She offered a nervous laugh mixed with tears as she took his hands. “Thank you, Papa.”
“I’m happy I was able to get a minister to fill in for me today,” he said, wiping at his cheek. “I don’t think I could perform your marriage ceremony without choking up.”
“We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.” Mama grabbed Emma’s bouquet of bluebonnets off the bureau and handed them to her.
Emma grasped the beautiful flowers, delivered earlier by her groom-to-be, who had picked them just that morning. He told Mama to tell her that they were from the little rise above the river, where their new house was under construction.
Emma lifted them to her nose, inhaling their fragrant scent, awaiting the day she could gaze upon them from her kitchen window.
Papa offered his elbow, and Emma lifted the train of her gown with her free hand.
They left the little cottage and walked through the yard to the church. Emma glanced across the road where the new schoolhouse was just completed. Two days after the street dance, the money had mysteriously reappeared in the church safe, and the construction had immediately begun on the building. They might never know who took it, though they both suspected Evelyn. She had access through her father on the elder board—but none of it mattered any longer. Come Monday, Hope would take over the new classroom, which pleased Emma very much.
But the schoolhouse couldn’t hold Emma’s attention today—not when Hays was waiting inside the church to marry her.
Papa stopped at the top of the steps and looked over at Emma. “Are you ready?”
Emma nodded, and Mama opened the door for them to enter.
Hope sat behind the piano at the front of the church, and the moment the door opened she began the wedding march.
Everyone in the church stood and turned to look at Emma.
Sunshine streamed through the windows and washed the inside of the building in a golden glow.
David met Mama and offered his arm like a gentleman. He walked her to the front of the church and showed her to the pew on the left.
Papa squeezed Emma’s hand and they began to walk down the aisle.
Dozens of familiar faces greeted Emma. Friends, neighbors, and students.
Connie straightened Emma’s train and veil and then followed behind to act as Emma’s maid of honor.
As they drew closer to the front, Emma had her first glimpse of Hays—and the smile on his face was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It radiated, making his blue eyes shine brighter than ever. Beside Hays was Gage, who would act as the best man.
GW Hart stood in the front pew at her right, with Austin, Bowie, Travis, and Crockett beside him. The only two missing were Chisholm and Houston, who could not be reached in time to come home for the wedding. Both brothers would be dearly missed, but Emma looked forward to the day when she would finally meet them. For now, the rest were there to welcome her into the family.
The visiting minister was a young man who rocked nervously from foot to foot. When Emma and Papa finally reached the front, he said, “Who gives this woman away in marriage?”
“I do.” Papa lifted her veil and placed a kiss on her cheek before he rested her hand inside Hays’s.
Hays laced his fingers through hers, his eyes filled with the promises his lips would soon confess.
He pulled her close, and they faced the minister to pledge their hearts, one to the other.
Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota, on the banks of the Mississippi River, with her husband and four young children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people and events. Gabrielle can be found at www.gabriellemeyer.com, where she writes about her passion for history, Minnesota, and her faith.
The Heart of Texas
by Lorna Seilstad
Chapter One
March 1874
Brady City, Texas
Caro Cardova lifted the shotgun to her shoulder and trained it on the hombre before her. She flicked a glance toward her poncho-clad cousin. He sat on horseback beside her with a noose around his neck. She wasn’t a great shot, but with a gun full of buckshot, she didn’t need to be.
She used the tip of her shotgun to indicate the direction she wanted the leader of this vigilante band to exit. “Step away from Se?or Alvarez.”
“Lady, we don’t want to hurt you, but we will.” The man spoke as if he was tolerating a naughty child. “This man’s a rustler.”
“Se?or Alvarez is not a rustler. You have my word.”
“Your word?” The man beside the leader laughed. “One Mexican covering for another. Slade, she’s probably in on it.”
Good heavens. They called him Slade. Slade McCord? Owner of the Mesquite? The most powerful man in the county? Or were there other Slades around? But if it was him, what was he doing here on the Walking Diamond?
“Let’s get this over with.” No sooner had Slade McCord spoken than one of the cowboys grabbed her from behind and disarmed her.
“You dogs!” she shouted. “Release me!”