“Indeed we shall. Stand side by side, please, and hold each other’s hands.”
Rachel ignored the head shaking of her neighbors and other members of The Community. They’d had much the same reaction when she announced her intention to be sold at the auction. She had heard more than one whisper that she was likely to draw the lowest price ever recorded, that the reason no one wanted to take her in was because of her peculiar opinions and strange ways. Few in The Community were willing to buck the collective wisdom of the many.
Granny Isaacs clasped their hands together with her cool veined and gnarled fingers. “The bonding of man and woman is a sacred event,” she began. “Do both of you understand the meaning of this?”
“Yes,” Rachel said.
“Yes,” Linc echoed, mystified by the unorthodox start to the ceremony. But then, everything these people did was unorthodox.
Linc pushed the incongruous smell of new clover, sight of the clapboard barn and whispers of the onlookers from his mind. The age-old words of the traditional ceremony, however, spoken in Granny Isaacs grave and gravelly voice, weighed on his conscience. He figured if she wasn’t worried about the fact that he was lying through his teeth, he shouldn’t be. But Rachel recited her vows with equal gravity, her blue gaze locked with his, and the resentment he felt at being put in this position pushed him into rushing through his vows without regard to anybody’s feelings save his own.
He waved at Granny Isaacs to skip over the exchange of rings. “No, wait,” Rachel said.
She reached under the collar of her gown and withdrew a braided chain necklace, anchored by two rings. They clinked as she slipped them off the chain, and she offered Linc the smaller of the two. “These wedding bands belonged to my late parents. I’d like you to use my mother’s ring as my wedding band.”
Plain gold, the ring was scratched in many places. Linc sensed it had been worn for a very long time by hands that had done a great deal of work. Still warm from her body heat, the ring clearly had enormous sentimental value to Rachel. He felt awkward taking it. The fact that the bride was providing her own wedding ring proved how surreal this whole situation was.
Rachel held out her hand with graceful expectancy. Slipping the ring onto her finger was an exercise in self will. Linc tried to shake the feeling that her mother must be spinning in her grave.
He realized his choice of ring fingers was incorrect when it was Rachel’s turn. She slipped her father’s ring onto the third finger of his left hand. Her smile reassured him that the mistake didn’t matter. Linc didn’t care to be reassured. What difference did it make if he put the ring on her second finger or her third?
The minute Granny Isaacs pronounced them husband and wife, he said, “Come on, Rachel. We’re leaving.”
He stalked through the gathering who’d witnessed the ceremony, towing Rachel by the hand. She had to have the coldest hands in the history of the universe. Her fingers wove their way between his until their hands were clasped palm to palm. He allowed it, but it annoyed him, as though she were taking advantage of his good graces.
Approaching the truck, she pointed out his new filly.
“You are a fine judge of horseflesh,” she said.
It was a compliment, but acknowledging it felt like a concession to him. Maybe it was her use of the word horseflesh. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.
“What shall we name her?” she asked.
“Not we. I own her. I’ll name her,” he said, more annoyed than ever.
“She’s got the fire of the sun in her chestnut coat and a blinding white blanket. If she were mine, I would name her Summer.”
“What kind of name is that?”
She frowned, obviously bothered by the tone of judgment in his voice. “A perfect name.”
“Fine. Her name is Summer.” It really didn’t matter what the horse was called. She would be sold at a very nice profit once she was fully trained. Linc slapped on a pair of leather roping gloves. “Get in the truck while I load her.”
“I will help.”
She wasn’t asking—she was telling. His annoyance increased tenfold. Who did she think she was? “Wait in the damned pickup,” he ordered.
“Please do not swear at me, Linc. I may be of help. I know horses.”
“I know horses, too. Get in the truck, Mrs. Monroe.”
Rachel put her hands on her hips, but surpressed her frustration. She didn’t wish to create another scene, not minutes after their wedding ceremony. Tapping her foot, she stayed beside the truck, ready to help at a moment’s notice.
She hadn’t realized it before, but the trailer was positioned with its loading door flush against the corral. Linc removed the fence posts that blocked the door, then opened it and pulled down the ramp. It thudded on the damp ground.
Summer stood at the other end of the corral, ears pricked forward in curiosity, her dark tail swishing at the flies buzzing around her bay coat and spotted white Appaloosa blanket. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the noise and activity caused by the man in the black cowboy hat but, so far, she wasn’t unduly alarmed, Rachel noticed.
Linc paid little attention to Summer at this stage, keeping his eyes averted while preparing the trailer. He tied a rope to the trailer door, which mystified Rachel, but she approved of the generous fork load of hay he tossed in the trailer. By this time of day, Summer would be hungry.
Walking toward the horse, he spoke soothingly. Rachel couldn’t hear the words but soothing or not, Summer took off in a typical fast-paced lope. She balked at the unfamiliar sight of the trailer ramp, but, behind her, Linc waved his hat and his arms. Frightened, Summer had two choices—run over the man or escape into the trailer. She escaped into the trailer. Linc used the rope to slam shut the door before the horse could back out, avoiding any possibility that he might get kicked. A moment later, the ramp was stowed and he was rounding the truck, dusting his hands.
“Why did you scare her so?” Rachel demanded.
“It worked, didn’t it? I want to get out of here.” He opened the passenger door for her and trotted to the other side. Settling in, he gunned the engine and checked the rear view mirror, thankful he caught a break in loading the filly—Summer—fairly easily. Now if he could just get her home without a hitch…that is, if Rachel cooperated. She was still standing next to the truck, waiting to give him more grief, no doubt. “Rachel, for the last time, get in or I swear, I’ll leave you behind.”
She ducked her head, puzzlement on her face. “How do I get in?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been in a truck before?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Twenty-eight years old and you’ve never learned to drive?”
“I’ve been driving teams since I was a youngster,” she offered.
“I
