Chapter 2
Rice, Bouquets, and Garters

As Pa and Mrs. Parrish walked through the front door of the church and outside, I heard shouts and yells, followed by Pa’s loud voice and then Mrs. Parrish’s laughing.

Uncle Nick and I were right behind. As the sunlight hit our faces, there were six or eight of the saloon girls gathered around, tossing handfuls of rice in the air at them. The whole rest of the church was right on our heels, and within a minute or two they were all getting into the act. Katie had made sure everyone in Miracle Springs under the age of fifteen—and a lot of those older, too!—had a good supply of rice. And before you knew it the whole town was after them, whooping and hollering.

Mrs. Parrish could hardly move fast enough to get away in her beautiful white wedding dress, the same one as she’d worn in Boston and which she had packed away all this time. Most of the folks weren’t after her at all. Pa had by far the worst time of it with the rice! But I knew he loved every second, yelling and running and pretending to be trying to get away, while at the same time letting Tad and Becky and the other kids get him good a few times. When it was all done, and people were laughing and panting and hand shaking and back slapping, Pa’s hair and black broadcloth suit looked as if he’d walked out in the middle of a hailstorm.

There’d been a big afternoon of festivities planned. Pa had fussed about it ahead of time. “Let’s just get the thing done, and then slip outta town, Almeda,” he’d said. “There don’t need to be a big to-do on our account.”

Pa still didn’t understand. Mrs. Parrish took me aside and said, “Your father, bless him, is so humble he has no idea how folks around here look up to him!”

She was right! If people around Miracle Springs were interested in Pa’s getting married before, now with him marrying Mrs. Parrish—and almost two months after Nick and Katie’s wedding for word to spread about it—why, folks had hardly been talking of anything else! The little church was packed, with people standing up all around the outside walls. Lots of folks from the hills and neighboring towns knew there’d be no room inside, so they just came and waited around outside for the festivities afterward. Rev. Rutledge had made sure the doors and all the windows were open, and so folks peered in however they could. Then afterwards the tables were set up and filled with food, with the big wedding cake in the middle. When everyone started gathering around, I reckon there were more people than would have filled the church three or four times over, and a lot of faces I’d never seen. Mrs. Parrish herself was a pretty well-known woman, so no doubt lots of people were there on account of her.

It’s not often a man gets married with his kids right there with him. Pa had the five of us—me and Zack and Emily and Becky and Tad—come stand beside him and Mrs. Parrish. It was such a proud, happy moment! We were a whole family again! Uncle Nick stood right there in front of us with his arm around Katie. Zack’s best friend, Little Wolf, was there, as well as Miss Stansberry and her brother and Rev. Rutledge and all the other folks that we’d come to know. I hardly know how to describe what I was feeling—complete, I reckon. None of the pieces were out of place or missing anymore.

Then Mrs. Parrish took Pa’s hand and together they began to cut the cake. Uncle Nick and Alkali Jones kept the men stirred up with their catcalls and poking fun at Pa, and there was plenty of laughter to go around, with Pa getting in his share of jibes back at his two friends. Then they handed out slices of the cake, first to the kids and then to everybody else, and there was more handshaking and well-wishing and congratulations offered to the bride and groom. A few of the women cried again, but most of the tears, mine included, had come and gone in the church. By now everybody’s spirits were pretty high.

“Time to throw the bouquet!” someone called out.

I glanced up, but couldn’t see who it was. It had been a woman’s voice—probably someone wanting to get it herself! Mrs. Parrish had told us earlier about the custom of the bride throwing the bouquet over her shoulder to the women of her wedding party and family and whoever else wanted to join in. “And whoever catches it,” she said, and eleven-year-old Becky’s eyes were big and wide listening to every word, “that woman’s going to be the next one to get married.”

“Really?” said Becky slowly, full of wonder.

“That’s what they say,” answered Mrs. Parrish.

“Then I’m going to catch it!” said Becky, more as if she was speaking fact than hope.

Emily didn’t say anything. She was thirteen, and turning into a pretty young lady. It wouldn’t be long before fellas would be turning their heads to look at her twice. And I couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking about the bouquet. Flowers or not, I had no doubts she’d have half a dozen handsome young men courting and sweet-talking her before anybody threw a second look toward me. Maybe that’s why I had the feeling that Mrs. Parrish would try to toss her bouquet in my direction.

“All right . . . all right,” she answered to the call, coming out from behind the cake table. “Ladies, girls—all of you gather round right over here in front of me!”

A scurry and bustle followed. All the little girls came running, some of the saloon girls, laughing to themselves but wanting to join in the fun and maybe hoping for a chance to grab at the bouquet, the three of us Hollister girls, and the few unmarried women that were there.

“Are you all ready?” she said, and as she did her eyes caught mine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to catch it.

A chorus of high-pitched shouts went up.

Mrs. Parrish turned around, her back to us, picked up her bouquet from the table, and gave it a mighty heave up in the air back over her head.

I was right; it did come in my direction—but not nearly close enough that I could even have jumped up and touched it. The bouquet went sailing over my head!

Becky cried out in disappointment. Sounds of oohs and aahs and various cheers went up. I spun around to see a red-faced Miss Stansberry, standing far toward the rear, holding Mrs. Parrish’s flowers with a look of shock and surprise in her eyes.

We all clamored around her, while the men clapped and cheered, and a few winked and kidded each other with knowing expressions of significance on their faces.

“And now, Drummond, it’s time for you to throw my garter,” said Mrs. Parrish.

“Yeah, Drum!” several called out. “The garter . . . throw it to me!”

Now the men really erupted with shouts and yells and laughter. Above it all I could hear Mr. Jones’s hee, hee, hee! and Uncle Nick’s whooping. All the men were having a good time trying to make Pa feel as uncomfortable as they could!

Mrs. Parrish pulled up the corner of her dress to the knee, and now all the yelling changed to whistling, while the women tried to shush up their husbands. But nobody was going to be denied making sport of anything they could on this day. Mrs. Parrish took her time, throwing Pa a smile as she slowly slipped the garter down over her calf and ankle.

“Here, Drum, will you help me a moment?” she said coyly. Pa stepped up and lent a steadying hand to her free arm to keep her balanced.

“No, Drum,” she said. “I want you to slip the garter over my shoe.”

A red flush crept over his face. Pa stooped down to one knee and began the process, while the whistling and calling out doubled in volume.

When he finally stood up, the garter in hand, he shouted, “Cut out all your hollerin’, you pack of baboons! Can’t you see there’s ladies present!”

But the men just fired off more teasing and jesting at Pa all the louder.

“All right, then, you loco varmints!” shouted Pa back. “Any of you characters who’s fool enough to want to get yourself hitched come up here and get yourselves ready, ’cause I’m about to give this little thing the heave-ho.”

All the boys hustled forward, nine-year-old Tad right in the front.

“Throw it to me, Pa!” he cried.

“You gotta fight for it with everyone else, boy,” Pa answered. “Get in there, Zack . . . Little Wolf . . . come on, all of you get ready.”

Not nearly so many men gathered around as women, even though there were twenty times more men available for marrying than women.

Pa turned his back to them and threw the garter in the air behind him. Zack made a halfhearted reach for it, Tad leaped up in the air, but neither was even close. Like the bouquet, the garter flew over the top of them, and I saw it hit Rev. Rutledge on the back of the head. He’d been talking to Patrick Shaw and wasn’t even paying attention to what was going on behind him.

The minute it hit his head, the minister’s hand unconsciously shot up to investigate the disturbance he’d felt. He then turned around to see every face upon him, the garter hanging from two of his fingers, a bewildered expression on his face.

When the truth of what happened dawned on him, a broad grin spread over his face, followed by an embarrassed laugh.

“Well, Reverend,” called out Uncle Nick, “I reckon you’re next!”

“No, no, not me,” insisted the minister. “Here, this souvenir ought to be your pa’s,” he said, leaning down and handing the garter to Tad, who had scampered through legs and bodies and now stood next to Rev. Rutledge.

“Yes, sir!” exclaimed Tad, taking it from him, a happy smile on his face. He ran back to Pa and held it out to him.

“No, boy, you keep it,” said Pa. “Who knows? Maybe you will be next—with the Reverend there performing the ceremony!”

Everyone laughed again, and then settled down to the serious business of consuming the cake and other food people had brought.