Then whispered, “I look like a bride.”
The seamstress stood behind her.
“You are a bride.”
Tears rolled down the woman's cheeks.
The older seamstress gently adjusted one flower.
“Your mother would've been proud.”
The bride began crying harder.
The seamstress hugged her as best she could.
Then smiled.
“Now save some of those tears for your husband.”
The bride laughed.
She wiped her face.
And she began waiting for the rancher.
At nine o'clock, she expected to hear his horse.
At ten, she began looking through the window.
At eleven, the minister arrived.
He was a kindly man accustomed to traveling between mountain settlements, performing weddings, funerals, and Sunday services wherever the roads allowed.
He admired the smokehouse decorations.
Simple winter greenery had been arranged near the doorway.
Several candles stood along the central table.
Fresh bread and preserved food had been prepared for a modest wedding supper.
The bride smiled nervously.
“Everything's ready.”
The minister nodded.
“Then we'll wait for the groom.”
At noon, he still had not arrived.
The bride tried not to worry.
Perhaps a fence had broken.
Perhaps his horse had thrown a shoe.
Perhaps the trail was worse than expected.
She told herself there must be a reasonable explanation.
But by one o'clock, the sky had darkened.
Snow began falling more heavily.
And the merchant arrived unexpectedly.
He stood beneath the smokehouse doorway, surveying the wedding decorations with obvious amusement.
The bride looked toward him.
“What do you want?”
He smiled.
“I heard the rancher hadn't arrived.”
Her expression tightened.
“He's delayed.”
The merchant glanced toward the ivory gown.
Then toward the hams hanging overhead.
“Well, that's unfortunate.”
She took a slow breath.
“Do you have business with me?”
He nodded.
“Perhaps.”
He stepped closer.
“The banker thought you might want to reconsider your position.”
The bride stared.
“What position?”
“The property.”
He glanced around.
“With the mortgage unresolved, selling may be your best option.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“I'm not discussing my business with you today.”
The merchant smiled.
“Of course.”
Then he lowered his voice.
“But you ought to know something about your handsome rancher.”
Her heart tightened.
“What?”
The merchant looked toward the wedding dress.
“He visited the bank this morning.”
She stared.
The man continued.
“Very interested in the smokehouse papers.”
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt.
She gripped the edge of the table.
The merchant watched her expression.
Then smiled thinly.