The Lawman (Historical Western Romance)

Chapter 7

Abigail excused herself from the conversation happening around her and made her way toward Morgan. He was still dressed as he was this morning, his denim trousers and plain chambray shirt and dusty boots. He hadn't cleaned up for their wedding which told her he wasn't there to say, "I do." When she stopped in front of him, she blurted, "I didn't do this. I swear it."

Morgan looked over her shoulder to the women gathered around the table. "I can only guess who did."

"Edna."

He huffed out a harsh breath. "Figures. That old bat can't leave well enough alone." He turned his attention back to her and smiled as he took in her dress and hair. "You look real pretty, Abigail."

She blushed and knew she wasn't too pretty now. She could only imagine the pattern those splotches made on her skin but she knew they were there. "Thanks." She cleared her throat, looked away uneasily before sighing. "What do we do?"

He didn't get a chance to answer. Edna approached them, said it was time to start and before either could get a word in, someone was playing music from an old fiddle, the people gathered all turned and waited to watch them approach the circuit preacher standing in front of the crowd. How they'd found the preacher wasn't nearly as fascinating as the fact so many people were there to witness the whole thing. Abigail wasn't even aware this many people lived in and around Willow Creek.

Turning to Morgan, Abigail smiled. "You don't have to do this, Morgan. I know it kind of snowballed so if you'd rather not, it's fine with me."

He looked so relieved, Abigail had to force a smile onto her face to hide the painful clenching of her heart before she looked away. Him saying her name was the only thing that made her look at him.

"Go on back to the house, Abigail. I'll break this party up and we'll talk when I get there."

She stared at him for long moments before shaking her head. "No, I'm still going to get married." An inhaled breath, taken deeply enough to fill her lungs to capacity helped calm her nerves. "I need a husband, Morgan. I can't live in your house forever. Besides, if I stay there much longer, people will get the wrong impression and no one will want to marry me." She lifted one shoulder, a sad smile covering her face. "I have to do this. I have no other choice."

Abigail turned and made her way through the crowd, toward the preacher. When she turned to face everyone, she smiled and took a deep breath. "I wanted to thank everyone for coming today and for you ladies who put this all together." There were warm smiles and small chattering heard as Abigail stared at their faces. One face stuck out. Morgan's. He was still standing where she left him. She ignored him and continued. "There seems to be a mix up. Morgan never actually asked me to marry him. I sort of asked him." That earned a few laughs and she waited until they'd calmed. "And springing this on him today has sort of left him—"

"Pressed for time." Morgan was moving through the crowd, making his way to her and Abigail wasn't sure what to make of it. The look on his face was unreadable. When he reached her, he took her arm, turned her toward the preacher and told the man to, "get on with it."

Trying to control the stunned look on her face was easier said than done but Abigail managed to not stare at Morgan as if he'd lost his mind. He was looking at the preacher, his mouth set in a firm, hard line and his eyes looked entirely too bright. What was he doing?

When the preacher began to speak, Abigail wondered if it were all a dream. She heard Morgan say, "I do," and when it was her turn to do the same, he had to squeeze her hand to get her attention. She mumbled the words and stood staring at him when the preacher asked if he had a ring. Someone in the crowd said they had it and when Abigail looked, it was Holden. He crossed the space between them and handed a small gold band to Morgan, who placed it on her finger.