As if on cue, Hank put an arm around Sandra's shoulders. "Great to see you again, Sandra. Welcome to Texas!"
After that, everyone started talking at once. Uncle Barry and Auntie Joan were on fine form. Both in their early seventies, they were sprightly and alert, and had Hank howling with laughter at their Yorkshire accents.
"Y'all as bad as us Texans," he said. "It's like learning a different language."
"We're good honest Yorkshire folk, me lad," said Auntie Joan.
"Eeh by gum, that we are," said Uncle Barry. "And I know that your two are gonna be as 'appy as pigs in muck."
"I'll take that as a compliment then," grinned Hank.
---oOo---
Supper was lively and great fun. Copious amounts of food were eaten, and many tales were greatly embellished with each glass of beer or wine drunk by the teller. And the next day, more guests arrived and were shown to the cabins where they would spend the next two or three nights.
The ranch hands spent the day fastening 20,000 twinkling lights in the trees surrounding the ranch, and also in the trees that lined the lake at the back of the ranch and its outbuildings. The main driveway was lit with tall antique oil lamps. By sunset, the Armstrong ranch looked like something out of the pages of a fairy tale.
Every member of staff diligently focused on their specific tasks. Everyone loved Hank and Rose and wanted the very best for them on their special day. The housekeeping staff were busy getting the large dining room prepared for the wedding reception. Circular tables and chairs were arranged around the room, and the big French windows were thrown open, and more seating and lighting arranged on the terrace.
The wedding itself was going to be held outdoors beneath a pergola of flowers close to a big canopy of trees by the lake. Dozens and dozens of white folding chairs were arranged in two rows, with a walkway between them down which Rose and her father would walk.
Hank and Rose broke with the tradition of not seeing one another the night before the wedding, preferring instead to compromise by mingling with their family and friends, and at the end of the evening, sleeping apart. That night, supper was eaten outdoors, with Hannah, Kayla and Mary Lou proudly presiding over the chuck wagon catering.
As day turned to dusk, the fire pit was lit, and Connor, Gabriel and Joshua sang and played guitar beneath a canopy of twinkling stars. At one point, everyone joined in enthusiastically:
... The stars at night are big and bright
Deep in the heart of Texas
The prairie sky is wide and high
Deep in the heart of Texas...
Rose sat close to Hank, luxuriating in the feel of his strong arms around her. This was her last night as Rose Windsor. Tomorrow she would be Mrs Hank Armstrong.
---oOo---
The wedding day was one to remember. It was perfect in every way. All the advance preparations paid off, and the different components of the Armstrong ranch worked like a well oiled machine. Flower petals were strewn over the tables and walkways, and fresh flower displays were everywhere. Yellow roses predominated - glorious profusions of colour glowing beneath a cloudless blue sky.
The setting was perfect, with luscious verdant lawns and beautiful landscaping overlooking the oak tree-lined lake with views of Angus cattle and ranch horses grazing contentedly in nearby pastures, with rolling hills beckoning beyond.
The guests were assembled, many chatting happily, others sitting waiting expectantly. Isaac and Brenda sat hand in hand on the front row with Tink sitting by Isaac's feet. If ever a dog could smile, Tink did. He proudly wore a new yellow studded collar for the occasion and knew that something very special would be happening very soon.
As the string quartet began to play Handel, strains of beautiful melody mingled with the soft whisper of the wind. The hum of conversation diminished and heads turned towards the ranch, watching for the first sight of the bride.
At the appointed time, Rose put her arm through her father's and walked over the rose-petal strewn grass towards the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. He was waiting for her, almost unrecognisable in his splendid wedding finery. A delighted smile wreathed his handsome face, and his bold blue eyes sparked with love and laughter and happiness. Next to Hank was Scott, in the role of best man to his brother. He too was smiling.
Hank couldn't take his eyes off her. She was a vision in her ivory gown, low cut yet elegant, decorated with lace and tiny pearls. Some of her hair was piled artistically onto the top of her head, secured with a pearl tiara; and yet more of her lustrous blue-black hair cascaded over her shoulders in luscious waves. Her beautiful diamond and emerald engagement ring sparked as the sun's rays caught it, complemented by her emerald pendant and a pair of stunning emerald drop ear rings. She carried a glorious bouquet of golden yellow roses, and her smile was radiant.
Behind her, and holding the hem of her train, came Cindy. She looked pretty as a picture in her raspberry coloured dress and beamed happily at all the guests. When Rose and her father reached the makeshift alter, Cindy took Rose's bouquet of flowers and watched as her best friend exchanged wedding vows with Hank Armstrong. And when the groom kissed his new bride, Cindy sighed with happiness, for if ever a couple were meant to be together, it was these two.
---oOo---
The pair of them stood hand in hand as they were hugged, kissed and congratulated by everyone present. Tink caught the euphoria and capered about, barking excitedly and posing for photographs with the bride and groom.
You look good enough to eat, Mrs Armstrong," whispered Hank, his lips brushing hers once again. "Welcome to the family and welcome to the start of married life. You just got yourself wed to a real Texas cowboy. Now the fun really starts!"
"I can't wait," laughed Rose. "Bring it on!"
The Cattle Rustler's Bride
by Abigail Armani
The Cattle Rustler's Bride is the third book in the Love on a Ranch series. Cindy arrives for a long vacation in Texas to join in the wedding celebrations of her best friend Rose, and while Rose and Hank are away on honeymoon, she enjoys the hospitality and friendship provided by the Armstrong ranch. Ignoring a storm warning, Cindy rides out alone, only to be caught in the path of a tornado. She is rescued in the nick of time by the enigmatic Luke Daniels, a handsome cowboy with shaggy brown hair, glinting green eyes, and a smouldering presence - a commanding man to whom she is irresistibly drawn. As the elements rage, they take shelter in a cave where they begin to get more intimately acquainted... Romance blossoms. But Luke Daniels is a man with secrets. Is he who he says he is? Cindy is suspicious of his nocturnal wanderings and is determined to find out the truth. But her interfering puts her in great danger.
This is a tale of adventure and romance and intrigue, and for Cindy, a cathartic homecoming as her own family history is revealed.
The horse galloped on tirelessly and Cindy laughed, elated to be on horseback, feeling the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. On and on they hurtled, before slowing pace a little.
Half way up the slopes of a hill, Cindy reigned in her mare and peered down into the valley below. She could see the bright sparkle of a stream as it ribboned its course through the gully. With a flick of the reigns, horse and rider proceeded down the slope.
As the mare drank, Cindy sat and pulled off her boots and dangled her feet in the cooling stream. Her feet submerged in the bubbling waters, she lay back and closed her eyes against the heat of the afternoon sun.
The mare came close, inclined her head and snorted warm breath from her nostrils down onto Cindy's face. Giggling, Cindy sat up, petting Savannah as she nudged against her arm, seeking affection.
"You're lovely. I know it. You know it. Ok - off you go and eat some grass while I take a little nap."
Savannah obediently munched on the lush grass by the edge of the stream. Meanwhile, Cindy lay down again; relaxed and happy she dozed, oblivious to the time.
It was after three in the afternoon when the first drops of rain be
gan to fall. Cindy blinked and sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. The day had changed. The sun had disappeared behind a bank of thick grey cloud and in its shadow, the once sparkling crystal waters of the stream now appeared dull and murky.
Getting to her feet, Cindy glanced at Savannah. The horse was edgy and tense and wouldn't come when Cindy called. Ignoring the mare for a moment, Cindy bent to put her boots back on. The splats of rain came faster now, and in less than a minute, she was thoroughly drenched, the folds of her clothes plastered to her body.
Glancing up at the heavens, what she saw there sent a spine-tingling chill of fear coursing through her body.
The sky was neither blue nor grey, but an ominous sickly greenish colour, punctuated by large, dark and low-lying clouds.
"Oh shit!" she gulped, ineffectually wiping her eyes as the rain hurtled down in torrents so thick she could barely see through the amorphous curtain of water. "Savannah! Here, girl!" she called through the din of the lashing rain.
Savannah's ears went back, and a moment later she turned and bolted.
"Savannah! Savannah! Come back!" yelled Cindy. Her voice cracked as desperation bit and she struggled to keep calm and rational.
But the horse was off in a panic, racing away through the increasingly boggy ground, and was soon out of sight behind a ridge of trees.
"Oh no!" wailed Cindy. She was beginning to feel really frightened now. The little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck were standing to attention and a coil of terror began to unleash itself from the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right. There was something in the air... something unwholesome... The air trembled and stilled into a brief unnatural silence. It was broken by Cindy's scream - as in the same spot from which the horse had bolted there came a huge crackle of white lightning and a sickening thud as a thunderbolt blasted from the torn sky.
Cindy jumped back in terror. What should she do? Where should she go? At the mercy of the elements she stood for a moment rooted to the spot, trembling and sodden, lashed by wind and rain.
The landscape, which such a short time ago was wonderfully benign and welcoming, was now alien and terrifying. A chain of thunderbolts close by created the effect of making pockets of ground ripple and jump repeatedly. Lightning flared, shredding the skies, and thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Day turned to night in an instant, the gloom alleviated by the dazzling brightness of the lightning, which crackled and hissed menacingly, illuminating the threshing treetops, their boughs bent into weird contortions by the wind and driving rain. Bolt after bolt of lightning ripped the battered sky and an unholy light pulsed through the jagged wound.
Cindy whimpered in fear as she stumbled along aimlessly, now caught in the path of a new danger as a keen wind hurtled in from the west, harrying a mass of debris and leaves before it. Leaves rose high, whirling in a frenzy, obscuring her vision even more. The storm raged like some furious ravening beast. Cindy staggered forwards, heading for a copse of trees. In the dim recesses of her mind came the half-remembered knowledge that one should never shelter beneath trees in a thunderstorm as lightning may strike.
But Cindy dismissed the thought. To her, at that moment, the trees were an oasis of safety and seemingly a much better prospect than being exposed to the elements whilst wandering on open ground. She was hell bent on reaching the trees as they surely must offer some protection from the raging storm. So when she felt a hand grip her arm and pull her in the opposite direction, she squealed in shock and terror.
A stranger had grabbed her arm. A man. He wore a battered black hat with a cattleman crown crease, and a four inch brim from which water cascaded in rivulets. His face was hidden in shadow, pierced by a pair of penetrating green eyes. A sodden, cognac-coloured fringed suede jacket was set atop a blue plaid shirt. His blue jeans were worn with a wide-buckled belt, and his black boots were caked in thick mud.
All this she absorbed in an instant. Still shocked, she stared at him. His mouth was moving, shaping words as he yelled at her.
"W...WHAT?" She had to shout to be heard above the rising din.
"I said MOVE! Quickly, or you'll get us both killed."
"Killed?" she repeated stupidly, her senses reeling in relief that at least she was no longer alone in this nightmare.
He jerked his head upward and said one word. "Tornado."
Cindy looked up, and when she saw the sky, she quailed. The sickly green colour had intensified and thickened, and strange clouds were moving in, scudding across the sky.
"How do you know?"
"Trust me," he said and pulled her arm.
He led her east, along the bank of the stream, and then they began to climb the hillside. The thunder and lightning retreated, the lightning fading fitfully, and the thunder now only a low rumble over the distant horizon. And as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped.
"Oh," puffed Cindy. "The storm's over now. We're safe, thank God. We'll stop here awhile. I need a rest."
"It ain't over by a long chalk," said her rescuer. "No time to rest. Keep moving."
To Cindy's annoyance he herded her up the hill as though she were a cow.
"Wait - I need to catch my breath. I hate hills," she gasped. "You're a bully. I hate bullies. Get off my arm," she said crossly.
He ignored her protests and grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her bodily up the hill. It took her a moment to realise that though the storm had abated, there was a strange yet expectant quiet. The dead calm was rapidly followed by an intense wind shift. A glance up at the sky again showed the fast moving clouds were churning, all of them converging at one point in the sky. And then, to her horror, she saw there was one funnel-shaped cloud that was rotating.
"Oh Lord," she breathed. "What the hell is that?"
"I already told you. Tornado. Hurry! We're almost there."
"Almost where?" Cindy looked ahead, puzzled. The grass and scree had given way to a rocky outcrop, dotted at intervals with pine trees.
She gasped for breath as he urged her even faster up the rocky slope. She was slipping and sliding on the wet ground. And then the air was full of noise - the sound of rushing air intensifying to the roar of a mighty waterfall. It was so loud she wanted to ram her fingers in her ears to muffle the din. The noise increased. It now sounded like the rumble and roar of a jumbo jet. Another glance up showed the funnel shaped cloud had elongated; it pulsed with a dreadful energy as it whirled, filled with a raw and terrifying power.
The wind blew so fiercely that Cindy bent against it and would have fallen if she had not had the support of the stranger. Though even he had difficulty remaining upright; he staggered on, bowed by the wind, resolutely dragging her after him.
And then, when the fear and terror of it all threatened to topple her into despair, they reached the sanctuary of the cave, half hidden on the hillside. He pulled her in after him and led her further inside into the gloom. Immediately, she felt safe. Cocooned, with the sheer comforting weight of earth above and below her. Gratefully she sank to her knees, her chest heaving with exertion as she regained her ragged breath.
Outside the cave the storm wreaked havoc, the wild wind keening and howling with rage, but in this place, they were safe.
She looked up. He was standing, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, looking down at her. And as her eyes locked with his green gaze, she felt a frisson of recognition.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
---oOo---
Cindy sat bolt upright in bed, all her senses instantly alert and tingling, as though something momentous was about to happen.
"Jeez, that was some dream," she muttered, getting out of bed.
She paused to peek out of the curtains, to reassure herself that there was no thunderstorm or whirling tornado. There wasn't. Neither, sadly, was there any sign of the green-eyed cowboy.
"Pity," she shrugged, disappointed. He had been so real she felt a deep connection to him.
But his presence faded as the new day began to
unfold, and between brushing her teeth and getting dressed and ready for school, the strands of the dream faded and melted away so completely that the sixteen year old Cindy forgot all about tornadoes and the intriguing cowboy.
Little did she know that by a strange quirk of fate she would meet him for real eleven years later.
---oOo---
Diego's Dive Bar was the kind of place where the music stops and the heads of the regulars' swivel round en-mass to stare at any newcomers who walk in. It followed then, that nobody was staring at Jake Swain and his buddies. Indeed, given their reputation, folks took pains not to disturb them.
At 48, Jake was no oil painting. He was short, stockily built and balding, with a battered bullet-shaped face and hostile, gimlet eyes. He was a thug and a bully, a man with immense power, probably attributed to the fact that he and his cronies were feared. Rumour had it that Swain had connections in high places, and there must surely be some substance in the rumour as, regardless of what he did - and he did plenty - he always managed to avoid arrest and imprisonment.
This afternoon found him with two other familiar faces, known locally as Swain's henchmen. They were Victor Smalley, a sinewy man in his early 40s with buck teeth, a thin, pointy-chinned, rat-like face topped with lank and greasy black hair. He had one thing going for him - he was a notorious sharpshooter. Mario Machuta on the other hand, was a younger man, probably in his mid 30's. He was a giant of a man - 6ft 5, 300 pounds, with iron fists the size of meat plates. If he was somewhat lacking in the brains department, it was no big deal - folks didn't pick a fight with Mario Machuta unless they fancied a long stint in hospital, which is where his unsuccessful opponents ended up (either there or the town mortuary).
Swain's third drinking partner hadn't been seen in these parts before. Luke Daniels was a man around 30. Whilst not classically handsome, he certainly had rugged good looks and a good physique. At just over 6 feet, he had shaggy brown hair and glinting green eyes. There was a look about him... a suppressed intelligence, and a kind of raw smouldering presence. He didn't say a deal, but listened to everything going on, and quickly assimilated facts. Because he was with Swain, no one challenged him or asked where he was from.
Love on a Ranch Box Set Page 14
