Another Dawn (36 page)

      
"I'll try to get back before the weddin'."
 
Towering over the crowd, Marshal Weathers maneuvered his way through the mass of humanity and out the same door Frank Latimer had used.

      
Envy and admiration flashed through Luke as he watched the lawman slip through the door and disappear into the night. Sam Weathers had hero written all over him. No wonder Sofie had thought of John Wayne when she first met him.

      
"Wow," Luke whispered, returning his attention to the podium.

      
Mayor Wilson banged the gavel on the wood until the crowd quieted and he had their attention. "I think most of us are in agreement about the Latimer boy, so let's move on."

      
For a little while, Luke had almost forgotten about the fraud he had to perform this evening. His throat tightened and he clutched Father Salazar's Bible in his hands. Sweat burst from his pores and his mouth went dry.

      
He didn't want to do this.

      
"I imagine most of you have heard about the, uh, ceremony we're going to have here tonight."

      
The crowd roared.

      
Luke's lips went numb.

      
"This is sort of informal," Roman continued, "but after what we've all been through these last weeks..."

      
"Get on with the weddin', Doc," someone shouted from the heart of the gathering. A chuckle followed, along with several more shouts of encouragement.

      
"All right, all right."
 
Redness crept up from the groom-to-be's starched collar until it reached his hairline. "Father Salazar?"

      
The only time in Luke's life when he'd been more terrified was the morning of his scheduled execution. Breathing became increasingly difficult as faces turned toward him.

      
Expectantly.

      
As Grandpa would have said, he'd made his bed, so go lie in it. Slowly, Luke headed toward the podium, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea.

      
Get a grip, Nolan.

      
Someone had made a wreath of pine cones and autumn leaves, which miraculously appeared on the front of the podium. Several additional candles were lit, and by the time Luke reached the front of the church, the place looked ready for a wedding.

      
A lot more ready than he was.

      
He was doing the right thing. These people belonged together, and they would accept the marriage as genuine. That was all that mattered. He had to remain focused on that fact. Otherwise, he would fail.

      
Another promise broken? More guilt?

      
No way.

      
He took his place facing the congregation, with the groom to his left. The parting in the Red Sea widened even more, and organ music filled the building. Luke shot a glance toward the far wall, stunned to see one of Miss Lottie's "girls" playing the church organ. But he didn't have time for a chuckle, because Dora Fleming started toward him, sans bouquet.

      
After Dora took her place to Luke's right, the music grew louder and Mrs. Fleming started toward them. She looked years younger in a light blue dress, her white hair pulled into its usual bun, but with a few tight curls framing her face. Her eyes shone with happiness when she looked at her groom.

      
Yes, Luke was doing the right thing–the only thing.

      
The music faded as the bride took her place and slipped her hand into the groom's.

      
Luke cleared his throat, ignoring the funeral dirge playing through his veins, much like the morning of his failed execution. He cleared his throat again and drew a deep, fortifying breath.

      
"Dearly beloved..."

Chapter 14

      
Following orders to stay inside with the doors bolted, Sofie listened with a heavy heart to the cheers and applause from the church next door. Though she was thrilled for Dr. Wilson and Mrs. Fleming–Mrs. Wilson, now–she longed to join the celebration. She knew Jenny did, too.

      
"I wish we could go," Jenny said, echoing Sofie's thoughts.

      
"I know, sweetheart."
 
Sighing, Sofie poured Jenny a glass of milk and staunchly resisted the urge to look outside. Marshal Weathers had cautioned them to stay away from the windows, because someone–the killer–might see them. If only Jenny would tell...

      
By now the wedding would be over, and the crowd would descend on Miss Lottie's–made temporarily respectable–for the reception. There'd be dancing. Sofie closed her eyes for a moment, picturing herself in Luke's arms, swaying to the rhythm of soft jazz or rock. Of course, Redemption probably only allowed country music and square dancing.

      
She smiled despite her melancholy. The town might be backward, but it was still a special place. Her smile faded as she considered why it was special to her. Redemption was the only home she'd ever known.

      
She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table across from Jenny and stared toward the shuttered window near the back door. Determination welled within her as she sat down. Somehow, she would find a way to see the specialist in Denver. She
would
regain her memory.

      
And her home.

      
"Everybody oughta remember their mama,"
Jenny had said.
      
Truer words were never spoken. Resigned, Sofie scooped up a spoonful of the soup she had helped Jenny prepare. "Mmm, not bad, kid."

      
Jenny smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. She sighed and looked longingly toward the door. "It isn't fair."

      
Sofie remained silent, telling herself not to remind Jenny why they couldn't attend the wedding. That would be cruel, and she felt certain it was unnecessary as well. "Eat your soup before it gets cold."

      
"Yes'm."
 
Jenny ate several slurpy spoonfuls of soup, then took a biscuit from the basket on the table. After smearing molasses on it, she took a bite. "Mama made the very best biscuits."

      
Sofie smiled again, glad to hear Jenny speak of her mother. The child mentioned her less often than she had initially, and Sofie suspected this was all part of the grieving process. "She must've been a wonderful mother, to have raised such a great daughter."

      
A tear trickled down Jenny's cheek, and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. "I'm...I'm sorry."

      
"Don't be."
 
Sofie reached across the table and covered Jenny's hand with her own. "You're allowed to cry. It would be strange if you didn't cry."

      
Jenny nodded, then took another, far less enthusiastic, bite of biscuit. Her gaze darted to the door several more times.

"Do you think the wedding is over now?"

      
Sofie nodded. "I think folks are on their way to the reception now."
 
Will Luke dance with anyone
? Jealousy gnawed at her insides.

      
"I hope they like the cake I baked."

      
"What's not to like? The batter alone would make angels give up heaven for a taste."

      
Jenny gasped and her eyes widened. "Mama would've washed my mouth out with lye soap for saying something like that."

      
Sofie laughed and apologized at the same time. The difference between Jenny's morals and hers was huge, yet Sofie had no idea where or how she'd become who she was. At least Jenny knew her mother had been initially responsible for her value system.

      
"You're pretty smart for a kid," she said quietly, taking a sip of tea.
 

      
"Everybody knows it's blasphemous to talk about angels leaving heaven."
 
Jenny fidgeted, then took another bite of soup. "That doesn't make me smart."

      
"Maybe, but what you said earlier about everybody remembering their mama. Now
that
was smart."

      
Jenny's lower lip trembled and she looked down at her half-empty bowl. "I remember my mama real good."

      
Sofie patted the child's hand. "Always remember. Don't ever forget her, Jenny."
 
Passion crept into her voice, surprising even herself. "Your mama will live forever if you and Shane remember, and tell your children about her someday."

      
Brightening, Jenny nodded and sniffled. "Yes, she will."
 
The child finished her milk, leaving a white moustache on her upper lip. "I wish I could see Shane."

      
More regret. Soon Jenny would crack and reveal Charlie Latimer's killer, then they could all get on with their lives. Sofie's stomach lurched at the thought of leaving Redemption and venturing into the big, bad world alone, but she'd do whatever she had to. She couldn't impose on the hospitality of strangers forever, nor could she lean on Luke–Father Salazar–indefinitely. He had responsibilities to his church and to God.

      
Not to her.

      
Sighing, Sofie rose and took her bowl to the slop pail near the back door. She was a doctor, and a woman of–what had Mrs. Fleming said?–good upbringing. Someone, somewhere missed her and was searching for her. She had a life of her own, and it was time she found her way home.

      
Home...

      
A warm glow commenced in her chest and spread outward, reaching every filament of her spirit, body, and soul. With a certainty that stunned her, she knew her path.

      
And, just maybe, her destiny.

      
Miss Lottie's House of Ill Repute was like a blast from the past–rather, Luke's future-past. At the age of nine, his grandparents had taken him to Southern California, where he'd found little-boy-heaven at Disneyland. The saloon was The Golden Horseshoe–no doubt about it.