Joe's Wife. Cheryl St.John
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herself to look at him, the man she was about to marry. His deep blue eyes gave away nothing of what he was feeling. He held his solid jaw stiff and met her gaze squarely.
“Tye?” she questioned uncertainly.
Something behind his eyes flickered. Surprise? Doubt?
She extended her gloved hand.
His unreadable gaze drifted across her hair, fell to her crocheted collar and then to her gloved hand. Without pause, he accepted it with both of his and held it firmly between his large palms. Heat seeped through the fabric of her gloves.
“Are we ready, then?” Reverend Baker asked softly.
“We’re ready,” Tye replied.
The reverend nodded, and to Meg’s surprise, Fiona Hill, whom she hadn’t noticed sitting behind the organ before, unskillfully launched into a wedding song. Meg gave Tye a smile, pleased that he had thought to add music to the hasty ceremony.
“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Baker began, once the last harsh notes reverberated into the morning air.
Meg listened to the same words he’d recited over her and Joe that sunny morning so long ago. She didn’t place the same naive hope in the vows as she once had. Her first marriage had held promise and had been a union of love.
Not that she didn’t take this one seriously, for she did. She meant to adhere to her pledge. But this was a business arrangement, an agreement, and she in no way felt the same love and anticipation she had when she’d married Joe.
Tye understood that.
“And repeat after me, ‘With this ring I thee wed.”’
Tye released her left hand, and Reverend Baker waited expectantly.
Meg stared in numb recognition at the silver band Tye held between his long thumb and forefinger. “Oh.”
She hadn’t been expecting a ring. She had a ring. Awkwardly, she tugged off her glove and glanced at the gold band she still wore. Joe’s ring.
But of course, she wouldn’t be able to wear the ring Joe had given her. Her face warmed in embarrassment. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she twisted the band from her finger, dropped the ring into her pocket and extended her hand.
“With this ring I thee wed.” Tye’s voice sounded oddly distant as he repeated the words. He took her hand and slid the warm silver band into place, his fingers strong and hard. She stared down, finding the silver piece strangely out of place on her finger.
A new pain, deep and dull and laced with bitter resignation, expanded in her chest. She blinked back the humiliating prickle of tears and unthinkingly gripped Tye’s hand hard. His other came to rest over the back of hers, its gentleness and warmth a much needed reassurance.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”.
Without a second’s hesitation, as if he feared she might balk or bolt or burst into tears, Tye leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then quickly straightened.
With a characteristic lack of finesse, Fiona banged out the wedding march, and Meg allowed Reverend Baker and Tye to escort her to the back of the tiny building. One by one, the few guests offered congratulations and stepped out into the sunshine.
Gwynn gripped Meg’s fingers. “I hope this is right, Meg,” she said shakily. “I do wish you the best”
“Thank you for coming,” Meg managed to say around the knot of distress in her throat. “I’m going to be just fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Well, you come to me if you need anything.” She glanced around. “Harley doesn’t know I came. So I’d best hurry home before he figures out where I went.” She pressed her cheek against her sister-in-law’s. “I’ll see you in church tomorrow.” She rushed down the wooden stairs.
Her concern touched Meg.
“This is Rosa Casals,” Tye said from beside her.
“Of course,” Meg said, turning to greet the dark-eyed woman. “Thank you for coming.”
“I just wanted to congratulate you both. Here’s a little something from me and Lottie. It’s not much.” She pressed a small, paper-wrapped package into Meg’s hands.
“Why, thank you!” Meg said with surprise. A wedding gift!
“Well, goodbye and good luck,” Rosa said. “Hatch, I’ll see you before I leave town.” Hastily, she left the church.
Meg looked at the package in her hands. None of her Telford family except Gwynn had come to this ceremony. None of the other church members. If her hired hands and Tye’s two friends hadn’t come, no one would have witnessed their marriage.
Tye stepped into the small cloakroom with Reverend Baker, and Meg realized he was paying him for the ceremony. “Come sign the certificate, Meg,” the reverend called easily.
A few minutes later, they stood outside the building, and the surroundings seemed oddly ordinary compared with the rest of this surreal day.. “Well,” she said. “Do we need to go get your things?”
Tye nodded.
Gus pulled up the wagon, Purdy riding in the bed, then got down and climbed in beside Purdy, leaving Tye and Meg to climb onto the springed seat.
“You know Gus and Purdy?” she asked.
“Worked roundups with ’em,” Tye said, nodding to the two older men. “Guess we’ll be working the ranch together now.”
Purdy leaned forward and shook Tye’s hand, mumbling his congratulations. Tye took the reins and drove the team to Banks’s Boardinghouse. Meg and her hands stood, preparing to get down, but Tye stopped them with an upraised palm. “I’ll be right back.”
“We’ll help,” Meg offered in bewilderment.
“Don’t need help.”
She exchanged a glance with Gus, then sat back down. Tye eased himself to the ground carefully. A few minutes later he returned carrying a saddle and saddlebags, a bedroll and two rifles. He wore his hat and had strapped his gun belt to his hips. He stashed the saddle and bags in the back, the rifles under the seat, climbed back up and took the reins.
Meg said nothing. She’d been in his rented room once, yet she hadn’t realized he owned nothing more than these few possessions. A man didn’t need much, she guessed.
He made another stop at the stables for his horse, tied it behind the wagon and led the team out of town. They didn’t speak more than a few words on the ride home, Meg knowing that the two old men were seated behind them and that any awkward thing they might say would be overheard.
Tye couldn’t get the image of Meg’s shock and confusion over the ring out of his mind. Had she planned to wear her first husband’s ring even though she was marrying him? No, she must’ve just forgotten. But it bothered him.
She’d stared at that gold band on her hand, and he’d stared at it, too, knowing it was worth a lot more than the silver one he’d loaded fertilizer for four nights to earn.
And then, as if she’d been sacrificing an arm, she’d worked the ring from her finger and allowed him to replace it. No one in attendance believed theirs was an alliance of love and passion, so he had nothing to hide. But the fact that she’d worn Joe’s ring to their wedding seared a new, yet familiar brand of humiliation into his previously callused hide.
Tye observed the land they reached and the meager assortment of buildings with mixed emotions. Legally this land was his now. Morally, it was Meg’s. They’d struck a bargain. His entire life he’d never owned anything worth more than a rifle or a horse. He’d never had a place to call home or to sink time and sweat and energy into. He meant for this to be that place.
And he meant to do right by Meg and by their agreement.