The Rancher (15 page)

sight of her hair dripping thickly with mire down her face and neck onto her once

white dress.

When Abby reached the front of the chapel,   she   stared   straight   ahead, unwavering. Cole shifted to face the pastor, but spoke sideways, barely above a whisper.   “You look lovely, Miss McCallister.  It is so gracious of you to join us. Nice boots.”

Her look of utter annoyance and overt warning quelled his facetious attempt at voicing humor.   He turned back to the preacher, a smirk still plastered on his face, and motioned for the ceremony to begin.

Cole took in a deep breath and let it out agai n.
 
It’s for Alaric
 
, he reminded himself. Still unconvinced his motives

were pure, he refused to recognize the

alternative.

“Please, uh, take each other by the hand,” the sweating reverend began.

When Abby rested her cracking, mud covered hand in Cole’s clean open palm, the new reverend let out a small uneasy chuckle.

Abby’s shoulders straightened.

Cole thought he should be irritated, but couldn’t help his amusement at the woman, unlike any other he’d ever known, who’d walked into the chapel, head held high, with every inch of her draped in a brown, muddy mess. He kept his face stoic and locked his eyes on the preacher.

While the top of her hand was encased in dried, peeling clay, her palm was still sticky with mud.   Cole couldn’t help

himself.   He squeezed her hand tightly, squishing the tacky substance between both of their fingers.

He dared glance down. A bubble of laughter started somewhere deep inside him and welled up until he could barely contain it.  Abby whipped her hand from his and spun to face the rest of the congregation.  She scanned the chapel.

Cole also turned to look out into the faces of those attending the improvised

ceremony.  Lily sat at the edge of her pew bench, ready to pounce on the first reprobate to laugh.  However, Cole knew that if Abby even glanced at Raine’s reddened face, all would be lost.

The flowers in Abby’s hand lay limp at her side, soggy and dripping puddles onto the chapel floor.  She fought with a sodden

lock of hair that kept falling into her eyes.

Cole stepped down in front of her and placed his hands on her arms.  He reached up to wipe away the stray wisp of hair that had once again fallen onto her forehead and he placed it tenderly behind her ear before returning his hand to her arm.

She bit her lower lip.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, the laughter all but gone from his face. Whether he’d asked for her benefit, or his, he was unsure.

Abby’s   focus   strayed   from   the congregation until it found him. Cole gazed into eyes the color of an English hillside after a storm. Their brilliance

even more defined with the mud smudged over the rest of her face. His amusement

faded and was replaced with awe.

“Look at me.” Her shoulders dropped

as she spoke.

“I am.”

This was the first falter in her self-

confidence   Cole   had   witnessed.   It

endeared her to him...a little.

“What you see here, Mr. Redbourne, is

what you get.  Are you sure this is what

you
 
want?” She took a step back.

He dropped his hands.

“I don’t need anyone’s pity,” she said as she lifted her chin.

Cole faced a decision right now that would affect the rest of his life.   How

many times had he heard his mother say that happiness is a choice? How many times had his brothers pounded into him the notion that strength and honor come from within?  While he knew he would

need a constant reminder, the time had come to stop making excuses.

Cole met her stare with one raised brow. “Nobody’s offering it.”

“I’m hardly a fit bride.” Her arms bent at the elbow as she raised her hands waist high in display. “Who am I foolin’?” She dropped her hands. “I’m no beauty and I haven’t yet cooked a meal on my own that didn’t burn and, well...” she looked at him straight in the eye, “I ride well. I shoot well. I’d sooner wear britches than a dress. Now’s your chance to run, Mr. Redbourne. ‘Cause if you don’t, you’re stuck with me.  Britches and all.”

Cole held up one finger and then turned on his heel and ran down the steps at the front of the chapel, through the gasps and chatter of the congregation, and out the

front door into the downpour of the storm.  He didn’t know what drove him, but he stood in the pouring rain, allowing it to drench his clothes through, to wash away his pain.

He took a step of the porch and into a mud  puddle,   which   splattered   mud droplets up the thigh of his pants. He bent over and picked up a handful of the gushing mire and proceeded to wipe it across on his face and down his shirt

covered chest, arms, and hands.  When he felt good and dirty he turned to go back into the church.

“What the hell?” Raine stared at him, mouth gaping, an incredulous catch in his voice.

Cole looked down at his muddied attire

and shrugged.   It felt good, liberating

almost.

When Abby had looked down at her soiled dress and offered him a way out, all he’d been able to see was a strong woman, with courage to spare, dripping mud all over the church floor.

He smiled at what her reaction might be to his newfound insanity.  He hoped she would feel more comfortable this way. It had been a long time since he’d done something for someone else and it felt great.

“You comin’?” Cole called back to Raine as he took the church steps two at a time and ran back into the chapel.

He slowed his pace as he reached the front pew.  He walked right past a stunned Abby and whispered, “Ready?”

It was the last thing Cole had expected.

Abby began laughing.  Not just a small,ladylike laugh, but a deep, meaningful,belly   laugh.   The   tension,   theapprehension, and self-depreciation weregone from her face.

She turned away from his gaze to facethe preacher.   Her hand extended, shewaited with a smile on her face for him totake it.

Cole found himself, for the first timesince Alaric’s accident, wanting to laugh. Wanting to feel. Something in the way Abby looked at him made him feel as if hecould conquer the world.  He slid his handinto hers and squeezed. Alaric had saidshe was different from all the others and

Cole realized he would have the rest ofhis life to discover all the things that madeher special.

Abby glanced in his direction and thesmile in her eyes renewed him.  Instead ofthinking of all the reasons he shouldn’tmarry her, all of the reasons he didn’tdeserve this chance at happiness, he heldher hand firmly and thought of the onereason right now he should.  He had hope.

Mr. Harris cleared his throat andrummaged through his little leather boundbook.  When it looked as if he’d found theright page, the pastor dabbed at hisforehead   with   an   already   damphandkerchief and began the ceremony.

Cole was not ready for the momentwhen the preacher’s words pronouncedthem man and wife.   He had, withrelentless fervor, rehearsed this scene inhis mind many times within the last hour.  But now, he realized he was still

unprepared for the finality of his actions.

“Oh, um...a ring?” The reverend said, more to himself than to the couple.

“I have a ring,” Cole told the reverend.

Abby’s surprise was evident.

Cole’s conscience played with him as he debated how the ring would affect her. Would she regret marrying him?

“You do?”  she asked in disbelief.  She

unclenched her own fist to reveal a simple, mud covered band.  She placed it in his palm, closed his fingers over it, and smiled.

Cole reached into his pocket and pulledout Alaric’s makeshift horseshoe nail ringand held it up in front of them.

“My Abby girl, forever.” He quoted theamateur inscription he’d read so manytimes over the last year.  He slid it onto

her finger, but hadn’t anticipated that it would be too big.

She took a step back, letting the ring fall off into her other opened palm. With a glance at Cole, she slowly picked up the small   token   representing   Alaric’s affection.

Cole did not take his eyes off her.

She looked from the ring to Cole, hereyes questioning. Her chest began to riseand fall in an exaggerated motion and therapid increase in her breathing quickened Cole’s pulse.

“You may now kiss...”  The preacherannounced with forced enthusiasm.

Cole looked at him in surprise.  He hadbriefly forgotten about this tradition in hisanticipation of giving Abby the ring.

“… the bride,” the preacher finished

without his previous zeal.

Abby’s head was bent forward.   She stared at the ring now held firm between her thumb and index finger, her expression distant. He placed his forefinger under her chin and lifted her face to him. With one hand resting along her jaw-line, his thumb brushed across her pouted lips.   He suddenly yearned to know how they would taste and slowly bent his head to offer a momentary kiss.

Cole pulled back just enough to look into her face, noting the saltiness of her mouth. A soft mouth he ached to kiss

again. His hands framed her face and he waited for some response.  As if she had sensed his inquiry, her eyes fluttered open and her questioning gaze penetrated his soul.

“Mrs. Redbourne?”  He searched her face unsure of the meaning of the wet pools accumulating in her eyes. “Abby?”

She looked away, closing her eyes.  A single tear cascaded down her reddened cheeks and across her full lips, which now folded together to capture the rolling droplet before they opened again a minute bit.  She brought her fingertips up to her mouth, gently caressing the exact spot his lips had touched hers.

“But, how did you...” her first question faded. Then, with a small jerk of her head, clarity seemed to make its way into her mind.   “Exactly who are you, Mr. Redbourne?”

A plethora of answers danced into hismind, but none seemed the right thing tosay. He glanced at the preacher and then

down at the floor before once again meeting her questioning gaze. “Your husband,” were the only two words that would come.

She pulled her hand from his as if he’dburned her.  “This is Alaric’s ring.” Sheheld the trinket up, inches from his face.  “Why do
 
you
 
have it?” she asked.

“Can  we   have   this   conversation

elsewhere?” He couldn’t help the edge that had crept into his voice.

“Where is Alaric?” she demanded.

“You tell me, Abby.  What happened to Alaric?”   All   lightheartedness   had

disappeared.  Cole knew it was unfair to throw his pent up anger at Abby, but the familiar   nagging   suspicions   that surrounded her name resurfaced with her

accusatory tone.   ‘McCallister,’ Alaric

had written on that note and somehow he

had to find the connection.

The sparks that surrounded the newcouple were only augmented by theelectricity of the ominous storm buildingin strength outside the church.

Cole, acutely aware of the curioustownsfolk,   quickly   replayed   theirexchange. He could not force himself totell her the truth, here, in front of all thesepeople.  He didn’t want to see the hurtnow reflected in her eyes, where momentsago they were full of laughter and trust. Hehad sworn to protect her, but now hewondered if the protection she neededwas from him. He could not, would notwill the words to come.

Without warning Abby hit him acrossthe face.  He closed his eyes.  His neck

jerked backward.  His jaw clenched.  She sure didn’t hit like a girl. His hand rubbed the offending section, but he stood his ground.

Cole opened his eyes in time to see the flicker of regret in her face before her expression turned cold.

“Stay away from me, Cole Redbourne.  I never want to see the likes of you again.” Abby backed away from him, not taking her eyes off of his face. Then, with a quick glance at the preacher added, “husband or not.”

The fire he saw in her eyes warmedhim.
 
Give it time
, he told himself.  Helonged to reach out to her, to tell her thetruth. To tell her he’d sworn to protecther.  He was not accustomed to waitingfor what he wanted, but this seemed a fit

penance for the cavalier approach he’d taken.   Whoever killed Alaric was in

Silver Falls, he knew it and he wouldprotect Abby at all costs, whether or notshe wanted or needed him.

When her foot reached the top of thepetite staircase to the left of the chapel,she held up the ring and threw it at him,then turned on her heel and ran down the

aisle toward the rear of the church.  As she reached the large brown doors she pivoted, daring him with her narrowed eyes and firm set to her jaw, to follow.

Cole clenched his teeth--flexing the muscles in his now stinging cheek.  She met his eyes with mute pain and stubborn defiance. Turning, she threw open the doors and before Cole could blink, she had   disappeared   into   the   growing