It was a beautiful late June evening for the wedding, with flowers everywhere in the church. Of course there was a problem finding enough flowers because Magnolia had eaten most of the flower gardens in town. She had a particular taste for daisies and petunias. Some of the roses were spared because of the thorns, so Lark carried a bouquet of white old-fashioned rosebuds, which created a perfume that scented the whole church. Old Bill—the telegraph operator who had been part of the mail-order-bride conspiracy—would give the bride away.
The elderly maiden organist played the wheezy old organ as the pair made ready to come down the aisle. The church was full to overflowing. The elderly minister stepped to the pulpit, holding his Bible and nodding to the crowd. Somewhere in the audience a baby whimpered, and the mother tried to shush it. The wheezy old organ played, and the warm night air drifted through the open windows while the old ladies fanned themselves with paper fans.
Old Miss Wiggly wore a dress as gray as her hair. She stood up solemnly and began her solo in a quavering voice that set a dog outside howling: “Oh, promise me that someday, you and I…”
Peeking from the back, Lark saw Lawrence and his best man step out of a back room and stand next to the pulpit. He looked nervous and sweaty palmed as he gazed up the aisle. Then his expression changed when he saw Lark, and his eyes lit up.
Mrs. Bottoms walked down the aisle in a no-nonsense blue dress that could be worn again later. Then Jimmy, his dark hair slicked back and his face shiny from scrubbing, solemnly went down the aisle, carrying a little pillow with the ring. It was a plain gold band from Snootley’s General Store.
The pastor gestured the crowd to stand, and the organ played louder, if not better. Lark thought she had never been so happy as she was now, starting down the aisle. She was only sad that her family was not here to take part.
It seemed a long way down the aisle to her waiting groom, but she had eyes only for him.
They stood side by side. Lawrence looked so nervous, Lark was afraid he might faint. The organ wheezed to a halt, and the minister motioned for the crowd to sit. “Dearly beloved…” he began.
Lark barely heard him as she took Lawrence’s hand. They looked into each other’s eyes. He looked like he was about to break and run, but she held on to his big hand firmly. If the shy sheriff decided he couldn’t go through with this, she wasn’t going to allow him to escape up the aisle and humiliate her.
He mouthed the words: You look prettier than a speckled pup in a red wagon.
Okay, so it wasn’t very romantic, but after all, he was a Texan. He could have compared her to some long-horned heifer.
The minister said something about obeying. She nodded, although it rankled her. She should have had him take that part out.
“Lawrence Witherspoon, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death do you part, as long as you both shall live?”
“I sure do, Reverend. Long as I got a biscuit, she gets half.” A Texan couldn’t make a deeper commitment than that.
“Lacey Van Schuyler, do you take this man do be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death do you part, as long as you both shall live?”
For a moment, Lark hesitated. Land’s sake, what was she doing? This wasn’t going to be legal, getting married under her sister’s name. What’s more, prissy Lacey would have a hissy fit when she finally found out she was legally married to a sheriff she had never met. Besides, wasn’t Lacey about to marry Homer What’s-his-name?
The congregation stirred uneasily and a small buzz ran through the crowd.
“Uh, Miss Lacey?” said the minister.
“What?” She came to with a start. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this mess, getting married under her sister’s name? Could they throw her in jail for that too?
The minister was looking at her strangely. Poor Lawrence looked stricken.
“I asked, Miss Lacey,” the pastor asked patiently, “if you’re willing to marry Lawrence here?”
“Uh, yes, of course. Long as I got a biscuit, he’s got half.”
The preacher and the whole congregation seemed to sigh with relief. “Is there a ring?”
Jimmy stepped up and handed Lawrence the pillow. His hands were shaking so badly, he dropped the ring, which rolled under the front pew. This set a bunch of people crawling around on their hands and knees looking for it. What if nobody found it? Lark thought, could they call off the wedding?
“Found it!” announced a little girl in the front row. She carried it up and handed it to the sheriff.
The audience sighed with relief, and a small boy asked, “Is it over yet?”
His mother shushed him.
Lawrence slipped the gold band on her finger. His hands were so sweaty and his face so strained, Lark thought he might faint on the spot. If he did, was she legally married?
The minister drew a great sigh of relief. “Now, by the power of God, this church, and the greatest state in the whole world—Texas, of course—I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
He looked like he expected to be shot. “In front of all these people?”
The crowd roared with laughter as Lawrence leaned over and gave her a quick peck.
Oh my. Maybe she had made a mistake. It might not be a wedding night to remember, Lark thought with dismay. Well, it was too late now. She’d just have to make the best of it. The organist was just about to play the recessional when there came a terrible braying from the back of the church, causing everyone to jump. Magnolia had managed to get the church door open and stood there staring inside.
“There’s your flower girl,” someone laughed. The organ began to play as Lark and Lawrence ran up the aisle and outside into the warm summer darkness.
Once out on the grass, he picked her up and swung her around. “Honey, you gave me quite a scare in there. I thought you was about to back out on me.”
She smiled up at him. “Funny, I thought the same thing.”
“Who, me? Nope, but I’d rather face Billy the Kid than go through that again. I’d look like a damned fool in front of all these folks if you got cold feet on me.”
“You’ll find out about my cold feet this winter,” Lark laughed with a wink. Then she wondered if she’d shocked him. Around them, people were crowding in to congratulate them. The empty lot next door was decorated with hanging kerosene lamps to light up the festivities and crepe paper streamers. The men had laid out a wooden dance floor up near the refreshments, and the Odd Fellows band was set to play. Mrs. Bottoms and the other ladies set up the wedding feast on tables under the giant cottonwood trees. Lark placed her bouquet on the table near the big fancy cake. When she looked again, the irrepressible Magnolia was calmly nibbling on the dainty white rosebuds.
It was a fabulous feast as only Texans could put on. A whole steer had been roasted on a spit, as well as a suckling pig. There were mounds of homemade rolls, salads, and homegrown vegetables, as well as corn on the cob and buckets of iced tea and lemonade. A whole table of desserts competed with the big wedding cake in the middle. Magnolia promptly started in on the roasting ears, and Paco had to catch the donkey and tie her up to keep her out of people’s plates. Some of the men brought out a keg of beer, which the good reverend pretended not to see as the dancing began. Children ran in and out of the crowd, ignoring the halfhearted scolding of mothers who were having too good a time to pay much attention to them. The band began to play that old Texas favorite: “Put Your Little Foot.”
Put your little foot, put your little foot, put your little foot right there….
Lark wanted to dance with her new husband, but men were lining up to dance with her. She sighed as she glanced around for Lawrence and saw him standing over by the beer keg, laughing with some of the other men.
It was late when she finally got to dance with him. He’d been drinking. She could smell it, and he was a little unsteady on his feet. “Congratulations, Mrs. Witherspoon,” he mumbled.
“Do you reckon we could slip away soon?”
She blushed. “I know, I can hardly wait, either.”
He looked abruptly green. “Then you’re as sick as I am?” he mumbled, staggering off into the shadows. She could hear him throwing up in the bushes. Oh hell, so much for romance. Of course, being Texan, it was a wonder he wasn’t drunker than he was. He came staggering back. “I reckon I need another drink.”
“I think you’ve already had enough,” Lark snapped. “Don’t you think we ought to leave now?”
He looked at her cross-eyed, then he leaned closer as if not certain who she was. “And miss this good party?”
“Lawrence, if we don’t leave soon, people will start whispering. They expect us to try to sneak off.”
“They do? Okay.” He put his arm around her and swayed. If he went down, as big as he was, she wasn’t certain she could get him on his feet.
She was almost holding him up. “Look, here comes Paco with the buggy. See how it’s all decorated up with flowers and dragging old shoes?”
Well, actually, since this was Texas, it wasn’t dragging old shoes. It was dragging old boots.
“Where?” The sheriff looked around and swayed again.
The whole crowd had turned to watch. The men were nudging each other, and the ladies were giggling.
“Paco,” she called, “I think I need some help here.”
“Sí, señorita, I mean, señora.” The young deputy jumped down from the buggy and ran to help her lead Lawrence across the grass.
“Three cheers for our sheriff and his new bride!” a man shouted. “Hip hip hooray!”
Others joined in, as did Magnolia with her ungodly braying. “Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!”
“Thank you, one and all,” Lark said with as much dignity as she could manage, considering the big lanky lawman was reeling as he leaned on her with one big boot tangled in her long veil. With Paco’s help, she got Lawrence into the buggy, and Paco drove them away.
“To the sheriff’s house, sí?” Paco asked.
“To the sheriff’s house,” Lark repeated. There was no time for a honeymoon—there really wasn’t anyone to replace him except Paco, who was a bit young to take over corralling the whole town. The sheriff’s tiny house was also on Main Street, right in the middle of town. They drove up in front, and Paco helped her get her drunken groom inside.
“Help me get him into the bedroom,” she ordered. Her veil had come off, and her dress was askew. They half carried, half dragged the big Texan in and laid him across the bed. He lay there, spread out like a dead possum and snoring loudly.
Paco pulled off the sheriff’s boots. “That was a great wedding,” he said enthusiastically.
“Well, it was ’til toward the end. Will he be all right?”
“Sí, I reckon so. The sheriff don’t drink much. Well, I’ll be going, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat with two fingers and started for the door. “I’ll put away the buggy and Magnolia, señora. There’s a stable out back of the house.”
“Gracias, Paco.” She watched him leave and turned to look at her groom. Lawrence was dead to the world, and his snoring sounded like Magnolia’s braying. How romantic. Just what kind of a wedding night was this going to be?
As a matter of fact, not much at all. Lawrence never woke up all night. Lark didn’t know whether to be sympathetic or mad. She’d heard of reluctant brides, but a groom?
She decided the next morning to pretend as if nothing had happened. She was in the kitchen cooking bacon and eggs when he stumbled out of the bedroom.
“My,” she said, a little brighter than she felt, “are you doing okay this morning?”
He squinted at her a long moment as if trying to focus his eyes. “Uh,” he groaned, putting his hand to his head. “I feel like I been rode hard and put away wet.”
She could only wish about the hard ride, she thought.
“Is there some coffee?” He staggered across the kitchen.
“Sit down.” She decided to be sympathetic. “I’ll bring you a cup. Want anything in it?”
“Maybe a shot of whiskey,” he groaned. “The hair of the dog that bit me, you know.”
“I meant cream, or sugar.” She tried not to let her voice be too icy. She brought a cup and set it before him. “How do you like your eggs?”
He groaned again and sipped the coffee, shuddering. Okay, so she didn’t make good coffee, either—but in the state he was in, how could he tell the difference? “Don’t even talk about food. What happened, anyway?”
“We got married,” she said. Surely he was joking. “You don’t remember that?”
“Uh, of course.” He didn’t look at her, and she wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth or not. “Reckon I celebrated a little too much. How was it…?” He looked at her “I mean, you know.”
He couldn’t remember that either—or lack thereof. She stifled an urge to hit him in the head with the frying pan—but of course, with the eggs in it, it would make a mess she’d have to clean up. “I don’t reckon the town will expect you to work today.”
“Oh, I’ll work.” He gulped his coffee and stood up, looking a little green. “Somebody’s got to protect the town.”
As sick as he looked, she didn’t figure he could unbutton his own pants if he had to pee, much less outdraw a lawbreaker, but she didn’t say that. “No more than happens around Rusty Spur, I imagine Paco could handle it for the day.”
He avoided her gaze. “Reckon you got things to do, cleanin’ up and all. Oh, by the way, the town is givin’ us a poundin’ tonight.”
“A pounding? I thought that was a custom for preachers.”
“Mostly, it may be, but the ladies thought it was a nice idea to give us a good start. Mrs. Bottoms told me to remind you yesterday, but I forgot.”
She looked around the untidy house with growing horror. “They’re all coming here?”
“Well, Mrs. Bottoms and some of the other ladies’ll bring the refreshments, I reckon.”
“And you’re going to run off and leave me with this mess?” She looked around. The place looked like possums had been nesting in it.
“Well, after all, ain’t you the wife?”
She would kill him. Yes, she would kill him. And then the best man from her wedding would arrest her, but the ladies would still gossip about how dirty her house was. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care what they thought, but she did. “I can’t get this—this stable cleaned up by tonight.”
He grinned. “Sure you can, you just scrub hard all day, that’s all. By the way, I could use some clean socks.”
Yes, she would kill him. Washing his dirty socks was not what she had in mind for the morning after her wedding.
Before she could say anything else, he stumbled to the bedroom for his boots and hat and went out the door, squinting in the bright sunlight.
Lark took a deep breath. What kind of a mess had she gotten herself into? She was married—no, probably living in sin with a man who couldn’t even remember last night. She went to the window and looked out. The sheriff limped along the street as if he didn’t feel too well. And she, who was no great shakes as a housewife, had to clean up a pigsty of a home for dozens of townspeople to come calling tonight. She turned and surveyed the mess. If she had seen it before the wedding, she might have backed out on this deal. Dishes were stacked in the sink and on the cabinet. Lawrence had left a trail of clothes across the floor and hanging on doorknobs. Old newspapers and coffee cups were piled around on the living room furniture, and the floor could use a good scrubbing. Housekeeping was not an area that Lark shone.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Her first inclination was to go into the bedroom, pack her bag, and clear out. She’d never been good about facing trouble head-on. Yet her leaving might raise a lot of questions that she’d just as soon not answer.
Lawrence might be a totally wonderful man, but so far he hadn’t shown her anything.
About that time, t
here was a knock at the door and she hurried to answer it. It was Mrs. Bottoms, accompanied by two of her maids.
“Hello, my dear, how is the old married woman this morning?”
The Mexican girls put their hands over their mouths and giggled.
“Feeling very old. Just look at this place. I don’t think it’s been cleaned up since Texas entered the Union.”
She stepped back and ushered the trio in.
“That’s a sore point with some folks, dear,” the lady said. “I wouldn’t mention it.”
“What? The sheriff’s dirty house?”
“No, Texas joining the Union. You know many Texans think we did better as our own nation. Besides, remember we teach our schoolchildren that the rest of the Union joined us.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot. Can I get you some coffee?” She led the three into her kitchen and poured three cups. They all took sips and frowned.
“Uh, dear,” Mrs. Bottoms said, “remind me to teach you how to make coffee. Now, girls, let’s get to work.”
The two maids started picking up and sweeping.
Mrs. Bottoms turned and smiled at Lark. “So, how was it?”
Lark felt herself flush. “If you don’t mind, that part is not something I want to discuss.” How could she admit nothing had happened in her marital bed?
“Heavens, he’s more man than most, I reckon,” the lady said with a wink. “I reckon all the ladies is curious.”
The Mexican girls giggled and nudged each other.
Lark decided to change the subject. “I understand the town is giving us a pounding tonight. We’re much obliged.”
The other woman shrugged. “Sheriffs don’t make money, so we thought maybe we’d give you a good start.” She paused and looked around. “I’d say you could use a little help. This place looks like a tavern on Sunday morning after a Saturday night fight.”
“Exactly what I thought.” Lark didn’t want to admit she hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin.
“We’ll pitch in and slick it up,” Mrs. Bottoms promised, “and the ladies will bring refreshments. It will be a lovely evening.”
Frankly, Lark had been looking forward to getting her bashful groom alone and sober in the bedroom tonight. Well, that could wait. After all, she wasn’t certain at that moment if she wanted this marriage consummated. She might still decide to flee the town. “I appreciate all the help I can get.”
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 14
