Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (25 page)

“That’s all right. Just sing something romantic,” Aunt Bessie said. “But don’t wiggle your hips.”

“But . . . but . . .”

Bessie looked around. “You don’t by chance play the piano, do you?”

“No, I’m sorry—”

“I do,” Donny said, raising his hand shoulder high.

“Shh,” Molly cautioned but already too late.

Aunt Bessie practically danced with joy.

Molly shot Donny a warning glance before quickly trying to save them both from embarrassment. “He can’t read music. He can only play a few songs by ear.” None of which were appropriate for a wedding.

“That’s quite all right,” Aunt Bessie assured her. “Beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” She gave a thin little laugh before growing serious. “You’re an answer to my prayers. Both you and your brother. Come, come.”

Aunt Bessie hurried away and stood in front of the altar. She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As you may know, Mr. Winkleman is no longer with us. May God bless his soul. And our piano player . . . is indisposed.”

An uncharitable female voice floated up from the back of the church. “Hammered, more like it.”

“I say we should close all saloons permanently,” another woman stated.

A loud murmur concurred. Things were clearly out of control and Molly felt sorry for Aunt Bessie.

Bessie lifted her voice to be heard over the clamoring crowd. “Please, we’ll talk about that later. Right now we have a wedding to think about, and Miss Hatfield and her brother have graciously volunteered to help out.”

No sooner had Aunt Bessie made the announcement than all eyes turned in Molly’s direction. One woman looked appalled and another glared at her grinning husband.

Aunt Bessie moved the piano stool to make room for Donny’s wheelchair. “Come, come. Don’t be shy. We’re already late getting started.”

Molly’s heart fluttered and she felt a sinking feeling inside. She was hardly the answer to anyone’s prayer. But since Stretch had already wheeled Donny to the piano, nothing could be done but to make the best of things.

Molly walked up the aisle and took her place by Donny’s side, flushing from the weight of a hundred gazes. She felt out of place. Singing in front of a bunch of intoxicated miners was one thing; singing to a staid and sober group of churchgoers was entirely something else.

She leaned over the piano. “I wish you hadn’t volunteered!” she whispered.

Donny looked confused. “I didn’t want you singing by yourself,” he whispered back.

Molly felt a tug inside and her anger melted away. Her brother had been trying to protect her.

Aunt Bessie lifted her hand, indicating it was time to begin. “We’re ready,” she called, her voice shrill with excitement.

Molly’s brain raced. Donny didn’t know how to read music so the hymnal on the piano stand was of no use. Unfortunately, his limited range ruled out anything resembling appropriate wedding or church music. The least offensive song he knew, perhaps, was “John Brown’s Body.” Why, oh why, hadn’t she paid more attention to his musical education?

Panic rose inside. “I don’t know what to sing,” she said beneath her breath.

“How about this?” He played several notes and Molly’s knees practically buckled. “Not that one!”

He continued to play the prelude. “That’s my favorite,” he argued. “And everyone loves the way you sing it.”

He was right: it was her most requested song, but it was never meant to be sung in church.

Forcing a smile for the benefit of the wedding guests, she stood by the piano, her mind scrambling.
What’s another word for
drink
?

She opened her mouth to sing, “Think, think, think . . .” The piano was almost as out of tune as the one she sang to nightly at Big Jim’s.

“Old Ben Harrington could do nothing but think . . .”

Aunt Bessie looked confused, as did some of the female wedding guests. No doubt they wondered why
thinking
caused Ben to stumble and fall. Most of the men, however, recognized the ditty and some even laughed out loud, much to the annoyance of the women by their sides.

Donny played with great gusto, his fingers rippling over the yellow keys as easily as leaves blowing in the wind. He hit plenty of wrong notes, but since the piano was out of tune anyway, it didn’t much matter.

She sang all four painful stanzas, substituting any word that
might be deemed offensive. “So he threw out his frisky pug,” she sang, instead of whiskey jug. “And old Ben Harrington never thank again.”
Thought
; she meant to say that he never
thought
again.

After Molly finished the song, an uneasy silence filled the church. Aunt Bessie’s smile was forced. Even the feathers on Aunt Lula-Belle’s hat were frozen in place.

Finally someone clapped, the hollow sound of palm against palm bouncing off the rafters. It took Molly a moment to determine her appreciative audience of one was Caleb. A warm flush crept up her neck. Others followed his lead, though the male guests were remarkably more enthusiastic than the women.

Reverend Bland, who had been standing by the wall, coughed and took his place in front of the altar. He looked remarkably different than the last time Molly had seen him. His pants were neatly pressed, as was his frock coat. One would never guess by appearances that he’d been any less than a respectable preacher.

He was followed to the altar by a nice-looking man in a dark suit who was obviously the groom. The preacher stared at Molly for a moment before turning his gaze to the back of the church.

Aunt Bessie signaled with a nod of her head that it was time for the bride to make her appearance.

“Play ‘Poker, Whiskey, and Women,’” Molly whispered. It was another drinking song but at least it was a march. She only hoped no one recognized the tune. As soon as Donny started playing, the guests rose and faced the back. The door flew open and Kate Tenney, looking absolutely radiant in a simple ivory gown, walked down the aisle with Ruckus by her side, her steps in perfect sync to the drinking song.

The bride’s fitted bodice gave way to delicately puffed sleeves. The skirt flared from the waist to the hem. Her blond hair was
brushed away from her face, falling down her back in a cluster of curls secured by a silk tulle veil decorated with white ribbon bows.

She took her place by her handsome groom, greeting him with a beautiful smile so filled with love it gave Molly goose bumps. She recalled seeing her parents exchange a similar look, and though she’d been too young at the time to know what it meant, she’d never forgotten. But that was before Donny’s accident, before her family was ripped apart.

The bride and groom turned to face the preacher.

“Dearly beloved . . .”

After the vows were exchanged, guests streamed outside to another tinny encore of “Poker, Whiskey, and Women.” When the church was nearly empty, Molly leaned toward her brother.

“I hope you’re satisfied. Now we’re the laughingstocks of Cactus Patch.”

Donny’s puzzled expression looked genuine. “Everyone looked so hot and miserable before the wedding. I thought it would make them laugh. It would have, too, if you hadn’t changed the words. It didn’t make any sense the way you sang it.”

“This is a church and—”

“Ben Harrington was a thinker, eh?”

She whirled at the sound of a male voice to find Caleb behind her, a gleam of humor in his eyes. She should have known that he wouldn’t let the song pass without comment.

“My brother knows only a limited number of songs,” she said stiffly.

“Ah, but he plays them so well.” He gazed at Donny. “You didn’t
tell me you could play the piano.” He swung his gaze back to her. “Music talent runs in the family.”

To hide her reddening cheeks, she moved toward Donny.

“Allow me,” Caleb said. He gripped the handlebar on the back of the wheelchair, pulled it away from the piano, and pushed it up the aisle.

“I must say, you two know how to make a solemn occasion . . . interesting. I don’t think I ever enjoyed a wedding more.”

She fell in step by his side and glanced at him askew. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t just being nice; he meant what he said. “I hope Aunt Bessie wasn’t upset.”

He grinned. “The only thing she cares about is adding a new notch to her matchmaking belt.”

Ruckus and his wife stood in line outside the church, waiting to wish the bride and groom well. One woman stepped out of the church and walked a wide circle to avoid Molly. She gave Donny a pitying glance but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy plying Caleb with questions.

“Do you know how many parts there are in a piano?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Caleb said, his humor-filled eyes on Molly.

“More than twelve hundred. And do you know a piano’s real name?”

“Pianoforte,” Caleb said, and both he and Donny laughed as if sharing some sort of private joke. How did Caleb do that? How did he always manage to make Donny laugh?

Aunt Bessie bustled over to them, her sister, Lula-Belle, padding behind like a faithful dog. “Thank you for saving the day,” Aunt Bessie said graciously. “I don’t think I’ve heard such a . . . uh, lively tune played on that old piano.”

“If it was a funeral it would have awakened the dead,” Lula-Belle muttered.

“It’s the first time I’ve been in church when everyone was wide awake,” Bessie said, glowering at her sister. She patted Molly on the arm. “And it wasn’t only because the guests were sober. You really do have a lovely voice, dear. Everyone enjoyed hearing you sing.”

“Especially the men,” Lula-Belle added, the outlandish feathers on her hat seeming to vibrate with disapproval.

Bessie frowned at her sister and pulled Molly aside. “How do I look?” She waved her hand in front of her painted face.

“You look beautiful.”

Aunt Bessie looked pleased. “Isn’t it amazing how a little paint can make a woman look so natural?”

Molly laughed and the two sisters tottered off to greet the other guests just as Ruckus wandered over.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “Bessie has planned cake and punch back at her house, and I thought we could get an early start before the stampede.”

Aware that Caleb was watching her, Molly hesitated. A man started toward her but his wife jerked him away. She was used to being treated as an outcast, but for some reason it hurt more here in Cactus Patch than it ever did in Dobson Creek. She wanted to go back to the ranch in the worst possible way, but it hardly seemed fair to Ruckus and his wife to spoil their fun.

Caleb stepped forward. “Why don’t you go on ahead? Molly wishes to return to the ranch and I’ll be happy to drive her and her brother there.”

Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what she resented more: Caleb’s ability to read her thoughts or the way he took charge.

Caleb met her startled gaze with a look of satisfaction. “Thanks
to last night’s closing of saloons, the fine citizens of our town seem to be experiencing a streak of good health. If this keeps up I’ll be able to work with Donny both today
and
tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked with innocent sweetness. “You plan to work on the Sabbath?”

“I believe God makes allowances for doctors,” he said without missing a beat.

Ruckus looked from Caleb to Molly as if sensing the undercurrents that flowed between them. “Are you sure you want to miss the party?”

“It’s for the best,” she said, meeting Caleb’s amused smile with a frown.

“Very well.” Ruckus turned to his wife. “Come along, my dear.” Ruckus and Sylvia headed for their buckboard and other guests followed suit.

“Thank you for giving me an excuse to avoid the reception,” Caleb said with a slight bow. He walked behind Donny and pushed the chair down the church path. “I was never one for parties. I only came to the wedding because Aunt Bessie insisted.”

Molly fell in step by Caleb’s side. “Glad to be of help,” she said for Donny’s benefit. Beneath her breath she added, “How dare you make decisions for me.”

“Are you saying you wanted to go to the reception?” he asked.

“That’s not the point and you know it. Furthermore, you’re not working with Donny.”

“I believe he has something to say about that,” he whispered back.

“I’m his sister!”

“And I’m the only doctor in town. That makes me
his
doctor. But of course, you’ll have to give me full rein. That’s my one and only condition.”

“I have no intention—”

“Do we get to ride in Bertha?” Donny asked, seeming oblivious to the argument raging behind him.

Caleb gave her a knowing smile. “Bertha it is. Unless your sister objects.”

He put her on the spot and he knew it. “What exactly do you mean by full rein?”

He grinned. “I knew you’d see the light.”

“I never said—”

Before she could finish her denial, he bolted ahead, the wheelchair rattling and bouncing and Donny laughing all the way.

Molly watched with conflicting emotions. She wasn’t one to give in, especially on matters that concerned her brother, but something told her that this was one fight she couldn’t win. And maybe, oddly enough, she didn’t even want to try.