Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

“Maybe he won’t run for the hills this time.”

  She stopped in front of the lopsided pedestal, facing Pastor. Her jaw clamped down. She felt her nostrils flare and wondered if steam was rising from the top of her head.

  Pastor started talking, and the whispering quieted.

  Please, God. Get me through this.

  He began a message on the sanctity of marriage, droning on. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t even a real wedding. Thank God, she thought, remembering who was at her side.

  Travis stood close, his arm touching hers. Its warmth added to the furnace inside the dress, and a sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Her shallow breaths challenged her heart to a race. Hard to say which was in the lead.

  Breathe, Shay, breathe.

  How did this happen? He must’ve talked Miss Lucy into it somehow. Lied to her or something. The woman would never put her through this agony intentionally. She was the one person who knew the depth of pain Travis McCoy had caused. Knew exactly how the gossip and rumors had about been the death of her.

  She was going to kill him. As soon as this was over. As soon as the crowd left. She would tighten that bolo tie until his face went tomato red.

  No. She would hold him under the falls until he begged for mercy.

  Better yet—

  “Face one another, please,” Pastor Blevins said.

  She turned and followed the pearly white buttons up Travis’s shirt. Up past his stubborn jaw, past his crooked nose, to his gray eyes.

  She narrowed her own and hoped he could read her every thought. Self-absorbed, bigheaded, egotistical—

  “Joseph Edward Adams,” the pastor continued, “wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”

  You man enough to say it this time?

  “I will.” His voice boomed, deep and certain.

  Easy enough when you’re pretending, isn’t it?

  “Prudence Jane Wilcott, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”

  Not a chance in—

  “Wilt thou love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health . . .”

  Ha!

  “. . . and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?”

  Won’t be long for you, anyway. She unlocked her jaw and squeezed the words out. “I will.”

  “Joseph, take your bride’s right hand.”

  Travis took her hand. The grin had slipped from his mouth and wariness had crept into his eyes.

  “Say after me the followeth: I, Joseph Edward Adams, take thee, Prudence Jane Wilcott, to be my wedded wife.”

  “I, Joseph Edward Adams . . .”

  She had to pull it together. Her profile was in full view of the crowd. She lifted her chin. Don’t let them see how riled you are. Do not dig your nails into his palm.

  Pastor Blevins fed the next lines, and Travis continued. Shay forced herself to look him in the eye.

  “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”

  The steadiness of his gaze, the words, spoken softly and firmly, reached deep into her core. Despite her best efforts, the knot of anger began to loosen.

  She remembered their times down by the creek, just the two of them, when they had a lifetime of love stretching ahead. Remembered the first time he’d kissed her, at sixteen, in her parents’ barn, on a dare.

  “To love and to cherish,” Travis continued. “Till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my love.”

  How could graceful words sound so masculine? How could she be so angry with him one minute and want to fall into his gray eyes the next?

  He’s only acting, Shay Brandenberger, and don’t you forget it. The man had a future in Hollywood.

  But the real problem was plain to her now. The hold he’d had on her way-back-when hadn’t gone away. Not after a painful desertion, and not after a fourteen-year separation. It was like he’d never left. Like her emotions had picked up right—A squeeze on her hand pulled her to the present. Pastor Blevins and Travis stared expectantly. “Oh, uh . . .”

  Words! A trail of sweat trickled down the center of her back.

  “I—” she began. “Prudence Jane Wilcott, take thee, Joseph Edward Adams, to be my wedded husband.”

  The pastor fed her the remaining lines, and she repeated them, taking care to steady her voice.

  As she spoke, Travis’s face softened, his eyes taking on a sadness she hadn’t seen in forever. Not since his dog Sparky had been trampled by a horse when he was sixteen. He’d shed actual tears as he’d told her, then she’d cradled his head in her lap and had run her fingers through his hair.

  There were no tears now, but she wondered if that wasn’t regret mingling with the sadness in his eyes.

  “Let us pray.”

  She closed her eyes. Wished she could keep them closed until her neighbors were gone. Until Travis was back in Texas where he belonged. How could his parents have asked this of him?

  “. . . through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. Joseph, take the ring and repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my worldly possessions, I thee endow.”

  Travis placed the cheap gold band on her finger and repeated the words. The ring. That’s where all this had started. Or rather, where it all had ended.

  Pastor Blevins handed her a band and instructed her to do the same. She placed the ring on Travis’s thick, squared ring finger, then wetted her parched lips and repeated the vow.

  As she finished, a gust of wind blew, and a paper on the pedestal sailed off. They both reached for it, but Travis caught it and replaced it.

  “Forasmuch as Joseph and Prudence hath consented together . . .”

  The ring on her finger felt cool and alien. She thought back fourteen years and wondered if Travis had ever gotten her that ring at all. If he had, he’d probably sold it at the nearest pawnshop on his way to fame and fortune.

  Had he even wondered how she’d get home from Cody, or had she disappeared from his mind the instant he’d left? Had he grieved the end of their love? The end of their friendship?

  Her eyes swung to his. Did you even love me? How could you end what we had? You were my first love, my everything. Was it really that easy to give me up?

  Time had etched fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and the sun had permanently stamped them. His face was more angular, his jawline square and strong, and his hair longer. He’d always turned heads, but he was handsomer now than ever.

  A breeze came and ran its fingers through the dark strands, taunting her. She used to do the same thing. He had a ticklish spot behind his ear—

  Stop it, Shay.

  She had to be on guard. He was her Achilles’ heel. Her kryptonite. Her—

  “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” Pastor Blevins’s smile bunched his chubby cheeks.

  Almost over. Almost over. Almost—

  “Joseph,” the pastor said, “you may now kiss your bride.”

  7

  Travis watched the emotions flicker over Shay’s face and wished they weren’t standing in front of the whole town. Wished they weren’t in the middle of a solemn occasion so he could say something to erase the hurt in her eyes.

  Instead, he tightened his hand on hers and prayed for a quick ending.

  Minutes ago she’d been mad as a hornet, his little wildcat, her olive eyes spitting amber sparks. In her younger days she would’ve smacked him then and there. Anger had always been her default, and that hadn’t changed.

  And she had plenty to be angry about.

  Her composure had fallen as the pastor spoke words of love, and that’s when the hurt sur
faced. Now he just wanted to take her in his arms and say he was a hundred kinds of sorry.

  Sorry he’d hurt her. Sorry he’d been too young and foolish to realize how special she was. Sorry, he thought, watching the ache wash across her face, that “sorry” might just be too little, too late.

  “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

  It was almost over, and he felt the moment slipping through his fingers like floodwaters through a barbed wire fence. His hand tightened on hers.

  “Joseph,” Pastor Blevins said, “you may now kiss your bride.”

  She widened her eyes, parted her lips.

  Founders Day tradition dictated a peck on the cheek, but Travis had never been a follower.

  He lowered his head and took advantage of her surprise. Her lips were soft as a rose petal and just as pliable.

  He’d meant it to be a quick, comforting brushing of lips, but then she responded. Just the faintest movement. The yielding lit a fire in his belly that wouldn’t be extinguished anytime soon. He went back for seconds.

  I’ve missed you so much.

  He took her face in his hands, wanted to thread his fingers through that long thick hair and pull her closer.

  But then two palms planted into his chest and pushed hard.

  Her eyes spat sparks. She dragged the back of her hand across her lips as if wiping the kiss away.

  Won’t be as easy as that, darlin’.

  Her eyes narrowed as her chin lifted.

  “May the Lord shower this blessed union with love and peace, and may you abide in His love all the days of your lives. Amen.”

  At the pastor’s nod, Travis took Shay’s hand, cold as ice, tucked it in his arm, and led her down the aisle.

  Halfway down, a stage whisper, loud enough to be heard from the next county . . . “You’d think she’d learn . . .”

  Shay’s fingers dug into his arm.

  Priscilla Teasley. Old busybody. He found her in the crowd and silenced her with a glance.

  Anyone else? His eyes scanned the assembly. Didn’t think so.

  Shay’s pace had quickened. They were at the back of the crowd, which was now beginning to disperse and buzz with chatter. He could only imagine what they were saying. Why had he let Miss Lucy talk him into this? Despite Shay’s bravado, he knew the truth. He’d done nothing but humiliate her. And kissing her like that . . . what was he thinking?

  As they entered the coolness of the woods, her foot caught on a tree root. He drew her arm close to his side.

  She jerked away, pulled free, then hiked her dress and stalked down the path.

  “Shay, wait.”

  She whirled, shooting him all kinds of angry. “Don’t you say one more word to me. Not. One. More. Word.” She removed the ring and flung it at him.

  He caught it against his chest.

  She wiped the back of her fingers across her mouth again.

  He felt her pain. Not so easy, is it, sweetness?

  She turned and walked away, dress hiked to the top of her boots, a sliver of her legs showing.

  A hard pit formed in his gut as he watched her stalk away. If she wasn’t angry enough before, she sure as shooting was now. The apology would have to wait. He pocketed the cheap ring and followed the path toward his truck, not wanting the others to catch up just now.

  When he reached the clearing, he made his way to his truck. Shay was long gone, just as he figured. He put the vehicle in drive and pulled onto the highway as the crowd began trickling from the woods.

  The cool air felt good on his skin. He pulled at the bolo tie and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt. Least this ceremony wasn’t as bad as the last one. Of course, the last one had never happened. He remembered the day like it was yesterday.

  Shay looked so beautiful, sitting beside him in his truck. Her silky dress flowed over her perfect body like a glistening waterfall. She had saved all summer for the gown, and it fit her to perfection.

  Everything was set. Travis didn’t know why his heart kicked him in the ribs, why his palms stuck to the steering wheel. They’d planned this for weeks. When they returned to Moose Creek, they’d be husband and wife.

  He swallowed hard.

  “We have everything, right?” Shay laid her hand on the wedding license on her lap.

  “Think so.” Why did he suddenly feel like a cow stuck knee-deep in a muddy bog?

  They were due at the courthouse in twenty minutes, though they were only two minutes away. Two minutes. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  “You okay?”

  He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Fine. Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

  Her lips stretched. “About a dozen times.”

  The light ahead turned red, and his brakes squealed as he stopped.

  Thirty minutes from now they’d be married. They’d head back to Moose Creek and face her irate parents. And they would be irate, though not for long. After all, they needed Shay to keep the ranch going. His own parents wouldn’t be too thrilled either.

  And then there was the whole rodeo thing. That dream was over, killed like an eagle midflight. But he had Shay. Loved her. He’d work on his dad’s ranch and someday save enough to start his own spread.

  Someday.

  The light turned green. Green meant go. Go directly to the courthouse and pledge his life to Shay. He applied the gas, and they advanced one block at a time through Cody, his breath feeling stuffed and hot inside his lungs.

  When he reached the building, he drew up to a meter. Eighteen minutes.

  Shay took his hand in hers and he squeezed, trying for a smile.

  She stretched out her fingers, laying them flat against his, palm to palm. “We never got rings.”

  They’d meant to, but everything had moved so quickly once they’d arrived in Cody. He looked at her hand, small and delicate against his. She deserved a ring, for pity’s sake. It was her wedding day.

  “I’m going to get you a ring,” he said, sure once the words were out.

  “Someday . . .”

  “No, now.”

  “What? Our appointment is in seventeen minutes. We won’t be able to get another if we miss it.”

  He needed to get away anyhow. Take a deep breath, gather himself so he could be fully present and accounted for when they exchanged vows, not in some fog of disbelief.

  “You can go on in and let them know we’re here, just in case I’m a few minutes late. Shouldn’t take long. We passed a Kmart on the way.” He cringed a little. Shay deserved a wedding ring from the finest jeweler.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Have to hurry, though.” He started up the truck again. Just the rumbling engine made him feel better somehow.

  “Wait. Let’s do this first.” Shay laid the license on his leg. “Get all the legal, unromantic stuff outta the way.”

  Maybe she sensed his nerves. Or maybe she just wanted to keep this unfairytale wedding as romantic as she could. He was sure no girl dreamed of a courthouse wedding.

  Shay signed the document and handed him the pen. He scrawled his name, more eager to pull away from the curb than he could say.

  Shay gave him a peck on the lips. “Hurry back, now.” She gave a cute little wave from the concrete steps as he put the truck in gear and gave it some gas.

  All right, McCoy, come on. Pull it together.

  This wasn’t like him. He didn’t ruffle easily. But then, he’d never run away to elope at eighteen either. It seemed like such a fine idea three months ago, right before graduation, when the subject came up. He couldn’t remember which of them voiced it first. All he’d been thinking at the time was how beautiful she was with the light shining off her mahogany hair, how lucky he was to be in love with his best friend. How she made his engine hum whenever she was near.

  He hadn’t been thinking about the fact that Shay was tied to Moose Creek tighter’n paint on a barn. Or about how he’d never compete in th
e PRCA or own a spread in Texas like he’d dreamed of since he was a boy. Shay would never leave her family in a bind with the ranch, with her mom nearly bedridden. She’d always been loyal. It was one of the things he loved about her.

  He’d stuffed his own disappointment, figured he’d get over it eventually. Settle in a little apartment somewhere near town and start saving some money.

  Travis tightened his hands on the steering wheel. He did love Shay, did want to spend the rest of his life with her. But he wanted Texas too. Wanted the rodeo life and a chance to put his skills to the test. His friend Seth had moved there straight out of high school, was making his dream come true.

  He’d called just the day before. “Loving it down here, man. Got a rodeo coming up end of the month. You’d have a better shot at winning it than me, but you’ll be an old married man by then. Don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Only Travis did know. It was sinking in now like water into fresh soil. His breaths dried his throat, struggled to keep pace with his racing heart. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

  Come on, McCoy. Cowboy up. He took four deep breaths.

  Kmart was just ahead, a sprawling, dingy building with a cracked sign in the empty parking lot.

  “Sure you know what you’re doing, pal?” Seth had asked.

  “I’m sure.” And he was sure, when he was holding Shay in his arms by the creek, her back curled into his chest, his arms tight around her.

  But when he was lying in bed at night, imagining the future, the existence they’d eke out one day at a time, he faltered. His parents were well off, but he was determined to make it on his own. He hadn’t drawn an allowance since he was thirteen, when he’d gotten his first job as an extra hand on the O’Neil ranch, and he sure wasn’t going to start accepting handouts now.

  He worked for his dad now, a fair wage, but hardly enough to support a family. And Shay’s family couldn’t pay her a decent wage.

  He looked around and realized he’d just passed the Kmart entrance. He’d have to turn around at the next intersection. Turn around. Go back to their Kmart future. Turn away from Texas and everything he’d dreamed of.

  When he reached the intersection, he saw a No U-turn sign. The light turned green, and he continued ahead. A sign for the upcoming highway caught his eye: State Route 120 Casper.