Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] (33 page)

“You could tutor,” Brenda suggested.

“Maybe you could work at the café,” Mary Lou added. “Mr. Reeder is looking for help.”

Their concern touched her heart, but none of their suggestions seemed right. Staying in town would mean staying close to Rhett, and that was too painful to contemplate.

“I don’t think pouring week-old coffee is what God has planned for me,” she said.

Her sisters stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a beard, and she could well guess their thoughts. It wasn’t like her to leave things in God’s hands, but she was trying. She really was trying.

“Don’t look so sad. We’ll write to each other nearly every day and I’ll visit you at least once a year.”

Brenda looked close to tears. “That won’t be the same.”

“You’ll both be married and busy with your new lives,” Jenny said with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “You won’t have time to think about me.”

Brenda’s eyes watered and it was all Jenny could do to swallow the lump in her own throat. Her sisters had been a pain at times. Many were the days she resented having to care for them. Still, she never imagined how much it hurt to lose them, even to something as wonderful as marriage.

Refusing to give in to her emotions, she clapped her hands briskly. “Come along now. We don’t want to be late.”

Brenda wiped away her tears and Mary Lou looked relieved. Jenny was back to her old bossy ways.

Jenny peered out the window. Two carriages were parked out front. “Ah, our rides are here. Brenda, you come with me. Mary Lou, you take the second one.”

She handed each girl a flower bouquet while she fired off instructions. It was the only way she could keep her emotions under control. “Stand tall. Take little steps. Act like ladies.” She stared at Mary Lou’s bodice. “Please tell me you’re not wearing bosom enhancers.” It was obvious, of course, that she was by the unnatural curves of her figure.

After confiscating Mary Lou’s bosom pads, she led the way out the door and down the stairs. Jeff had arranged for their transportation to the church and had sent two of his workers to drive the open carriages.

Jenny took one more look at her sisters, and this time she couldn’t hold back the tears.

Mary Lou took her time climbing onto the seat of the second carriage. She fiddled with her gown until the one carrying Brenda and Jenny left. What she wouldn’t give to have her bosom enhancers back. Why, oh, why hadn’t she sent away to Montgomery Ward’s for two pairs instead of one?

She took her place in the passenger seat. No sooner had they started down Main Street than she ordered the driver to stop.

He pulled to the side of the road to allow a wagon to pass in the other direction. He pushed his felt hat back. He was dressed in a lumberman’s cropped pants but had traded the usual caulked boots for regular ones.

“Is everything all right, ma’am?” he asked. His ebony skin glistened beneath the hot afternoon sun.

Though she had her reservations, she nodded. “Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She handed the driver her bouquet then picked her way carefully down the carriage steps so as not to damage her gown. One hand holding the wreath of flowers on her head, she gathered her skirts in the other and dashed to the marshal’s office.

He looked surprised to see her. “You make a mighty pretty bride,” he said. “Jeff Trevor is a lucky man.”

Ignoring his compliment, she stood in front of his desk. She had to do this quickly or not at all. “Jenny’s leaving.”

A muscle twitched at his jaw. “Leaving?” He frowned. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

He started to rise but then fell back in his chair. “So soon after your wedding?”

Mary Lou nodded. “You’ve got to stop her.”

He rubbed a hand across his chin. “I don’t know that I can.”

“If anyone can stop her, it’s you.” Hands on his desk, she leaned forward beseechingly. “I know you think I’m making this up, but I’m not. She cares for you. She really, really does. You have to believe me.”

He brows knitted. “As much as I would like to believe you, I’m not sure it’s true.”

“It
is
true,” she cried out. “There’s a lot you don’t know about her.”

He looked tired, suddenly, his face drawn. “You better go or you’ll be late for your wedding.”

She stood her ground. “I’m not going until you hear me out.”

His eyebrow rose in protest, but he indicated with a nod of his head that he would listen. As if he had a choice.

The more she knew about Jeff, the more she loved him. Maybe if the marshal knew more about Jenny, his love would grow so much he couldn’t bear to let her go.

So she told him about that long-ago winter. “Jenny decided to walk the ten miles to town in the storm. She was gone for two days, and we thought we would never see her again.

“When she came back, she was driving a carriage filled with food, firewood, and medicine.” Her voice choked with memories. “After that, Jenny was never the same. She even stopped laughing. We never knew what happened during those two days, but it changed her.”

He scratched his temple, a puzzled look on his face. “This is all very interesting, but I still don’t know why you think she has feelings for me.”

“Because you made her laugh again,” Mary Lou said. It was as simple as that. After that terrible time, Jenny became serious, her cheery disposition nothing more than a memory. “You were the only one able to do that.”

Something like a low flame flickered in his eyes. His hand curved into a fist as if holding on to something he didn’t want to let go.

The door opened and the driver poked his head inside. “Ma’am, if we don’t get a move on, you’ll be late for your own weddin’ and my boss ain’t gonna like that.”

Mary Lou gave the marshal one last beseeching look. “Please, you’re the only one who can make her stay.”

With that she turned and followed the driver back to the carriage.

Twenty-eight

Once your vows are exchanged, devote yourself to domestication—his.

— M
ISS
A
BIGAIL
J
ENKINS
, 1875

J
enny insisted Brenda wait in the carriage until the last of the guests were ushered inside the church and seated. Many clutched their “wedding tickets” and almost all wore their best bibs and tuckers.

Jenny stood on the steps of the church, anxiously peering inside. Timber Joe was the self-appointed sentinel. Rifle flung over his shoulder and dressed in his usual Rebel uniform, he looked over every guest before allowing them inside.

Bouquets of wildflowers tucked in every nook and cranny filled the church with an array of bright colors. Brenda’s favorite bluebonnets were no longer in bloom, but the golden waves and purple verbenas more than made up for them. Red and yellow coneflowers looked like high-crowned hats worn at Mexican fiestas. Yellow-tipped firewheels sprouted from knots and nail holes like little whirligigs waiting to spin at the slightest breath.

Both bridegrooms stood in the front of the church. Kip looked perfectly at ease in his dark trousers and frock coat. Dressed in a similar suit, Jeff moved like he was encased in plaster of Paris. The poor man was used to clothes that allowed him the freedom of movement necessary for his job. He kept fiddling with his collar and cuffs and pulling at the knees of his pants.

Ma, Jeff Trevor’s grandmother and owner of the boardinghouse where Kip Barrel lived, took her place at the piano. She smiled at both bridegrooms like a proud mother hen. She then arranged the sheets of music before lowering her hands upon the yellowed keys.

Wondering what was keeping Mary Lou, Jenny motioned for Brenda to join her.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Jenny ran down her list. Everything was in tip-top order—everything except the last thing on her list. At the bottom of the page she had written
Rhett Armstrong
. She had no memory of writing his name, but there it was, clear as day. Her gaze swept over the seated guests one more time on the off chance she had missed his handsome dark head.

Sarah rushed up with little Elizabeth in tow. The child wore an ankle-length white dress layered in ruffles and tied at the waist with a big blue bow. Her hair fell down her back in a riot of curls. Copper toe caps on her black leather boots gleamed in the sun.

“Don’t you look fancy,” Jenny said, and the little girl beamed with pleasure. “Where are Jason and Scooter?”

Sarah gave a fond smile. “We’re makin’ progress with those boys, but gettin’ ’em in their Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes on a Saturday is pushin’ our luck.”

Jenny laughed. “I remember how hard it was to get Scooter to take a bath.” It did her heart good to know that Scooter and his brother had found a good home. “How kind of you and the pastor to take care of them. You already have your hands full with Elizabeth. I’m not sure how you’ll manage when the baby comes.”

“We’ll manage just fine,” Sarah said. “The boys really aren’t that much trouble, and I do have some good news.” She could barely contain her joy. “Justin has been working with Matt Maxwell, and the Lord has seen fit to touch the man’s heart. Losin’ his boys hit him hard. He’s gonna take the cure. Said he owes it to the memory of his wife.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jenny said, adding a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
God, please let it work, for his sons’ sake
.

Sarah gushed over Brenda. “I reckon there’s never been a more beautiful bride.” Sarah’s middle had grown considerably in the last couple of weeks, but she glowed with an inner contentment that Jenny envied.

Jenny walked Sarah to the door of the church. “I’ve been reading the Bible you gave me.”

Sarah looked pleased. “I hope it helped.”

Jenny nodded. “I was just wondering . . .” Feeling foolish, she bit her lower lip before forcing herself to continue. “The Bible says God has a plan for us.”

“He does,” Sarah said. “Oh, Jenny, He does.”

“How do you know? I mean, I don’t know what God wants me to do.” She couldn’t make up her mind whether to stay in Texas or go somewhere else. Should she try to open her own business or tutor? None of her ideas seemed quite right.

“I feel like I’m caught in a crosscurrent. I don’t know which way to turn.” Jenny prayed for God’s guidance, but so far, no answers had been forthcoming.

Sarah’s mouth curved upward. “You’ll know by the signs.”

Jenny frowned. “Signs? What signs?”

“God’s signs.” Sarah leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You just have to open your eyes. God’s leadin’ the way.” Smiling, Sarah took Elizabeth by the hand and ambled into the church.

Ignoring the heaviness in her heart, Jenny stepped back. She signaled for Timber Joe to close the doors of the church.

Signs? From God? Of all the foolish notions. Nevertheless, she looked around before catching herself. Shaking her head at the absurdity of it, she peered anxiously at the road leading up to the church.

“Where is she?” Jenny muttered. She paced back and forth, growing more worried by the minute. Both carriages had left the hotel at the same time. How was it possible that Mary Lou had not yet arrived?

“Maybe she’s having second thoughts,” Brenda suggested.

Second thoughts? About marrying Jeff Trevor? Jenny didn’t believe that for a second. Not after the way she bemoaned every minute she and Jeff were apart during her bout with poison ivy.

The sound of wagon wheels lifted her spirits until she realized a shay, not a carriage, raced up the hill toward them. The vehicle pulled up in front of the church and a well-dressed man stepped to the ground. He looked like an Easterner in his dark suit and high hat, and he carried a gold-tipped cane.

Ignoring him, Jenny attended to Brenda’s veil, which didn’t need fixing but gave her something to do to quiet her nerves. While she worked she kept one eye on the road.

She didn’t pay any attention to the man until he spoke. “Hello, Jennifer.”

The sound of his voice turned her blood cold. Only one person called her Jennifer. She straightened and stared at the face straight out of her nightmares. The face of Horace B. Blackman III.

Her jaw dropped.
Dear God, not now. Not today of all days
. “What . . . what are you doing here?” she stammered.

His tight-lipped smile failed to reach his eyes. Funny how she failed to miss that at the age of fifteen.

“I’m here for the wedding. Kip Barrel is my cousin. Unfortunately, the task of representing the family fell on my shoulders.” His eyes slid down the length of her, a look of possessiveness in their depths. “It’s been awhile.”

Looking at him now, Jenny wondered how she ever imagined that he was a kind and caring man. How young she had been. How innocent. How utterly trusting.

Brenda glanced at Jenny, her expression dark with uncertainty. “You two know each other?”

“Yes, my family owns property in Haswell. I would say we know each other quite well, wouldn’t you agree, Jennifer?” His voice thick with innuendo, his gaze bored into hers. “Very well, indeed.”

Hands held tight by her side, Jenny could hardly hide her contempt. “We knew each other a long time ago,” she said, her voice cold.

He shrugged as if the intervening years had not existed, and he gave Brenda a critical squint. “My cousin neglected to mention the name of his bride in his telegram. You are?”

“Brenda Higgins.”

He bowed slightly. “Horace Blackman III, at your service.” He stared at Timber Joe with a careful eye and glanced at the church with equal disdain.

“Hard to believe my cousin would settle in a town like this. A barber no less.” He scoffed. “He always was the black sheep in the family. At least he’s no longer making a fool of himself onstage.”

Brenda’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s a talented singer. Had his family been less critical and more supportive, maybe—”

Jenny stopped Brenda with a hand to her arm. Nothing, not even Horace Blackman, was going to spoil her sister’s wedding day.

She wanted to shrink beneath his mocking gaze, but she forced herself to stand her ground. “Please go inside and find a seat.”

“Very well.” He tipped his hat. “Perhaps we can catch up on old times after the ceremony.” With that, he gave the weathered church steps a tap with his cane, pushed past Timber Joe, and vanished inside.