Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  “He’s only worried Em will disappear or something. You wait and see. The second he lays eyes on her, you won’t see an ounce of fear.”

  Fiona had known the music would be nice, because Beulah Barnes could play the piano like nobody’s business. She knew, too, that the reception would be nice, because they’d been preparing food for days. The only thing that had surprised Fiona so far was the turnout. They’d expected fifteen or twenty people at the most, and there was double that. “The Wedding March” began and everyone stood. “Tommy sti—” Fiona uttered. She’d started to say that he still looked scared to death, but his expression changed the second he spotted Em. Now, he looked like he’d been touched by an angel.

  Fiona turned to look, and it was almost embarrassing the way her eyes filled at the sight of Emeline. She’d known Em would look beautiful, but there was a radiance about her tonight as she walked down the aisle on Emmett’s arm. Her gown was ivory satin with a softly rounded neck and a train. She wore pearls around her throat and carried a bouquet of pink roses interspersed with baby’s breath. Fiona hugged Doll’s arm. Doll could only nod because she was crying, too. Wood, standing on Doll’s other side, discreetly handed Doll a handkerchief.

  At the front of the church, Emmett lifted Em’s veil and eased it back for her. He kissed her cheek and stepped away with a discreet wink at Tommy.

  Tommy and Em looked at each other and smiled.

  “They look so perfect,” Fiona whispered. “Have you ever seen anything so perfect?”

  Doll shook her head and dabbed at her wet face.

  “Friends,” Reverend Thompson began in his sonorous voice. He was an interesting-looking man in his early forties with a head full of snow-white hair that he wore down to his collar. “We are gathered together this evening in the sight of God to witness the holy matrimony of Tommy and Emeline. A wedding is a celebration of a man and a woman entering the Divine Mystery of Oneness. It is nothing less than the proclamation of a couple’s love for one another in a reverent manner, just as Jesus expressed his reverence and love for God.”

  “Lord, I hope he don’t go on for an hour and a half,” Doll said under her breath.

  Fiona stifled a giggle, since she’d been thinking the very same thing. She glanced over and saw Wood grinning like an idiot.

  “Who presents this woman?” the reverend asked.

  “I do,” Emmett spoke up. “On behalf of the best friend I ever had, Ben Martin, who loved her more than anything. Not that I don’t love her, too, because I do.”

  The reverend smiled. “The first ‘I do’ of the evening.”

  There was a soft ripple of laughter, followed by a settling of sorts, which felt right.

  Fiona saw Em glance at Emmett with a grateful smile.

  “In First Corinthians, the Apostle Paul describes love.

  ‘Love is patient, love is kind. Love is not envious, jealous or boastful. It is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own ways. It is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice at wrong and wrongdoing, but rejoices in right and truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. So faith, hope and love abide these three. But the greatest of these is love.’” The reverend paused. “And now for the good part.” He paused. “Tommy, do you take Emeline to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you devote your life to loving her, honoring her and taking care of her? In sickness or in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I will,” Tommy said clearly. “I do.”

  “Emeline, do you take Tommy to be your husband? In sickness or in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  “And will you devote your life to loving him, nourishing him and honoring him?”

  “I will.”

  The reverend nodded. “Turn and face each other and state your vows.”

  As they faced each other, Fiona knew she had never seen two people more in love. It also occurred to her that the reverend had taken possession of Em’s bouquet so smoothly, they must have practiced the move.

  “I, Thomas Medlin, take you, Emeline Rachel Wright, to be my lawfully wedded wife,” Tommy said. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part . . . and even then some.”

  “He memorized it,” Fiona whispered, tearing up all over again.

  “I, Emeline Wright, take you, Thomas Medlin, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death us do part.” She smiled. “And even then some.”

  Doll’s shoulders were shaking with silent sobs and she was dabbing the hanky at her face furiously.

  “The ring,” the reverend said.

  Tommy slid a ring on Em’s finger and then looked at her. “With this ring I thee wed.”

  She smiled in utter happiness.

  “For as much as Tommy and Em have consented together in holy wedlock,” the reverend said, “and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce them man and wife. Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”

  When the piano music started up and Tommy and Em walked back down the aisle amid a burst of applause, both of them were smiling joyfully.

  A trio of stringed instruments played at the reception. “That’s a nice touch,” Fiona said to Mr. Howerton, acknowledging the contribution. He’d also provided champagne. “It was very generous of you.”

  “I’ve been fortunate in my life,” he replied graciously.

  “To Mister and Missus Thomas Medlin,” Emmett called out, raising his glass of champagne. The toast was repeated as glasses were lifted into the air. Toasts continued and Howerton found himself watching Tommy and Emeline with a curious envy. They had the most tangible love for each other that he’d ever witnessed, and it had nothing to do with money, prospects or social standing. It was just what it was, a love so pure, it seemed meant to be. He watched Tommy whisper something to Em. She smiled and said something back, placing her hand on his shirtfront, and the intimate gesture made Howerton feel an acute ache of loneliness.

  “Say something, Wood,” someone called.

  “I’m not much on making speeches,” he hedged.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I’ll just say this,” Wood began. “Tommy and Em are two of the finest, most caring, generous people I ever had the privilege to know.”

  “Here, here,” someone said.

  “They deserve each other,” Wood continued. “They deserve the happiness they’ve found.” He looked at the couple and lifted his glass. “To Tommy and Em.”

  As the words echoed enthusiastically, Howerton contemplated the word deserve.

  “You know what we need to do, don’t you?” Wood said laughingly as he drove the wagon home after the reception.

  Doll, sitting next to him, gave him a suspicious look. “Much as you’ve had to drink? Get to your bed and sleep. That’s what.”

  Hawk and Jeffrey, riding in back were in no better shape. They, too, had celebrated and imbibed boisterously. “What?” Jeffrey asked. “What do we need to do?”

  “Have ourselves a shivaree,” Wood replied to the hoots and laughter of the others.

  Doll turned and cast a stern eye on the lot of them. “My left hind foot you will.”

  “Aw, come on,” Hawk complained. “It’s all in fun.”

  “You know what else is fun?” Doll retorted. “Eating. You ever want to eat in my kitchen again, you’ll hush up that foolishness.”

  “Just a little one,” Jeffrey wheeled.

  “Come near one of my pots and pans, I’ll take a pan to your sorry skull,” Doll said, straightening back around imperiously.

  In a wagon several yards behind Wood and the others, Tommy drove a
nd Em sat closely next to him, both euphoric from the day. Ahead of them, their friends joked and laughed. Behind them, tin cans and shoes were being dragged behind the wagon, some nonsense about good luck, warding off evil spirits or something of the like.

  When the wagon ahead rounded a bend and disappeared from sight, Tommy reined the horse in, stopping theirs. Em looked at him quizzically. “Just for a minute,” he said.

  She smiled. “Is that . . . quiet I hear?”

  “Yeah, but just for a minute.” He reached out to stroke her face tenderly and then he wrapped a strong hand around the back of her neck and coerced her into a kiss. “My beautiful wife,” he said as he pulled back.

  She felt a shiver of anticipation.

  He noticed the tremor. “Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing her shawl-covered arms.

  She was glad the darkness hid the extent of her blushing. “I’m fine,” she assured him. As he faced forward again and started the wagon moving again, she hugged herself to him, loving him so much, she ached with it.

  The yard was quiet as they drove in, until Wood appeared, having just exited the outhouse. “Night ya’ll,” he called playfully. “Real sweet dreams.”

  “Woodson Shaw,” Doll hissed from around back.

  “Oh, I’m coming,” he said as he headed toward her. “I was just saying good night. Can’t a fella wish his friends a good night?”

  Tommy was grinning as he climbed out of the wagon. Em gathered her flowers, the box of chocolates and bottle of champagne Gregory Howerton had given them and stood, ready to be helped down, but Tommy whisked her into his arms instead, stealing her breath. “A man is supposed to carry his bride inside,” he said.

  She laughed softly and clung to him as he made his way to the house.

  He climbed the steps, opened the door with one hand and went inside before he set her down. “Welcome home, Mrs. Medlin.”

  Tears blurred her vision because it was their home now where they would live the rest of their days. “Why, thank you kindly, Mr. Medlin. And how long do you anticipate staying this formal?”

  “Not too long,” he replied teasingly as he took the items from her one by one and then set them aside. He took hold of her hand and led her back to their bedroom.

  Despite her heart pounding and her body trembling with excitement, when he let go of her hand, she slowly and seductively removed her shawl. His eyes glistened, although they looked dark in the dim light of the one lamp left burning. He pulled off his jacket and set it aside. “I need some help,” she said softly, turning around.

  He came closer and began the work of unbuttoning the far too many slippery pearl buttons down the back of her gown. His head was slightly bent, his hair accidentally caressing the skin of her shoulder as he worked his way down the row. It was almost more than she could bear, and she exhaled slowly aware of how ready she was for him. He was almost finished unbuttoning her, enough that she could wriggle out of the garment, so she turned to face him. “Make love to me.”

  “Oh, I’ll make love to you,” he said huskily. “Every night for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.”

  He pulled her gown down slowly and she helped, carefully stepping out of it. Then he pulled off his shirt, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. Piece by piece, the rest of their clothing came off and was discarded as they kissed and stroked, turning around and around in a dizzying dance of lovemaking.

  When they found themselves in the middle of the bed and he lay atop her, her gaze was locked on his, full of love and longing. He pushed inside her slowly, but the pressure of her fingers on his back and the expression on her face left no doubt that it was what she wanted and more. Their movement and intensity increased and still they needed more. They needed to entwine body and soul.

  Her climax, when it came, pushed him over the edge and it was explosive enough that they fell apart afterwards to catch their breath. They couldn’t stay apart long, though. As the moon cast an almost theatrical light into the room, they faced each other, cuddling close. “What was your favorite part of the day?” she asked.

  He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Besides making love to you?”

  Her laugh was rich and throaty. “Yes, besides that.”

  “Seeing you walk into the church.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes.

  “You’re not going to sleep yet, are you?” he objected.

  “It’s late, you know,” she murmured sleepily.

  “I know. I’ve just never been so happy.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered.

  “What was your favorite part?”

  She opened her eyes again. “All of it.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not fair.”

  She thought about it. “Seeing you. Seeing you see me. It was the best thing ever. One second you were nervous, the next . . . I don’t know. You were looking at me with such purpose. And you never once looked away.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “And I liked what Emmett said,” she added.

  “So did I.”

  “And all the flowers and candles.” She paused. “I liked when we danced.”

  “I like this,” he said. “Laying in the dark with you. Holding you. Talking.”

  “Me, too.” She sighed, then turned and snuggled back against him.

  “I like being married,” he said.

  Her smile widened. “That’s good since we’re going to be married forever and ever.”

  With those final, sweet words, Tommy wrapped an arm around her and they both gave in to sleep.

  Chapter Forty

  May 17, 1882

  “Hey,” Mitchell called to Blue. “You know this fella?”

  Blue looked and then blanched at the sight of the poster in Mitchell’s hand. It was a Wanted poster of them, and there was a two hundred and fifty dollar reward being offered. “You out of your mind?” he hissed. He looked up and down the street, but, luckily, no one was paying them much heed.

  “You’re such an old woman.” Mitchell laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “No one’s even noticed this thing and it’s been hanging right here.”

  Blue swallowed nervously. Mitchell wasn’t even talking quietly. He’d get them arrested with his bravado. His eyes bulged as Mitchell rolled the poster up and stuck it under his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t go and wet your pants, Henry Joe Bluefield. Jesus Christ Almighty. Look around. We’re just two men standing on a street shootin’ the bull. You see anybody giving us a second look?”

  It was true. No one was looking at them. Plus, the beards they’d grown made it hard to tell it was their faces on the poster.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Mitchell said, starting for the saloon.

  “You don’t need to be carrying that thing around,” Blue complained.

  “Why not? I’m gonna save it as a souvenir,” he called over his shoulder.

  Blue followed, still looking around for any indication that they’d been recognized. Being wanted was a miserable thing. He’d thought it might be a little bit glamorous, but it wasn’t. It didn’t bother Mitchell in the least. In fact, Mitchell was experiencing a hot streak at cards. He’d won so much, they hadn’t had to work for a month. Of course, that wasn’t an altogether good thing, since Mitchell was even more full of himself than usual, which was saying something. Also, they were drinking too much and feeling lousy for about half the day until they started drinking again.

  They entered the dim saloon, got a drink at the bar and then wandered over to a back table. There wasn’t much happening this early in the day.

  “Was that two hundred and fifty apiece or together?” Blue whispered.

  “Why? You thinking of turning us in?” Mitchell chuckled. “Together,” he stated. “Or a hundred apiece. See, they’re trying to make it a better deal to get us together.” Mitchell unrolled the poster part of the way and studied it. “You know what would be funny?”

  “What?”

  �
��To send this to Howerton along with a letter saying, ‘I see you got the law after us, but it doesn’t look like they’re finding us, does it? Know what else, Gregory? We’re having a grand ole time. And working for you sucked.’”

  Blue took a drink. It burned his stomach, so he took another.

  “Know what else would be good?” Mitchell continued. “Get some paper and draw a picture of ole Johnny, dead on the floor, half his face gone. I think I’ll do it. Send them both to Howerton.”

  “Can you draw?”

  Mitchell shrugged. “I could get close enough.”

  Mitchell finished his drink. “Need a bottle over here,” he called.

  The barkeep brought it, although he wasn’t in a hurry about it. Mitchell paid, and the barkeep walked away. “Much as you pay for a bottle,” Mitchell muttered, “they oughta pour it for you.” He poured another glass, then slumped in his seat and leaned way back in his chair. His hat was still on his head and it cast his face in shadow. “I’m thinking it’s time,” Mitchell said slowly.

  “Time for what?”

  “To go pay a visit to Miss Ain’t-I-too-damn-good-for-anybody. That’s what.”

  “Aw, forget it.”

  Mitchell nudged his hat up, his expression incredulous. “Did you say forget it? Forget it, he says! I ain’t gonna forget nothin’. Because of her, I was whipped like a dog. Because of her, I was humiliated. Used in an unnatural way. Because of her, I spent weeks freezing my ass off in the mountains. ’Cause of her, my brother grows a pair and then starts thinking he’s better than me. Yeah, I’ll forget it. When hell freezes over, I’ll forget it.”

  Blue squirmed in his seat. “But you’re having luck now.”

  “So what? That ain’t gonna change. Has nothing to do with getting even with Emeline Wright.”

  “I don’t want to get caught,” Blue said, leaning in closer to the table.

  “There you go with that we crap again. I got news for you, Blue. I don’t want you to go. You know why? ’Cause you’re an old woman. You panic. You get scared and you panic. You’re a pussy.”