Happy Is The Bride (8 page)

"Good thought." Mason handed the ring to Beau.
"See you remember to bring this to the wedding."

Beau stuffed it into his vest pocket. "I will."

Mason met his father's gaze, and his father winked. “
I'll help him remember."

Grandpa cut another slice of ham. Instead of dig
ging into it, he leaned back and rubbed his shoulder.
"Gonna rain."

Mason nodded. "I already spread some straw on the
chapel grounds. Figure I should have set a washtub of
water at the door so folks could clean off the mud."

Grandpa looked up at him. "Not a bad idea. Send
one of the hands over there. You got that buggy to
pick up and your groom clothes to get into."

Beau didn't move out of his chair, but he stared at
the kitchen window. "Looks sunny to me."

Mr. Whittaker walked to peer at the barometer near
the back door. "Pressure's falling. Rain's on the way."

****

Beth cut the thread and admired her work. She
had folded the handkerchief into a neat waterfall of
lace-edged linen without cutting the fabric. Grand
mother Ransom's initials showed at the top of the
fold, and Beth thought that worked out as a nice
touch. Though the color matched well enough, the
difference in the fabrics and style stood out. She
sighed. It was the best she could come up with at the
last minute without shortening the train.

"It looks odd." Mrs. Pendleton appeared near tears again. "Everyone will know it doesn't belong there."

"I had planned to carry the handkerchief in Grand
mother's memory. If anyone comments on it, you can
say it was my way of involving my dear departed grand
mother in the ceremony."

Mrs. Pendleton sniffed. "What will people think?"

"Perhaps that it's a sweet gesture which leaves my
hands free for a bouquet and Mason's arm."

But Beth knew people would speculate, gossip, whisper. She'd
heard their vicious comments turn the most innocent
of incidents into scandal. What story would they in
vent for this?

Thunder rumbled in the distance,

"No, that can't be thunder. It can't rain." Beth
rushed to the window. Overhead the sun shone, but
clouds boiled in the southwest. Dark gray thunder
heads. She should have known Mason would foretell the rain or he wouldn't have bothered with the straw.
His leg ached worse with a weather change on the
way.

Mrs. Pendleton peered out and gasped. "My dress.
Rain will ruin my dress. Every drop that hits the silk
will leave a horrendous spot." She rushed out, pre
sumably to make arrangements to cover herself from
head to toe for this evening's trip to the chapel.

From her second-floor vantage point, Beth watched the progress of a buggy as it raced down the street and
turned into the Pendleton's carriage drive. Rachel
drove, and from the grim set of her she had bad news.
What now?

Six

Mason called after his father's cowpuncher. "It's
likely gonna be hot and stuffy inside this evening.
You'd best take a big bucket of fresh water and a cou
ple of dippers so folks can at least quench their
thirst."

As he and his grandfather had discussed, Mason had delegated one of his father's ranch hands to the
chapel to set up a couple of washtubs of clean water
by the door. His parents did this for parties in rainy weather so folks who'd traipsed through mud could
wash their feet. On those occasions, many guests car
ried their party shoes and stockings to don after they
arrived. In really bad weather, many ladies even
changed dresses after they reached the hosts' home,
then changed back for the trip home.

Mason had gathered his dress clothes and bundled
them into a carpetbag earlier, and now he tied the
satchel on the back of a horse in the event he ran late
and didn't have a chance to come back by his parents'
home.

Mr. Whittaker followed him out of the barn. "What
if the rig's not ready? Reckon we should borrow one?"

For a wedding gift, Mason had bought Beth her
own buggy and a striking roan mare so she could
drive into town whenever she wished. He hoped that
wouldn't be too often, but he didn't want her feeling
trapped on the ranch. Ransom Crossing didn't have a
buggy works, so Mason had ordered the vehicle from
Watson's Buggy Works in Medina.

He'd ridden to get the buggy three days ago, only
to find the maker had run into difficulty. "Grandpa said I could use his, and he's taking it to the chapel
himself as a precaution. But Watson promised to have
the new one ready and shined up by noon today."

"Papa, will you see Beau is sober enough to stand
up with me? He's broke up 'cause that girl from Ban
dera took up with someone new. If you don't watch
him, he's like as not to drink himself under the table."

Mr. Whittaker stood with his hands in his pockets.
He frowned. "I'll try, but I'm not his mama."

"Whittaker, you hurt?" Watson polished the tufted leather buggy seat.

"Horse's injured. Had to walk a ways. Soon as I get
him to the livery and seen about, I'll be back for my
buggy."

Watson took the reins from Mason. "I'll do that for
you. Know this is your wedding day." He looked at the
clouds headed their way. "You'd better settle up for
the buggy and be on your way."

The mare was already hitched and ready to leave.
Careful examination of the vehicle met with Mason's
approval. "You've done a fine job, Watson. Appreciate it."

Watson pointed out all the special features. "Too
bad it don't have side curtains, 'cause you're in for a
soaking."

"Reckon you're right. Water's already risen from
rain upstream." The buggy required a carriage road
way rather than the narrow trail he'd used getting to
Medina, and he'd be longer on the return trip. Mason had stopped at his prospective father-in-law's bank in
Ransom Crossing and withdrawn the cash due. He
paid Watson, transferred his bag to the buggy, and
climbed in.

"Best to you and your bride. She's sure to be proud
of your gift." Watson waved as Mason drove away.

The rain started a few minutes later, a drenching
downpour so hard Mason could hardly see the road.
At the first water crossing, the horse balked. If this
were the only place they had to cross a river or creek,
Mason would have urged the horse into the water.
There were at least four more, and the water in this
one had risen almost too high for the buggy to navi
gate.

Mason turned the horse and headed back to Med
ina.

****

"Rachel, only three weeks ago you assured me you
could wear the dress or we could have made a new
one." Beth looked at the soft pink satin. The rip down
the front spanned from neck to the carmago waist,
and the fabric on each side frayed.

Rachel sobbed. "I thought I could. I t-t-tried."

"So I see." The jagged tear looked irreparable.

"C-can you fix it? 1-1 love that dress. It's the pretti
est one I've ever owned."

Maybe the ruffles could be utilized. Beth turned
the dress around. The buttons had popped off—
maybe exploded better fit the appearance—and three
had left torn fabric. Front and back, the top of the
dress was ruined.

Mrs. Pendleton regarded her niece. "How on earth
did you get it fastened?"

"It was hard, but I held my breath and Ben did up
the buttons. Then, he said something funny, and I tried not to laugh. It-it sort of burst out in a huge
cough." Rachel sobbed again. "That's when it happened."

"Jamie was sick on it all down the front. I can't get
the stains out. I-I loved the dress, but it's ruined."

Beth remembered when Rachel's second oldest
had been ill. Rachel had come home from the
Pendletons' party to find the little boy burning with
fever. She couldn't be blamed for picking up her sick son before changing clothes. His fever had lasted for
days, and they'd all feared he'd die. "What else do you
have?"

"None except the black Sunday dress. The others
are pretty worn and not suitable for a wedding. A mar
ried woman on an apple farm needs different clothes
than a single woman who lives in town."

Beth sighed. Even in distress, her cousin couldn't
resist an opportunity to flaunt her marriage. Beth
folded the torn dress. "Let me put this in my room
and get my reticule. We'll go to the Mercantile and
see if they have anything we can use for repairs."

"It won't take long, Mother." She hurried to her
room, then back to the drawing room.