"Yeah, nothing but a big smoke screen." So it wasn't just his imagination; Pru was more prickly with him than the other McCormacks. Strange.
Derek sucker-punched Brice on the arm. "Relax, will you? Lighten up. Forget about the Half-Circle and the family for a while. It's your wedding day." Derek laughed deep in his chest and turned toward the tent. After a few steps he called over his shoulder, "And I'm sure as hell glad it's yours and not mine."
Brice heaved a sigh as he edged back into the shadows, but he didn't move quite fast enough. Pru's dad was heading his way at a fast clip. Oh, yeah, talking to Bob Randolph was just what Brice wanted to do right now. Gee, he could hardly wait.
Bob Randolph was a big man, and looked perpetually gruff in his usual bank attire of dark suit and board-starched white shirt. Today he looked gruffer than usual, if that were possible. His wife had died when Pru was ten, and he'd never remarried. Too bad, because if he had he might have focused on something else aside from pushing Pru into doing this and that and some other thing.
Brice had often wondered just whose idea it was for artsy-fartsy Prudence Randolph to go to law school. Hers, or that of a father who wanted an attorney in the family to help run the businesses? Either way, it had worked out. Being an attorney suited Pru. Heaven knows, she was good enough at it—he had battle scars to prove it.
"McCormack," Bob Randolph said as he drew up in front of Brice, meeting him eyeball to eyeball. "I don't know what the hell's going on between you and my daughter, but I don't much like it. I tried to talk some sense into her for the past three days and get her to call off this damn wedding, but she's downright bullheaded about marrying you. Can't believe she's bucking me on this—that's not like Prudence at all." For a moment he looked completely dumbfounded. "Blast it all! Nothing about this marriage makes an ant's ear full of sense, since Prudence never seemed to even like you in the first place."
"Look, Randolph, Prudence and I are in—"
Bob Randolph sliced his hand through the air, cutting Brice off. "I don't want to hear that poppycock about being in love. My daughter's not in love with you. For criminy's sake, man, you're a McCormack! Prudence has just gone plumb loco, that's all. Must be one of those female things. There's no other explanation. But I'm telling you now, if I hear you're not treating my girl right, you and I are going to tangle. Get my drift?" He poked Brice hard in the chest with his forefinger to emphasize every word, then he turned and left.
Under normal circumstances, Brice didn't take lightly to being threatened—especially by a Randolph—and he usually did something to remind the offender this was not a good idea. But nothing about this day was normal. And there was something else, too. Brice had to admit that if the tables were turned, if it were his daughter marrying someone he didn't approve of, Brice would be doing the same thing Bob Randolph had just done. Realizing he and Bob Randolph actually agreed on something was unsettling as hell.
Organ music now drifted out from the tent, and Brice watched Judge Willis take his place in the front; he was flanked by Derek and by Sunny, who was holding a bouquet of lilacs and daffodils large enough to conceal the state of Rhode Island. A four-tiered cake—Brice's two vanilla layers, Pru's two chocolate—was perched on a table in the corner. For the moment, everything was calm, very wedding-like. Even the afternoon sun peeking over the white fluff of clouds and the breeze ruffling the tree tops now pale green with new leaves seemed to be a good omen.
The tension in Brice's shoulders eased a bit, and he relaxed—just as screams erupted from the tent. Brice turned to see fists flying and people and chairs scattering everywhere.
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
"Holy hell! Stop!" Brice yelled, entering the tent. Two flower baskets toppled as Derek lit into a Randolph who was giving as good as he got. A fist came out of nowhere, striking Brice in the eye. Reflexes took over and Brice struck back, knocking a Randolph into Judge Willis, sending them both onto the ground, narrowly missing the cake. For once, the judge seemed dazed and speechless. Too bad that hadn't happened three days ago when he'd dreamed up this madness.
Another fist connected with Brice's jaw, and Brice's fist connected with a Randolph nose. Whatever made the judge think a wedding would bring the families together?
"That's enough!" Pru's voice carried over the mayhem. "Stop it! Stop it, all of you right now. This is my wedding day, and I won't have you all fighting and ruining everything."
When Brice looked around, to his amazement he saw that everyone had done as she said. Then he gazed at Pru and realized why.
She was the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen. Unlike the tailored, buttoned-up attorney he clashed with in Judge Willis's court, this Prudence was fresh as spring and all done up in flowing white silk, delicate lace and satin ribbons. This was, indeed, her wedding day, and that one fact seemed to matter more to everyone in the tent than fighting, at least for the moment.
That was good, and that was bad. Good in that no one was fighting. Bad in that it gave Judge Willis a speck of validation his plan would work, dashing any hope Brice had that this marriage would not happen. Since the unexpected moratorium wouldn't last, now was the time to get the deed done.
Brice caught the eye of the frazzled organist, who once again started the music, only messing up a few dozen notes. He nervously nodded to Derek, Sunny and Judge Willis, and they reclaimed their positions in the front of the tent. The congregation kept their places, taking in the event as if they couldn't believe what was happening.
Pru must have felt the same way when she heard the fight break out, because she didn't have her bouquet or veil. Hell, she didn't even have shoes. Brice could see her stocking feet peeking out from under the folds of her dress. Her toenails were painted hot pink. She had really cute piggies. He snatched a handful of pansies and daffodils from one of the overturned baskets, shook off the water and handed them to her.
Their gazes locked, and for a second they seemed to reach an understanding. This was not a marriage made in heaven but a marriage of necessity to keep their families safe, and the one thing they agreed on was that family was everything.
Quickly taking his place by Derek, Brice straightened his collar, smoothed back his hair the best he could, felt his eye begin to swell shut, and waited for his bride to walk down the aisle … or what was left of it, toward him.
* * *
Prudence felt the grass tickle her toes as she walked toward Brice. Holy samoli. She was marrying Brice McCormack, rancher, oilman, thief of lands not belonging to him, and personal opponent.
Today he had a split lip, an eye that was beginning to purple, and a squashed blue pansy stuck to the leg of his black pants. His hair was mussed and falling over his forehead, and she noticed his hand was red and swollen. Except for the pansy, he looked completely disreputable, and had to be the least likely person to ever fit into her life. She'd heard somewhere that if you wanted to make God laugh, tell him your plans. Well, God must be laughing his behind off right about now.
She never thought she would do the walk down the aisle thing. She didn't have time for marriage. Couldn't possibly accommodate another person, especially a male, in her life. Keeping up with the expectations of her dad and family was exhausting enough.
Brice discreetly hooked his finger at her and hitched his chin, suggesting she hurry up. Good grief, not only did she have to marry the man, she had to set a speed-wedding record doing it. She quickened her pace, keeping it just under a jog. This was not a Martha Stewart wedding.
The moment Prudence reached the front of the tent, Brice stood beside her. They faced the judge, who was already beyond the "we are gathered here" part of the ceremony and on to the "with this ring" part. The "does anyone object" part had already been addressed, and obviously Judge Willis had decided not to visit that particular passage again.
Brice snatched the simple gold rings from Derek's palm. After Pru handed her fistful of flowers to Sunny, Brice slipped a band on Pru's
finger, as she did the same to him. A heartbeat later Judge Willis declared, "I now pronounce you man and wife."
It was done. Prudence could hardly believe that after seventy years of doing battle, a McCormack and a Randolph were officially—for better or for worse, depending on your point of view—married.
A funeral-like pall filled the tent. Judge Willis broke the hush with "Brice, you may now kiss the bride." The congregation stirred as if awakening from a trance. Kiss? Prudence felt her heart stop and her eyes widen. She stared straight ahead. With all the other parts of the ceremony to worry about, she'd forgotten about the "you may kiss" part. Not only did she have to kiss a McCormack, but she also had to look as if it was a good thing, even great. How was she going to pull this off?
Brice's strong, decisive fingers captured her chin and turned her face toward his. Her gaze went from the determined set of his bruised jaw, to his cut lip, to his eyes—one puffy, one chocolate brown. She caught a flicker of uncertainty in it, just as his mouth claimed hers.
She gasped in surprise at his soft, gentle kiss. Of course, anything else would have hurt him like the dickens. Then she realized his lips were also warm, inviting, very seductive. The callused pad of Brice's thumb traced the length of her throat, and his hand tenderly cupped the back of her head as if laying claim to what he held. Her heart started to pound like the drumbeat at a parade and her blood began to flow like warm honey on hot breakfast toast. A fiery ache burned deep inside her.
From somewhere far off, Prudence heard Judge Willis order everyone to plant themselves right where they were and not move an inch. That was just fine with her. She had no intention of going anywhere; Brice not only kissed like a dream, but smelled of deep-forest pine and tasted like something delicious … even addicting.
She held on to him for support because this whole experience had caught her completely off guard, making her as dizzy and confused as a duck hit on the head.
"I said no fighting!" Judge Willis yelled. Then a gunshot split the air. Prudence jumped back, as screams filled the tent. The second round of fist-throwing stopped before it really got started, and everyone stood as if glued where they stood. There had definitely been enough fighting and enough kissing for one day. The altercations she'd expected; kissing Brice, and her reaction to his kisses, were completely bewildering. She didn't look at him. She couldn't, or she just might kiss him again.
Gads, her brain was not working at all. Brice was the enemy. Why couldn't she remember that one little fact that had ruled her entire life? Kissing him should have been a dreadful experience.
"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat," the judge said as he stood on a chair, holding a smoking revolver pointed straight up over his head. "I'm fed up with this foolishness from all Randolphs and McCormacks!" A small, round shaft of afternoon sunlight peeked through a new hole in the top of the tent.
The judge glared, then said, "The next person who dares to throw a punch in this here tent is spending the night in jail, and that's a promise. Do you all hear me? This wedding's over. Brice and Prudence are married. I'd advise you all to get used to it. I want everyone to leave here nice and peaceful-like, and I'll keep standing up here to make sure you do. Prudence and Brice will cut the cake and hand you a piece as you go. And if there's a hint of trouble, I'm putting in a call to Sheriff Pritchard. Everybody get the picture?"
* * *
A half-hour later, Prudence licked icing from her thumb and put down the cake knife, as she, Brice, the judge and Sunny watched the last car roll out of the driveway.
"See," said the judge as he climbed down from his perch on the folding chair, "you two got hitched and everything's just fine as frog's hair."
Prudence choked. "Fine? You call a brawl and gunshots fine?"
She watched Brice put down the ice pack he'd used to nurse his eye and pick up the cake knife. He cut himself a hefty piece of the white layer of the cake, plopping a vanilla butter-cream rose on top. Pure lust gleamed in his one good eye. Hmm, Brice McCormack, rough-and-tumble rancher, headstrong attorney and fist fighter had a passion for things vanilla? Who would have thought?
Judge Willis loosened his black string tie complete with ornate silver slide and ends. He grinned as an early-evening breeze kicked up, ruffling his thinning hair—hair that looked grayer than it had yesterday. He said, "Why, this here was a great wedding. No one had to be rushed to the emergency room, did they? There were no broken bones, no bloodshed. All in all, I'd say things went right smoothly."
Brice forked a piece of cake into his mouth and licked icing from the corners. Prudence felt her heart slam against her ribs, and she bit her bottom lip, remembering just how wonderful his mouth had felt on hers. Not that she wanted to recall that particular incident. Gee, it was hot for a spring day.
"Judge," Brice said, dragging Prudence back to the present. "A smooth wedding is when people toss rice, not punches, and they laugh and eat and dance merrily about. Not where the judge has a gun sticking out of the waistband of his pants." Brice eyed the pearl handle of a Colt Peacemaker resting over the judge's belt buckle. He glanced at Sunny's large bouquet, now sitting on a folding chair. "Sunny had the gun hidden in her bouquet, didn't she."
Sunny smoothed the skirt of her lavender suit, a perfect accent to her silver hair. "Well, you see," she said in a lovely Texas drawl, "in case things got out of hand, the judge and I decided there might be a need to get people's attention right quick-like. His granddaddy's Peacemaker makes a powerful noise, so it seemed the logical choice. But don't you and Prudence bother yourselves with such things. In no time this nasty old feud will just be a part of Serenity's colorful history. You're such a precious couple, I'm sure everyone will get used to you being married in no time at all."
"Don't know about that," Brice said. "Pru and I can't even get used to it."
He bit into another big piece of cake, and more icing caught on his lips. Prudence looked away. If he licked it off she'd melt, she was sure of it.
The judge scoffed. "From the looks of the way you two played kissy-face, I think you've got the hang of this marriage business."
"All for show," Brice said around a mouthful. "If you want us married, we have to look the part."
Prudence cringed. That kiss that had rocked her to her stocking-covered toes and was giving her severe aftershocks was just for show? It hadn't affected Brice one bit?
That no good rattlesnake!
She should have expected as much from Brice McCormack. Everyone knew the only things that stirred the man's blood were cows and oil wells—definitely not a Randolph. That was just fine and dandy with her. It would make steering clear of him until Willis called off this stupid marriage as easy as swatting a fly.
The judge pointed down the drive. "Isn't that John Pritchard's cruiser heading our way? Wonder what the sheriff wants."
Brice dusted crumbs from his hands. "Probably here to snatch a piece of wedding cake."
They watched the cruiser pull to a stop and the sheriff unfold his lanky frame from behind the wheel. Pritchard settled his hat on his head, hitched up his belt and ambled over to the tent.
"Howdy, John," said the judge. "What brings you out to these parts? Come to congratulate Brice and Prudence on their nuptials?"
"Not exactly." The sheriff tipped his hat to everyone, then rested it on the back of his head. He let out a sigh, the kind that sounded as if it had been building all day.
Judge Willis nodded and grinned. "Wedding went off without a hitch—well, maybe a little hitch, but I knew once we got the Randolphs and McCormacks together things would settle down. I was right."
"Not exactly." Sheriff Pritchard took a toothpick from his breast pocket and rested the pick in the corner of his mouth.
Judge Willis's enthusiasm dimmed. "What're you getting at, John?"
The toothpick anchored itself to the sheriff's lips as he said, "Seems a hunch of the McCormack and Randolph men decided to drown their problems over at the Powder Keg. Didn't take long for all hell to break
loose." He eyed the overturned folding chairs and squashed flowers. "Looks like things didn't fare any better here." He looked back to the judge. "Anyways, right now I got myself three Randolphs occupying one cell and four McCormacks in the other. And I got a bill here for five-hundred dollars in barroom damages that's got to get paid, or the owner is going to file charges."
He handed both Brice and Prudence a tally, then continued. "I'm thinking the two of you best come on into town and straighten out your kin. 'Course, you could let the lot of 'em cool their heels in the pokey overnight. That might be just the ticket to get them to think before they take a swing."
Tension and fatigue felt like a hundred-pound weight strapped to Prudence's back. This day was as long as a week, she was sure of it. The sun just forgot to set a couple of times. "Give me a few minutes to change."
"I'm coming," Brice said, suddenly looking as tired as she felt.
"Well, hell's bells," said the judge, running his hand through his hair. "Thought we were done with fistfights for one day."
"Not exactly." The sheriff hooked his thumbs over his belt. "As I see it, this here marriage is going to do one of two things. Either the McCormacks and Randolphs are going to start getting along, or the feuding's going to get worse than ever." He stared at Brice, then Prudence; he worked his toothpick.
"’Fraid my money's on things getting worse. Hope you two know what you're getting yourselves into."
* * *
The moon hung low in the eastern sky as Brice waited on the front steps of the courthouse for Pru to finish talking to her two uncles and her cousin. The seven McCormack-Randolph jailbirds had been given hefty fines and ordered to paint the bleachers at the high school football field. Judge Willis was in a lousy mood. In fact, everyone in Serenity was in a lousy mood tonight, except the town gossips. The past couple of days had to be the motherlode of local dirt for them.
COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Page 4
