Rachel spent her days sewing for the rest of the week, making bright calico curtains and hemming cloth into sheets for both beds. She also finished the shirt she’d been secretly making for Boone, based on one of his old ones. Made from a soft, grey flannel, the shirt would be warm, she thought, but also suitable for their simple wedding.
She planned to wear her best gown, a dark blue calico with light yellow flowers and buttons down the front with a small bustle in the back. Rachel hadn’t had it out of her trunk since arriving in Laredo, but she thought it would suit her as a bride. She had some lace that she would add to the white collar and cuffs to fancy it up for the wedding. Her bonnet would be serviceable enough. Although she wished she could have flowers to carry, there were none in December.
They had yet to choose a day, but she thought she’d be finished with sewing and other preparations by December 10 or 12. The bruise on her cheek had begun to fade, and she thought it would be gone by the time they said their vows. Ezekiel would stand up with them along with Liam Rafferty, the ranch owner.
Each day, Boone healed a little more, and one day, Ezekiel brought his horse, Sprat, to him. Delighted, the horse nickered and nuzzled Boone, who gave back the same affection. The chestnut-colored stallion boasted a black mane and tail. When Rachel offered him a sugar cube, he ate it from her hand, and she laughed with delight.
“Take him for a ride,” Zeke said. “I’ve been riding him some, but he’s missed you.”
Boone mounted as Rachel watched him cantering through town. Until now, she’d never seen him on horseback, and he cut a fine figure. He’s come so far, she thought, from a pale, weak man sure to die wrapped up on the saloon porch to riding a horse, handsome and almost healed. Love for him swelled her heart till she thought it would burst out of her chest.
He wore a grin when he returned, laughing a little. As he dismounted, he turned to her. “Soon, I’ll take you for a ride down by the river.”
“I’d like that,” she told him.
The three spent more time in the new rooms than above the saloon already, with Rachel preparing meals there. Boone refused to allow her out alone in case Harold Kurtz might approach her so he accompanied her wherever she went. When she hung the curtains and made the beds, he helped. Boone accompanied her to church on Sunday, and if she decided she needed something more from the mercantile, he was at her side.
Liam Rafferty rode in from the Double B on the second Saturday in December, and without any fanfare, so did Deacon and Mac. All three men were friends and more, having served in the war together with Boone. On Monday, Rachel, who found she didn’t mind the lack of attendants, dressed in her best dress and with Boone headed for the justice of the peace. The one person she wished could be present was her Granny, but she’d died years earlier. A letter to her sister and brothers would announce the news. None were close enough to come, and Rachel suspected they wouldn’t have, even if they could.
The small office was close with Rachel and Boone, Ezekiel at his brother’s side, along with Liam, Mac, and Deke. She carried a small bouquet of dried flowers that a kind woman from church had provided.
Boone faced her during the vows, his face more serious than she’d ever seen, his eyes dark with emotion. He held her hands as they spoke their promises, the traditional vows that each repeated. Rachel said hers first, “I, Rachel Rose Shaw, take thee, Boone Benjamin Wilson, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part according to God’s holy ordinance. I pledge thee my faith, love, and life.”
She met his gaze with her own as she recited. Boone’s eyes brightened with unshed tears, and when he repeated the words to her, his husky voice broke more than once. Rachel gripped his hands tight.
Judge Ike Masters nodded when each had finished.
“By the power invested in me by the state of Texas, I pronounce you husband wife in the eyes of the law, by God, and before man. Bless you both. You can kiss your bride.”
The others applauded and whooped as Boone bent to kiss her mouth with soft tenderness. His lips lingered on hers, their hands still clasped until he pulled her into his arms. He kissed her again and then held her tight against him.
“Let me see your hand,” he said when he released her.
Rachel held up her right hand, and he shook his head, taking her left in his.
“There’s one more part we didn’t speak,” he said as he slid a slender gold band etched with tiny roses onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
He surprised her. Until now, she hadn’t wept, but now the tears came, moved by his sweet gesture. Rachel lifted her hand to admire it.
“It’s beautiful, Boone. And it fits. Where did you get it?”
His cheeks flushed. “I might have had a bit of help getting it,” he said. “I wanted you to wear my brand.”
The men laughed with approval while Rachel put her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep and long. Then she locked her gaze with his and told him, “There’s one thing more I want to say, Boone, and I mean every word.”
“Tell me, honey.”
She quoted from the Book of Ruth from memory, “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”
Boone’s eyes shone with tears, and he nodded. “I like that, right well.”
“Mister and Missus Wilson, there’s a small party in your honor,” Liam Rafferty said, clearing his throat to get their attention. “If you’ll lead us to your new home and let us join you, we’d be honored.”
“Boone?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about it, honey, but let’s go. I’m awfully hungry.”
They led the way and climbed the stairs in tandem. At the top, Boone paused and then swept her into his arms. He carried her over the threshold, then set her down as she protested. “Don’t hurt yourself, Boone,” she fussed. “I don’t want you to overdo.”
He silenced her with a kiss.
They dined on thick, fresh beef steaks, roast venison, fried fish, bread, fried potatoes, and tamales. Boone and Rachel sat at the table while the others held borrowed tin plates and sat on the floor or stood. Mary from the saloon was present along with Graciela, the cook, Peggy, and a few of the other ladies.
“Save room for cake,” Peggy said with a giggle.
There was a heavy fruitcake and polvorones, small Mexican cookies that tasted like shortbread and were dusted with confectionary sugar. Rachel and Boone drank coffee, but some of the others shared a bottle of whiskey.
As they feasted, their other possessions, including her trunk, arrived from the saloon and were put in place. Although they weren’t alone, Rachel and Boone never stopped touching. She held his hand or brushed back his hair from his forehead. He caressed her cheek and often leaned over to kiss her between bites.
Liam gave them a $20 gold piece as a wedding present and repeated the offer he’d made Boone weeks ago.
“If you change your mind about old Kentucky, there’s a place for you on my ranch,” he told him. “I’d hire you on for good wages as top hand, and there’s a small house that goes with the position. I won’t ask again, but I won’t hire anyone else till late spring or summer, so if you decide you want it, tell me. It wouldn’t be the worst place to raise a family, Boone, and your Rachel would have my Maggie for company.”
Rachel waited to hear Boone’s reply. She’d follow him to Kentucky or stay here – where he was, that was where she would be.
“I’m honored, Liam,” Boone said. “And if I should change my mind, you’re the first I’ll tell.”
“No hard feelings over that letter to your mother?”
“None at all. You did what you thought right at the time. We’ve rode too many miles together and had each other’s back for too long to hold a grudge.”
“Then we’re square, and congratulations on your bride.”
Deacon brought a guitar and played the unfamiliar instrument well. He sang, almost as nicely as Boone, old love songs, funny songs, and sweet songs. Boone sang some of the tunes he’d sang when she hadn’t felt well and then added one she hadn’t heard, a funny but sweet little tune called The Stuttering Lovers, then a hauntingly beautiful one about a castle in Dromore, and last, Eileen Aroon, the words straight from Boone’s mouth to her, altering the old words to fit his bride, “Dear are your charms to me, dearer your laughter free, dearest your constancy, Rachel, aroon.”
One by one, the guests departed until Ezekiel was the last. He hugged his brother, then Rachel. “Welcome to the family,” he told her. “I’m gonna sleep at the stable tonight, but if you make breakfast in the morning, make plenty.”
Rachel kissed his cheek. “I will.”
Then they were alone, with the remainder of the feast, with the echo of music, and with love between them like a physical presence. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast shadows on the street, but it might well have been midnight to the newlyweds.
Boone stood, and she rose with him. She cupped his cheek with one hand, caressing the smooth skin where he’d shaved to be married. He put his larger hand over hers, and then he kissed her with a gentle fire that ignited new feelings that tingled through her blood.
“I love you, woman,” he said. “This is the best day of my life so far.”
“Mine, too,” she whispered back.
“I want to love you,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you or scare you, but I need you, all of you, Rachel.”
She heard the desire in his voice, and she felt it. “I want it, too, Boone.”
A figure-eight knot made of a braid crowned her head, and he reached up to pull the pins from it, one by one. Then he undid the braid, releasing her hair to swirl down her shoulders to her waist. Boone let his fingers ruffle through it, then buried his nose in it. She’d washed it the day before with castile soap, so it should smell sweet, she thought.
“Pretty,” he said. “The door is locked, and the curtains are closed, wife. Let’s go to our bedroom.”
There, he cherished her in every way. His hands were light and gentle as he undid the buttons on her dress, then pulled it down over her arms. She removed the chemise she wore beneath it and let the dress fall to the floor. Boone never hurried, his mouth slow and sweet as he kissed her in many places. His fingers stroked her in light, easy ways that made her bold enough to undo the buttons on his shirt. Together, they pulled it free.
When they came together, it wasn’t clumsy or frightening but somehow right. There was a short span when she experienced a fleeting pain, but it passed as Boone taught her that this act could bring a joyful pleasure. Afterward, they cuddled close, her head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and comforting. It was just evening, and now that she knew what to expect, they did it several more times, then they slept.
At some point, she rose and lit a single candle to illuminate their bedchamber, then returned to her husband. In the flickering light, Rachel traced the scar left by his wound, the skin puckered as she expected it always would be. It was so near to his heart, she thought, that a few inches would have killed him on impact. But it hadn’t and the wound had healed over. She thought he still experienced an occasional pain, but the infection was gone, and he would live. Theirs might not have been a conventional courtship, but she was happy.
Rachel slept the night in his arms. His embrace provided a cocoon where she felt protected and safe. In this room, in their bed, in his arms, nothing could touch them or hurt them, she thought. This was sanctuary and home.
It had been so long since she had a home of her own. After her parents died, Granny provided a home, but once she was gone, Rachel spent time with one of her siblings as the beloved aunt who did as much of the work as possible. Then she’d become a schoolteacher, boarding with different families. Sometimes, she’d been fortunate to have her own room, often just a bed like at the Kurtz’s.
At the thought of the blacksmith, some worry crept in, and she hoped they’d seen the last of him. Nothing should shadow these early days of her marriage, nothing. Never a fan of winter, she didn’t look forward to more months of cold and the possibility of snow. The season could be a time for illness, which she feared but didn’t expect. Rachel pushed the anxious thoughts away and snuggled tighter against Boone. Without waking, he held her closer and murmured her name. That brought a smile – she had no doubt he loved her, and it’d been a long road. She’d thought for a while she might be a spinster schoolteacher, but she was glad she wasn’t. Rachel had little desire to return to the classroom, and she wanted to start being Boone’s wife.
She thought a little about Liam’s offer and wondered. The Double B Ranch was no more familiar than distant Kentucky, so it was hard to envision either, she thought. They had time, though, months to decide. Life could be capricious, and there was no telling what could happen.
In time, she slept well and without dreams, waking with delight beside Boone, who greeted her with a smile and kisses. Now, their married life would begin. He had recovered, and she believed life would be good now.