Robin Lee Hatcher (15 page)

Bethany stood near the window of the front parlor, staring out at the town. It was warm, the remnants of the storm forgotten. After two days of sunshine, the muddy street had hardened. Soon dust would again swirl up behind horse hooves and wagon wheels.

Her gaze turned toward Doc Wilton’s house. Was Hawk still there? No one had told her, and she hadn’t had the courage to ask. Not with her mother acting as if the end of the world was nigh.

“Bethany?”

At the sound of her father’s voice, she turned around.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, Papa.” Her pulse quickened with dread. She didn’t know what to expect from anyone at the moment.

Her father looked at her with somber eyes.

“What is it, Papa?”

“I have been to see Mr. Chandler at Doc — ”

“How is he?”
Please let him be well
.

“He is mending.”

“Thank God.” She pressed her hands against her stomach and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Bethany.” He cleared his throat. “He has asked for your hand in marriage.”

“Marriage?” she whispered.

“Daughter, I blame myself for this unhappy circumstance. You have not always behaved with proper decorum, and I have too often allowed your impulsiveness to go without correction. If I’d been less lenient — ”

“He wants to marry me?” Her heart bubbled over with joy. “What did you tell him?”

Her father crossed the remaining distance between them. “I told him I would speak to you.” He put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Do you want to marry him?”

“Oh, yes, Papa.” She felt no hesitation. Hawk had asked for her hand. Proof at last that he loved her.

“You’re sure? Marriage is a serious decision, Bethany. Not one to be made lightly. Mr. Chandler is not what Philadelphia society would call a gentleman. His life hasn’t been easy, losing his parents at a young age, growing up among cowboys on the trail. I cannot help but admire a man who is willing to work hard to make a better life for himself, and that he has surely done. But do I — ”

“So you like him.” The words came out half statement and half question.

Her father didn’t answer at once. When he did, his words came slowly. “Yes, I do. He seems to be a decent man and, I believe, a caring one. But it won’t be me sharing his home and his life, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”

“I love him.”

“Marrying him may not stop tongues from wagging. People may be cruel to you.”

“I don’t care what people say or why they say it.”

Her father continued to search her face with his gaze. “You’ve known him such a short time.”

“No less time than Ingrid has known Mr. Howard, and you gave them your blessing.”

“True.” He shook his head. “But Rand Howard is a man of faith. He and Ingrid are much alike. Besides, they will not be marrying this afternoon.”

She ceased to breathe. “Today? We’re to marry today?”

“It may help protect you from those determined to speak ill of you both. But only if it’s what you want, Bethany. Perhaps we should send you to your grandmother. In time you could — ”

“Oh, Papa.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him for all she was worth. “I don’t want to be sent away. I want to marry Hawk.”

EIGHTEEN

It hurt to walk and to stand, but Hawk managed to do both in order to be at his wedding. Shortly before the appointed hour, he arrived at the reverend’s home, wearing a new shirt and a pair of trousers that Doc Wilton had bought for him at the mercantile. His grim-faced future father-in-law led him into the parlor where Rand, Ingrid, and the housekeeper — the only witnesses besides Bethany’s parents — awaited him.

“I will tell Bethany you are here,” Ingrid said before leaving the room.

Nathaniel motioned to a chair. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

“I’m all right,” he answered. The need to appear strong was greater than good sense.

Drawing a slow, deep breath, he willed himself to stay upright through the next half hour. It still seemed surreal that he was about to take a bride. He hadn’t given much thought to marriage. Not since he was a boy in Chicago and had believed himself in love with a girl he’d known in school. But the object of his affection had rejected him because of his mother. After that, he’d steered clear of the fairer sex.

Until Bethany . . .

There was no denying it was her beauty that first caught his attention, but it was something much more difficult to define that drew him to her like moth to flame. She was a mysterious mixture of girl and woman, lady and minx. He’d seen the kindness of her heart, although her headstrong nature often led her into trouble. Like the trouble they were in today. If not for her wager . . .

No, if he had to place blame, he would place it upon himself. If not for
his
wager — or more accurately, his pride — they wouldn’t be here. His pride was what caused him to make his wager with Rand. If he hadn’t made that wager, maybe he could have ignored his attraction to her, and if he’d ignored his attraction, maybe he wouldn’t have come into town the other night, and if he hadn’t come into town, those men wouldn’t have delivered their message, attached to boots and fists.

The reverend cleared his throat, drawing Hawk’s attention. He followed the older man’s gaze to the parlor entrance. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t to see Bethany float into the room in a cloud of white satin and silk. She wore a white bonnet over her hair, and he could see little of her face behind a veil of intricate lace.

This wasn’t the sort of bridal gown one threw together in an afternoon. It was one they’d brought with them from the East. Perhaps it had been her mother’s dress. Perhaps mother and daughter had talked often of the day Bethany would wear it, planning and dreaming the way he’d heard mothers and daughters liked to do.

If so, he doubted this was the wedding day they’d had in mind.

It struck him how unfair this was to Bethany, to be wed to a man she didn’t love, to be sent to live in a rough-hewn log cabin, far from all the niceties to which she was accustomed, far from her parents who loved and pampered her. His offer of marriage may have been well-intentioned, may have been made to repair her damaged reputation, but she couldn’t be happy about it.

Virginia Silverton walked beside Bethany until they reached Hawk, then she kissed her daughter’s cheek through the veil of lace and stepped back to stand with Griselda, Rand, and Ingrid.

After a moment of silence, the reverend began, “Dearly beloved . . .”

Bethany hadn’t looked at Hawk as she entered the room to stand at his side, but as her father spoke, she dared to glance at her groom. His face was bruised, the back of his head bandaged. Pain was written in the set of his mouth.

She tried to catch his eye, to show him the joy she felt, but he avoided her gaze. Why? Wasn’t he as happy as she was?

A sudden thought came to her: What if he
wasn’t
as happy? What if he resented her for accepting his proposal? She hadn’t thought of that before. He’d offered marriage to save her from gossip, but she’d believed he also cared for her. Perhaps that wasn’t so. Perhaps he hadn’t expected she would accept.

An ache settled into her chest, replacing the elation of moments before.

“Do you, Hawk Chandler, take this woman . . .”

As her father asked his questions, Hawk looked at her and all air left her lungs. It wasn’t resentment she saw in his eyes. Nor was it anger or passion. For an instant, it looked like a tender wanting. And then it was gone, vanished so quickly she doubted she’d seen anything at all. Once more his expression was unreadable, the man a mystery to her. She saw only the firm set of his jaw as he looked once more at her father and answered, “I do.”

Uncertainty knotted her stomach.

“Do you, Bethany Rachel Silverton, take this man . . .”

She hadn’t lied to her father when she told him she loved Hawk. It was true. She loved him with her whole heart. But perhaps she should have met with him first, talked to him before she pledged the rest of her life to him. She should have gone to see him at Doc Wilton’s. She should have discovered if he really wanted a wife. If he wanted her. Oh, why was she so impetuous? When would she ever learn?

The ceremony continued. She knew her father spoke, and she even managed to murmur the correct responses at the appropriate times. But time passed in a blur.

“. . . and before God and these witnesses, I proclaim you man and wife.”

No one moved. No one spoke. It was over. What now? She didn’t know what to do. Then Hawk turned toward her, lifted her veil, and kissed her cheek. Her cheek, not her lips. She feared she might begin to cry. This was not at all the way it was supposed to be.

With a hand at her elbow, her new husband turned her to face their few witnesses. One by one, they came forward — her mother, her friend, Hawk’s friend. As Bethany accepted their kind wishes, she felt her nerves stretching like a bowstring. Hawk stood at her side, his feelings impossible to guess. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He was her husband, but he was a stranger.

If only he’ ll love me, even a little, it’ ll be all right
.

He looked at her and said, “You’d better change. It’s time we left for the ranch.”

The bowstring tightened.

As soon as his bride left the parlor, Hawk sank onto the chair the reverend had offered earlier, his body thrumming with pain. Doc had warned him not to overdo on his first day out of bed, and he still had the ride to the ranch to endure.

“You all right, Hawk?”

He looked at Rand and nodded.

“You sure you shouldn’t stay in town a few more days?”

“I’m sure.”

Rand lowered his voice. “Guess I wouldn’t want to spend my wedding night on a cot in the doctor’s office either.”

His wedding night. His body battered. His bride reluctant, forced to marry him because of the wagging tongues of malicious people. He closed his eyes and willed himself not to think, not to feel.

The other men must have sensed his mood, for they said nothing further, to him or to each other, as the mantel clock ticked away the seconds until Bethany returned.

In the upstairs bedroom, her mother and Ingrid helped Bethany out of the wedding gown and into a dark blue dress suitable for travel. In silence, she changed her satin shoes for a pair of riding boots and replaced the veiled wedding bonnet for a more ser viceable hat. A glance in the mirror did nothing to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She looked so pale.

“You look lovely,” Ingrid said, as if reading her thoughts.

She turned and hugged her friend, kissing her on both cheeks, tears filling her eyes as she whispered, “Thank you.”

She repeated the actions with her mother.
Oh, Mother. I’m
frightened.

Behind Virginia, the housekeeper sniffed and wiped beneath her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Stop that, Griselda,” Bethany managed to say as she drew away from her mother, “or you’ll have us all crying.”

It was too late. Each woman’s cheeks were already damp with tears.

“There was much I meant to tell you before your wedding day,” her mother said softly. “You are so unprepared for marriage.”