The sun lowered, and the wind picked up and drove the clouds away as they rode to Ringo. They talked quietly of the future, holding hands when the trail was wide enough to allow it.
As they entered town, Deb noticed, tucked behind the boardinghouse, a little building of raw wood that was so new it hadn’t seasoned yet, with a roughly fashioned cross above the front door. A man wearing a parson’s collar stood at the open door, sweeping dust out onto the stoop—a small landing on top of three steps. He closed the door as he stepped out and went to work making sure the stoop was swept clean, too.
Trace pointed to the building. “Let’s get married, Deb.” He flashed a smile that she could never look at enough.
“Right now?” She thought of Gwen and wished she could be here. But how? If they went home, they’d have to go somewhere to find a preacher, and with winter coming, that might be dangerous. And not all settlements even had a parson living among them.
Besides, she wanted to be married right now, this moment. Trace hadn’t spoken of love, but his words echoed with deep affection. She wondered if the words were in him and if she would ever hear them. And just because he hadn’t said the words, did it matter, when she was sure of his feelings toward her and that he held her in such warm regard?
“Right now,” he replied. He sounded so confident, she set aside her regret about Gwen. Trace was her family now, just as surely as her sister was.
“Yes, Trace. Let’s get married.”
They rode to the rustic church, and the parson straightened from his sweeping to greet them. Though it was cold outside, he wore only a white shirt and black vest with his black pants. He was a stocky man, balding, with round glasses.
“We’d like to get married, Parson,” Trace said.
Deb nearly gasped to hear him tell someone else the news. The idea was still so new to her.
Holding the broom in one hand, the parson adjusted his glasses with the other, and a smile that seemed to surround them spread across his face. “I’m Parson Stossmeier. I love performing wedding ceremonies. Hitch your horses and come on in. It’s too cold out here anyway. You can get out of the wind inside the church. I’ll run next door and fetch my coat, Bible, and prayer book. And I’ll bring back my wife to stand as witness.”
Trace led Deb inside the church, which was only slightly warmer.
Shivering from the long, cold ride, and from excitement and nerves, she wished they could light the potbellied stove that sat in one corner. But they’d be done and gone before it even began to warm the place. It was probably only lit for Sunday services.
“Deb,” Trace said and took her hand, “thank you for saying yes. I’m going to promise, along with my vows to God, to do my best to make you happy all your life.” He lifted her hand and pulled off her glove. “I have no ring or any idea where I’d find such. I only know a man gives a woman a ring because I read it in one of my books. I’m sure there isn’t a ring in Ringo.” He chuckled. “That sounds funny.” He kissed the back of her finger, right where a ring should be. “But I promise to buy you a ring just as soon as I find one.”
“Hush now,” she said. “We won’t worry about such nonsense as a ring. Not when you’ve already given me so much. The beautiful home we will live in. So many things.” She fought the urge to start listing the things she was thankful for. She’d said it so many times. And she didn’t want this marriage to be out of gratitude only. She didn’t say yes because she wanted his protection, or anything else he could give her. She simply wanted to pledge her life to him . . . because she loved him.
He leaned very close, so close she didn’t feel cold anymore.
The church door swung open, and Parson Stossmeier strode in smiling, wearing a coat, his cheeks pink from the chill. Right behind him followed a lady only a bit shorter and a bit rounder.
She was grinning, too. Wearing a heavy wool coat and a bonnet lined with sheepskin, the lady clapped her hands together and held them under her chin. “I’m Mrs. Stossmeier. Here to witness your vows. A wedding—how wonderful.”
It was wonderful. The parson spoke their vows with good cheer. Trace and Deb repeated them before God. Afterward, the parson’s wife gave them both a big hug and invited them to share the evening meal with her and her husband.
As kind as this couple was, Deb desperately wanted to be with her new husband right now. But she hesitated to say so. It seemed rude.
“I appreciate that very much, ma’am,” Trace said, sliding his arm around Deb’s waist, “but the boardinghouse will provide dinner, and I’d as soon spend the evening alone with my wife.”
“And well you should.” Mrs. Stossmeier beamed with approval. “It’s a night for romance. Thank you for including us in your happy occasion.”
CHAPTER
24
Trace held Deb’s hand as they led the horses to the livery stable where they stripped off leather and some supplies. They left the horses and saddles behind, taking with them their bedrolls and saddlebags. Then they started walking toward the boardinghouse.
He stayed so close to Deb, it wasn’t proper . . . not that he was sure. He had no notion of what was proper or not now that they were married. But he suspected even married folks ought to put a bit more space between themselves when out in public.
It didn’t make him let her go. And she didn’t push him away as they walked through the softly falling snow. They went inside and
