Page 65 of Waiting for the Rancher
He loved her and wanted to shout it so all the town could hear him, so that every man for miles around would know that she belonged to him. He took a deep breath and almost gave in to the need, but he forced it down and made himself go slow—just the way he’d warned himself out on the overlook.
“Wait for me,” she called. “I’ll be right out.”
Before he could answer, she hurried up the few wooden steps to the church door. She opened it, stepped inside, and then closed the door behind her.
He finished securing his horse, then meandered across the street, studying the simple structure that had been built last summer with his pa overseeing the project. He and his pa and his brothers had worked hard to construct the chapel with a little office attached so that Reverend Livingston, a new young fellow with a nice wife and baby, would have a real church to work out of instead of one of the hotel dining rooms.
The reverend had made it widely known that the church would always be unlocked and that he’d be in his office most mornings, available for anyone who needed him, even if just for a listening ear. In the afternoons, the reverend could be seenriding around town and the surrounding areas, visiting with parishioners and others who needed help.
Reverend Livingston was a caring and godly man, and they were blessed to have him in their community. The question was, why did Hazel need to talk to him today?
Maverick leaned against the step rail, taking some of the pressure off his legs. It was the same railing he’d nailed in right beside his pa. Maverick could almost see his pa kneeling in the dry tufts of grass beside the building, looking up at him.
His pa’s smile had been happy that day, even proud, because he’d had all his boys working with him doing something worthwhile. He’d stood and clamped Maverick on the shoulder and teased him. “Reckon I needed to get this church built so that maybe you’ll think about finally getting married in it to your gal.”
At the time, Maverick had laughed off the teasing about getting married to Hazel in a church or elsewhere. He’d insisted then, as always, that Hazel was his friend and nothing more.
But now, Maverick peered up into the cloudless sky. “Reckon you knew I loved her, didn’t you, Pa?”
Maverick waited—not for an answer, but for the sadness and guilt that came so often whenever he thought about Pa. But strangely, a feeling of acceptance wafted through him. Acceptance that his pa was gone? Or maybe even acceptance that he wasn’t perfect and didn’t have to be?
Although the past months hadn’t been easy, maybe in learning to ask for forgiveness and make amends, he’d finally begun to find peace.
The church door swung open, and Hazel smiled at him shyly. She’d discarded her duster coat and stood in her simple blouse and corduroy skirt, almost as if she planned to stay. Her cheeks were rosier than before, and she’d unplaited her hair so that now it hung down in long thick waves, nearly to her waist.
His breath got lost somewhere inside him and so did his voice. He could only stare at her like a bumbling idiot.
“Ready?” She held out a hand to him.
He didn’t know what he was expected to be ready for, but he took her hand anyway. He couldn’t have resisted her even if he’d tried. She could have been leading him to his execution and he would have gone with her.
She tugged him up the last of the stairs and into the chapel, closing the door behind them. She didn’t release his hand but instead situated hers more securely within his, intertwining their fingers intimately.
He looked down at their hands, speechless again. When he searched her face to try to make sense of her sweet interaction, she nibbled at her lip. “Is this okay?” she whispered with a nod down the aisle.
There, at the front of the chapel, stood Reverend Livingston along with Mr. Dewitt, the hotel owner from next door, who appeared disheveled and breathless, as if he’d just been dragged into the church—and sure enough, the side door was wide open.
The reverend and Mr. Dewitt were both grinning broadly, the reverend in his suit looking especially short and thin next to the large-boned hotel owner, like a young steer next to a strapping ox.
Hazel began to move down the aisle.
Maverick was loath to let go of her hand and kept in step with her. He reckoned that now that he had hold of her hand, he probably wouldn’t let go of it ever again—or at least, not for a long while.
Mr. Dewitt was smoothing back his scraggly hair and at the same time trying to tuck in his flannel shirt. “If I’d known you needed a witness, Reverend, I would have changed into something nicer.”
“You’re fine just the way you are,” the reverend said in his soft-spoken tone. “This won’t last long.” He was flipping open what appeared to be his prayer book.
Were they having a service of some sort? What exactly was going on?
With only a dozen or so wooden pews on either side of the aisle, the walk to the altar was over before Maverick could make sense of what was happening, and he found himself standing beside Hazel in front of the reverend and Mr. Dewitt.
Hazel gazed at the reverend as if waiting for him to begin the service.
Maverick lifted his brows at her in question, but she kept her focus ahead.
Reverend Livingston made the sign of the cross, then began to read from the book in front of him. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of... this witness, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate instituted of God—”
“Wait, what?” Maverick blurted.
