THREE DAYS LATER, Ria and Landry were married by the Reverend Walter Beaumont, in his small church in Parable. Zane was Landry’s best man, but young Nash stood up with them, too, looking proud in his one and only suit.
Quinn served as maid of honor, while Meredith sat among the other guests, looking not quite so icy these days. To Quinn’s delight, she’d agreed to move into the cottage, since Ria had already joined Landry on the ranch, just as he’d predicted she would.
“We’ll stay until Quinn finishes high school,” Meredith had told Ria the day before, when they were seated side by side on the steps leading to the front porch, Bones dashing happily around the familiar yard. “She loves it here, and I need a quiet place to reinvent myself, so it works for both of us.”
Ria had hugged her sister then, on impulse, and, though Meredith hadn’t exactly hugged her back, she didn’t pull away, either.
It was a beginning, to be followed, most likely, by a lot of other beginnings, but that was okay with Ria.
Now, as Mrs. Beaumont struck a resounding chord on the church organ, everyone turned in the pews, smiling at the bride—Walker and Casey and their two older children were there, as were Slade and Joslyn Barlow, Hutch and Kendra Carmody and Boone and Tara Taylor. Brylee sat with the sheriff and his wife, glowing with a secret of her own, Cleo stationed protectively at her other side. The announcement hadn’t been made yet, but both Ria and Landry, given a variety of clues, had guessed what was going on. Zane and Brylee were expecting a baby.
Highbridge, ready to give the bride away, stood tall beside Ria, beaming and proud. Ria, clad in the pale blue silk dress Quinn and Meredith had helped her choose, felt beautiful.
She turned and winked at the butler. Her dress was gorgeous, all right, but she wasn’t sure which of them was better dressed, because Highbridge had on the spiffy tuxedo he’d once worn, he claimed, to serve afternoon tea at Buckingham Palace. The queen herself had accepted two delicate watercress sandwiches from his tray, the story went, and he’d retired the outfit when the day was over, for the sake of posterity.
It touched Ria’s heart that he’d taken the prized suit out of mothballs in honor of the occasion, airing it on the clothesline and brushing it thoroughly that morning.
“Shall we?” Highbridge asked, with a slight grin. “We’ve already missed the first cue.”
Ria nodded. “We shall,” she replied as the organ music began again, from the top.
She kept her eyes on Landry, standing up there at the altar, and walked resolutely toward him, without a doubt in her mind—or her heart.
He watched her approach with an expression of mingled delight and impatience.
As Ria and Highbridge passed the front row of pews, she caught a glimpse of Zane, Nash and Landry’s father, seated by himself, his thinning hair slicked down, a carnation tucked into the buttonhole of his suit jacket.
“I thought the old ticker was about to give out on me for sure, when I left here a few days back,” he’d told his son and future daughter-in-law the evening before, when he’d suddenly arrived at their door, suitcase in hand. “Got as far as Boise and checked into a motel to wait for the end. Nothing happened right away, so I decided I’d like to hear one of my boys’ voices just once more, so I called the boy on the phone. He told me the two of you were fixing to get hitched, and I plumb forgot about going to meet my Maker, packed up and headed straight for the highway and stuck out my thumb.”
Ria had been amused by the story, and very touched by the effort Jess Sutton had made to get back to Three Trees in time for the ceremony.
At first anyway, Landry hadn’t said much.
Ria and Highbridge had exchanged glances, made an unspoken agreement to give father and son some space and left the kitchen, Highbridge retiring to his quarters, Ria making for the master bedroom, where she perused the stack of design magazines she’d bought in town that day.
Now that they were getting married, Landry had declared, it was time to call in the builders, turn the place into a real home. He’d buy more buffalo, too, and maybe some cattle in the bargain, get a real herd started. The house was to be Ria’s project; the livestock would be Landry’s.
The magazines did not provide much distraction, however, and Ria finally set them aside. She reached for the small blue velvet box resting on Landry’s dresser, opened it to admire the simple but elegant pendant inside, a silver horse’s head on a gossamer chain. Landry had given Ria the necklace earlier that day, eyes twinkling as he asked her to “go steady” with him—for the rest of time.
When Landry had joined her in bed, it was very late, and he’d said nothing about his talk with his father.
Ria hadn’t asked any questions—it was a given that a breach as deep and wide as the one between Jess Sutton and his sons could not be spanned in a single conversation—she’d simply put her arms around her man, nestled in close and said, “I love you.”
Landry had made love to her then, slow, sweet, almost reverent love.
The memory thrilled through Ria even now, in the generous light of a July afternoon, as she and Highbridge took the last few steps toward the man she loved, and would continue to love, today, tomorrow and always.
Landry took her hand when she reached his side, squeezed gently, held on.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began ebulliently, “we are gathered here—”
Ria listened to the time-honored words of the marriage ceremony, holding each vow and promise Landry made in her heart, tucking them away to be treasured all the days of her life. She offered the corresponding replies in a soft, clear and very certain voice—she’d never been as sure of anything as she was of her love for the man beside her, of his for her.
Wide golden bands were exchanged, Ria’s inset with diamond baguettes, Landry’s plain and sturdy, both rings symbolizing a love as sweeping and eternal as the big Montana sky.
Finally, Reverend Beaumont pronounced Landry and Ria husband and wife.
“You may kiss the bride,” he announced, in his wonderful, booming voice, beaming at Landry.
“My pleasure,” Landry replied gruffly, turning to Ria, cupping her face in his hands. His eyes shone and the expression she had come to cherish was there, the baffled joy of a man who had just made some marvelous, unexpected discovery.
He bent his head to touch his lips to hers, just briefly, and then kissed her in earnest.
Some of the wedding guests applauded, while others laughed with delight, and still others snapped pictures. All the while, sunshine streamed through the stained-glass windows high above the altar, falling over the bride and groom like a benediction, splashing them with bright golds and crimsons, deep greens and blues, vivid purples and pearly shades of white, the patterns ever-changing, like those inside a kaleidoscope.
Looking ahead, Ria knew their life together, hers and Landry’s, would be like that, a shining, beautiful thing, often surprising, always growing. There would be a few shadows, too, of course—that was the natural order of things—but with Landry at her side, Ria could face anything.
The organist sounded a triumphant chord.
Mr. and Mrs. Landry Sutton hurried down the aisle, hand in hand, just beginning their long journey to forever.
* * * * *
Be sure to watch for Linda’s next novel,
THE MARRIAGE PACT,
the first in a brand new Western Wyoming-set trilogy,
coming in June from Harlequin HQN.
Keep reading for an excerpt from BIG SKY WEDDING by Linda Lael Miller.