Read Happy Is The Bride Online
Authors: Caroline Clemmons
In the gaming room, Grandpa Whittaker sat in a
leather wing chair by the fireplace. Mason's father
and cousin Beau played billiards. From the sound of
their voices and the near-empty bottle on the bar
nearby, Mason thought they'd already started cele
brating even though it wasn't yet noon.
Beau looked up and saluted. "Hey, cuz. I put five
dollars on you in town."
"What?" Surely Mason had misunderstood.
Beau offered his cocky grin. "You know. Everyone's
betting you won't show up for the wedding or that if
you come, you'll call it off before you say 'I do.' I said
you'd go through with it."
Damn. His own kin betting on him. Lucky for Beau
he'd bet the right odds. Mason hoped the idiots in
town lost their shirts betting he'd fall prey to a jinx or
desert Beth. How could people believe that supersti
tious bunk?
Grandpa shook his head. "I don't know. That girl's
jinxed. Look what happened to Fred Mahoney last
year."
Mason fought his temper. He hated this kind of talk, and if they weren't his relatives, he'd start swinging.
"Grandpa, have you forgotten Mahoney was a
crook and a bigamist? The U.S. Marshal arrested him
because he embezzled from a couple of banks back in
Iowa and had at least two wives there, not because of
anything to do with Beth."
Grandpa took a sip from the glass he held. "What
about George Denby three years ago?" He pointed a
bony finger Mason's way. "You can't explain that away
so easily."
"Yes, I can. He broke his leg falling off his horse.
He'd spent the night drinking and never could ride
worth a damn. Then later he took off with that
woman hired to nurse him. Heard they're married
and living in Denison."
"Beth didn't look that sad to see him go." Mason's
father leveled a glare at him. "Mark my word, son, that
girl's cold as ice. You'll be sorry if you marry her."
Mason wasn't about to tell anyone of the heated re
sponse Beth had shown him. Danged if she hadn't
caught on to kissing real fast. He thought back to
holding her in his arms this morning. Her fervor had almost matched his.
A cold woman wouldn't have shown the passion Beth had, and he could hardly wait until they were
alone tonight at his ranch. He planned to make good
on his promise that they'd both be naked as God made them, and he visualized soft lantern light
spilling across the bed. He grew hard as a fence post
thinking about it. Dang, if he didn't stop thinking
along these lines, he'd embarrass himself.
Mason smiled and kept his knowledge of his bride's
ardent nature to himself. "She hides her feelings, Pa,
except to me. You know how snobby her parents are.
They're always yammering at her and criticizing
everything she does."
Mason knew it hurt Beth when folks hereabouts
called her snooty and cold or made fun because she'd
been jilted so often, but she hid it from everyone else. He figured he was the only one in the county, besides
maybe her housekeeper, Beulah, who'd ever seen her
cry.
Grandpa frowned and scratched his chin. "Who
was that one in between Fred and George—the one
who ran off with them actors that come through
here?"
Grandpa sat up straighter "Well, I'll be damned."
He grabbed his drink and swigged a couple of gulps.
"You mean Tilton was so upset at marrying the Ice
Queen that he turned to another man? Don't that
beat all? Still, I can't believe a fella would choose another fella over a looker like that redhead. Lordy, she had a tiny waist, but did you see the size of her—"
"None of that matters!"
Mason had heard more than
enough speculation. "Her father picked those men,
not Beth." He pointed a thumb at his chest.
"She chose
me,
and by damn, I want all this rough talk about her to stop. Is that clear?"
His kin all looked at the floor and mumbled.
His mother came in carrying ajar. "Here you are, son. Let's put some ointment on that bruise."
She pushed his hair back off his forehead and
spread on the vile-smelling goo she used for most
everything, but it eased the stinging pain.
He saw his father and grandfather exchange looks before his father spoke. "How'd you get hurt?"
"Blasted leg gave way. Fell out of the barn loft onto
the wagon. Lucky for me the damned bed was full of
straw."
As usual when he or his father cussed, his mother
pretended to be shocked. "Mason Whittaker, you
watch your language." She put the lid on her oint
ment and left the room.
Life with her promised to fulfill his dreams, and
he'd do his damndest to make Beth happy. She'd be
the mother of his children, his partner for life. All he
had to do was hold on to his temper a few more hours. He exhaled, opened his eyes, and faced the
other men in the room.
Though he tolerated more from his wife than any
one else, Mr. Pendleton lost what little patience he
possessed. "Louise, this is the third time we've moved
the sofa. Be certain where you want it this time, be
cause I'm not moving it again."
"Oh, all right. Leave it there." Mrs. Pendleton cast
an admiring gaze around the room. "Lovely. Now, I
must bring the dress out of the airing closet so Beulah
can press it."
Mr. Pendleton patted Beth’s shoulder. “It looks quite impressive, doesn’t it? I hope that cowpuncher will provide you with a drawing room to match this someday.”
"Mmm." Beth couldn't tell her father she'd never
felt comfortable in this ornate room. She remembered visiting Mason's home over the years, but
especially when his family invited hers as a get-better-
acquainted gesture two weeks ago. Even on that
occasion, when his mother must have wanted every
thing perfect, their home made visitors feel welcome
and invited them to linger. How nice that must be.
"Can you cook?"
Beth had let her mind drift, and her father's ques
tion startled her. "What?"
Now he looked at her, examining her in that way of
his that made her think he looked for flaws. "I asked
if you can cook. I don't suppose that cowboy will hire
you any servants."
"He hired a girl to help me in the house, but she won't start until Monday." Beth stood straight and poised. "However, at the Meriweather School for
Young Ladies of Good Families, I learned many skills
needed to run a household. Others, such as cooking
and cleaning, Beulah has taught me. I believe I'll
make Mason a good wife. Certainly I intend to make
every effort to please him and make him proud of
me."
Mr. Pendleton halted in front of his wife. "Louise,
are you all right? What on earth caused you to shriek like a banshee?"
Mrs. Pendleton stared at the dress she'd thrown to
the floor. "It's ruined. The wonderful, expensive dress
Mr. Henri made is ruined, and there's no time to fix
it."
Five
"Mother, what's wrong? The dress looks all right
to me." Beth bent and gathered the folds of silk and
satin, then spread it across the bed. "If some of the
pearls or beads have fallen off, I can sew them back.
Mr. Henri even left me a spool of thread. Oh, my
stars
..."
"Mother, it looks as if it's only this one place. Oh,
dear, it's right in front." Now that she finally had a re
liable groom, she had no intention of letting a small
rodent cheat her of her wedding splendor. She'd find
a way to repair the dress.
Mrs. Pendleton sobbed and pulled out her hand
kerchief. "We'll never match that satin. It's imported
from Paris. Mr. Henri's seamstresses spent hours and
hours embroidering with the beads." She looked up
long enough to make a point. "They're pearls and
Austrian crystals, you know, and ever so expensive."