil his wedding day, so he counted to ten a second time and went back to forking. "Don't believe that superstitious nonsense. Good or bad, each of us makes his own luck."

  He tossed another forkful of straw, and his knee gave way. Standing on the edge of the loft, he grabbed for the roof support as he lost his balance. His hand barely missed the post, and he flew off the edge.

  ***

  "Boss? Boss? You okay?"

  Mason opened his eyes and wiped the moisture from his face. "Did you throw water on me?"

  "Didn't know what else to do." Rowdy leaned over him. "Hit your head on the side of the wagon. Knocked yourself plumb out. Good thing you landed on the straw."

  "So you drenched me?" Mason sat up and held his shirt from his body. Hot as it was, the cooling effect of the water wasn't bad.

  "Couldn't wake you up. Scared me something awful, so I fetched the water bucket and doused you. Then you come to."

  "Thanks." Mason struggled up, conscious of an aching head and soaked clothes.

  Rowdy leveled a knowing look at Mason. "See, I told you. The jinx done started."

  "There's no jinx! I fell because this damned leg gave way. It's done that for seventeen years."

  Mason explored the lump high on his forehead. What a damn fool thing to happen on his wedding day. Maybe he could comb his hair differently to hide the lump and the bruise sure to follow.

  "Gee, boss, I don't know." Rowdy stared up at the loft and back to the wagon. "You ain't never fell outta the loft before. I think it's 'cause of the jinx."

  'Told you there is no jinx! Get in the wagon." Mason hadn't meant to snap at Rowdy, but—with or without counting to ten—that kind of talk about Beth heated his temper. "This is enough straw. Let's get on over to the chapel."

  ****

  Beth paused with a fern stem in her hand and scanned the small sanctuary. Though she would have preferred using the larger church in town, she admitted a fondness for this little chapel near the Medina River. The white frame building stood at the edge of a small clearing by a steep slope. Six steps led up to the small porch at the front, but the rear of the building suspended into space and rested on high rock pillars.

  On the hillside nearby was the small cemetery where some of Beth's kin were buried. Her mother's father had died twenty years ago of a stroke; his wife had died ten years later in the same influenza epidemic that had taken Rachel's mother and younger brother. Rachel's father had been thrown from a horse and struck his head against a stone five years ago. Beth knew there were plots marked off for her own parents when their time came, but she hoped that wouldn't be for many decades.

  Beth's mother and father had wed in this chapel almost thirty years ago, and Mrs. Pendleton had insisted Beth wed here. Since then, the town had moved the other direction. Time had passed the chapel by, and now it stood a half mile from any other buildings.

  In spite of the short notice, Beth's mother had forged ahead with plans for an elaborate wedding and reception. Mrs. Pendleton hired a local man to shine the windows and clean the chapel, which saw little use nowadays. On the lectern hung a white silk cloth on which Beth had embroidered linked wedding rings flanked by turtledoves in silver and gold thread. A half dozen candles in a brass holder flanked each side of the altar.

  "Bethany, you're doing that all wrong. The vases need to be fuller." Beth's mother pushed her out of the way. "If I want a thing done right, I have to do it myself."

  Beth sighed and watched her mother stuff more greenery and flowers into the already full urn at one side of the altar lectern. Beth had liked it best the way she'd arranged it, graceful instead of overblown, but she supposed her mother knew best.

  "If you'd given me more time, I could have brought in a consultant from Austin to decorate the church and our home and arrange the flowers. As it is, I have to do everything myself. You're so inconsiderate."

  The unjust accusation hurt Beth. "Beulah and I are helping, Mother. And we cut all the greenery and

  flowers for you." Yesterday Beulah and Beth had cut flowers from the Pendleton garden and those of friends, plus ventured into the woods for ferns and other greenery. They'd woven garlands from part of the greenery on lengths of wire. "Besides, we could hare hired someone local
to do this."

  Her mother rewarded her with a glare. "And leave aft this to chance? I think not. No, it's a considerable burden to me on such a busy day, but I'll make certain the chapel looks properly decked out for a Pendleton wedding."

  Beth picked up a white silk ribbon and tied it on the end of a pew.

  "Not like that, dear. Must I do everything? We want them fuller." Mrs. Pendleton tugged the bow, then left it looking exactly as Beth had tied it. 'There, doesn't that look better?"

  Beth bit her tongue to stop the angry retort that sprang into her mind. She wanted this day to end. Once she'd thought this big wedding with her perfect dress was important. Now she just wanted the ceremony and reception behind her. She longed to be at Mason's home—no, Mason's and her home—where they could relax and enjoy each other's company away from constant criticism or unfair gossip.

  Beulah tapped her foot. "Mrs. Pendleton, if you're gonna redo everything me and Beth does, then we might as well leave you here and go home. I gots them cakes to frost and all."

  Beth's mother struck what Beth thought of as her martyred pose. "Does no one appreciate that I'm trying to uphold our position in society? The people in this town look to the Pendletons to set the standard of good taste. It's my duty to present the most gracious and elegant decorations possible with such short notice."

  Beulah rolled her eyes and picked up a length of ribbon.

  Beth didn't argue, but she suspected the people in town didn't give a fig about the decorations. They already thought she and her parents were snobs. Those who attended the wedding would come in hopes of seeing Beth jilted again and her parents embarrassed. This time, the naysayers would be disappointed. Mason would show up, and the wedding would proceed without a hitch.

  "Good thing it's sunny. If it rains, do you think the river might reach the chapel grounds?" Beth walked to the window and peeked out. She'd seen a heavy rain turn the Medina River into a boiling brown torrent with few crossing places. Today, the river looked peaceful, reflecting the deep blue of the sky.

  "Don't you worry, missy. The river ain't never come up this high. I reckon the folks what built this was just cautious." Beulah tied another ribbon. "Just like rich folks to donate land for a church where no one can't do nothing else with it."

  Mrs. Pendleton put her hands on her hips and glared. "Beulah, you know very well my father donated the land for this chapel. He was a generous civic leader and helped found the town."

  When Mrs. Pendleton would have touched the bow, Beulah glared, and Mrs. Pendleton went back to her flowers.

  "Yes'm, Mr. Ransom did at that." Beulah picked up another ribbon.

  Beth had the impression Beulah hadn't liked Beth's Grandfather Ransom. Recalling tales she'd heard of her mother's father, she reckoned no one had cause to like the man. Beth's mother had never said a word against Grandfather Ransom, of course, and talked as if she thought he hung the moon and stars.

  Others in town had less glowing things to say about him. He'd died when Beth was only eight, but she remembered him as a mean-spirited, cold, pompous man who sought the public eye and one who did not tolerate children. Not even his own grandchildren. He was said to have been relentless in forcing others to his will. Perhaps that explained why her mother couldn't show affection and why she thought appearances were so important.

  Beth returned to the pews and tied more bows. When she had finished one side of the wide aisle and Beulah completed the bench ends of the other side, they stood at the back of the chapel and admired the effect. She had to give her mother credit; the chapel looked beautiful—just as lovely as it had when she was to have wed George Denby and her mother brought in that expensive wedding consultant.

  George was the only of her three fiancées with whom she had actually gotten close to the ceremony, though news of his injury came early in the day long before Beth had donned her wedding finery.

  Beth's father had insisted he should arrange a suitable marriage for her, and three times he had pushed her into an engagement. For a different reason each time, three weddings had been cancelled. In spite of the embarrassment, she had been relieved when each ceremony was called off. She shuddered to think of the horrible life she would have had with any of those men, though she supposed George was nice enough.

  Her reprieves came through no fault of her own, but she still had to live with the pain and embarrassment of being jilted. Everyone in town talked about the snobbish, rich girl no one wanted to marry. After the second cancellation, talk of her being a jinx spread. To this day, she heard the whispers when she went into town for church or shopping—as if she were to blame for the shortcomings of the men chosen for her.

  It hurt, but she never showed that pain in public. Public humiliation at the hands of three men had hurt her, and the gossip that followed hurt more. Each cancelled ceremony had whittled away at her confidence. But Beth thanked God none of those weddings had occurred, because now she could wed a man she admired and who understood her.

  A large vase rocked and snapped Beth from her reverie. Mrs. Pendleton caught it before it fell.

  "Mother, those two urns look as if they might turn over easily. If they fall, they'll soak someone in the front pew."

  "They're exactly as I planned, so be careful not to brush against them. You see how the effect is visible even from the back pew? I'll warn Rachel since she'll be standing near one." Her mother joined them at the back of the chapel. "All we lack are the garlands."

  "I'll get the stepladder." Beth picked up two empty buckets and headed for the buckboard. At the top of the steps, she saw a wagon approach. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the driver. "Oh, look, Mason's here."

  Mrs. Pendleton rushed to the door and tugged on Beth's arm. "Hurry, back inside. He's not supposed to see you on your wedding day. It's bad luck, and you've had all of that I can stand."

  "Nonsense, Mother. Surely you don't believe that sort of thing. It would be rude not to greet him now that we've seen him."

  Besides, she wanted to see him. Wanted it a great deal. She needed him to reassure her he hadn't changed his mind. Beth descended the steps and set her paraphernalia in the buckboard.

  When the wagon drew alongside, Mason grinned at her before he climbed down, and his smile set her mind at ease. He wore denim pants and a gray-checked shirt with sleeves rolled against the summer heat, and straw and mire stuck to his work boots.

  "Hello, Mason. Hello, Mr. Vines. It's lucky for us you came. We need help with the garlands inside."

  Rowdy Vines tipped his hat. "Happy to oblige, ma'am." He hopped down and took the stepladder toward the chapel.

  Mason stood in front of Beth, staring as if he hadn't seen her in months instead of only yesterday. His warm gray eyes searched her as if he memorized each part of her.

  She smiled up at him. He was the handsomest man she knew and the kindest. "We decorated the chapel with flowers and such." What a silly thing to say when he knew why they were here. Suddenly, she felt shy and awkward as a schoolgirl with her first beau.

  Mrs. Pendleton stood with hands on her hips at the top of the steps. "You're not supposed to see the bride on the wedding day. You should have known we'd be here and stayed away."

  Mason paid her no mind except to remove his hat respectfully. "Already see Beth, so I might as well talk to her, ma'am." He resumed gazing at Beth. "You look pretty as the sunshine this morning."

  "Mason, you're hurt." When he'd removed his hat, she'd spotted a large bruise on a raised lump. Beth pushed his hair from his forehead. "Oh, there's a break in the skin." She didn't believe in the jinx, but this worried her. Did she bring bad luck to any fiancée? No, surely not.

  "Aw, I fell, but it's nothing. You know how my leg acts crazy sometimes." He nodded toward the wagon. "We're gonna spread this straw so if it rains people won't get so muddy or the buggies stuck."

  Mrs. Pendleton threw up her hands and went into the building with Rowdy. Beth was glad to see them go so she could talk with Mason alone.


  "That's real thoughtful of you, Mason." Beth could count on Mason to think of others before himself. She thanked her lucky stars she'd be wed to such a kind man. "I sure hope it won't rain. You know, 'Happy is the bride the sun shines on'?"

  He flashed that cocky grin that signaled he teased. "Afraid of bad luck?"

  Three

  Beth realized she wasn't afraid of bad luck anymore. She shook her head. "Not with you. I know you'd never let me down."

  "No, I never will. I promise you that." Mason took Beth's hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. "Let's take a stroll by the river."

  She looked back at the chapel, knew she should help her mother, and weighed her mother's irritability against her own desire to walk with Mason. He put his hand over hers, and that contact swayed her. Instead of the comfort his touch used to arouse, currents of lightning shot through her.

  Why would an engagement make a difference between her and a friend of more than twenty years?

  All she knew was that since she'd proposed to Mason, her reaction to him had changed. His presence incited escalating odd sensations, and she had the most scandalous thoughts. She questioned whether he had the same thoughts, and the heat of a blush reached her cheeks.

  There hadn't been time for proper courting. He'd called on her, but other than the day she proposed to him, they'd had no time alone. Her parents accompanied her to his home and that of his parents. When he called on her, one of her parents remained in the room. A hasty kiss on the cheek was all he'd given her, but his soulful looks let her know he wanted more.