Bordering on Love

The inward swing of the motel room door drew the attention of the room’s occupants. They turned in unison to eye the young, freckle faced deputy who stood apprehensively in the doorway, his hat in his hands.
“Well, Scott?” William Mardsen rubbed his calloused thumb over the shiny star pinned beneath his coat. An uneasy and all too familiar sensation settled in his gut as he contemplated where his youngest brother, Jack, could be.
“Sorry sir, he ain’t out at your place.” Scott shifted uncomfortably, inching back toward the hallway.
“Where in the hell did that kid get to?” William ground out. With a swift jerk of his hand, he loosened his tie and he turned to eye his deputy. “You checked the saloon?”
“I’ve checked every single place he’s ever went to.” Scott wiped at the sweat trickling down his face. “I even checked the barn and he’s not there. One of Miss Hattie’s girls said she watched him talking to some young blonde girl at the school a couple of days ago. Apparently, it weren’t no nice, polite discussion. Jack appeared right upset and so did the girl. Seems she was nigh on hysterical.”
“Well, did you go and ask the dean at the school?”
“Yes sir. He ain’t been by since then, seems Miss Logan left the next day and he ain’t…”
“Who the hell is this Logan woman?” Everyone glanced sharply at the older gentleman sitting by the window. A well-worn suit covered his frail body; his gnarled hands clutched the head of a worn old cane tightly.
With a sad shake of his head, William turned back to his deputy. “Who is Miss Logan?” He repeated his father’s question and waited, his weight shifted from foot to foot as the seconds ticked by.
“The girl Jack’s been sparkin’.” Scott cleared his throat. “Seems they were real close. Hardly apart until a few days a’fore she left. Then they had words, the dean even said it looked as though it might come to blows ‘fore Jack strode off. Miss Logan pulled up stakes, climbed on the train and headed north ‘fore anyone could ask about it.”
William exhaled sharply and turned back to straightening his tie. “I can’t wait around for him. He knew I was getting married today, if he ain’t here I ain’t gonna go chasing after him.”
“Uh, yes sir, you want me to keep lookin’?”
“No.” William pulled at his tie, his gaze never leaving the mirror. “Do a quick walk around town before you head to the church.”
“Yes sir.” Scott nodded frantically, his shaking hand reaching for the doorknob. The door closed with a soft click. His footsteps faded as he raced down the stairwell and outside.
William glanced out the window and watched the young man dart across the street to the jail. He frowned as his attention caught on a blood-red sorrel that trotted beneath a lean figure dressed in a worn coat two sizes too big for him. The butt of a Winchester stuck up from a scabbard attached to the saddle. The butt polished enough to shine. Another gun lay along a thigh, the handle partially hidden beneath the old, battered black coat. William frowned as he caught a glimpse of a long pale colored braid hanging down the rider’s back. His brother’s words distracted him and he glanced sharply at the younger man.
“Who is that?” His best man and younger brother by eleven months, Lloyd, leaned against the window sill to watch the rider pass them by.
“Trouble,” William declared. “I should go run ‘im off!”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Lloyd grinned at him. “You’re getting’ married in an hour. You don’t have time to go run some wanna-be troublemaker out of town.”
William turned to eye his brother a cocky grin on his face. “You gonna go do it?”
“That’s what you have deputies for,” Frank Mardsen drawled, and pointed his cane at his eldest son. “Now hurry up, best to be at the church before the bride.”
“Sure, Pop, whatever you say.” William shot a final glance out the window at the rider dismounting in front of the jail then turned to the last of his wedding day preparations.”
***
Marie draped the rein over the hitching rail and stepped onto the sidewalk. She glanced around uneasily. One glove covered hand reached up and pulled the battered hat off, she slapped it against a thigh to shake the dust from it. Her eyes scanned the street uneasily. Marie turned from her perusal and walked into the cool, shadowed interior of the jail.
“Hello! Anyone around here?” she called, impatient to be done with finding Jack Mardsen.
“Can I he’p you?”
Marie turned at the drawl to see a pot-bellied man about forty leaned back in his chair, a cigar clenched between his teeth. “You the Marshall?”
“Nope, his deputy. Marshall’s getting married today and ain’t to be…”
“You know where I can find him?”
“He’s at the church. Normal place for folks to be married.”
“Figures,” Marie muttered crossly, and turned to stare out the open door. The normal hustle of a small town flowed along the sidewalks and hard packed dirt streets. Men stood about in groups talking mining or farming, women and children hurried along the walkways, parcels and bundles in their arms. “No good little rat.”
“What was that?”
“I need to speak to the Marshall or his father. You know where I can find either of ‘em?”
The deputy rose to his feet, his face bore a dark scowl. “I done told you, mister. The Marshall--”
“I don’t care if he’s marrying Queen Victoria; I need a moment of his time. Now you can either tell me or I’ll find someone else who can.” Marie stood resolute, her arms crossed over her chest.
“By now he’s probably at the church. Ceremony starts in five minutes so if you’ve a mind to catch him beforehand--” The insolent man drawled his attention on the papers on his desk.
“Where is the church?”
“Down the street.” The deputy rose to his feet, a scowl on his face at being interrupted yet again. “See over yonder to that big white buildin’? That’s what we have for a church. Best hurry, he ain’t gonna like it if you go bustin’ in on his weddin’ ceremony.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Marie snapped, turned on her boot heel and stomped out the door. She snagged the rein as she stepped off the last stair and tossed it over the animal’s neck. Grabbing the horn of the saddle she swung gracefully into it and turned the gelding’s head away from the hitching rail. A squeeze of her legs and her mount broke into a light jog.
She dismounted and left the rein dangling as she started up the steps. The faint echo as the piano played the familiar chords of the wedding march made her groan. Marie pushed her hat off her head, leaving it hanging down her back and stepped through the doors, thankful that a partial petition broke up the line of sight. Smoothing a hand over her dust-covered jacket, she sucked in a deep breath. Three steps and she stood staring at a full packed church.
From the stature of the wedding party, Marie knew they had money. Women dressed in fine silks and lace, their clothes the height of fashion. The men all sat about in dark suits, bowler hats resting in their laps or on their knees.
Lord, you surely know how to make me suffer. She glanced heavenward as the preacher cleared his throat. The layer of dirt and grime that coated her clothes weighed on her shoulders as she stared at the vast sea of colorful silk. Even her best dress wasn’t this fancy, and she tugged at the hem of her jacket, a knot of embarrassment in her throat. She shuffled a couple of steps to the right and eased in behind a tall, broad shouldered man standing watching in silence.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Marshall William Mardsen and Miss Abigail McCoy in matrimony. It is an honorable and solemn estate and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. Into this estate, these two persons present come now to be joined. If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” The preacher glanced around the room, searching for anyone who would object.
Marie sidestepped a young man, and froze as the preacher’s gaze fell on her. She swallowed as his face paled and shock and horror replaced puzzlement. She straightened and eyed him, unwilling to bend.
“Um, is there something I can do for you?” he croaked, as the entire room shifted to stare at her.
“No.” Marie shrugged apologetically and pointed at the tall, chestnut haired man standing beside the bride. “I’m looking for him.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait. Why don’t you go over and talk to one of my deputies,” Williams snapped. “I’m a bit busy at the moment. Reverend McDougal, please, continue.”
Marie narrowed her eyes at his abrupt dismissal. She shrugged deeper into her coat and stared at him. “Buffalo chips! I will do no such thing. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you!” She eyed him carefully. He towered above her five feet three inches. Thick, wavy chestnut colored hair laid combed back from his tanned face. Frown marks trailed faintly over his forehead, and into thick eyebrows that sat over green eyes. A slight bump high on the bridge his nose indicated it had obviously been broke at one point.