by Caryl McAdoo
“What? Who told you that?”
With a big grin, she spelled out. 'Jessie.'
“How many boys?”
Thrusting her arm toward her mother, she spread out all her fingers, shrugged, then added one from her other hand.
Her mama jumped to her feet. “Oh Lord, seven more people?” She looked at her new husband. “I can't let them come and help us on an empty stomach! Do we have enough fatback?”
Chapter Twelve
Z
eke put the pencil to paper then pulled it back. Best be careful; didn't want to blow all the leftover cash on being wordy.
Cotton picked. Stop.
Wedding Saturday. Stop. Arrive St. Joseph following Wednesday. Stop. Bavarian Jewelry Shop. Stop. Cuz Stop.
He handed the page to the operator then paid the bill. Twenty-three bucks and change left, enough to pay for two real nice hotel rooms. Shame the Drapers couldn't see their way to go.
From sending the telegraph, he strolled to the post office. His sore back barked with each step, but it had all been worth it. Not a bumper crop, according to Earl, but better than middling.
And if the lint price stayed up, there would be a right nice sum, even splitting three ways.
Four of the boys had signed on to help with picking Earl's fields. Melody had whispered he'd neglected his own to help his new wife.
Wasn't love grand?
After collecting the mail, he eased toward the mercantile. Though warm, the September day offered a bright blue sky full of fluffy white clouds floating along, shading the souls below on their way.
Five steps short, Grissom burst out the door, stopped and glared, then balled his fist. Just what he needed to spoil a perfectly good day.
“Sheffield.” His upper lip curled into a snarl. “Your curses ruined me.”
Not curses, scriptural principles. But the angry farmer wouldn't hear any of that. Zeke pulled the pad from his pocket. The man slapped the paper from his hand. A blur sped toward his face.
The blow hit him square on his chin. He staggered back. His own fist balled, but with more self-control than he knew he had, he kept them at his side.
Another strike stumbled him backwards, but he stayed on his feet. The third impact to his midsection doubled him over.
“You are one sorry son of a—”
Something or someone had stopped his tormentor mid-sentence. Nausea threatened to bring breakfast up. Zeke forced himself upright. A low band of pain stabbed him. Three men he didn't recognize restrained Grissom.
“You hurt, Preacher?”
He shook his head.
“What do you want us to do with this idiot?”
The familiar warmth engulfed him. Oh, how he loved the Lord. He put his hands behind him and stepped forward. “The Lord says, let him go.”
Grissom shook off his captors then raised his fist again.
Zeke braced himself, but the blow didn't come.
Instead, all the vinegar seemed to drain out of the farmer.
For the time it took Zeke to fill his lungs then slowly exhale, the man just stood there.
Then he spit right in Zeke's face and stormed off.
The older of his three rescuers stepped toward Grissom, but Zeke grabbed his arm. The guy turned around.
“L, l, l, l, let 'im g, g, g, g, g, go.”
“You're a better man than me, Preacher. I'd of knocked that fool into next week.”
“Yeah, or worse.” One of the others held up a fist after the retreating Grissom.
Wiping his face, Zeke retrieved his pad. Real quick, he held out the thank-you he'd scribbled.
“You're welcome, sir. Anytime. Guess you heard his barn burned to the ground and took his cotton with it.”
Zeke nodded, but didn't smile.
As the Lord, he wanted all to come to repentance.
Servilia always argued against mid-week prayer services, but not that Wednesday. With the cotton at the gin, she'd shed all dread and wrangled a room for her and Melody in town.
The accommodations served two purposes. She and her younger sister could use the extra day for decorating, and her older sister and new brother-in-law would have the house all to their little family-selves.
No doubt, all her gossip-biddie-buddies would be comparing all future weddings to the Sheffields' nuptials. She leaned out and smiled at Zeke, studying his swollen, purplish eye.
Shame he'd gotten himself beat up. But the whole valley jawed about what a Godly man he was, standing still for Grissom to hit him three times. Then even let the idiot spit in his face without reacting.
Was there a man anywhere more like Jesus?
If only he could talk. She would love to have a nice conversation with her future brother-in-law.
Cassie Randel claimed to have witnessed the whole incident from inside the mercantile. She testified that Zeke had balled his fist, but kept both hands at his side. Like he made himself not fight back.
He chose the path of righteousness.
Mercy! No one would have blamed him for defending himself.
Smiling back, he gave her a little pay-attention nod toward the front.
Preacher stood at the lectern. “Let's get to work on our list. Who's got someone that needs us to pray?”
The back door burst open. Grissom, wife and boys following right behind him, charged through the opening. Servilia glanced at Zeke. He stood. The man gave him one sharp nod on his way by. He marched straight up to the front.
“Preacher, I got something I need to say.”
“Speak on, sir. Glad you came tonight.”
The farmer spun and faced the scant congregation.
“If you don't know, Reverend Sheffield there warned me what the Lord had in store. He told me there was still time to repent, but I wouldn't listen. Then after, I lost everything.”
He looked to his wife, sitting on the first pew surrounded by his sons and extended his hand toward her, palm up.
Could have heard a needle drop, everything got so quiet.
Fresh tears glistened his eyes.
“Except the house, for her sake. Thank you, babe. I don't know how you put up with me.” His gaze went from her to Zeke. “I blamed you.” He filled his lungs. “I'm sorry, Ezekiel. You didn't curse me. I cursed myself, joining with them boys that burned out that black family in Avery.” He wiped his cheeks.
Zeke nodded.
“Spent most of last night on my knees. Couldn't get that look on your face out of my mind; the one of love while I pummeled you.”
“It was like . . . like . . .” He broke down and wept, composed himself, then wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Like I's helping the Roman soldiers beat Jesus.” Tears raced down his cheeks again, but he ignored them and continued. “Brother, I got myself baptized before we headed off to war, but I wasn't saved then. I know that now. It was you. You showed me what it really means to be a Christian.” He sniffed then wiped both cheeks again. “Will you forgive me, brother?”
Making his way into the aisle, Zeke nodded then held his arms out as he walked toward the front. Was there a dry eye in the place as the two men hugged? Servilia wasn't sure. She could hardly see for her own tears.
Rupert hated saloons but the Red Eye gave him the best view of the shop's front door. Why had Zeke wanted to meet there? The hotel would have been much better, but . . . oh well.
He'd made good use of the shop by arriving so early and purchased the most beautiful ring Mister Miller had to offer at his Bavarian Jewelry Shop, and a locket for her neck . . . until he deemed the time right.
Had he arrived a day earlier, he could've had his photograph taken and inserted it into one side. But there'd be time for that. At least, he'd be prepared if the lady proved as advertised.
Even if she failed to meet up to his imaginations, he still might offer . . . Mercy. Where were they? He searched the boardwalk on the street opposite his perch.
No cousin with a new bride—and no Servilia.
Oh, how he hoped
and prayed . . .
Not that his love had come right out and said it, but to his thinking, it seemed rather apparent she thought it unjust that Lucinda had two weddings and Melody had hers, but she'd had none.
Poor darling. He allowed himself a smile. Hopefully, that oversight would be corrected, posthaste. He couldn't imagine anything to stop her wedding ceremony—if only she'd accept him.
Father God, open the door, ready her heart to receive my love.
Another half hour passed. The barmaid approached. “Anything wrong, mister? Change your mind or something?” She touched the full mug. “Your beer's flat. Can I get you a whiskey perhaps?”
“No, ma'am. That won't be necessary. Nothing's wrong. I'm done with it. You may take it along.” He slipped her a gratuity.
With a little smile and shrug, she pocketed the coin and took away his full mug.
Small price to pay for his look-out perch.
Had something happened? Anything might have in over five hundred miles. From DeKalb, Texas, to Saint Joseph, Missouri, they might have experienced broken stage axles, lame horses, highwaymen.
For a bit, his mind raced wild, chronicling each and every little mishap that could have delayed their journey.
The most horrible of reasons threatened to engulf him, but even if Servilia had gotten cold feet, Zeke and Melody would have come to tell him the bad news in person.
No. He only needed to be patient. After all, he didn't want to be without virtue. He'd arrived early, and his watch indicated only a little past noon. They weren't very late at all . . . yet.
A couple with a spare lady rounded the far corner. The man definitely could be his cousin. He stood and walked to the double half-doors, guarding the den of ill repute's entry. It was them.
Even from that distance, he had no doubt. It was Ezekiel all right. Mis'ess Sheffield on his arm, and his Servilia next to her sister.
His chest boomed. He gasped a breath, exhaled, then filled his lungs slowly. She was lovely, much more than he'd imagined. Must keep his head, for the beautiful lady already had his heart. He stepped out onto the sidewalk. Zeke waved then seemed to increase his pace.
Rupert crossed the street with a forced reserve. Mindful not to run or seem over-anxious, he couldn't take his eyes from her, tall and slim, so much grace.
It wouldn't do to scare her, being too eager. His stomach roiled. What if he put her off? He'd rehearsed a thousand different greetings, memorized half a dozen of them, but none seemed appropriate at that moment.
What would he say? They were almost to him, he almost to them.
The closer they came, the more beautiful his Servilia.
God, what a gift. Thank You. Thank You.
The trio came to him on the walk in front of the little store and stopped. Zeke stuck out his hand. Rupert took it and pulled him into a bear hug. “So good to see you, Cuz.” He held out his hand toward Melody.
The bride grinned. “I'm the new Mis'ess Ezekiel Sheffield, Cousin Rupert, and this is my sister, Servilia Parker.”
His love extended her hand as if he might want to shake it.
Though he took it, he could not tear his eyes away from hers, unashamedly staring. She stared right back, opening the windows of her soul for him to dive into.
He could cheerfully immerse himself in them and drown therein, never to be heard from again, with complete and pure satisfaction.
Smiling, he went to one knee and pulled a small box from his coat pocket.
“Servilia Parker, fairest of them all, won't you please do me the greatest honor and become my wife? I know we've only just met in person, but a moment ago . . . what I saw in your eyes . . . confirmed what has been in my heart from the first word of your first letter.”
Servilia held her breath as he opened a small black box.
The stone caught the sun. A dazzling flash sang to her heart.
A diamond. Neither of her sisters had a diamond! She gasped. Had prayed for that day, but . . .
“But, but . . . there's so much to speak of. What about children?”
He smiled. “As many as you want.”
“Oh.” She returned his smile.
As always after lightning, a huge clap of thunder followed and rolled over her heart—though the sky's bright blue supported only a few white floating, fluffy clouds.
Certain all could hear the rumbling, she held her chest in place lest it burst wide open. She could barely breathe, much less swallow. She couldn't call him to stand up.
Doing that to him would be cruel, and her heart was unwilling to do him harm.
“Then yes, I will marry you. Of course, I'll marry you! I've never been more happy in my life, Mister Sheffield!”
Placing the ring on her third finger, he kissed the back of her left hand.
She tugged on his, pulling him to his feet, and he engulfed her in his arms.
His lips found hers.
A kiss?
Time slowed then stopped. Her eyes closed. She held her breath and became the kiss. No one watched, for no one else in the world existed.
Never had she imagined such a wonderful experience a simple kiss could be.
All her worries and anxiousness melted into the sweetest peace she'd ever known. In his strong arms, she was safe. She was going to be married.
Even her heart surrendered to the peace. It stopped its frantic booming and swelled until she wondered if her ribs could hold it in. Rupert Sheffield was a wonderful man, her betrothed.
She opened her eyes, and only saw his.
Beautiful and blue, the color of the summer sky.
She'd never tire of looking into them.
Would she ever get used to him?
One thing she knew beyond doubt, he would never be ordinary. Not his kisses, not his holding her hand, not the depth of his eyes.
How could it be that God blessed her so? She choked back grateful tears and thanked Him, knowing she didn't deserve such a husband.
“Rupert,” she whispered. “My dearest, wonderful Rupert. It's you. You're the one, the answer to all my prayers. Praise the Lord.”
He leaned back. “I never dreamed . . . I mean, I dreamed, but when I laid my eyes on you . . . I thought I was doomed. You're so beautiful, and I'm so . . .”
“So handsome? Intelligent? Generous? Kind? Thank you so much for sending the money to hire pickers. What a blessing you are, Rupert Sheffield.” She held up her fingers.
“Normally, my hands would be bloody by now, and we'd still have half our crop or more left to pick. Do you realize? I only thought I loved the man I imagined you to be, but . . . but . . . ”
Taking her hand in his, he kissed each finger tip. Such a romantic. “I spoke with the Methodist pastor in town. He can marry us this afternoon if that isn't too soon—”
“Too soon? Too soon?” She looked from him to Melody, suddenly aware of the other people around. Had her sister really been standing there all along? She shook her head with the biggest smile ever plastered on her newly married mug.
Her eyes sparkled with extra moisture. Servilia turned back. “No, no, my love. Being pronounced your wife cannot possibly come soon enough.”
Already resigned to not experiencing the gala flower explosion extravaganza she and Lucy had put on for Melody, the mere thought of spending that very night as Mis'ess Rupert Sheffield . . .
It sent a tingle down her spine. A tiny grain of fear niggled her heart, but she paid it no never mind; women had been marrying men from the beginning of time.
Standing before her, the man God created to be her husband offered his love and possessions and protection. What was there to fear? Nothing. Absolutely, nothing to cause any concern.
Assurance filled her heart. He was the one. The one special one. Oh, how could she be so blessed?
“I fully agree, dearest Servilia. No reason to delay.”
A squeal escaped, but she didn't jump or dance around with Melody. Wouldn't do putting on such a show of foolishness on the sidewalk in S
aint Joseph.
Not in front of this distinguished, marvelous man. She would never embarrass him with such a display. She wanted nothing more than to be his own. She turned her hand in the afternoon sun and enjoyed the colors dancing from her diamond ring.
Never in all her life had she even dreamed of wearing such an extravagant piece of jewelry.
Rupert grinned then looked to Zeke. “Stand up with me, Cuz?”
He nodded. “Y, y, y, y, yes. Of c, c, c, c, course.”
Chapter Thirteen
M
elody waved then cupped her hands around her mouth. “You better write.”
Fingers holding a white hankie stuck out the stage's window. Was that a maybe? Or yes, of course? No doubt she'd be telling her and Lucy all about being married to her college professor!
And all because of her own dear Ezekiel. She looked up into his eyes. “You're so wonderful to recognize they'd go so well together. Thank you, Husband.”
Once the coach disappeared around the first corner, he tugged on her sleeve. “Suppose matchmaking is my gift?” He grinned. “Come on, I'd chosen the jewelry store to meet for a reason.” He chuckled. “Never thought my cousin would be so rushed!”
“I know! I couldn't believe it.”
“We Sheffield men know who we want when we see her, I guess. The moment I saw your face, your smile, I knew . . .” He searched her eyes, speaking oceans to her soul. “So come on. I want to take you to the Bavarian Jewelry Shop.”
“Oh, I don't need a fancy ring, my love.” She twirled her gold band. “I love the one I've got.” She loved him though, more than anything in the world.
How sweet that he wanted to shop for her. But she'd love returning the favor, too. “I noticed a haberdashery on the way. Why don't we look into getting you a new suit before we go home?”
“I've got two perfectly good ones, and I had no intentions of purchasing another ring.”
Slipping her hand through his arm, she held her peace. Clarksville had men's suits in their mercantile; she'd buy him one out of her cotton money. Lucy said it should be waiting for her when she got back.
