The Accidental Bride (4 page)

Shay sighed. Offspring had countless ways of humiliating you. But God had brought something good from that mess. He'd brought Maddy into Olivia's life and Abigail into hers. She hadn't had a best friend in years.

In a nearby stall, Brandy nickered.

“No time for a ride today, girl.”

Shay never missed Founders Day. No one did. The history of Moose Creek's beginnings had been meticulously documented with dates, names, and details. The particularity of the stories had given rise to uncommon pride in the little town's heritage.

Which was all just fine and dandy, except this time she was the one wearing Prudence Adams's wedding gown. It had hung in her closet all week, mocking her every time she opened the door. How had she gotten herself into this?

A picture of Miss Lucy, her eyes wide and frantic, appeared like a cartoon balloon.

Oh yeah
.

At least her chores were an excuse to avoid Travis McCoy. Maybe she could avoid him completely if he didn't attend the ceremony. He'd missed it for fourteen years, what was one more? He probably wouldn't be there. After all the big-time stuff he'd done in Texas, this little rinky-dink town probably bored him silly. By the time his folks came back in six months, he'd be itching to return to his exciting rodeo life where women no doubt dropped at his feet like flies.

Not that she gave a hoot.

She'd heard countless tales of the rodeo circuit from Maddy's dad, Wade. He'd reached national celebrity status before he escaped it in favor of anonymity in Moose Creek. Then God had led Abigail here to be Maddy's nanny last summer, and the rest, as they say, was history. Now they were married and living happily ever after, and Wade's notoriety had done nothing but help the local economy.

But Travis wasn't like Wade. Whereas Wade had run from the trappings of fame and fortune to settle here in relative peace, Travis had left the tranquility of Moose Creek in search of fame and fortune. And he'd leave again, even though he'd already found both. Let other cowgirls fawn and flatter all they liked, Shay preferred a man with staying power. But since there didn't appear to be any of those left, she'd settle for no man at all.

Her cell rang, and she pulled off her gloves and answered.

“ 'Morning, sunshine.” The blaring band in the background left little question about his location.

“Hey, Beau.”

“Where ya at?”

“In my barn.”

“I saved you a seat.”

He was getting too presumptuous. Beau was a fun distraction come Saturday night, but that was all. Last thing she'd meant to do was lead him on. “Thanks, but I've got too many chores.”

“Meet me later? There's a band onstage at three, supposed to have a great guitarist.”

If she never saw another strutting guitarist, it'd be too soon. “Gotta get ready for the ceremony.”

“Aw, you're breaking my heart.”

“I'll see you at Bridal Falls.”

“Not my idea of fun, watching my gal say vows to another man.”

My gal?
She had to put an end to this. “It's pretend, goofy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard. Say you'll be my date for the picnic, and all is forgiven.” There was a smile in his voice. “The Silver Spurs are onstage afterward. We can dance the night away.”

She wasn't planning to go, but she had to break the news sometime. “All right, fine.”

“I'll save you a seat on the fairgrounds. When you get out of that fancy getup, meet me over there.”

The phone buzzed. “All right. Gotta go, another call coming in.”

She said good-bye, then she glanced at the screen to see Abigail's name and answered. The band blared in the background. Good grief, she may as well be there.

“Hey there,” she said.

“You're not coming?”

“Too many chores to catch up on.”

“Aw, rats.”

She'd never meant to burden her friend with babysitting. “You want me to come get Olivia?”

“Of course not. They're having a blast.” A tuba sounded as it passed by. “Literally,” Abigail shouted.

“I'm going to the picnic with Beau later, but no reason we can't all sit together.” She'd squeeze in a chance to break his heart at some point. “And of course, I'll be at the reenactment.”

“Should I bring ‘something borrowed'?”

“You're killing me here.”

After they got off the phone, Shay finished the barn, grabbed a quick lunch, and spent the early afternoon with her head in the books—the picture wasn't pretty. By the time she finished, she had an hour to clean up and present herself at Bridal Falls.

She'd grown progressively nervous as the day waned. By the time she was showered and ready to slip into the gown, she was shaking.

She'd been a failure at marriage, and the whole community knew it. Scared off her first groom and chased away her second. Well, they had nothing to worry about. Both times the rug had been jerked from under her, and she wouldn't be subjected to that again, thank you very much.

Shay pulled the gown from its hanger and stepped into it. Would the ceremony stir it all up again? The gossip around her husband's desertion, the humiliation of being second to the rodeo circuit and a musical career?

Somehow, despite the fact that Garrett's desertion was more recent and seemingly more heinous, it was the memories of the one before it that made her hands shake as she pulled the dress over her hips.

It hadn't helped that she'd returned from her disgrace in Cody, Wyoming, by bus. That she'd had no change of clothes and had stepped off the public vehicle into the busiest intersection in Moose Creek on a bustling Saturday night in her wedding dress. Alone.

It had taken years to live that down. People still told the story to their young daughters, a cautionary tale against premature marriage. She was going down in the Moose Creek annals just like Prudence. Maybe someday they'd do a reenactment of her bus stop arrival.

Bridal Falls was situated eleven miles south of town, just across the Wyoming border. As the story went, Joseph Adams had ordered himself a bride after striking gold in nearby South Pass City. When his bride-to-be, Prudence Wilcott, arrived by stagecoach, it was love at first sight—or so the legend went.

With no permanent church in the settlement, the couple exchanged vows at Bridal Falls before a handful of friends. Their honeymoon took them north a short distance, where they camped by a bubbling brook in Paradise Valley, snuggled between the Gallatin and Absaroka Mountain Ranges. The first morning they awoke to find a moose and her young in the middle of the creek and named the stream Moose Creek. Later they settled in the area, and the name stuck.

Shay cared about none of this as she made her way down the wooded path beside Miss Lucy. All she wanted was to get through the next fifteen minutes. She hiked the dress to her knees, careful of the delicate fabric. Last thing she needed was to be known as the woman who destroyed the town's most precious relic.

Judging by the cars lining the road and filling the grassy meadow, all of Moose Creek had turned out. When she and Miss Lucy emerged from the forest, Shay stopped, dropping the skirts to the ground. Folks were gathered on the grassy shoreline, a short distance from the falls, leaving a path down the middle for her.

Someone spotted her. “She's here!” All at once, the mass of people turned to stare.

Shay's spine stiffened. “They're staring.”

Miss Lucy tugged her forward. “Of course they're staring. You're the bride.”

“Pray for me,” Shay said.

“I always do. And don't forget . . . you look beautiful!”

As they approached the rear of the group, Miss Lucy left Shay to walk the grassy aisle alone. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

I don't care what anyone thinks. I. Do. Not. Care
.

Whispers tickled the air. She blocked them all and focused on the gentle whoosh of the distant falls. On the call of a magpie from a nearby branch. On the swish of her boots through the grass.
Don't
let me fall, God
.

“Oh my word . . .” The whisper, so close, was impossible to miss. “Does she . . . groom?”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. She looked toward the groom's spot but couldn't see Riley Raines for the crowd. She forced her eyes to Pastor Blevins's round face at the end of the pathway. At the tuft of hair the wind pulled across his balding head. At the black Bible in his hands, burgeoning with papers and bulletins and notes.

She wondered if Missy Teasley's eyes were shooting darts into her back. It was no secret Missy had gotten her mama's possessive genes. She'd probably made poor Riley wish a thousand times he'd just said no. Why hadn't Miss Lucy just asked Missy to fill the role? But of course, the dress would hardly fit her plump frame.

A paper slipped from Pastor Blevins's swollen Bible, and he stooped to retrieve it. His shoulder knocked into a wooden pedestal. It wobbled precariously, then he grabbed it, steadying it. That was new, the pedestal. Pastor Blevins poked his spectacles back into place with his index finger.

Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes and this will be over
.

On the other hand, if the preacher became distracted, he had a tendency to go down bunny trails. He could stretch this into thirty, easy.

By the time it was finished, Shay would be ready to go home and hide. She was already regretting her decision to join Beau and the others at the picnic.

But the quicker she walked, the sooner it would be over. She picked up her pace. Almost there. The only other person who wanted this thing over with was nearly in view. She turned a sympathetic smile in Riley's direction as his plaid sleeve came into view.

Yeah, I know. Me too
, her grin said.

The sleeve became a shoulder, and the shoulder became a face.

But the face wasn't that of Riley Raines.

6

G
ravity plucked at the corners of Shay's mouth. At her shoulders. At her heart.

Her step faltered, and Travis's hand went out. But she caught herself before he touched her.

She wanted to smack the cocksure grin right off his face.

How could he do this? How could Miss Lucy?

“Isn't he the one . . . ?” someone whispered.

“Did she know?”

“Maybe he won't run for the hills this time.”

She stopped in front of the lopsided pedestal, facing Pastor. Her jaw clamped down. She felt her nostrils flare and wondered if steam was rising from the top of her head.

Pastor started talking, and the whispering quieted.

Please, God. Get me through this
.

He began a message on the sanctity of marriage, droning on. For heaven's sake, it wasn't even a real wedding.
Thank God
, she thought, remembering who was at her side.

Travis stood close, his arm touching hers. Its warmth added to the furnace inside the dress, and a sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Her shallow breaths challenged her heart to a race. Hard to say which was in the lead.

Breathe, Shay, breathe
.

How did this happen? He must've talked Miss Lucy into it somehow. Lied to her or something. The woman would never put her through this agony intentionally. She was the one person who knew the depth of pain Travis McCoy had caused. Knew exactly how the gossip and rumors had about been the death of her.

She was going to kill him. As soon as this was over. As soon as the crowd left. She would tighten that bolo tie until his face went tomato red.

No. She would hold him under the falls until he begged for mercy.

Better yet—

“Face one another, please,” Pastor Blevins said.

She turned and followed the pearly white buttons up Travis's shirt. Up past his stubborn jaw, past his crooked nose, to his gray eyes.