held her arm fast.
“Dearly beloved,” Preacher Man started off in a quaking voice. “We are gathered—”
“Get on to the vows,” Frank demanded, looking nervously over his shoulder.
Preacher Man gulped. “Do you, sir, take this, ah—”
“Lila,” Frank growled loudly. He pulled out his pistol and waved it, and a sharp crack! rent the air. Down the facade in front of the feed store, a bag of seed exploded. “Hurry it along, Preacher Man, or the next one goes in you.”
Preacher Man’s eyes widened. “Take Lila, to be your wife—” His fast words practically fell on top of each other.
“I do,” Frank yelled, “and she does—”
“Not!” Rusty had vaulted from his horse and stormed up onto the stage, sweeping Lila away from Frank. “She’ll never be your wife, Frank. No more than that land’ll ever be yours.” He pulled the deed from inside his shirt and waved it in the air. “They’re both mine, and I’ll never let either one go!”
“Oh, Rusty.” Lila nearly swooned as the audience hooted. Aurora caught the faint grin on Galen’s face before he turned to take on the villain of the piece, and felt a little bit swoonish inside for real.
She’d gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him ages ago, but Galen Fortune Jones was still the kind of man that could make a girl’s heart stutter.
She clasped her hands together over her breast, crying out as Frank aimed his pistol at Rusty’s chest.
But Lila’s white-hatted hero fought off the hand holding the gun and swung his fist into Frank’s chin, knocking him comically right off the stage where he fell ignominiously on his butt in a pile of fake horse poop.
Sal the Sheriff and his men stood over Frank and his goons, whom he and Rusty had already dispatched, looking satisfied at the turn of events.
She waited until the cheers died down slightly. “I knew you’d save me, Rusty!”
“I’ll always save you, Lila.” Galen’s voice was deep and loud and definitely heroic as he tossed the “deed” to the sheriff, who caught it handily. “Will you finally be my wife?”
She fanned herself, simpering. “You know I will, Rusty.”
They turned to Preacher Man, who stopped gaping comically at Frank and flipped open his oversize Bible again. “Dearly beloved,” he began again.
“I do,” Lila burst out. “And he does, too!”
The audience laughed and Preacher Man held out his hands as if to say, what could he do? “Then I now pronounce you husband and—”
Galen swept off his hat with one hand and grabbed her around the waist with his other. “Wife,” he finished loudly, then bent her deep over his arm, while she buried her face against his chest.
“Am I s’posed to kiss you for real?” Galen whispered in her ear as the crowd cheered and the music crescendoed from the loudspeakers to its triumphant conclusion.
Something inside Aurora’s tummy fluttered. The way Galen held her, nobody beyond the stage would be able to see that Rusty and Lila weren’t actually locking lips. She shook her cheek against his, though she wished he hadn’t asked. That he would have just gone ahead and done it.
It was as close as she’d ever get to actually kissing the man for real, that was for certain.
Sal the Sheriff and his men pulled Frank from the horse manure and clapped him in chains before leading him and his goons off at rubber gunpoint through the audience.
As they did after every show, the onlookers dispersed quickly, anxious to get to the next attraction. The next cotton candy. The next roller coaster.
She didn’t mind the quick loss of attention.
She was just happy to be part of a show again. Playing Lila in Wild West Wedding was a far cry from the acting career she’d once dreamed of having, but for a rancher’s daughter who spent day in and day out helping her father, it was more than she’d thought she’d ever have.
And being held in a close embrace against a seriously handsome cowboy wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either.
Feeling breathless inside, Aurora patted Galen’s shoulders. “You can let me go now,” she whispered. It was safe to break character, because the mics were cued to be killed at Rusty’s last word, “wife.”
“Yeah. Right.” Galen straightened, letting her loose. All around them, people were streaming away from the stage, calling out smart remarks and still clapping.
She beamed at them and tucked her arm through Rusty’s, clinging to him as they and Preacher Man left the stage and strolled in the opposite direction from where Frank had been taken by the sheriff to the jail across the street. As long as any of the cast members were in costume out in the public areas of the park, they remained in character.
Over the loudspeaker, the music had softened to a background melody of “Yellow Rose of Texas.”
When they passed through a gate once more to the backstage area, though, she forced herself to let go of Galen’s arm. “You did a good job,” she said, slipping past him. “Didn’t he make a good Rusty, Harlan?”
“Hell,” Galen said, stopping short. He peered at Preacher Man’s face. “I didn’t even notice that was you, Mayor.”
Harlan Osgood grinned, pulling off his bottle-glass round spectacles and the fake gold caps on his front teeth. “Got myself a helper at the barbershop these days,” he said. “Been having some fun doing this a few times a day.”
“Harlan switches off with Buddy Jepps playing Preacher Man,” Aurora provided. She pulled off the veil and microphone, then the hairpiece she wore over her own pinned-up hair, and saw Galen’s look.
She laughed a little awkwardly, holding up the thick fall of ringlets that perfectly matched her own dark red hair. “My hair is straight as a stick. It would take hours to curl like this. And pretty as this is,” she held out one side of her skirt and gave a quick curtsy, “it’s about as comfortable as a straitjacket. So I’m going to change.” She headed toward the costume trailer, leaving the two men still talking.
The corseted wedding dress wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as she’d made out.
But she had no intention of admitting that she was finding it a tad difficult to breathe normally after being clasped up against Galen.
Being held by Frank was a requirement of the role she was playing.
Being held by Galen Fortune Jones was something entirely different...
She left her veil and microphone out so the production crew could reset them in the buckboard for the next show, then stepped behind the changing screen to peel down the hidden zipper in the side of the old-fashioned-looking dress. She hung it on the hanger and tucked it, as well as her boots, away in the corner of the wardrobe trailer she’d purloined for her own use. Then, changed once more into her own knee-length sundress and cowboy
