A Lady Like Sarah (38 page)

Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
She
tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. The end of the Prescott gang was nothÂing short of a miracle.

Robert pointed outside.
"Don't just stand there, Sarah.
Go! There's someone waiting."

"You mean Justin is still here?" Sarah practically flew across the room and ripped open the door. She picked up her skirts and ran down the steps, her feet slipping and sliding on the rain-soaked ground, and threw herself into his waitÂing arms.

Gazing up at him, she frowned. "I know a lady's not supÂposed to throw herself at a man, but—"

His lips prevented her from completing her sentence. She stood on her toes and kissed him back.

When at last he released her, he searched her face. "Does this mean . . .?"

She nodded. "There ain't—isn't—
gonna
be no more robberies."

"Sarah, that's great news
but. . ."
His face grew serious. "Going straight doesn't make up for all the crimes they committed in the past."

"I know," she said softly. "But I reckon it's a start. Maybe God will find a way to make some good come out of this."

"I believe God already has," Justin said, his voice tender.

She smiled. "You just wait and see. I'm
gonna
be as respectable as an old maid."

He threw back his head and laughed.
"You an old maid?
This I've got to see."

"Maybe not an old maid," she conceded. "But I will be a lady if it kills me."

He tilted his head to the side. "Not too much of a lady, I hope."

She thought a moment. "There ain't—isn't—much chance of that. I don't think I can keep from
throwin
' myself at you like a lasso around a calf."

He grinned.

"And don't go
expectin
' me to wear one of these sausage-stuffing corsets."

His grin inched wider.

She suddenly grew serious and pulled away from him.
"Oh, Justin.
I don't want to cause you any trouble with your church. I'm still a Prescott."

"I know how to fix that," he said.

"You do?
How?"

"By changing your name to Mrs. Justin Wells," he said.

Her heart filled with happiness. She gave herself a pinch to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "Is . . . is that what you call a divine intervention?" she asked.

"It's what you call a marriage proposal," he replied.

She couldn't believe her good fortune. A Prescott married to a preacher.
That
had to be the greatest miracle of all.

He laughed at the expression on her face. "Let's go home to our little girl."

Taking her by the hand, he led her to their waiting horses.

It rained the day that Reverend Justin Wells married Sarah Prescott. It rained so hard that wedding guests sitting in the church had to hold umbrellas over their heads. Recent attempts to repair the roof failed to keep the water from seeping through rusty seams and holes left by popped nail heads.

Almost every vessel in Rocky Creek (including one that looked suspiciously like a chamber pot) had been strategically arranged to catch the drips from the leaky roof.

Justin stood at the front of the church between two overÂflowing soup pots, waiting for his bride. It seemed like he had been waiting for this moment forever, though it had only been a few weeks since Sarah agreed to marry him.

Nearby, baby Elizabeth slept in her carriage, commanding one of the few dry spots in the church.

Since it didn't seem right to perform his own wedding cerÂemony, Justin had asked Judge
Fassbender
to do the honors. The judge stood next to him, rainwater dripping off the top of his hat and settling in a puddle around his feet.

On cue, Ma positioned herself in front of the piano, lifted her hands to the yellowed keys, and began to play. Unable to read the notes on her rain-soaked music sheets, she played the only song committed to memory: "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

Fortunately, the piano was so out of tune and the
plip
-plopping sound of water so loud that only the most discerning ear recognized the song. That ear belonged to three-year-old Jesse Moreland, who promptly began to sing on the top of his lungs.

He was quickly admonished by his horrified mother. Once order was restored, all eyes turned to the back of the church.

Sarah stood at the doorway, and Justin's heart skipped a beat.
She
was dressed all in white. Her low, square neckline was edged in pleated lace as was the wraparound skirt and gently puffed sleeves. Her flame-red hair cascaded down her back in a riot of shiny curls. On her crown she wore a wreath of blue and white wildflowers.

Noticing the toes of her red boots showing beneath the satin hem of her skirt, Justin couldn't help but smile.

He winked at her and she smiled back. Like a woman chasing a chicken, she then stomped down the aisle, skirting around puddles and high-stepping over dishpans in her haste to reach him.

Breaking every rule in the
The
Bazar
Book of Decorum
and without the least bit of hesitation, she threw her arms around Justin's neck. Her brazen behavior brought scandalized gasps from beneath the dripping umbrellas.

"Not yet," he
whispered,
hands at her waist.

The judge waited for Sarah to disengage herself from Justin and cleared his throat. As if he feared they would all be washed away before the exchange of vows, he rushed through the preliminaries quickly. In his haste, he apparently forgot the usual custom of letting the groom go first. Instead, he turned to the bride.

"Do you, Sarah Jane Prescott, take this man, Justin Bradley Wells, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Sarah declared, throwing her arms around Justin once again.

"Not yet," Justin said, gently removing her arms.

Fassbender
stared at her like a scolding parent before turnÂing his attention to Justin. "Do you, Justin Bradley Wells, take this woman, Sarah Jane Prescott, to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Justin, sensing that Sarah was about to throw herself at him again, shook his head at her and reminded her softly, "Not yet."

Sarah stared at him, a look of dismay on her face. Even Judge
Fassbender
looked taken aback. Murmurs rose from the crowd.

Mrs. Hitchcock gasped from the front row, the water-drenched feathers of her hat drooping in front of her face.
"Oh my, oh my."

The other members of the Rocky Creek Quilting Bee looked equally dismayed.

In a moment of confusion, Ma began to play another rousÂing rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb," much
to
little Jesse's delight.

The instant the music stopped, Timber Joe stood and pointed his rifle straight at Justin. "Hold it right there, Reverend. You're not going AWOL on your wedding day. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"AWOL?
What in the world?" Realizing with sudden horÂror how his words had been misinterpreted, Justin quickly made amends. "I
meant. . .
I do, I do,
I
do. I do take Sarah Prescott to be my lawfully wedded wife." And so there would be no further misunderstanding, he repeated himself again. He then dug into his pocket for the gold ring ordered from the Montgomery Ward catalog and slipped it around her finger.

"I thank God every day for bringing you and Elizabeth into my life. And I promise to love and cherish you from this day forward."

A collective sigh greeted Justin's declaration of love, and Timber Joe backed away, bowing to the audience as if he, alone, saved the
day.

The judge dumped the water off his hat and replaced it before adding with great flourish, "I now pronounce you husÂband and wife."

Justin never thought to hear more beautiful words. Finally ready for Sarah's eager embrace, he waited, but Sarah didn't move. If anything, she looked uncharacteristically demure, even with the raindrops dripping off her nose.

"Sarah . . . now," he said with a grin.

This time, when she flung herself at him, the wedding guests burst into applause.