The Bride's Prerogative (48 page)

Libby again felt color infuse her face. “Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Apphia asked.

“This afternoon, before you all arrived from town, Trudy and I had a conversation about her brother. I’m afraid …” Libby glanced quickly at the other three. “As you say, sir, we must all be the soul of discretion. Trudy is concerned that her sister-in-law, Mrs. Caplinger, is determined to marry Hiram, but Hiram wants no such alliance. We remarked on how it would be nice if Rose would look elsewhere. Starr Tinen arrived, and she rather glibly suggested that we somehow redirect Mrs. Caplinger’s affections to Mr. Bane, giving Hiram an avenue of escape. It began as somewhat of jest, and I thought it ended when the other ladies arrived to shoot. I’ve no idea how Isabel heard of it.”

“Obviously she did from either Trudy or Starr.” Apphia laid a sympathetic hand on Libby’s arm.

“Well, I didn’t hear anything about it,” Bitsy said, “but if you ask me, I think it’s a good plan. That Rose Caplinger is an overbearing, hoity-toity—”

The pastor cleared his throat, and Bitsy broke off with a shrug.

“I take it Mr. Bane isn’t interested in matrimony either?” Apphia asked.

The pastor smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid Mrs. Caplinger didn’t enter their heads. They thought Isabel was implying that one of them should offer for
her
hand.”

“For Isabel’s?” Bitsy snorted. “As if either one of them would want Cy Fennel for a father-in-law.”

“Er … yes.”

“I regret my part in this.” Libby’s heart ached as she thought back over her conversation with Trudy and Starr. How eagerly she’d pounced on the suggestion that Hiram would like it if Rose found some other outlet for her machinations. She’d been only too happy to participate in the plan to get Rose to stop cosseting him.

“Well, I told the young gentlemen to keep quiet about it so that Isabel isn’t publicly embarrassed by her outburst. Perhaps it’s one of those things that will be soon forgotten.”

“I think I shall visit Isabel tomorrow,” Libby said. “It was never my intent—or Trudy’s or Starr’s for that matter—to bring pain or sorrow to anyone.”

Bitsy jutted out her chin. “Might be better to just leave it alone, like the preacher says.”

“But if she harbors feelings for … for a certain gentlemen, and we who are supposed to be her friends scheme to match him with another lady, she must feel betrayed.”

“My dear, you cannot force the man to return the lady’s sentiments.” As usual, Apphia’s gentle observation made sense.

“But still, Isabel has confided in me lately, and I should have foreseen trouble with the course we so lightly planned. Whether we would actually have tried to carry it out or not, I cannot say, but I confess it tempted me.”

“It bothers you to see Hiram annoyed and afflicted by Mrs. Caplinger’s unwanted attentions,” Apphia said.

“Yes.” Libby looked earnestly at the minister and his wife. “Please pray about this situation. I do feel I should apologize to Isabel for my part in it, though she may not know of it yet.”

She left the Bentons’ house with Bitsy. “I think I might stop in at Trudy’s,” she said as they neared the Dooleys’ home. “She can’t have any idea what has happened unless her brother told her.” Libby wished she could undo the afternoon’s events. The least she could do was warn her friend of the flurry they’d caused.

“I doubt Hiram would string so many words together,” Bitsy said. “But it might be best to talk to her, especially since the trouble began at shooting practice. She’ll wonder if Isabel stops coming or won’t speak to her civilly.”

“I’ll explain it to her,” Libby assured her. Bitsy’s suggestion dragged her spirits even lower. Had she helped cause a rift in the close-knit shooting society?

CHAPTER 18

T
o Him be the glory, both now and forever. Amen.”

Trudy opened her eyes. The Reverend Mr. Benton lowered his hands after the benediction but remained at the pulpit.

“If you would please be seated, I have an announcement.”

Trudy resumed her seat on the bench between Rose and Ethan. She smoothed down her blue skirt and waited. Like everyone else, she kept her eyes on the pastor. He presented most announcements during the worship service. But now his eyes twinkled and his lips twitched as though itching to stretch into a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been asked to issue an invitation to you all. It gives me immeasurable delight to announce a wedding to be held next Sunday immediately after our worship service. All residents of Fergus are invited.”

To her dismay, Trudy felt the eyes of many people on her. Beside her, Ethan stirred. They looked at each other. Ethan gave the slightest of shrugs, as if to say,
Don’t know why on earth they’re looking our way
. She felt her cheeks go scarlet. It might be more humiliating
not
to be the object of speculation at a time like this, but she doubted that.

A murmur spread through the congregation, and Mr. Benton raised his hands once more. “Let me read this, to be sure I get it right.” He picked up a sheet of paper and squinted at it. “‘The pleasure of your presence is requested at the marriage of Miss Elizabeth Molly Shepard and Mr. Augustus Moore’ “—a choral gasp resounded across the room—” ‘at half after twelve in the afternoon, Sunday, May 23rd, in the year of Our Lord 1886, in the dining room of the Spur & Saddle. Luncheon will be served afterward to all guests.’ “

The pastor laid down the paper and smiled at the audience. “I understand it’s been some time since a wedding was performed in Fergus. It’s my pleasure to be the one officiating. I’m sure you’ll all want to offer your best wishes to Bitsy and Augie. I asked them to stand with me at the door to shake hands today, but they both declined, as it’s their custom to hurry home and prepare the chicken dinner they’ll serve today. So I guess if you want to congratulate them, you’ll either have to wait until the wedding or go around for the chicken dinner. You are dismissed.”

Mr. Benton picked up his Bible and strode down the aisle, smiling. Bitsy and Augie were among the first to scoot out the door.

“Well,” Ethan said. “I guess the chicken dinner will be sold out today.”

Trudy couldn’t help feeling just a smidgen disappointed—not that Bitsy was getting married. That was wonderful. But she’d imagined somehow that she would be the first bride Mr. Benton married in Fergus.

“A wedding in a tavern?” Rose sniffed. “I should think not.”

“She’s being married at her home,” Trudy said. “You were married at your home. What’s wrong with it?”

“You know what’s wrong with it. Although I can see why the minister didn’t want to perform the ceremony here in the church. If you call it a church.”

“I beg your pardon.” Trudy’s patience had worn thinner than the knees of Hiram’s gardening trousers.

“All you have is an old store building and a slew of benches. Not a proper church.”

“The church is not built with human hands,” Ethan said.

Trudy threw him a grateful look.

“Humph. I’m surprised he’ll even conduct the wedding.” Rose stood and arranged her shawl, fan, and reticule. “Careful,” Hiram said.

She smiled at him with an air of superiority. “Careful of what? She’s a woman of ill repute. Why is she even bothering with a wedding?”

Hiram eyed her for a long moment then turned and pushed into the aisle at his end of the bench. He didn’t look back.

“Bitsy is not a loose woman,” Trudy said between her teeth.

“Hmm. If you say so. But still, being married in
that place.”

“It’s a saloon. That’s all.” Even Ethan sounded ready to snap.

Rose watched Hiram’s progress toward the door and shook her head. “Sometimes, Gert, I don’t think your brother likes me.”

Trudy hesitated. Their eyes met. “I go by Trudy now.”

Rose flipped one end of her shawl across her shoulder, and the fringe hit Trudy in the face. “So I’ve been told.”

She entered the aisle. Trudy stood still, fighting back tears. Ethan’s hand settled on her arm. She could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of her dress.

“I have a thought, sweet Trudy.”

“What?”

“How’d you like to sample the chicken dinner today?”

She reached for the lace edge of the handkerchief she always kept up her sleeve on Sunday, in case Mr. Benton’s sermon illustrations got too heart-wrenching. She shook it out and dabbed at her eyes. Turning to Ethan, she smiled, trying to keep her lips from quivering.

“If I hadn’t cooked a big roast last night … besides, we can’t run out on Hiram.”

“I expect you’re right.” He picked up his hat and stepped into the aisle.

All the way to the door, Trudy felt his fingertips, warm and feather-light, at her back. They shook hands with Apphia and Phineas Benton. When they reached the boardwalk outside, Trudy automatically headed for home.

Ethan nudged her. “Hey, look.”

She turned and followed his gaze. Her brother was walking slowly down the street in the wrong direction, letting other people pass him. She glanced up at Ethan then hurried after Hiram. She didn’t speak until she was at his side, a little out of breath.

“Where are you going? Ethan’s coming over for lunch.”

Hiram stopped walking. Ethan caught up to Trudy and stood beside her. Hiram pulled in a deep breath and cocked one eyebrow southward, along the street.

“You two go on home and eat with Rose, if that’s what’s proper. I thought it was time I tried the chicken dinner.”

Rose’s presence at the wedding the next Sunday surprised Libby to no end. She had fully expected the eastern lady to boycott the event. Instead, she’d shown up wearing a watered silk gown of palest pink and a confection of a hat that Libby would have given a week’s profit for.

After the simple ceremony, which the pastor performed before the bar without apparent qualms, Rose attached herself to the Runnels family. She went through the refreshment line laughing with Josiah, who was at least five years younger than she was. Libby told herself it was none of her business and she didn’t care, so long as Rose’s claws weren’t poised over Hiram.

Trudy insisted that Libby join the Dooleys at their table to enjoy their luncheon, though she’d sat with the Harpers during the wedding. The saloon girls had transformed into bridesmaids, and the bridal couple had hired Terrence and Rilla Thistle, along with Ezra Dyer, to serve up the roast beef, mashed turnips, biscuits, and gravy.

“Don’t Vashti and Goldie look sweet?” Trudy asked as they walked to one of the round tables near the bar.

Libby noted that no bottles of liquor were displayed on the shelves. Snowy linen tablecloths covered the bar, where the wedding cake and punch bowl were set out in splendor. She glanced at the huge mirror and moved toward another chair.

“Want to see your reflection while you eat?” Hiram asked, shaking his head.

“No, I want to watch everyone else without them knowing it.”

He laughed silently. Their eyes met, and the warmth of the connection startled her. Feelings Libby hadn’t known since early in her marriage to Isaac surged through her.

Ethan held Trudy’s chair. Glad for the distraction, Libby smiled at them. They made a lovely couple. Perhaps observing today’s wedding would help Ethan get past whatever kept him from making their engagement official.

She realized with a start that Hiram was holding her chair. “Oh, thank you.” She sat down and avoided looking directly at him for fear she would blush scarlet. She gazed across the room to where Vashti and Goldie sat with the bride and groom. “You’re right, Trudy. The girls do look fine today.”

Vashti had asked Annie Harper to help her and Goldie stitch lace inserts into the necklines of their best dresses. Flounces of Viennese lace from Libby’s most expensive yard goods had given the gowns a respectable “formal” length.

The bride had come to Libby for help in finding a suitable dress on short notice. Two telegrams to Boise had performed a near miracle—an elegant ivory gown had arrived by stagecoach on Wednesday, and Annie had spent all day Thursday altering it to Bitsy’s form. Anyone would deem today’s bride lovely and well-gowned, Libby was certain—even Rose Caplinger’s snooty New England friends.

Augie had arrived at the wedding carrying a top hat, which Libby suspected was too small for him to actually wear. She recognized it as one belonging to former mayor Charles Walker—the only top hat in town, so far as she knew. Augie’s plain black coat and pants, with a new white shirt and black ribbon tie, were complemented by a gold-embroidered waistcoat.

“Everyone looks well-turned-out today.” Ethan gazed at Trudy as he spoke.

Griffin Bane, who had served as Augie’s best man, rose and tapped on his glass with a spoon. The chatter ceased, and all eyes homed in on him.

“Folks, we’re gathered for this happy occasion, and Augie asked me to tell ya all that he and the missus appreciate your friendship.”

The men began to clap and whistle, but Griffin held up one hand.

“All right, thanks, but I got something else to say. That is, Bitsy and Augie have something else to say.”

Bitsy stood, and Augie shoved back his chair and stood beside her behind the flower-decked table. She looked up at him, and Augie nodded and slipped his arm around her.

“Friends,” Bitsy said, “we thank you all for coming. I know it’s the first time some of you’ve been in this building, and I appreciate your being here with us today. I hope you’ll consider this our home and come back often.” She paused and cleared her throat. “You all know I’ve never served liquor in this building on Sunday for all the twenty-three years I’ve lived here.”

“You gonna start now, Bitsy?” yelled Parnell Oxley, one of the cowhands from the Landry ranch.

“Yeah, let’s have something to help celebrate,” said stagecoach driver Nick Telford.

“Nope, I ain’t going to do it. And furthermore, if you and the other boys come around here Saturday night, you’ll be disappointed again. Folks, the Spur & Saddle is hereby closing its bar. Last night we did a good business, and I hope the fellas all enjoyed it, because that was my last evening as the owner of a saloon. Augie and I decided together that we want to get out of the business.”

The room was so quiet, Trudy could hear Rose’s fan flap from two tables away.

Pastor Benton rose, and all heads turned his way. “Bitsy, Augie …” He turned to look over the room full of people. “You’ve made a courageous decision, and one I’m sure the Lord will honor. I know the people of this town will support you in your new endeavors.”

Augie grinned and squeezed Bitsy. “Thank you, Preacher. This decision was a long time coming, just like my darlin’s decision to tie the knot.”

A subdued laugh rippled across the dining room.

“Let’s just say the Lord and Augie were both patient with me,” Bitsy said. “As of tomorrow morning, the Spur & Saddle will serve meals, coffee, sarsaparilla, lemonade, and sweet cider.”

“Amen!” Pastor Benton clapped his hands, and Libby hastened to join in. Pride welled up in her. Soon at least half the people applauded. Some of the men sat thunderstruck, their mouths set in disappointed lines.