Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] (34 page)

Brenda practically shook with rage. “What an awful, awful man. Kip didn’t want to let his family know about the wedding, but I insisted and . . .”

Tuning her sister out, Jenny fanned herself to hide her inner turmoil.
You’ll know by the signs. God’s signs
. After all, what were the chances that Horace Blackman—the man who ruined her life—was Kip’s cousin? Could God possibly have been any clearer?

God wanted her to leave town. Not tomorrow as planned, but today. The realization left her shaken. She hadn’t known until that moment how very much she wanted to stay.

Brenda touched Jenny’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s hot.” Trembling, she slumped against the outer wall of the church to brace herself. Her stomach was tied in knots. Her mouth dry, she fought the suffocating sensation in her throat.

How could this happen? On this of all days. She’d thought that once she left Haswell she would be able to put the past behind her. That hadn’t happened. If anything, the past haunted her more and the nightmares didn’t stop. Still, this was the worst nightmare of all.

“What are we going to do about Mary Lou?” Brenda asked.

Mary Lou!
She’d been so distressed at seeing Blackman she’d almost forgotten her missing sister.

Just then a horse and carriage raced up the hill so fast it almost didn’t make the turn. No sooner had the carriage pulled up in front than Mary Lou jumped to the ground. Her skirt gathered in her hands, she ran toward them. By the time she reached the church, her crown was askew, her bouquet missing flowers, and her face flushed.

“Look at you,” Jenny scolded. “Where have you been?”

Before Mary Lou could answer, a ghastly sound rose from the interior of the church.

“What in the world?” Had a sick cow somehow wandered inside to die? Jenny yanked open the door, ready to do whatever necessary to save the day. Kip Barrel’s voice stopped her from charging inside the church.

He stood in front of the altar facing the crowd, his face a brilliant red. Whether from the heat or embarrassment at the awful sound he emitted, it was hard to know.

Jenny groaned. After all her hard work, Barrel had ruined everything.

Behind her, Brenda gasped in delight. “He’s singing.” She pushed Jenny out of the way. “Oh, I did so hope he would.” Despite Jenny’s protests, Brenda pulled the door all the way open, not caring who saw her in her wedding gown.

Barrel spotted her immediately. He fell silent and motioned for Ma to stop playing. A strained silence followed. Brenda smiled at him and blew him a kiss. He smiled back and wiggled his fingers at her. He then gestured for Ma to begin again.

Groans of protests rose from the wedding guests. Several clapped their hands over their ears.

Then the most amazing thing happened. Kip’s gaze riveted upon Brenda’s face, he opened his mouth, and this time his rich tenor voice rolled over the crowd like warm honey. Singing in Italian, he shaped each phrase lovingly with his hands. His body moved with exquisite timing. No one could understand the words, but it didn’t matter. His eyes, his voice, his every move expressed his utmost feelings for his bride.

When the last note faded away, he took his place at the altar next to Jeff. Women dabbed at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs and sniffled. Men cleared their throats.

“Wasn’t that the most beautiful sound you ever heard?” Brenda said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Mary Lou’s eyes held a suspicious sheen.

Jenny pulled the girls away from the door. “It was beautiful,” she agreed. Kip never failed to amaze her, and never more so than today.

Brenda gave an indignant nod. “I wonder what his horrible cousin has to say now?”

Mary Lou wrinkled her nose. “What horrible cousin?”

“Never mind,” Jenny said, her voice sharper than she meant. She quickly straightened Mary Lou’s crown and checked Brenda’s dress.

The piano music began again, and the shuffling of feet announced that the guests had risen and were waiting for the brides to start down the aisle.

“This is it,” Jenny whispered. A lump rose in her throat. “I really am going to miss you both.”

“Not if you stay in Rocky Creek,” Mary Lou said.

Brenda tugged Jenny’s sleeve. “Please say you will.”

“I—” Jenny didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep, but neither did she want to put a damper on their special day. “We’ll see.”

Mary Lou squeezed her hand. “The marshal—”

Jenny stopped her. She couldn’t think about Rhett. Not now. Not ever. “Stand up tall,” she said in a desperate attempt to put him out of her mind. “Take dainty steps. Act like ladies.” She caught herself and laughed. “You better go before I really do turn you into ladies.”

Her sisters laughed too. Then Mary Lou surprised her by throwing her arms around her. “I love you, Jenny. You’re the best sister ever.”

Brenda joined the hug. “Oh, you are, you are.”

“I love you both too.” Fighting back tears, Jenny pushed her sisters toward the church door. “Go. Your bridegrooms are waiting.”

Neither Mary Lou nor Brenda argued with her.

Brenda went first. She floated down the aisle, her skirt billowing around her like a soft, puffy cloud.

Mary Lou was prepared to follow, but Timber Joe refused to let her in the church. Instead he glared at her and said, “No spies allowed.”

Mary Lou glanced helplessly at Jenny. “What’s he talking about?”

Jenny touched him on the arm. “Let Mary Lou in. We don’t want to keep the groom waiting.” When appealing to his lucid side didn’t work, she tried another tactic. “Timber Joe, open that door. Now.” Her voice stern, she continued, “Or I will report you to your commanding officer.”

This time her approach worked. Timber Joe stood at attention and saluted. He then pulled the door open and stepped aside.

Mary Lou started down the aisle, looking more beautiful than Jenny had ever seen her look. Both young women took their places in front of the altar next to their respective fiancés.

Reverend Wells stood in front of the two couples. “Dearly beloved . . .”

Jenny watched from the back of the church as both couples pledged to love and cherish each other forevermore. Tears rolled down her cheeks, tears of happiness and joy. Tears of sadness. Her sisters were in good hands. They no longer needed her. She never thought in a million years she would ever say it but . . . oh, did she need them!

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Reverend Wells said, addressing the guests, “I present Mr. and Mrs. Barrel and Mr. and Mrs. Trevor.”

“Be happy,” Jenny mouthed, wiping away her tears. “God bless.”

Whispering a final good-bye, she slipped away.

Twenty-nine

Eschew secrets, for they are normally discovered at the worst
possible time. If confronted, weep and deny everything.

— M
ISS
A
BIGAIL
J
ENKINS
, 1875

R
hett stared at the wedding invitation, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it at the waste basket. He missed.

Jenny was leaving. He couldn’t bear the thought, but there was nothing he could do. She’d made her feelings more than clear.

He stared at the stack of paper on his desk, mostly telegrams. He knew from experience that more than half would contain advertisements for products he had no use for or appeals from charitable organizations that didn’t exist.

He pulled a letter off the pile and slit it with a wax-seal letter opener. With everyone at the church, maybe he could get some work done.

He unfolded the handbill. Another
WANTED
poster, this one for a James Witter for cattle rustling. He studied the sketch. Not recognizing the man, he tossed it aside.

Feeling restless, he stood and stretched then stepped outside. The town was deserted except for the horses tethered in front of the saloons. Some he recognized. Some he didn’t. Most locals were at the church. His gaze drifted to the hotel at the end of the street.

Barrel’s Barbershop, Fairbanks General Merchandise, and the Rocky Creek Café and Chinese Laundry were closed. The Wells Fargo stage thundered past on its way out of town, but he gave it no heed.

He stepped back into his office and slammed the door. Peace and quiet. Just what he needed. Maybe he’d clear the pile of papers off his desk and call it a day. He could go home, of course, but the thought of being alone in his room at the boardinghouse seemed even less appealing than staying in town.

Fishing. Ah, now there was a thought. He could go fishing. He would have done that, too, had two blue eyes not gotten in the way.
Her
eyes. Jenny’s.

He squeezed his fists tight. Ever since the war, he’d kept himself from feeling. It was the only way he could get through the years. It wasn’t easy. It meant keeping his distance and never getting close to anyone. It meant being forever on guard. It was a lonely way to live, but the only way he
could
live.

Lately, however, everything conspired against him. Jenny. Scooter. Jason. Even Maxwell had gotten to him. Then there was Reverend Wells, who continued to believe Rhett’s guilt and grief distanced him from God and everyone else.

Was it possible that the good preacher was right? Had his guilt for accidentally killing his best friend kept him from giving of himself completely to anyone, including God, and most assuredly, Jenny? Was that why he had so much trouble putting his feelings into words?

He didn’t know the answer to that. What he did know was that somewhere along the line the hard shell around his heart had cracked and it hurt. It hurt real bad.

She cares for you
.

He shook his head. Mary Lou didn’t know what she was talking about.

You made her laugh again
.

He swallowed hard. No argument there. He could make her laugh. He could make her angry. He could even get her to respond to his kisses. The question was, could he make her love him? He opened his eyes wide.

You can’t make someone love you. You can’t.

Of course he couldn’t. But what if Mary Lou was right and Jenny already loved him? Was that even possible? He thought about the times he caught her staring at him only to turn away when he stared back. The times she crossed over to the other side of the street when she saw him coming. Was she really rejecting him, as it seemed, or was something else afoot?

And what earthly difference did it make? The thought made him groan. Even after all Reverend Wells’s counseling these last few weeks, he still resisted any possible chance for his own happiness.

He paced back and forth, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the simple and honest truth. He was hopelessly in love with Jenny and couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving town.

Leonard, forgive me, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t
.

Having finally cut the bond that tied him to the past, he still felt no peace. She could easily reject him—reject him as she had so many times before.

He tightened his fists along with his resolve. She wouldn’t. Not this time. He wouldn’t let her. Neither grief nor guilt would hold him back. This time he would go to her with everything he had.

He reached for his hat and left his office on the run. Seconds later he was astride his horse and galloping up the winding road to the church.

People stood in knots outside when he arrived. Ma and some of the ladies provided cake and lemonade for the guests. The newlyweds stood slightly away from the milling guests, posing for photographs on the church grounds.

He tethered his horse and pushed his way through the crowd. Where was Jenny?

“Want some cake, Marshal?” Timber Joe called.

He shook his head. “Have you seen Jenny?”

“Not for a while.”

He glanced around before striding quickly toward Mrs. Hitchcock, who was arguing with Mrs. Taylor about hat styles.

“Have either of you seen Jenny?” Rhett interrupted.

“Not since before the wedding,” Mrs. Taylor said. Without missing a beat, she continued her discourse. “No woman should be caught dead in a hat that defies the law of gravity.”

Leaving the two squabbling women behind, he hurried over to Mary Lou, who was finished posing for her photograph. “Where’s Jenny?” he asked.

Mary Lou looked worried. She glanced up at her new husband before answering. “I don’t know. I just hope she hasn’t already left town.”

He took a step back. Left? Already? While the newlyweds and guests were still celebrating? “She wouldn’t do that without saying good-bye.” He frowned.
Would she?

“Maybe she’s at the hotel,” Trevor said.

That was a thought. “I’ll check it out.” Rhett tried to sound confident for Mary Lou’s sake.

Loud voices rose above the soft murmurings of wedding guests. Everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at Kip Barrel quarreling with a stranger.

Torn between looking for Jenny and stopping an escalating argument, Rhett hesitated a moment before rushing toward them.

Barrel’s face was red with fury. Next to him, Brenda looked about to burst into tears.

The stranger’s voice sliced through the air like a sword. “Her sister’s a tramp. How do you know your wife’s any less?”

Barrel drew back his fist, but before he could throw his punch, Rhett stepped in front of him.

“Break it up.” Rhett gave Brenda a look of sympathy and glared at Barrel. “What’s the matter with you? This is your wedding day.”

Barrel didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “He has no right to call Jenny a tramp.”

Rhett stared at him. “Jenny?” He turned to the stranger and felt an instant dislike. “Who
are
you?”

“My name’s Horace B. Blackman III. Kip Barrel and I are cousins.”

“You’re related?”

That was a surprise. The men were complete opposites in appearance. Blackman’s compact body was no match for Barrel’s impressive size, but what he lacked in height and width he made up for in fashion and arrogance.

“I suggest you and your cousin work out your differences some other time,” Rhett said.

Blackman sneered. “It’s too late for that. He already married the tramp’s sister.”