The Bride Wore Spurs

Two days till Hannah lassoed and tied herself to Matt Walker. Married. The word twisted in her stomach. Wedding vows meant until death do us part, faithfulness, respect.

She stiffened. Obedience. She hoped Matt could tolerate giving up one of those promises. If he tried to keep her on a short tether—

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, shoving down all the misgivings trying to spew out of her mouth and into Papa’s ear.

Instead she helped her father to his desk. Last evening Matt had asked for Papa’s permission to wed. Papa had clapped Matt on the back, declared he already thought of Matt as a son and nothing could make him happier than seeing Hannah in good hands.

As if she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.

Still the news had eased the tension around Papa’s eyes and put a big smile on his face. That was reason enough to bite her tongue.

Hannah glanced out the window. The Walker buggy was coming up the lane. She kissed her father’s cheek. “Matt’s here.”

“While you’re in town, spread the word about the wedding. A chat with the town’s bench sitters and Pastor Cummings should do the trick.”

Hannah dreaded the townsfolk’s reaction, but forced a bright smile.

Martin motioned to the package in Hannah’s hands. “Is that your mama’s dress?”

“It is. I’m taking it to Miss Carmichael’s for alterations. Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

“You’re in more peril in Biddy Carmichael’s shop than I could ever be here.”

“Papa!” Hannah laughed. No matter how much he suffered, her father made the effort to bring laughter to others. “You know her name is Belinda, not Biddy.”

“How could I make such a mistake?” He winked. “Now skedaddle. Don’t keep your groom waiting.”

She kissed him once more, her heart swelling with love, and then walked as fast as her dress would allow, more tortoise than her usual hare. Who could abide such restriction?

Outside, she popped up her frilly parasol, an accessory Aunt Mary Esther had insisted upon. On such a sweltering day riding in an open buggy, Hannah welcomed the shade.

Matt rounded the conveyance, his gaze traveling from the hat perched atop her head to the silk toe of her pump. He doffed his Stetson. “The debutante is back.”

“You looking for a fight, Walker?”

“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He grinned wickedly. “One thing’s sure. Whatever garb she’s wearing, the filly’s a Thoroughbred.”

Hannah thrust up her chin. “I’m becoming your wife, not joining your stable.”

Obviously not the least bit repentant, his impish smile held. “Kind of fun having two of you, debutante and cowgirl, all wrapped up in one very nice parcel.”

At his perusal, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She corralled her skirts, then allowed him to assist her into the buggy. Whether she would be in good hands as Papa had said, was to be seen, but his grasp was strong, secure.

“You have an admirer in Rosa. She’s very excited about our wedding,” Hannah told him.

“It pays to be on good terms with the cook. Since I’ve been made to understand that won’t likely be you, I plan on buttering her up.”

“So the way to a man’s heart is indeed through his stomach.”

He cocked a brow. “Are you sure you want to know the way to a man’s heart, Hannah?”

A shiver slid along her spine. She quickly looked away from the amusement in those dark, smoldering eyes.

“The filly’s a tad skittish,” he said. Then with a flick of the reins, they got underway. “Know what kind of a wedding you want?”

“A simple ceremony at the Lazy P, outside if weather permits.”

“Sounds good.”

She sighed. “Papa insists on inviting half the town and hosting a barbecue afterward.”

“He doesn’t want his illness to cheat you out of a pretty wedding. Most women want that.”

Hannah had been thirteen when she and Papa attended Matt and Amy’s wedding, a grand affair. Hannah recalled the glow on their faces as they’d recited their vows. After such a love match, Hannah found Matt’s acceptance of a marriage of convenience baffling. Perhaps he’d understood that no one could take Amy’s place in his affection and wanted companionship.

She plucked at her skirts. “What he doesn’t realize, and I can’t tell him, is I can’t abide the thought of putting on a charade. We aren’t an ordinary couple.”

“True, but a private wedding might set tongues a-waggin’.”

“I suppose you’re right, but a party seems...deceptive.”

“People marry for many reasons, Hannah.” His gaze locked with hers. “If we’re committed to one another, then our wedding won’t be a charade. I believe we’ll be as happy as we choose to be. That’s what I want. Do you?”

As she looked into those dark orbs that penetrated her soul, she vowed to do everything in her power to make the marriage work. “Yes,” she said softly.

A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “God will bless us, help us find our way.”

He took her hand in his. At that moment, the sense of connection between them felt as meaningful as the vows they’d speak on Thursday.

Matt released her hand. “I told my family our decision to wed.”

“What did they say?” Hannah asked, her heart in her throat.

“They were...surprised, at first.” He shot her an impish grin. “But then, no more than I was.”

“Did you tell them I did the proposing?”

“Nope, that’s our little secret.”

“What did they say?”

“They think you’re a lovely young woman and wish us happiness.”

Had Matt omitted much of his family’s reaction? What had they really said? Perhaps she was better off not knowing. She’d have to get accustomed to the startled reactions of others, those who’d question their sudden nuptials.

On Main Street, Matt pulled up in front of Miss Carmichael’s shop, rounded the buggy, then placed his hands around her waist. As she rested her palms on his shoulders and he lifted her down, she stared into warm cocoa eyes, gentle, kind, appealing. Too appealing. She gathered her package, keeping her eyes anywhere except on him.

“I’ll stop at the church and ask Pastor Cummings to perform the ceremony. After that I’ve got business at the bank. What do you say we meet at the Calico Café at noon?”