by Tia Siren
“MariAnne?” Clayton asked her, tone soft and whisper smooth. “Would you dance with me?”
Rising slowly from her place in the field, MariAnne said nothing; just opened her delicate arms to the man who now rushed to fill them.
The ethereal song of bluebirds and hummingbirds soaring high up above supplied the ideal soundtrack for a sunlit dance; one in which the couple moved and swayed together between rows of radiant roses.
Their arms entangling between them, MariAnne and Clayton stared deep into one another’s eyes as they danced and moved in beautiful communion; sharing a secret smile as he swirled and dipped her in broad circles across the breadth of his flower strewn field.
“I don’t care how many dances, how many kisses, how many floral bouquets it takes to wipe that man from your mind—to wipe away all the pain,” he whispered, adding as he ran his hands like warm water down the length of her weary back, “I aim, my darling to love away the hurt; to make you feel like the princess that you are.”
Chapter six
Following up on these words a few days later, Clayton asked MariAnne if he could escort her to a barn dance scheduled to take place that weekend at a nearby ranch; one that each Saturday seemed to form the very focus of the Austin social scene.
Taking her into town to visit the shop of a premiere dressmaker, he promised not to look as his lady friend purchased a gown for the event; yet when the night of the dance finally arrived, he knew that the rather extravagant purchase had been worth every coin.
Shining resplendent in a glorious hue of sweet pearl pink, the glowing gown was culled from pure cotton calico and boasted a fitted bodice, a full hoop skirt, and an elegant trim of braided lace that lined its sleeves, bodice, high collar and flowing skirt.
Arranging her dark hair in a graceful mass of ringlets that served to frame her heart shaped face, MariAnne thrilled as her doting date presented her with a pair of shiny pearl earrings; her gaze illuminating as it beheld his own brand of evening wear finery—one that seemed far removed from the shirt and jeans he generally wore in his role as a country rancher.
Dazzling her in a sleek ebony duster coat with a cotton surface and corduroy collar and cuffs, the gentleman also boasted matching frontier pants with a high waist and a button fly, along with a smart black cinch. A form fitting white cotton shirt completed this distinguished look, along with a sharp bolo tie.
“You’re beautiful,” he praised her, leading her by the hand into the tall apple red structure that would serve as the site of that evening’s dance.
“Um, so are you!” marveled a dazed MariAnne, wondering at the transformation that had morphed her gentleman rancher into a frontier prince.
Soon the couple engaged once again in a genuine lover’s waltz; this time moving in radiant tandem across the surface of a heather strewn dance floor.
Their public surroundings dissolved around them as their bodies moved closer together; swirling as one across the floor as they stared deep into one another’s eyes.
“You make me feel like a princess,” MariAnne praised Clayton, wrapping her arms around his muscled shoulders as she rested her head on his hard massive chest.
Clayton shook his head.
“You are a princess, MariAnne. You always have been—you just needed someone to bring it out in you,” he told her, adding as he clutched her tiny waist between his hands and seared her with a meaningful glance, “And I am so blessed to be that man. You make me laugh, you work so hard by my side in the fields and the house, and you challenge me every day to think and to learn.” He paused here, adding as he pulled her closer still, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, in every way—and with your kind consent Ma’am, I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Now that I have found my princess, I’ll be dag gummed if I ever let her go,” he declared, adding as he leaned forward to touch her lips with a tender kiss,“I want to marry you, MariAnne.”
“So sorry to tell you, Deputy, but that won’t be possible. This lady just happens to be married to me.”
MariAnne froze in Clayton’s arms as she heard the voice of nightmares; the low, cold tones she’d hoped against hope never to hear again.
“Leon,” she breathed, raising her head to behold a being who seemed more a demon than a mortal man; a short, stocky man with oily hair and menacing bloodshot eyes.
“It’s been a good bit since I’ve seen you, dear wife,” Leon sneered, reaching forth to clamp down a hard possessive hand on the surface of MariAnne’s slender shoulder. “I’ve been searching for you day and night, and now—finally—we are reunited.”
Clayton had heard enough.
“Do not touch her!” he screeched, knocking Leon’s hand from MariAnne’s shoulder and stepping hard and fast between them. “Leave her alone!”
Leon stared at him for a long, quiet moment; his gaze turning mocking and depreciating as he told the younger man, “She is my wife, Boy, not yours. And as much as you might try to play the role of the pathetic white knight, saving MariAnne from her scoundrel of a husband, you cannot come between a man and his property.”
Clayton shook his head.
“No man’s wife is his property,” he reminded Leon, adding as he held up a firm for emphasis, “And when a man breaks his marriage contract by abusing and mistreating his wife, then he surrenders all claim to her.” He paused here, adding as he pointed his authoritative finger straight in Leon’s face, “The contract that bonded you to this magnificent woman is null and void, Mr. Campbell. And, speaking frankly, you were a complete and total fool to let her go.”
Leon frowned.
“Stop spoutin’ nonsense, Boy,” he barked, adding as he pulled himself up to his admittedly impressive height, “I do believe that I could take you in a fight, you varmint—any day of the week. And if you do not step aside immediately and allow me to take what’s rightfully mine, then that is exactly what you will have on your hands: a fight.”
Clayton grinned.
“Well if you want a fight, my good man, then you will have one. Just remember that I’ll be bringing both a gun and a badge to this fight—and I am trained and licensed to use both of them,” he pronounced, opening his coat to reveal both in a single smooth flourish.
His beady eyes widening substantially as they beheld his rival’s polished ivory handled six shooter, Leon stood frozen for a full moment before finally turning away.
“Fine then, go ahead and take her. Considering the fact that I’ve been biding my time as of late with a couple of lovely saloon girls, I shall be more than pleased to give her the divorce that she so desperately seems to want,” he snapped, adding with a rude gesture in MariAnne’s direction, “The little whore isn’t worth it anyway.”
Now MariAnne had heard enough.
“You cretin!” she exclaimed, racing forward to draw back her arm and ball her fist in a threatening manner.
She swore she’d remember and cherish forever the look of abject fear that now crossed her husband’s features; a look that came accompanied by a strangulated moan as she crashed her tiny fist across his jaw—sending him reeling backward through the sheer force of her unleashed, unmitigated rage.
Regaining his bearings with a pathetic attempt at a moan, a stunned Leon clutched at his bruised jaw as he winced with evident pain; swearing beneath his breath as he straightened his posture and turned dejected in the direction of the door.
Looking after him with a satisfied smile, MariAnne further reveled in the round of raucous applause that met her bold action; a response delivered by a crowd that obviously shared her poor opinion of her soon to be ex-husband.
“Feel better now, Sweetheart?” Clayton asked her, taking her hand in his as he graced her with a warm, encouraging smile. “Well I hope that this will make you feel better still.”
Without further hesitation he took her hands in his, dropping t
o his knees before her as he reached deep into the pocket of his fine tailored trousers; withdrawing a gleaming diamond ring and holding it upward for her appraisal.
“My dear MariAnne,” he addressed her, tone both loving and respectful as he asked, “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
MariAnne nodded, her public surroundings dissolving around her as she squeezed Clayton’s fingers between his.
“I will, my prince,” she told him, adding as she returned his smile, “I love you Clayton, so very much.”
MariAnne showed her love a few months later; returning with her groom to the barn that served as the site of their grand proposal.
The organizers of the barn dance offered the use of their site as the setting for their nuptials; adorning the barn’s interior with lustrous arrangements of pure golden roses.
Standing at the door of the barn, MariAnne’s admiring gaze cast down the length of her beautiful handmade wedding gown; a luxurious dress of ivory satin that sported a rich jacquard pattern, a fitted, lace lined bodice, wide sleeves and a high collar accentuated by streams of rich ebullient lace, and a plethora of elegant ruffles adorning the length of its shining satiny surface.
“I never did think that I would live to see this day,” she mused in silence, reaching upward to pat the upswept, diamond studded strands of her luxurious ebony hair. “The day that I married for love.”
Stepping inward into the barn that had morphed into a wedding chapel, she watched with a smile as a laughing Ellie—dressed this day in a formal dress of lilac patterned calico with puffed sleeves and a long full skirt—ran before her on a makeshift aisle layered with a long sheath of scarlet red carpeting, enacting her designated role of flower girl by showering a rain of golden rose petals across the sleek fabric of the carpet. Then she nodded toward the assembled family members who had gathered that day to witness her nuptials; including the parents who had begged her forgiveness for passing her into the hands of a madman like Leon. Now they looked on with quiet pride as their resplendent daughter walked down the length of a second aisle; this time venturing forth to meet the man of her heart.
Dressed that day in a glorious silver jacquard vest with a matching long string tie and a high brown hat, Clayton also wore a smart, form fitting shirt of white cotton and black silk pantaloons; sporting a luminous white toothed smile to enhance and complete the look.
And as the hero and his princess joined hands at an altar blooming forth with their favorite yellow roses, both knew that they would never let go.
*****
THE END
An Unexpected Gift – An Amish Romance
Though she had been through a lot in the past few months, nothing could prepare her for how she felt now. Yoder was going to be her new last name, and she hated it. She felt like she was going to have to become a different person. And her new first name, Sarah? It just sounded so old-fashioned. Her entire life was about to be old-fashioned.
She thought back at the events that lead her to this. They made her so angry. She was determined to give her father an earful during the drive. Or could she really call it a drive. A horse and a buggy can drive right? Sarah couldn’t even believe what was going through her mind. As she got ready to leave, she picked out the most plain clothes that she could so she would look like the rest of the Amish. She looked at herself in the mirror. At the age of sixteen, Sarah was old enough to know that she was attractive and desired by guys. It is what made her popular at school. But would Amish guys care about stuff like that? Weren’t they just interested in a person’s character? The thought of her appearance not being important made her cringe.
“Honey, are you ready, we have to leave now if are to get there before dark,” yelled Sarah’s father.
“I will be right down,” she said. Sarah took one last look at her room. She feared that she would never see it again. “Alright I am coming.” She looked at her father and laughed to herself. He was wearing the most drab and plain garments that she had ever seen. This is going to be an absolute joke.
“Do you have your Bible?” Asked Sarah’s father. His name was now Jacob. It was formally Lance. But Lance was much too cool of a name. It promoted vanity.
“No I don’t have my Bible, I don’t even know where it is,” replied Sarah. She couldn’t remember the last time she had read it.
“Well you know that you have to carry your Bible around. At least I think that’s what they do. Remember these people are very somber and super religious,” explained Jacob.
Sarah had always hated religion. It wasn’t that she hated God so much. She would talk to him on occasion. If he existed that is. But she hated the hypocrisy within religious circles. Thou shalt not commit adultery says the pastor as he is thinking about his many affairs. “I know, I am well prepared to put on a false facade that will make the Amish like me. I can pretend, father. I am a good fake.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said her father under his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, I am just...nevermind. This is going to be a big adjustment for everybody,” said Jacob, as he was clearly frustrated.
Sarah was angry. “Yes it is, and we wouldn’t have to be making this adjustment if it weren’t for you.” She had planned to speak her mind. If she regretted it later so be it. She would regret not speaking her mind more.
“And you don’t think I feel bad about it?” Her father looked like he was about to explode in anger and frustration, but then restrained himself. “We can talk on the way there, let’s go.”
Sarah had never been in a buggy before, and she was determined from the get go to hate it. But now that they were under way she realized that her fears were all founded in truth. It really was horrible. It was slow and bumpy and pulled by a horse that stunk. “Do you even know how to drive a buggy?” She asked her father.
“Do I know how to drive a buggy? Of course, I learned in auto shop in high school,” he replied sarcastically. “I don’t know anything about buggies other than a quick video I watched on them. I am just winging it.”
“Just like you do everything else,” said Sarah.
“Sarah, are you ever going to forgive me?” He thought probably not. What he had done was hardly forgivable.
“You killed mom, dad. I don’t see how you expect me to ever see you in the same light again.” Sarah turned her face from him. The images played through her mind, even though she didn’t want them to.
“I hate it when you put it like that. You know I didn’t kill her. I would never do that. I loved her more than you know.” Jacob didn’t know what else to say. He knew that the guilt would never go away, even if he knew he didn’t mean for his wife to die.
“What did you expect your life decisions to lead to, dad. You are an alcoholic and a lazy bum. I can’t even remember the last time that you had a steady job. Mom had to do everything and she worked so hard to support us. And now that she is gone we have nothing, and it is all because of you,” Said Sarah, practically screaming at her father.
“I quite drinking Sarah, how many times do I have to tell you that.”
“A lifelong alcoholic who quit drinking a few weeks ago is not a changed man.” You are just living in your same delusion that you always do. You are always different today, always going to get a better job. You always promise a better life for us and to treat us better. Well now we are going to live with people that get excited for midnight barn raisings. Are you happy now that we have hit rock bottom. There is no place else for you to drag us. At least mom escaped this hell that you have created.” Sarah was now in tears. She said most of what she wanted. It felt good to get it off her chest, but also terrible at the same time. Though part of her did hate her father, part of her still loved him.
There was a long silence after Sarah said those words. Jacob was too hurt to reply. He thought about his life, something he didn’t do enough probably. He had let his family down, he was fully
aware. But his wife’s death was not his fault. She was the only good thing he had in his life. Why would he want something bad to happen to her. But the night she died he was hammered drunk, as was typical. Had he been sober he would have been able to stop the assailant. At least that’s what he told himself. But he was drunk, and could do nothing to help his wife. Maybe had he been sober, the assailant would have killed him too. There was no way to know, but the thoughts haunted him. He would rather have died trying to protect her.
“Do you even know how much farther we have to go,” asked Sarah, breaking the silence.
“I believe we are only about twenty or so minutes out,” replied her father. They had exited the limits of their town and were now in rolling hills. They were not really on a road. Semi organized gravel was more like it. This made the ride very bumpy. Sarah hated it.
“Well I hope we get there soon, I feel like I am going to get sick. Where did you get this thing anyway?” She asked.
“You will be surprised what you can find online. It was pretty cheap, which is probably why it is such an awful ride. I wanted to try to look like anybody else though. Rolling up in a car would not exactly be welcome. We are just lucky that your mother had a connection here. If she didn’t, we would be on the streets or something pretty bad.
“Ya well look at that, mom is still taking care of us after she is gone and you can’t even do that while you are still here.” Sarah still had more pent up vitriol.
“I am doing the best that I can to take care of us now,” said her father. He was confident that he actually meant it this time. He really did want to change. But the only changes he had ever seen in his life were for the worst. It was as if his life had been in a tailspin for as long as he could remember and there was no way he could stop the negative inertia that plunged him deeper and deeper into places he didn’t want to be. “We have a place to stay, be thankful for that.”
“Oh I can’t wait to see it,” replied Sarah sarcastically. When they crested the next hill, her wish was granted.
