Page 16 of A Week To Wed
In the barn, I balance my three-ring binder on the ledge of Solomon’s stable, then choose the freshly polished gear. I speak softly to the gentle, older horse as I fit him with the bridle, and he takes to me beautifully. The process takes some time; I haven’t bridled a horse in ages. By the time I’m finished, I find that I’m rather fond of this old man. I stroke his head and the top of his leg, and he presses his head into mine. “My, you are a charmer, Solomon,” I murmur. “How would you like to carry a bride on her wedding day?”
The old horse nickers, nudging me with his big head. I chuckle, “Better get going so we can catch up with Lincoln.”
I’d forgotten how exhilarating a morning ride can be. Solomon needs little encouragement to stay on the path. The crisp autumn air fills me with anticipation and renewed hope that I can pull this wedding together. I find myself excited to catch up to Lincoln. He’ll be so surprised to see me and no doubt pleased with how resourceful I can be.
I wonder what he’ll think of my idea to include Solomon in the wedding or at least dress him up in something ceremonial for the occasion. One thing at a time. First, I need to square away the questions about suits versus tuxedos.
This really is the prettiest place I’ve ever been. The sprawling pastures give way to rolling green hills dotted with the remnants of dying leaves. The hills sprawl beyond the farthest field under a bright blue sky. The view is hemmed in by purplish-gray peaks in the distance. The sky is so vast and blue here; I feel on top of the world. This is the life I chose, and this ranch is beginning to feel like home. I did something right, for once.
A short while later, I spot Lincoln. A thrill runs through me, seeing that man on the back of a horse. That’s a real cowboy. That’smycowboy…or will be in a matter of days.
I click my teeth to spur Solomon to go faster. I’m excited to talk to my groom. Soon, we’re trotting toward Lincoln and the fast-moving herd. I’ve never seen cows so energetic; all I’ve ever seen cows do is stand in a field looking fairly clueless.
Ray spots me first, and he turns his horse to ride up close to Lincoln. They talk briefly, and Ray points in my direction. Lincoln turns and sees me, and I wave excitedly, careful not to drop my binder.
He does not wave back. Instead, he steers his horse around to meet me halfway in the middle of the empty, muddy pasture. Frank and Molly spot me and start sprinting this way to greet me, but they’re on duty, and I see Ray give the dogs commands to stay.
Lincoln does not look pleased when he rides up to me, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes wide.
He booms, “What the hell are you doing?”
Surprised by his sour attitude, I urge Solomon to slow down.
“Whoa, boy. Whoa.”
The magnificent boy comes to a halt next to Lincoln’s horse, and I pet his neck.
“You didn’t answer all of my questions, so I thought I’d come to you,” I say brightly, smiling at Lincoln.
“You…you…”
“Lincoln, dear. Tell me if you want a necktie, a vest, or a cravat with a waistcoat.”
“Maisy, did you saddle my horse to ask me about croutons?”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Not croutons! A cravat! Here, let me show you.”
Solomon shifts his weight in the mud, and I’m having difficulty staying upright while flipping through this massive binder. It’s been several years since my time on Meemaw’s ranch; the muscle memory for riding might take a while to return to me. Finally, I locate the sheet with the groom’s formal wear options.
“See?” I turn it sideways to show Lincoln. The man is still staring at me incredulously.
“You can’t be out here,” he growls.
Solomon grunts and steps sideways.
I grip the binder and the saddle’s horn, holding tight. Lincoln’s gloved hand removes his hat, revealing sweat-soaked hair matted against his head, and he wipes his damp brow with the sleeve of his twill shirt.
Now I’m getting annoyed. “But I needed your opinion. And by the way, your growling is upsetting Solomon.”
“How did you even know how to bridle him without getting kicked in the head?”
I pout. “I know how to saddle and ride a horse.”
“Apparently, you do. Whether you should is the question. And the answer is no. Get on back to the barn.”
I won’t cry. I refuse to acknowledge the lump in my throat. “I’m not one of Ray’s frivolous dates he’s trying to impress with a horseback ride. I know how to behave on a ranch. And this wedding might not mean anything to you, but it means a great deal to me. And if you won’t cooperate and answer my questions, I have to come to you!”
I open the rings, pull out the plastic sheet, and hold it up so he can see it. “This is what I mean.”
