“What about my sensibilities?” Georgette wailed. “And what about Jonathan?”
“Who’s Jonathan?”
“Her husband,” Trixianna explained. “He’s gone looking for me.”
“Well, he’ll play hell finding you, won’t he?”
“What kind of attitude is that, Sheriff?” Georgette leaned across Sister Margaret and glared at Chance. “We’ve done nothing wrong and still you’re locking us up. How will Jonathan ever find us now?”
“Listen, I’ve got about five minutes to get to church. I haven’t got time for any of this.”
“You’re the one getting married?” Sister Margaret asked.
“That’s right.” He shoved the door of the office open and then ushered all three women into one jail cell. He removed the handcuffs, then took the key out of the top drawer of his desk and locked them in. Shoving the key in his pocket, he stood staring at them a minute. Fine lines of concentration deepened around his eyes. A muscle jumped at his jaw. “I reckon there will be hell to pay over this, but I’m at a loss about what to do. When I look at the three of you, my head plain aches. All I got to say is, that Dena Valley sheriff better know which one of you is Mad Maggie West.”
“I’m not her, Chance,” Trixianna whispered. A smile found its way through her uncertainty. “Please believe me.”
“I do,” he said with quiet emphasis. His eyes, brimming with tender determination, sought hers. “More than anything.”
He cleared his throat and looked away. He hesitated at the threshold of the office door, his body still. He then cast one somber glance over his shoulder at Trixianna. “I’ve got to go.”
Chance met Harvey Perry just outside his office door. “Harvey, I’m glad you’re here. I need your help.”
“I gathered as much from Michael.”
“You know, I’m getting married in a bit.”
“Chance, every last man, woman and child in Grand Fork knows that.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a problem.”
Harvey leaned toward Chance. “Did you really lock up a nun?”
Chance nodded. “Along with Trixianna Lawless and her sister. The thing is they all look like the woman on the wanted poster. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Harvey chewed on the inside on his lip and nodded. “I see your problem.”
“The Dena Valley sheriff, Donald Boyle, is supposed to get to Grand Fork this afternoon. He’s seen Mad Maggie so he knows what she looks like. I just want you to make sure he comes to the church to get me after the ceremony—before he comes here. I’ve got enough explaining to do as it is.” He shook his head. “If Aunt Tildy finds out, she’ll skin my hide.”
“Is Tildy back?”
“Oh, yeah, she was on the same train as the nun and Trixianna’s sister. Oh, and if you see a strange man walking the streets, he’s probably the sister’s husband. Send him over to the jail, too.”
“Is that all, Sheriff?”
“I hope so. Thanks for the help, Harvey. I owe you for this.”
“Good luck.”
“Uh-huh. See you later.”
Strangely enough, Sister Mary Margaret sat down on the floor after Chance left, and within minutes was sound asleep. Trixianna marveled at the woman’s calm in light of their combined strange circumstances.
Trixianna and Georgette shared a bemused expression. They sat down on the straw-filled mattress. Georgette took Trixianna’s hand in hers. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said.
“Huh?” Trixianna thought she’d misheard her sister. Her mind was still on Chance.
“Jonathan and me, we’re going to have a baby.”
“Why, my goodness, that’s wonderful news.” Trixianna leaned over and hugged her. “That’s just wonderful.” She then proceeded to burst into tears.
Georgette reached into her reticule and handed Trixianna her handkerchief. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased to hear you’re going to be an aunt.”
Trixianna wiped the tears from her face, but couldn’t stop the flow. “I am.”
“Then why in heaven’s sake are you crying?”
“Because I love him,” Trixianna wailed.
“Who?”
“Chance Magrane.”
“The sheriff?”
“Yes,” Trixianna replied to her disbelieving sister.
“The man you shot and stabbed?”
“Those were accidents, Georgie.” Fresh tears coursed down Trixianna’s cheeks. She swiped ineffectually at them. “And he’s marrying Fanny Fairfax at this very moment.”
“Let me get this straight, Trixianna. You’re in love with the sheriff, but he’s marrying someone else right now. Does he know how you feel?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s marrying another woman? How does he feel about you?”
“I think he loves me, too.”
“What?” Georgette jumped to her feet and began pacing the length of the cell, deftly stepping around the sleeping nun. “If he loves you and you love him, why would he marry another woman?”
“He made a promise. Chance is a very honorable man. He asked Fanny to marry him and he won’t break that promise.”
“Even when he loves you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s just plain crazy. You must do something.”
Trixianna wiped the tears from her eyes. Determination welled up from deep inside her. “You’re absolutely right, and I know just what it is.” She grabbed her reticule from the cot where she’d tossed it earlier. She began shuffling through the contents. “I believe I have the key.”
Georgette stopped pacing. She leaned over and peeked into Trixianna’s bag. “The key to what?”
“The key to my future.” She pulled the heavy key out and held it aloft. “Ah-ha.”
“Is that what I think it is?”
“I believe so.”
“How’d you get that?”
“I didn’t take it on purpose, it was an accident. I didn’t know what it was until I saw Chance use the other one—it looks just like it.”
Georgette’s brows drew downward over her green eyes. A slow smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You’ve had a lot of accidents since you’ve been in Grand Fork, haven’t you?”
“Georgie, you have no idea.”
Trixianna struggled to get the key in the outside lock When she turned it, the mechanism gave a satisfactory click and the door swung open.
Chance took the steps slowly and entered the church. He glanced around, shaking the chill off his body. As he suspected, the ladies had the church decked out in enough flowers and candles for a funeral—the smell was strong even in the foyer. And that was appropriate to how he felt when he entered the vestibule. AS if he was attending his own funeral. He’d noticed on the walk over that his footsteps became shorter the closer he came to the building. The cold, soaking rain hadn’t even bothered him.
Rider stood just inside the front door of the church, waiting. Dressed in a stiff new suit of clothes and new boots, clean-shaven and his mustache trimmed, he looked presentable, yet obviously anxious. He shuffled from one foot to the other, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d been running his hand through his hair, and it stood up on the back of his head. When he heard the door open, he jerked his chin up, then gave a relieved sigh. “About time, brother.”
“Sorry, I had business to tend to.”
“More important than your own wedding?”
“I thought so.”
“You don’t sound too convincing. Another five minutes and your future father-in-law would have been stalking the streets with a shotgun.”
Chance shrugged out of his drenched coat and removed his Stetson. He hung both on a peg near the door. A mirror hung just inside the foyer. He glanced at it and finger-combed his unruly, damp hair. The mirror reflected the face of a grim man.
Rider came to his side. He stared over Chance’s shoulder, his expression skeptical. “Are you sure you want to do this? You
have the look of a man about to be hanged.”
“I can’t say for certain but I think it’s just a case of the mulligrubs, as Burnsey would say.”
Rider snorted. “Never heard of any mulligrubs, but you look bad.”
Chance jerked a thumb toward the sanctuary. “Full?”
Rider nodded. “And anxiously awaiting the groom.”
“How late am I?”
“Only about ten minutes. I just introduced myself to Frank Fairfax, and promised you’d be here.”
“All right, then, let’s do it.” He started toward the door.
Rider grabbed Chance’s sleeve. He stared at him, his expression serious. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Chance sighed, then shook his head. “I can’t do that to Fanny.”
“You sure?”
Chance shrugged. “I’ve got no other choice.”
“All right.”
Rider yanked the door open. Every head in the place turned and stared.
Chance heard several sighs of obvious relief. He swallowed hard. With Rider’s hand at his back, they walked up the aisle where Fanny waited alone.
Heat worked its way up Chance’s neck. The tips of his ears burned. He spotted Annie V. and her girls filling up the entire back pew. She winked at him when he caught her eye. His collar tightened until he could scarcely breathe. He tried to smile at Fanny, but was unable to meet her eyes. Equal parts guilt and anger formed a cold knot in his stomach. He wished he could love her as much as he loved Trixianna.
Dressed in a pale lavender satin gown that dipped just above her full bosom and skimmed her rounded hips, she looked as lovely as he’d ever seen her. A veil of white covered her hair and hung down her back where it puddled on the floor. Chance had seen the ocean once. The veil of white reminded him of that ocean where it washed again and again upon the shore and left a swelling mound of foam.
Someone had tied Bluebeard with a very short length of rope to the front pew, a lavender silk ribbon around his neck. Unable to chew on anything, the goat looked truly perturbed.
Eloise and Frank Fairfax, sitting in the front pew just out of Bluebeard’s reach, glared at Chance as he passed. He chastised himself for wanting to vent his anger on them. Instead he turned toward the minister.
“Shall we begin?” the man said.
When Chance didn’t reply, Rider nudged him in the ribs and said in a forced whisper, “Chance?”
Belatedly Chance answered, “Uh, yes. Yes, sir. Go ahead.”
Rider backed up and sat down beside the Fairfaxes. They glowered at him, but he just shrugged his shoulders and grinned. Bluebeard began stalking toward Rider. The smile left his face. He frowned and scooted down the pew.
Chance stepped up alongside Fanny and stood beside her. He clasped her warm right hand in his left. She squeezed his fingers, compelling him to look down at her. When he did, he was surprised to see her turn and give a superior smile to the townspeople. This wedding was what mattered most to her, not him, certainly not his feelings.
He felt like he was just about to be reeled in—hook, line and sinker—her very own prized possession. Bile rose in his throat and threatened to choke off his air.
Chance swallowed hard, then nodded at the preacher to begin. He started with a short invocation. Chance bowed his head, but heard none of the actual words of the prayer or any of the meaning. His head ached so bad he imagined that Rider in the front row could actually hear the pounding.
Chance realized that the minister had stopped the prayer and begun the ceremony. He lifted his head and stared out a window beyond the altar. The rain trickled down the glass and disappeared. His heart thudded in his chest. Chance didn’t listen to the droning monotone until the preacher said, “If anyone knows of any good reason why these two people should not marry, speak up now or forever hold your peace.”
Love is lawless.
– Latin proverb
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE DOUBLE doors of the church flew open and banged against the wall. A blast of frigid wind and icy rain followed. The candles flickered, and blew out. The flower arrangements scattered mum petals and greenery up and down the center aisle. In unison, a mighty gasp rose among the startled wedding guests.
A disturbance began in the rear pews: people standing, gaping, complaining to the small horde of unwelcome interlopers who stood soaked and bedraggled at the back of the church. The furor advanced forward so that by the time it reached Chance, who by now had turned around and was gaping himself, the noise was deafening. One old man known among the townspeople as Crazy Ike, stood up and uttered an obscenity that brought blushes to the faces of the women nearby. When he shook his fist skyward and called down the wrath of God, babies and toddlers wailed in fright. Grown men flushed beneath their stiff go-to-church collars, and women swooned.
“Please take your seats, ladies and gentlemen. And you new folks—please find a seat as well. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, does anyone know why this marriage ceremony shouldn’t go on as planned?”
Several voices rang out among the din and confusion.
“In the name of Her Royal Highness, Queen Victoria of England, I wholeheartedly object to this entire ridiculous matter.”
“For Trixianna’s sake, so do I.”
“Oh, my stars.”
“I reckon I object, too, then…for my brother’s sake.”
“Well, hell.”
“I object also.” Tildy’s voice rang out from her front row pew.
“Honey, you shouldn’t be marrying that uppity woman,” Annie V. hollered, loud enough to be heard from her seat in the last pew.
“This is highly irregular, Sheriff Magrane. Highly irregular. I’ve never had anyone actually ‘speak up’ before, and now I’ve got half a dozen. I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”
“Well, don’t look to me ‘cause I sure as hell don’t either.”
Trixianna’s hair hung in limp, wet strands down her back, her gown was ruined beyond repair, and the whole population of Grand Fork was staring at her as if she, Trixianna Lawless, was an escaped lunatic. She wanted to die.
And now she probably would. This would be the reason they would hang her. Forget robbing a bank. Forget shooting a bank teller. Forget all those other charges as well. Interrupting the mayor’s daughter’s wedding was undoubtedly punishable by death in Grand Fork, Kansas.
Trixianna watched Chance at the front of the church. He cocked his head to one side and squinted, peering around the room. He stood with his hands on his hips, emphasizing the length and power of his legs and his lean, rangy body. His broad shoulders shook.
Shook? Realization caught her off guard. He was doing his darnedest not to laugh outright. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she’d originally thought.
A devilish look came into his pale, blue eyes when his gaze met hers. “How?” he mouthed.
She held up the telltale key.
He shook his head and tried to hide a grin. She could have sworn that he winked at her. A flash of perplexed amusement crossed his face, then disappeared as he turned to speak in a quiet whisper with the disgruntled clergyman.
“Hold everything!” Burnsey pushed aside two widows, then apologized with a tip of his hat. He barreled down the aisle toward a perplexed Chance and a chagrined Fanny, who stood at the altar. Walking cane in hand, dressed in a black frock coat, top hat and white gloves, he looked more like the groom than…the groom.
Chance stepped aside as Burnsey rushed to Fanny’s side. Burnsey removed his hat, then bowed to the preacher. He grasped Fanny’s hand in his own. In a strong voice, he declared, “I love this woman.”
Eloise Fairfax, mother of the bride, apparently heard the declaration of love. She gasped, then fell into a stone-cold faint. She slid from the pew and dropped to the floor before her husband could catch her. Frank kneeled on the floor and patted her cheek in an effort to revive her. Trixianna noticed he kept one eye on the circuslike spectacle before him, though.
&nbs
p; Fanny flushed. Her voice quivered when she said, “But, Alastair, you’re a common drunkard.”
“Alastair?” Chance repeated, brows raised.
Burnsey nodded. “Alastair Burns, sixth Viscount of Huxford, to be correct, sir.” He turned back to Fanny, his voice soft as he said, “But I’m an extremely rich drunkard.”
“You are?” squeaked Fanny. “I didn’t know that. But you know it was never the money.”
“Assuredly.” He bent to one knee and kissed the hand he still held in his. “I promise that if you’ll accept my offer of wedlock, from this day forward I’ll do everything I can to stop my excesses.”
Sitting next to the aisle, Annie V. plucked a handful of Trixianna’s soggy skirt and yanked. Trixianna glanced down into warm, smiling eyes. Beyond Annie V. sat the other girls, with equal expressions of laughter and surprise on their worn faces.
“You go get that man right now, honey. You love him and he, by God, loves you.” She pointed her finger at Chance. “Go grab yourself some happiness.”
Trixianna took Georgette’s hand in her own shaking fingers and pulled her along as she moved down the aisle. She loved Chance but how could she tell him in front of the whole town? She’d have to find a way.
She stopped at the front pew, her gaze on Burnsey and Fanny. Fanny’s big brown eyes, intent on Burnsey’s bent head, glowed like twin copper pennies in her face. She stared at him with such obvious love, it brought tears to Trixianna’s eyes. She turned her gaze toward Chance, who looked confused.
“What the hell are you doing, Burnsey?” Chance demanded, “proposing here…and why now? Hell, half of Grand Fork is gussied up and sitting in these pews. If you wanted to marry her, what have you been waiting for?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, Sheriff, she was engaged to you when I came to town.”
“And?”
Burnsey rose to his full height, a good bit shorter than Chance, and with a belligerent stare, gazed up at the man. He sniffed, then tapped his cane against Chance’s calf. “It would have been quite ungentlemanly to interfere.”
Chance pushed the cane away. The answer seemed to amuse him for, a teasing glint glittered in his eyes. “Ungentlemanly, huh?”
Georgette stepped forward, dragging Trixianna alongside behind her. “May I say something here?”