The Marshal's Rebellious Bride (31 page)

He shot to his feet as Chase rode up and dismounted.
“Where’s Tyler?” he demanded.

Chase had a hard time looking him in the eye. “Whiskey
and Brandy are holding him hostage, though it was really Whiskey’s idea.”

“
What
!”
Morgan roared and drew the attention of a couple of ladies walking down the
boardwalk. They hurried by him.

Chase tied his horse to the hitching rail. “They’re
both plum crazy. Whiskey said to tell you that she is planning on being at the
church tomorrow. Basically she said you damn well better show up. She’s holding
Tyler hostage to make sure you do.”

He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. His heart
pounded. She was still willing to marry him after what he’d said? He was pretty
sure that she knew he still wore a badge and he knew that terrified her.

“She’s threatening me by keeping my son?” he
questioned, noting the hint of amusement now flickering in Chase’s eyes. He
couldn’t see how this situation was funny at all.

“It appears that way.”

“I won’t be threatened.” He noticed the lack of fury
in his tone, felt the lack of anger inside him. In truth, he admired her
attempt at a showdown, her display of courage. Few people had ever tried to
take him on.

“’Course not. So what are you going to do about it?”
Chase looked at him in challenge.

He moved back to the chair and sat down. “Hell if I
know.” And he didn’t know.

* * *

Whiskey sat cross-legged on
Camelia’s
bed with her back to the room and to both her friend and her sister. She rubbed
her hand over her stomach trying to still the swarm of butterflies there. “I
can’t believe I’m really doing this.”

Brandy worked with deft fingers to add the finishing
coils to her hair. She pinned the final curl high on the back of her head.
“It’s a big risk, yes, but then you take risks all the time.”

Camelia stood in front of her and smiled dreamily.
“You look so beautiful. I’m
soooo
jealous.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re every bit as beautiful,
not that I’m admitting to being beautiful. Passable maybe.” But she really
wanted to look beautiful today, for Morgan…if he showed up at the church
…which
he’d better do!

“No, no. I’m jealous because you’re getting married.”
She blushed and said, “Did I tell you Taos finally asked me to dinner the other
day? I nearly fainted at his feet.”

“It’s about time,” Whiskey stated happily, enormously
pleased at the sparkle in her friend’s eye. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

Now that Brandy wasn’t messing with her hair any
longer, she turned to look at her sister. “What about you and Chase?”

Brandy glanced away. “There is nothing between me and
Chase. There can’t be. He’s going back to Texas.” She walked off to fiddle with
her dress draped on the side of the bed. “And I’m going back to the circus,”
she added quietly.

Whiskey scrambled off the bed wearing only white
stockings, a lace-trimmed corset, and ruffled drawers. “Did you say
circus
? As in clowns and all?”

Brandy faced her with a challenging tilt to her chin.
“Yes. I’ve been performing with a traveling circus for over a year now. And I
love it. Father is positively furious, of course.”

Camelia hurried over to stand next to Whiskey and
asked in awe, “What do you do there? Are you one of those clowns? That looks
like such fun. I’ve only seen a circus once, when my family went back east to
see my grandparents. But it was wonderful!”

Whiskey gaped at Camelia. “Good heavens, Camelia, take
a breath.” Then she faced Brandy and pressed, “What
do
you do?” She was having a really hard time accepting this
bizarre news. Her sister was so prim, so proper, and so goody-goody.

“I’m a high-wire performer.” Brandy looked proudly at
her, her stubborn chin tipped up.

“Well damn!” Whiskey shook her head in amazement. “And
our brothers think
I’m
the wild one.”
She thought for a second and then asked, “Does Chase know?”

Brandy’s expression grew somber. “He does and he hates
the idea. Even went so far as to tell me not to do it anymore. Can you believe
that? Like he has any say at all in my life.”

Whiskey saw the hurt in Brandy’s eyes and would have
prodded her sister more but Brandy glanced at the small clock next to
Camelia’s
bed.
 
“Good heavens! If you don’t finish getting dressed, you won’t make it to
the church on time.”

Again her stomach fluttered with nerves. “Maybe it
won’t matter.”

“Arms, up,” Brandy ordered, taking charge. “Camelia,
get Whiskey’s slippers.”

Praying she wasn’t about to make a serious fool of
herself by showing up at the church to marry a man who didn’t bother to come, she
raised her arms. This wasn’t the dress Morgan had requested be fitted for her.
The dressmaker had made a special one for her after all. It was far more
elegant than anything she’d ever dreamed of with yards of delicate faille and
silk. But if he didn’t show up…

* * *

Standing in his room at the Great Western hotel,
Morgan slipped a finger under his stiff collar and stared into the mirror above
the dresser. He wore
black checkered
trousers topped
with a long black sack coat, borrowed from Keno and altered to fit him at the
last minute by a very excited dressmaker. He hadn’t ever dressed up this fancy
before, not even for his first wedding. In truth, he wouldn’t have done this
for anyone but his Angelina. Now he just needed to find the courage to walk out
of this damn room.

A sharp rap on the door had him jerking and
automatically reaching for the gun strapped down on his leg. He relaxed when
Taos called out, “Are you about ready? I swear you’re taking longer to get
dressed than a woman.”

He pulled the door open and stood stiffly as both of
Whiskey’s brothers grinned. “Either of you laughs and I’ll put a bullet in you.
I swear it.”

“You’re wearing your gun to your wedding?” Taos
questioned in disbelief, staring at his holster and Colt .45.

“Yep.” He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he needed
the security of it. Not the safety of it,
but,
oddly,
just wearing it gave him comfort as he headed into this unnerving situation.
Getting married again was frightening as hell.

The men shrugged and then motioned him out the door.

There hadn’t been a soul on the street or boardwalk
when they left the hotel to walk down the road toward the church. The quietness
was almost eerie, made him nervous. But the closer they got to the small
building, the more voices they heard. It appeared to him that most of the
population in the county was crammed inside, and whoever hadn’t been able to
find a seat was standing around the sides of the rows of pews or outside on the
porch. He might not have actually gone inside if Whiskey’s brothers hadn’t been
right behind him.

It took every ounce of willpower he could summon up to
walk rigidly up the aisle to take his place in front of Reverend Chester.

The reverend smiled calmly at him. “It’ll be all
right, son.” He looked down at Morgan’s holster and shook his head. “Normally a
man doesn’t wear a gun to his wedding.”

Would it be all right? Would Whiskey actually show up?
He patted his gun and said flatly, “I’m not a normal man. And the gun stays
on.”

He heard snickers from some of the crowd, mutterings
of disapproval from the ladies. Then he watched Keno take a seat in the front
row on the bride’s side of the church. The rest of her side held couples he’d
seen around town and Whiskey’s many friends from all walks of life. Her dancer
friends wore none of their usual gaudy make-up, wore simple dresses and were
already crying. The groom’s side was packed with grinning men he’d run into one
time or another at one of the saloons, and with the ranch hands
who
were surprisingly all cleaned up.

He shifted nervously and heard Chase and Taos,
standing beside him, quietly chuckling. He turned to scowl at them when
suddenly the piano player began picking out a church tune.

The gathered guests grew quiet.

Tyler sped in through the open doors and hurried to
squeeze in between Morgan and Chase. Evidently he was no longer being held
hostage. Morgan patted his son on the head and received a beaming smile in
return. It made him wonder how he could have ever thought about leaving Tyler
behind again, even with his brother. Thank God she hadn’t let him make yet
another foolish decision.

Suddenly he knew she was close by. He looked back
toward the doors and noted that every head in the building was turned to face
the doorway. Whiskey stood in a ray of sunlight that danced over her head
covered with auburn curls, which looked pretty enough, but he had grown to like
her braid. Although he was still upset about Marino having cut off a good chunk
of it, a chunk he kept tucked into his saddlebag.

Brandy and Camelia stepped beside her. All three women
looked beautiful, but none more than his Angelina. She wore a fancy white gown
that fit her like a glove from the waist up. Delicate lace at the top of the
bodice drew his attention to her full breasts; making him frown because too
many men in the room were getting a view they had no right to. Then he realized
this wasn’t the dress he’d chosen. It was prettier, fancier, something like a
princess would wear, he imagined. The dress really didn’t matter to him. He was
far more interested in seeing it off her…everything off her.

She smiled at him and he went weak in the knees. This
beautiful woman owned his heart and would soon be his wife. He didn’t deserve
her, but he was going to have her. And he was getting damn impatient about all
this hoopla.

“Get the hell up here, Angelina! Quit dragging your
feet,” he called out only to hear gasps of shock from the ladies in the
audience.

Beside him Taos and Chase chortled, as did a lot of
men in the crowd.

Grinning, she shoved Camelia into the aisle and then
Brandy. They stumbled a second and then hurried to their places with her nearly
running them over.

Ham Bell had started to escort her down the aisle in
place of her father, but he gave up halfway and let her hurry on by herself.
When he managed to get to the front of the church, he said in amusement,
“Reverend, I’m winded so I’m sitting down now. I’m giving her on behalf of her
father to this man, who’d damn well better treat her right.” Then he sat down
to a round of laughter.

Whiskey had almost jumped for joy when she’d spotted
Morgan at the front of the church. She’d hoped, she’d prayed, but she really
hadn’t been certain he would show up today. She’d barely even noticed the
church full of people. The only person in the building who mattered was the man
standing there looking so nervous and awkward in dress clothes. Well, Tyler
mattered to, but differently. Morgan took her breath away even with beard
stubble and shaggy hair, but all cleaned up… Oh my!

Someone cleared their throat and then Brandy nudged
her in the side, whispering, “It’s your turn.”

“What?” She had trouble coming out of her daze. She’d
been so focused on Morgan that she’d evidently missed the beginning of the
ceremony.

Reverend Chester smiled indulgently at her and
repeated her portion of the ceremony. Morgan waited patiently for her to say
her “I do’s” and then reached for her hand. Her fingers were shaking as he took
a sparkling diamond ring from Tyler to slide onto her ring finger.

She wanted to cry as he firmly said, “With this ring I
thee wed.”

Even before the reverend could
say
“I now pronounce you man and wife” She threw herself at Morgan. To the roar of
laughter all around, he held her close and then kissed her. Kissed her so long
and intently that hoots and hollers rang out. But they didn’t separate until
Chase stepped right up to them and said, “Your son is watching.”

Suddenly embarrassed she stepped back, but couldn’t
keep from grinning.

Morgan took her hand into the crook of his arm and
started to lead her back down the aisle. “How’s it feel to be Mrs. Morgan
Rydell?”

“I don’t feel any different,” she said truthfully,
smiling up at him as they passed through the crowd of
well-wishers
.
But with each step she took she moved slower. Her heart raced. She felt sick.
She couldn’t step outside. The nightmare had slipped back.

He stopped in the entry and turned her to face him. He
tipped up her chin to look directly into her eyes. “It’ll be all right,
Angelina. You’ve got to trust me on this. That was only a bad dream.”

Tears threatened to fall. She felt everyone staring at
her in confusion.

Tyler walked up and took her hand. “Can I walk out
with you?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course you can,” Morgan answered and gently pulled
her toward the door with their son holding her other hand.

She held her breath and trusted in her new husband.
Then, before she fully realized it, they were outside and all the way down the
church steps. The guests had surrounded them. People laughed, congratulated
them.