Gold Rush Bride. Debra Lee Brown

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      Good Lord! Kate snapped the buckskin drape back into place over the window. “They’re nearly done with the load, and our hour’s almost up.” They might as well—how had Crockett put it? Get it over with.

      “You not ready. Dress all wrong. I fix.”

      “I’m fine, Mei Li. I told you, it’s not a real wedding, just a wee business arrangement so I might keep the store long enough to raise some money.”

      Mei Li shook her head and uttered a few more choice words in Chinese. “Might as well go, then, if you no care how you look.” She parted the canvas flaps of the shanty’s entrance, and they stepped into the sun.

      Even if, heaven forbid, it were to be a real wedding, there wasn’t a man of God to be found for a hundred miles in any direction. A thousand for all Kate knew. Landerfelt had been right about that. She hadn’t seen a proper priest since she’d left Ireland six months ago.

      And it was that very fact which, in the end, justified her decision to undertake such a blasphemous act. Vickery’s legal proceeding was one thing. But were they married in the church, well, now that was something else altogether.

      She would never have considered the idea if there had been the remotest possibly of that happening. Her place in heaven was safe, she hoped, as long as she went to confession as soon as she got home, and if she started on those rosaries tonight.

      As they picked their way up the street, avoiding mud holes and horse droppings, Kate felt a bittersweet sort of emptiness inside. Her whole life had been devoted to caring for her father and brothers. She’d promised herself that when the boys were grown she’d make a life for herself. Her own life. She’d find a good man to marry. One who respected and loved her.

      Kate followed the wagon ruts up the street, past a stream of miners heading out of town to their claims, bearing the goods her soon-to-be husband had sold them, and considered that this was not exactly what she’d had in mind when she’d made that promise to herself so very long ago.

      By the time she and Mei Li reached the middle of town, it was apparent word had spread of what was about to take place. Given the lack of women, Kate suspected there were few weddings in Tinderbox. Perhaps hers was the first.

      The blacksmith stepped out of the livery, and Landerfelt’s cronies out of his store. Every tradesman in town, along with more miners than she could count, gathered in the small meadow below the graveyard on the far side of town.

      Will Crockett paced the wet, uneven ground, his fur hat crushed in his hands. “Took long enough,” he said as she and Mei Li approached.

      “I’m ready if you are.” She glanced at the faces in the crowd, which closed a circle around them, but she didn’t see Mr. Vickery. She hadn’t seen him all day, in fact. He’d been up early that morning, long before her.

      Matt Robinson appeared and, to Kate’s astonishment, thrust a hastily gathered bouquet into her hands. Mei Li grinned. Crockett scowled. They weren’t flowers, exactly. It was full-on autumn. November. And the chill in the air told her snow wasn’t very far off.

      “All right, let’s do it.” Crockett squinted in the direction of Vickery’s cottage. “Where’s that lawyer?”

      Kate arched a brow, silently reiterating his question.

      Matt shot them both a sheepish glance and shrugged. “He’s gone. Landerfelt hornswoggled him into doin’ some business for him in Hangtown.”

      The look on Crockett’s face echoed Kate’s sentiments exactly: anger mixed with a goodly dose of relief.

      “But I found a ringer in the bunch who’ll do a far sight better than Vickery.” Matt stepped aside to let a young, portly miner into the circle.

      Kate didn’t recognize him, nor did any of the local tradesmen, given their narrowed gazes. The man was obviously new to not only the town, but the goldfields. His clothes were new and far too clean, and his skin too white for him to have been here long. He shot a few furtive glances at the crowd, then nodded to her and Crockett.

      “Who the hell is this?” Crockett said.

      “You’ll see.” Matt grinned. “Go on, Father. Start ’er up.”

      Father?

      The portly miner fixed his gaze on her, pulled a small, well-worn missal out of his breast pocket and made the sign of the cross.

      “Sweet Jesus,” she breathed. For the second time that day the ground slipped out from under her. Will Crockett’s big hand shot out to steady her on her feet.

      In perfect Latin, tinged with an Irish accent, the priest began, “In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti. Amen.”

      Kate dropped her bouquet.

      The ceremony lasted a few minutes. Or an hour. She wasn’t sure which. She was vaguely aware of repeating the vows the priest read aloud from the missal.

      “No ring?” Matt looked to Crockett, and the frontiersman shot him as black a look as Kate had ever seen.

      “No,” Crockett said.”

      That’s all right,” the priest said. “It isn’t strictly necessary.”

      “Fine.” Will let go of her. It dawned on her that he’d been holding her arm this whole time. “That’s it then? We’re married?”

      “Aye.” The priest risked a smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

      Kate’s eyes widened at the very thought. Surely Crockett wouldn’t dream of—

      “Go on, Will, kiss her!” someone shouted from the crowd.

      The town blacksmith shot her a lusty grin. “I’ll kiss ’er for ya, Will, if ya ain’t man enough.”

      Kate wasn’t a woman who blushed easily. After all, she’d raised four brothers and had the benefit of a worldly father’s adventurous tales. All the same, she touched a sweaty hand to her cheek and found it blazing.

      “Come on, Mrs. Crockett.” Crockett grabbed her arm and pulled her through the crowd toward the livery, where her father’s horse stood saddled and waiting. Evidently he’d already sold the mule.

      Matt and Mei Li dogged their steps, followed by the crowd that had turned out to witness their vows.

      “You’re set on this dang fool Alaska thing, then,” Matt called after them.

      Crockett shot a stony look over his shoulder. “Damn right I am. What do you think this whole charade is about.”

      “I thought you was doin’ it to help Miss Dennington.” Matt tossed her a half smile. “Mrs. Crockett, I mean.”

      “Mrs. Crockett got what she wanted. My name. That’s what they all want, isn’t it? And I got what I wanted, too.” He jerked her up the street, his grip tightening around her arm. “Besides, I don’t think our Mrs. Crockett needs help. She’s doing all right on her own, if you ask me.”

      Kate tripped in a wagon rut and, before she could react, СКАЧАТЬ