by Lyn Cote
“You should go,” Mariel whispered, motioning toward an empty chair closer to his family.
“This is about my sister, not me. I’ll just be a groomsman.” He had wanted to ask Emilio what he would do if they were sucked into the war. The words had eluded him, his tongue wooden at the thought.
Emilio’s father, the Falconer foreman for years, had just risen. Carson turned his attention to him, hoping to be caught up in the festive spirit. “We are happy that our son Emilio Manuel Jesus Ramirez has been accepted by Sugar Quinn and her parents as her future esposo. We are doubly honored that our Doña Alandra and Don Scully have agreed to act as madrina and padrino for our son and his intended novia. My heart is full.” He stopped to wipe his eyes, as his plump wife, dressed in black bombazine and sitting nearby, was already doing. “A father hopes much for his children. This is more than I ever hoped for my son.”
“What is madrina, padrino?” Mariel whispered.
“The best man and matron of honor,” he whispered back, wondering if they had counterparts in German wedding customs. She nodded, not letting on if this too was strange to her.
Quinn rose and took the elder Ramirez’s hand. “We are honored that such a fine man as Emilio has wooed and won our daughter. We already love him as our son. I have no reservations about giving my daughter into his care.” The two fathers shook hands, then slapped each other on the back.
Carson listened, still feeling a thousand miles removed from the tears, the hearty back-slaps. Would this all be for naught? If a Ranger came to summon them, would Emilio refuse to return? Within, Carson’s emotions tangled into knots.
At a nod from Dorritt, the two fathers sat down. The servants came forward with a drink of coffee mixed with chocolate and a variety of cookies and sweetmeats. When all had been served, Scully cleared his throat. “My wife and I are happy that the Ramirezes have included us in the wedding and the feast. We have watched Emilio and Sugar grow up. Our hearts are also full. May the Lord bless them in their life together.”
The Tejanos made the sign of the cross and the Quinns murmured, “Amen.” This brought Carson an unexpected swell of pride. Being the son of Quinn and Dorritt often brought him notice he didn’t relish. Though they were deemed Anglo, not Tejano, their lack of prejudice against dark skin, combined with his father’s Cherokee blood, meant that they didn’t fit into Anglo society neatly. Now he was reminded of how different his family was. In the very best way.
Emilio went out to his parents’ wagon and carried in a large, ornate wooden chest, which held the muhlul, the Mexican or Tejano wedding gift. He set it on the stone floor, then brought his bride to open it. “For you,” he murmured and kissed her forehead, then her hand.
Sugar knelt by the chest and opened it. She lifted out a gold chain of two loops, two gold wedding rings, hair ribbons, silk handkerchiefs, several yards of fine cotton, a bag of silver, and a bag of chocolate. Sugar exclaimed her pleasure, then kissed Emilio. Everyone made sounds of approval, and some even clapped their hands.
Carson felt Emilio’s pride as his own. Rangers weren’t paid much. Evidently Emilio had saved most of his wages over the past six years. Carson blinked back sudden tears. He tried to shake off the startling melancholy closing in on him.
Then Quinn cleared his throat. “To my daughter for her dowry, I give five hundred acres of land, a bull, a cow, and two horses.” Again this was met with loud but polite approval. And then the discussion of the marriage ceremony and feast began.
Unable to bear hiding his feelings any longer, Carson slid to his feet and took Mariel’s hand. She looked shocked but followed him outside.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “Is there something I must do?”
Carson halted in the shade cast by the hacienda. Her words gave his anger a target. “Why do you always sound worried? Or afraid?” He gripped her arms. “Do you think any of us would hurt you?”
Mariel looked even more uncertain. And he cursed himself for holding her so tightly. “Come.” He drew her behind the house into his mother’s carefully tended herb and medicinal garden, with its high fence. In spite of the hot sun, the garden was filled with healthy green plants that somehow cooled the heat of the day. “Mariel…” Words failed him. He didn’t know what to say to her. He kept her hand in his. She gazed up at him with such worried eyes.
He stroked her soft cheek. He had to somehow soothe her fear. “You are safe. You are wanted here.”
Her face crumpled, and she turned away. Why? He clung to her hand. “Mariel, you are safe here. You are wanted here. Why does that make you cry?”
Ten
You are safe. You are wanted here.
Overcome with emotion, Mariel swung back toward Carson. And then she was in his arms. Never had she felt as she did at this moment. She couldn’t speak; her heart had been touched too deeply.
You are safe. You are wanted here.
No one had ever said those words to her before. And certainly no one had ever made her feel as if those words were true.
She lifted her face and offered him her lips. He claimed them as a thirsty man drank water. Warmth flowed down her neck and through her body. She hadn’t realized how cold and dead she had felt until this moment when warmth and life burst over and through her—flesh and marrow.
Finally, their lips parted and she gasped for breath, her heart racing. “Why do you kiss me?”
Her words came out without her permission. And she regretted them immediately. Carson started to pull away. She clung to him. “Do not leave,” she implored. Don’t take the warmth away. She looked downward, her face burning.
“I…,” Carson started and then stopped. He tugged her close and folded her in his arms. He kissed her hair and stroked her back. The white oleander fluttered nearby, sending its sweet scent over them. He began another coaxing kiss, and she gave her lips to him. Words were too feeble to express her feelings.
Her knees weakened and he drew her to a garden bench. They sat facing one another, so close. Desire Mariel had never known blossomed. She slipped her hand inside the collar of his shirt and thrilled to his smooth skin and muscled shoulder. She offered him her neck, and he nuzzled her sensitive skin. Heaven—more than she had ever dreamed possible.
Then the sound of children running and laughing brought them back to reality. They parted just in time.
With both hands, Erin hit the wooden gate; it flapped back on its leather hinges. She led the running children into the high-fenced garden. “Oh!” Erin shouted. And halted.
“Yes, oh,” Carson repeated with an austere look and tone. “Since when are children invited to gallop through our mother’s herb garden?”
“I-I—,” Erin stuttered. Peering around Erin, all the other children gawked at Mariel and Carson.
One of the two Falconer nurses hurried over. In a flurry of rapid Spanish and waving arms, the children were rushed out of the garden. The gate was slammed closed. And Carson and Mariel were alone again.
“We should go back to the house,” Mariel murmured, straightening her skirt.
“No, not yet. They won’t miss us.”
Mariel thought this was wrong. Surely Mrs. Quinn would have noticed their leaving.
“Mariel, you asked me a fair question.”
She went very still. She needed to know why he had kissed her. Yet she feared that the answer might destroy her. But how could this man who had shown her only kindness and concern since the day she’d met him do her harm? She turned to him. “You would never hurt me.”
He took her hands between his. “I would never hurt you.” He stroked the side of her cheek, his rough palms rasping her skin. She turned her face into his palm. Oh, the wonder of his touch. I have never truly lived before this moment. Never.
“Mariel, you are very special.”
Her first inclination was to contradict him. Mariel was not special. She had never been wanted, never valued. But his words had shattered and then re-formed something deep within her. I wil
l put the past away. I will. I am a Texas woman now.
“I asked my mother to invite you home with us. I couldn’t leave you behind.”
The marvel of these words made it impossible to speak. She kissed his palm, unable to utter a word.
He also looked as if he was struggling with some inner question. “There is much I wish I could say, but the times…” His voice faltered. He drew her to her feet and offered her his arm. Then he walked her through the garden, murmuring the names of the plants, what they were used for—seasoning, or healing, or both—and if they were native or imported to Texas. She listened to the pleasant flow of words in his deep voice, felt the sunshine on her shoulders, and was filled with the most exquisite contentment she had ever known. Not even thoughts of war could break through.
A week later Sugar and Emilio’s wedding day in mid-May glowed sunny and warm. Mariel had decided that the constant sunshine must explain why people here were consistently happy. And on this particular day, spirits were higher than ever. Laughter was heard everywhere Mariel went.
Right now she was in Sugar’s room helping her dress. The room was crowded with Dorritt, Emilio’s mother, Erin, Mrs. Falconer, and a few maids. Mariel was really just watching everyone else dress Sugar. Mrs. Quinn was arranging a strand of pearls around Sugar’s neck, and the groom’s mother was weeping into her white handkerchief. Now Mrs. Falconer, who appeared to be an old family friend, was placing the high comb in Sugar’s hair that would hold up the white mantilla.
Sugar was dressed in a new blue-sprigged dimity dress with delicate white embroidery and tiny pin-tucks, obviously made with deft skill and a desire to show regard for this bride. Mariel herself wore her new Anglo-style dress in a deeper blue. She no longer wore the black mourning for the husband whose loss she had never really mourned. She could hardly wait to see Carson’s face when he saw her in this fine new dress, the finest she had ever worn. She had never thought such an idea before, how a dress would please a man. Her face grew quite warm. And she looked down and pretended to straighten her skirt to hide her blushes.
Then came a collective sigh of appreciation, and Mariel glanced up. With the white lace mantilla in place, Sugar looked…
“You look like a princess,” Mariel breathed.
Sugar smiled and looked at herself in the mirror. “You think Emilio will like the dress?”
The women chuckled, and a torrent of Spanish followed. Though Mariel understood few of the words, the meaning was clear. Yes, Emilio would like the dress—if he bothered to look past his bride’s face.
The women led Sugar out of the house toward the white canopy where the ceremony would be held. Mariel hung back toward the rear of the procession. The priest from a nearby mission church had come and would give his blessing to the couple in this unorthodox open-air ceremony. Since there were still few churches in Texas, the families felt fortunate to have a man of God present.
To Mariel’s surprise, the two fathers would actually be the ones performing the wedding. Mrs. Quinn had said that this sort of “family” wedding was common on the frontier. Often, so far from any town or any church, a wedding consisted of a man and woman declaring that they were husband and wife and writing of their union in a family Bible.
Such a contrast to the formality of marriages and church records in Germany! But what really mattered was the commitment of the couple to each other. She had been married by law but not by love and devotion, as Sugar and Emilio would be.
Everyone waited under the canopy, leaving an aisle open for the bride’s procession. Leading it was Erin as flower girl and Carlos Falconer as the page at her side. Then came the damas, or bridesmaids, and the chamblanes, or other groomsmen (Emilio’s cousins), all in their wedding finery. At the front of the canopy waited a beaming Emilio with Scully Falconer and Carson as best man—both in black suits—at his side.
Mariel noted Carson’s serious expression in contrast to all the shining, happy faces around him. What was making him sad on such a joyful day?
Finally Sugar, on her father’s arm, reached Emilio, who wore a Spanish-looking suit of brown. Mrs. Falconer put something that clinked in Emilio’s hand.
In the back of the gathering, standing beside Mariel, was the black man called Ash, with his wife, Reva. They were as close as family to the Quinns, more evidence of the Quinns’ difference from other Anglos. Ash’s curly hair was thick with white, and he had that thin, rangy build that masked unexpected strength. Reva was lighter complected, very pretty and plump.
Ash leaned close to Mariel and murmured, “Emilio will give Sugar those thirteen gold reals later in the ceremony. The coins you heard clinking into Emilio’s hands symbolize that he is trusting her with all his worldly goods.” Mariel nodded and smiled.
The priest began speaking in Latin, often making the sign of the cross and obviously praying for the couple. Then he stepped away, joining the wedding guests. Mrs. Falconer, the madrina, placed one chain of flowers, which circled both the bride’s and the groom’s necks.
Ash leaned over again. “This is el lazo, which symbolizes the love that has joined these two. They will wear it throughout the ceremony, then Sugar will wear it the rest of the day.”
Mariel smiled. This wedding was so different from any other she had ever attended. Yet so filled with joy and deep meaning.
Carson spoke up then, first in English and then in Spanish. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“Her mother and I do,” Quinn said, releasing Sugar and joining her right hand and Emilio’s. Emilio’s parents also gave their blessing in English and Spanish. Quinn read out the marriage vows from a small black book, and the bride and groom exchanged rings. Then Quinn said, “Emilio, you may kiss your bride.”
Spontaneous applause broke out. Mariel thought it very strange. No one had applauded at her wedding, least of all her. Yet this seemed appropriate here. She joined in. After the formal kiss, she watched Emilio give Sugar the thirteen gold coins, which Sugar placed in a box that she handed to her brother. Then the newly married couple turned to face the guests.
Quinn said, “These two have become one for life. Please greet Mr. and Mrs. Emilio Ramirez.” He repeated this in Spanish, and there were shouts of joy and more applauding. Mariel heard sprightly music and glanced around to see a grinning man playing a violin. Of course, there had to be music for the dancing later.
Many tables had been set up around the yard in the shade of palms and other trees. Now everyone chose a place and sat down to a sumptuous meal. Mariel found herself shunted by the movement of the crowd to a table of people she didn’t know. Then Carson was at her side and all was well.
Under the cover of all the rapidly spoken Spanish, Mariel said, “Your sister made a lovely bride.”
Carson nodded. “You look very pretty today.”
She could not keep herself from showing her pleasure at his compliment. “You look…you look very…handsome.”
In reply, he squeezed her hand. And she blushed again because of her own boldness and his touch. The gaiety around them buffered her and Carson, as if even though surrounded by many, they were really alone. The focus was on the bride and groom, and Mariel was glad for them. And glad for herself as Carson made it plain that he wanted only to be near her.
She wondered at the easy way she was accepted by everyone here. In contrast, a newcomer to her village in Germany would have been kept at arm’s length for a long time. But here everyone acted as if she was a welcomed friend.
The meal went on for hours into the warm evening. They ate, joined in toasting the happy couple, then Carson led Mariel into the dancing. The fiddle player was joined by a few vaqueros, who played guitars. The sun lowered slowly, tardily on the horizon; it was summer now and the fiesta would continue far into the night.
In the shadows, Carson drew Mariel away. As they stood side by side, he put his arm around her. This made her feel painfully exposed. “Carson,” she murmured, “you must not show…” Show what? T
hat you care for me? She could not say that.
Carson responded by pulling her closer. “Don’t act the coy young woman.” He had the nerve to grin at her. “I have kissed you, remember? And more than once.”
How could she forget? And when would these embarrassing blushes ever stop? Then he drew her back to the dance and she began to laugh and smile and become one with everyone celebrating the union of two fine people. She danced and danced, following Carson’s every move easily and with an abundant joy that only expanded with each glance or touch.
At first, Mariel did not notice anything. Then people around her stopped dancing. The musicians fumbled. And then fell silent. Carson stiffened beside her. She turned and gasped. A large group of armed men—unshaven and rough-looking—had ridden into the yard in front of the Quinns’ hacienda.
As one, the guests drew back. The buzz of so many people speaking at once surrounded Mariel. Quinn walked out to the leader, who had slid from his saddle.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the tall man said loud enough to be heard over the few lingering voices, which then dropped away, causing a sudden silence. “Didn’t know we’d be breaking in on a fiesta.”
Quinn shook the man’s hand. “Our daughter Sugar has just married Emilio Ramirez, Ben.”
“Well, I’ll be!” the man exclaimed.
Emilio led Sugar and presented her to the stranger.
“Who is he?” Mariel asked, looking up into Carson’s face.
“He’s Ben McCulloch.”
She continued to look up at him. Who was Ben McCulloch?
Carson frowned. “He’s my captain in the Rangers.”
Mariel tried to say something, but her tongue had frozen in her mouth. Before she could regain the power of speech, Ben McCulloch was calling for Carson.
Carson went forward, leaving her standing alone. Each step he took diminished Mariel. She felt herself shrinking, shrinking. Then Reva, Ash’s wife, was there putting a plump, comforting arm around Mariel’s shoulder. Reva said nothing, but her kindness kept Mariel from giving in to tears.
