Happy Is The Bride Read online

  Mason knew it hurt Beth when folks hereabouts called her snooty and cold or made fun because she'd been jilted so often, but she hid it from everyone else. He figured he was the only one in the county, besides maybe her housekeeper, Beulah, who'd ever seen her cry.

  Grandpa frowned and scratched his chin. "Who was that one in between Fred and George—the one who ran off with them actors that come through here?"

  Beau said, "Oh, yeah, Leon Tilton was his name, had him a law office. Took off with that blond with the long curls."

  Grandpa shook his head. "No, that actress was a redhead and a real looker. I ain't likely to forget her."

  Beau laughed. "Not her, Grandpa—him. Tilton turned into a Nancy Boy and took up with the tall blond man what wore that fancy velvet cape."

  Grandpa sat up straighter "Well, I'll be damned." He grabbed his drink and swigged a couple of gulps. "You mean Tilton was so upset at marrying the Ice Queen that he turned to another man? Don't that beat all? Still, I can't believe a fella would choose another fella over a looker like that redhead. Lordy, she had a tiny waist, but did you see the size of her—"

  "None of that matters!" Mason had heard more than enough speculation. "Her father picked those men, not Beth." He pointed a thumb at his chest. "She chose me, and by damn, I want all this rough talk about her to stop. Is that clear?"

  His kin all looked at the floor and mumbled.

  His mother came in carrying ajar. "Here you are, son. Let's put some ointment on that bruise." She pushed his hair back off his forehead and spread on the vile-smelling goo she used for most everything, but it eased the stinging pain.

  He saw his father and grandfather exchange looks before his father spoke. "How'd you get hurt?"

  "Blasted leg gave way. Fell out of the barn loft onto the wagon. Lucky for me the damned bed was full of straw."

  As usual when he or his father cussed, his mother pretended to be shocked. "Mason Whittaker, you watch your language." She put the lid on her ointment and left the room.

  His father and grandfather exchanged another meaningful look. Mason couldn't believe what he saw. Bad enough Grandpa believed that claptrap gossip, but Papa actually looked worried, as if he believed in the jinx nonsense, too.

  “Son, this doesn’t look good.” Papa shook his head. “You never fell out of a hayloft in your life before today.”

  Mason closed his eyes and counted to ten. He kept reminding himself that if he could get through this day without hitting anyone, he’d have Beth all to himself in their own home. That was likely to stop some of the gossip, and they’d be on the ranch and wouldn’t have to listen to the rest.

  Life with her promised to fulfill his dreams, and he'd do his damndest to make Beth happy. She'd be the mother of his children, his partner for life. All he had to do was hold on to his temper a few more hours. He exhaled, opened his eyes, and faced the other men in the room.

  Beau shook his head. "It's clear the jinx has started, cuz. Reckon what'll happen next?"

  ****

  As soon as they returned to the Pendleton home, Beulah started cooking the wedding cake frosting and giving orders to Emma, the daily girl. Beth mixed the lemonade punch, then helped her mother and father rearrange the already perfect drawing and dining rooms.

  Though he tolerated more from his wife than anyone else, Mr. Pendleton lost what little patience he possessed. "Louise, this is the third time we've moved the sofa. Be certain where you want it this time, because I'm not moving it again."

  "Oh, all right. Leave it there." Mrs. Pendleton cast an admiring gaze around the room. "Lovely. Now, I must bring the dress out of the airing closet so Beulah can press it."

  Mr. Pendleton patted Beth’s shoulder. “It looks quite impressive, doesn’t it? I hope that cowpuncher will provide you with a drawing room to match this someday.”

  "Mmm." Beth couldn't tell her father she'd never felt comfortable in this ornate room. She remembered visiting Mason's home over the years, but especially when his family invited hers as a get-better-acquainted gesture two weeks ago. Even on that occasion, when his mother must have wanted everything perfect, their home made visitors feel welcome and invited them to linger. How nice that must be.

  "Can you cook?"

  Beth had let her mind drift, and her father's question startled her. "What?"

  Her father was a handsome man, impressive with his military bearing and well-tailored wardrobe. Beth knew he loved her mother, for the only person to whom he ever displayed the slightest affection was his wife. Not that he criticized Beth constantly as her mother did, but he let her know his expectations and how she failed to meet them. In twenty-eight years, or at least as many of those as she remembered, he had never once told Beth she pleased him.

  Now he looked at her, examining her in that way of his that made her think he looked for flaws. "I asked if you can cook. I don't suppose that cowboy will hire you any servants."

  "He hired a girl to help me in the house, but she won't start until Monday." Beth stood straight and poised. "However, at the Meriweather School for Young Ladies of Good Families, I learned many skills needed to run a household. Others, such as cooking and cleaning, Beulah has taught me. I believe I'll make Mason a good wife. Certainly I intend to make every effort to please him and make him proud of me."

  Before her father could answer, a scream split the air. Beulah rushed from the kitchen and followed Beth and Mr. Pendleton up the stairs and into the guest room where Beth's dress had been stored since last year's cancelled wedding. The door to the airing room stood open, and Beth's mother half reclined on a couch.

  Mr. Pendleton halted in front of his wife. "Louise, are you all right? What on earth caused you to shriek like a banshee?"

  Mrs. Pendleton stared at the dress she'd thrown to the floor. "It's ruined. The wonderful, expensive dress Mr. Henri made is ruined, and there's no time to fix it."

  Five

  "Mother, what's wrong? The dress looks all right to me." Beth bent and gathered the folds of silk and satin, then spread it across the bed. "If some of the pearls or beads have fallen off, I can sew them back. Mr. Henri even left me a spool of thread. Oh, my stars ..."

  Apparently a mouse had nibbled away at the dress. A spot above the ruching and several inches up displayed the results of tiny teeth. Knowing the cost of the dress, Beth figured the mouse might as well have eaten pure gold dust.

  Mrs. Pendleton fanned herself with her handkerchief. "What will we do? Everyone knows Mr. Henri came from Galveston to make this dress and Rachel's. Oh, that awful Hazel Weldon will spread this over half the state." She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

  For once Mr. Pendleton looked at a loss for words, but he patted his wife's shoulder while Beulah and Beth examined the dress.

  "Mother, it looks as if it's only this one place. Oh, dear, it's right in front." Now that she finally had a reliable groom, she had no intention of letting a small rodent cheat her of her wedding splendor. She'd find a way to repair the dress.

  Beulah measured the hole with her hand. "You cut this out and hem it, this dress be too short in front. If you seam it up so it don't show, it'll be so tight you can't walk a step."

  "True. We need something to cover the holes." Beth searched the train. "If we remove one of the train ruffles to tack onto the front, the cut stitches would leave a mark in the satin. I think the same is true of the flowers at the shoulder."

  Mrs. Pendleton sobbed and pulled out her handkerchief. "We'll never match that satin. It's imported from Paris. Mr. Henri's seamstresses spent hours and hours embroidering with the beads." She looked up long enough to make a point. "They're pearls and Austrian crystals, you know, and ever so expensive."

  An idea occurred to Beth. "What if I take Grandmother's hanky—the one I intended to carry—and make a little waterfall of it here over the nibbles?"

  Beulah nodded. "You could do it; you're sure enough good with a needle. I'll get your sewing box and your grandmother's handkerchief."


  Beulah left, and Mr. Pendleton made his escape. Beth examined the dress to make certain the mouse hadn't any friends at work in another area. A few dozen loose beads rolled across the floor, freed by the hungry rodent's gnawing. Above the damage, thousands of beads formed butterflies that flitted among silk cord and beaded flowers on the skirt.

  The bodice and long train appeared undamaged. Beth loved this elegant dress, and she knew it displayed her figure to advantage. The dress had taken weeks for the couturier's staff to complete, and Beth thought it the prettiest dress she'd ever seen. It displayed her neck and shoulders much as a1 ball gown would. Determined Mason would be impressed when he saw her walk down the aisle, she'd fix the holes.

  Had she lost her mind? Mason knew her innermost thoughts; she didn't have to impress him. He'd been her rock through good times and bad, and she didn't have to put up a front for him. Though she wanted him to be proud of her, he'd always accepted her as he found her.

  Except, now she knew he loved her.

  That changed everything.

  ****

  Mason helped his cousin up from the floor. "Sorry, Beau, shouldn't have lost my temper, but you know I get riled when folks talk against Beth."

  "Damn, you haven't hit me since we were kids." Beau rubbed his jaw.

  Mr. Whittaker shook his head. "Mason, how many times have I told you to control that temper? That's what got you injured years ago. Dammit, you're a smart man. I'd think you would have learned from that horrible experience."

  Mason examined his knuckles and his cousin's jaw. "I know, Papa, I tried. Counted to ten, like you said I should. Even counted a second time. I swung before I could stop myself."

  His father sank onto a chair. "Son, you've made me proud, building up your share of the ranch like you have. You work hard and have a shrewd head for business. I don't understand how you can be all that and then lose your temper like you do."

  Embarrassment flooded Mason. He'd had the same argument with himself for years. "It's only when someone talks against Beth that it happens. Don't know what comes over me, but I see red and start swinging,"

  "Son, this is a serious problem. A married man can't be brawling like you and that Rasmussen boy did the day you were hurt so bad." Mr. Whittaker pounded his fist into the other hand. "That's what comes of losing control of your temper."

  "Don't you think I remember that every day of my life?" Mason looked down at his crooked leg. "I wish I'd never heard of Alfred Rasmussen. You can be damn sure Alfred wishes to hell he'd never heard of

  me.

  Beau rubbed at his jaw. "He moved to Galveston, didn't he?"

  "Yeah, thought the salt air might be good for his injury. Folks here never did take to him or his family." Mason closed his eyes, and the nightmare appeared of the fight he and Alfred had seventeen years ago. Alfred was larger, but Mason angrier. He was winning, too, until they rolled under a wagon. Alfred's arm and shoulder and Mason's leg were crushed.

  Beau rubbed his jaw and stared at Mason. "You know, I remember now why you lit into him. He called Beth a bad name. Tore her new dress trying to kiss her. She ran crying to you with him chasing her."

  "I-I don't remember that part." But he did. Lord, he'd never forget the sight of twelve-year-old Beth holding her torn dress up as she tore across the school yard after school with that bully Alfred running after her. Mason had sent her straight home while he tackled Alfred.

  Mason had never told anyone what started the fight, but he'd forgotten his cousin and others would have seen. Mason hadn't wanted Beth associated with that awful memory. She represented everything good to him. He didn't want her tainted by the accident that destroyed a part of his life.

  "Damn. Think this calls for another drink." Beau headed for the bar.

  Mason pushed the acrid memories away. He grabbed Beau's arm and steered him toward the kitchen. "Food will be better. You need to keep up your strength for the wedding." He'd bring back some food for his grandfather, who looked as if he were sinking in his chair with each drink. The old man could hold a lot of liquor, though, so probably he wouldn't even show the effects of the alcohol when he walked or talked.

  “You're going through with it, then." Mr. Whittaker followed Mason and Beau.

  "No reason not to. She's the one I've always wanted."

  "Hell, son, why didn't you ask her, then? Why let her get mixed up with those three worthless no accounts instead of speaking up?"

  Mason wished he could explain it. He couldn't admit to his father that he didn't feel worthy of a woman like Beth. "She always said I was her best friend and like a brother. What can a man say to that?"

  Mr. Whittaker shook his head. "Being friends is a good start, but thinking of you as a brother? Damn, that's hard to fight, but you sure as hell should have tried."

  'Yeah. Maybe, but I don't know if I ever would have asked her before. Soon as I finished my house and got settled, I reckon I would have. Now I don't have to because she saved me the trouble."

  He pushed Beau onto a chair at the table. Looked like his mother had set out food to feed several times as many kin as were expected. He lifted the kitchen towels laid across the food to keep out flies and sliced off a piece of ham. He laid the ham on Beau's plate.

  Beau looked up, and his mouth dropped open. "You mean she asked you? Well, I'll be damned. You never told me that."

  His mother set a cup of coffee in front of Beau. "Just shows she finally came to her senses. She never seemed like her pompous parents, and I always liked Beth. Now I know why." She raised on tiptoe and kissed Mason on the cheek. "Not a finer man in the county, unless it's your daddy."

  Beau pouted. "What about me, Aunt Millie?"

  Mrs. Whittaker patted Beau's shoulder. "You're drunk, Beau, but when you're sober you're a wonderful man. Now, eat something and drink your coffee before your folks arrive and see you in this sorry state." She peered at his face. "What happened to your jaw?"

  Mason looked at the floor.

  Beau smiled innocently. "I fell down."

  She patted his shoulder. "No wonder, dear, you've had far too much to drink." Mrs. Whittaker turned and shook her finger at her husband and son. "Don't let him have any more liquor."

  Mr. Whittaker filled his plate. "Son, you'd better look after your grandfather. He's already three sheets to the wind."

  "You sit down and eat, Mason." Mrs. Whittaker threw her dishtowel on the table. "Lawsy, I'll be glad to have a daughter-in-law. I'm tired of being stuck with a house full of men and no women but Josephina and me to show a lick of sense." She bustled out of the room.

  Beau looked at Mason and burped. "Reckon when Beth's feelings toward you changed?"

  Mason wondered the same thing. He'd known all these years that he loved Beth. When had she realized she loved him as a man and not merely as a friend? Whenever it was, he was damn glad she had because now his dreams were coming true. His own ranch, a new house and barn, and the woman of his dreams to live there with him. What could be better?

  Thinking his cousin could use more coffee, Mason crossed the kitchen and reached for the pot as Josephina rushed by. The back of his hand pushed onto the stove, and he jumped. The coffeepot fell, and the scalding brew hit his leg on the way to the floor.

  "Yeow!" He rushed for the water dipper and slung water on his britches where the coffee had spattered. When he turned around, the others in the room stared.

  Josephina crossed herself. "Madre deDios, it is true. Señorita Beth brings a curse."

  "Nonsense, Josephina." The cold water had taken the heat from the coffee if not from the cook's words, and Mason set to cleaning up the spill. "We make our own luck, and Beth Pendleton is not jinxed. In fact, marrying her will be lucky for me."

  "I beg your pardon, Señor Mason. Of course, you are right. She is a lovely young lady." Josephina took the towel from him. "Please, I will make more coffee and clean the floor. You must see to your burn."

  Mason looked at his hand, then down at his soaked britches. "Recko
n Mama will want to douse me with that awful-smelling goo if she sees me. I'll change and be back to eat."

  When he returned, Beau appeared somewhat restored by his food and strong coffee. Mason's grandfather also sat at the table and didn't look as if he'd had a drink in days.

  Mason fished out the gold band he'd bought Beth in Medina. He opened the box and looked at it.

  'That hers?" Beau peered at it, and his breath near knocked Mason over. His cousin needed a lot more sobering up before the ceremony.

  Mason took a step to the side, not wanting to hurt his cousin's feelings, but hoping to distance himself. "Yep. Got it in Medina. Didn't have a chance to ride to San Antonio or Austin like I wanted. Guess it'll do for a while until she can pick one out." But Mason had it inscribed in case Beth wanted this one.

  Mr. Whittaker picked it up and moved it back and forth in an attempt to focus the inscription. "What's it say inside?"

  Mason felt his face heat. "Says the date and 'Love Forever' and my initials."

  Instead of ribbing him as Mason expected, his father merely nodded. "Nice." Mr. Whittaker slid it back into the box. "She'll like having words inside. Women are crazy for things like that."