Chapter Six #2
Then a large, bald man joined her at her side. “Miss Matthews,” he whispered. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Mayor Klein. I’m thrilled to hear you’re marrying Mr. Whitman. I’ll be escorting you up the aisle in lieu of your father.”
June wondered why he hadn’t been at Henry and Jack’s weddings, but she said nothing, only nodded in acknowledgement. A single tear fell down her cheek as he offered his arm to her. The piano began to play in earnest and they began to walk up to the altar.
Keep it together.
Seth Whitman was at the head of the aisle, standing tall, impossibly handsome. His usually unruly brown hair had been tamed, and his beard trimmed. His gray suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly. There was a scowl on his face… until his eyes met hers.
She couldn’t place it, but there was something about his expression when their eyes met… His gaze seemed to soften, and his lips pulled into a slight smile.
Then she was standing next to him. Mayor Klein took her hand and joined it with Whitman’s. “Thank you, Mayor,” Whitman grumbled before wrapping his hand fully around June’s.
His hands were shaking now, but she felt the same jolt again—the same as when they had first been introduced to one another. A jolt of nothing but pure energy. She felt a hot crimson blush roll up to her cheeks. His hands were warm around hers, callused and hard, yet also gentle.
I’m getting married.
She barely listened as the preacher began speaking; she was too dazed. She heard herself speaking the vows almost before she even realized what she was saying… that is, until the preacher said, “Do you, Annabelle Matthews, take Seth Whitman to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Her heartbeat raced in her ears and her mouth went drier than the sandy ground outside.
Annabelle Matthews.
Soon to be Annabelle Whitman.
That was a stranger’s name.
A stranger whose ring was cold to the touch as it slid onto her finger.
This isn’t my ring.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher said proudly.
The words fell heavy on June’s shoulders.
She was married… to Seth Whitman. The thought was terrifying.
She didn’t know him, and maybe that was best, considering the details—and the fact that he thought her name was Annabelle.
She still wasn’t sure how entangled she was.
Only then did it hit her that her plan might not even work with Seth.
Would she even be able to take anything worth stealing from him? He lived miles from town on a ranch. What was of value there?
June’s chest tightened in panic. What have I done?
Even the Landry men made more sense as targets. Henry held a position of authority, and Jack was a business owner. Their futures were secure. They had assets. They would likely buy their wives furs and jewelry.
A cold tingle ran down her spine. What would Seth Whitman be able to give her that could possibly satisfy Trey?
And then— “You may now kiss your bride.”
June turned with a start, and almost before she knew it, Seth’s lips pressed against hers, sending a tingle all the way down to her toes. His hand cupped her cheek for just a moment, and when she pulled back, she saw something in his eyes that made her heart almost… ache?
***
The deed had been done. June Thatcher had to be Mrs. Annabelle Whitman for however long it took to figure out her next move. Her heart pounded roughly in her chest as she followed her new husband out of the church. It pounded during the entire ride back to the ranch, too.
She was glad Seth had brought a separate horse for her, a beautiful mare. He called her Suzanna. She was a black-and-white paint, and she had one of the shiniest coats June had ever seen. So did Seth’s.
It wasn’t until they’d reached his front drive that he broke the silence.
“This is Skip…” he said, finally introducing his horse as they rode up the front drive.
As they rode up to the house, he pointed out the stables, the garden, the barn, and the ranch house.
The place was beautiful. Simple, small, but beautiful.
Finally, Seth announced, “I’ll show you inside,” and he rode up to the ranch house. She followed, and he dismounted and held his hand out for her.
She looked at his open hand for a moment, hesitating.
She knew the etiquette—she ought to take his hand.
But she felt uneasy about it. She felt uneasy about everything, if she was being honest with herself.
But she did what she had to do, and with a deep breath, she took of his hand for the second time that day, allowing him to help her down from the saddle, ignoring the jolt that shot through her yet again.
When her feet were planted firmly on the ground, she turned and said, “Thank you,” although it tasted sour coming out of her mouth.
Seth nodded sincerely as he gathered the horses’ reins and began leading them toward the barn.
“I’ll unsaddle them and meet you out on the porch,” he said softly over his shoulder.
June cleared her throat awkwardly and walked up to the house.
She paced the front porch, not daring to go inside.
He hadn’t invited her in yet, after all.
She fiddled with her fingernails, then her necklace, and then began counting the marks on the floorboards.
Anything to distract her from what she was about to do: walk into a home where she was meant to be the homemaker.
“This is home,” Seth said from behind, and she turned around with a start to see him walk up the front porch steps. His voice was prickling with some kind of emotion that June hadn’t heard from him before. For a moment, her knees nearly buckled, but she pulled herself together.
He didn’t trust her. And she didn’t trust him. And that was the one fact that would keep her sane in all of this. She still didn’t understand why he went along with the whole idea and proposed to her. It seemed like he was pressured; but then again, why did she care?
None of it was real, anyway.
She followed him inside, and despite her reservations, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.
The house was quaint—cozy and warm, with hand-built wooden furniture and hand-sewn pillows and blankets.
It was clearly a home made with love. Not really what June had expected of a bachelor’s house.
Seth awkwardly pointed down the short hallway and led her to a modest bedroom tucked away at the end. The door was open, and June walked inside to see a neatly made bed and small wooden dresser were inside.
“I figured since, uh…” he stammered, and she turned to see him running his hand through his hair. “We didn’t trust each other, or even … know each other, that this would be–uh, your room.” His gaze flicked to the floor.
A little of the heaviness left the pit of June’s stomach. “Thank you,” she stammered.
Her feet moved themselves to the bed, and she ran her fingers over the quilted bedspread. “This is beautiful,” she admitted. “My mother made it,” Seth replied simply, but when she looked up at him, he’d already turned on his heel. “I have some work to do, but feel free to get comfortable.”
“Right… yes.” June watched as he left, closing the door behind him. She stood there for a moment and touched her wedding ring. It was a strange feeling on her finger.
Closing her eyes, she allowed the anxieties to swarm her for a moment, and a single tear fell down her cheek. She hadn’t let herself cry in years.
And it was then that she knew that being in Fort Davis had already changed her. Maybe not as much as Ada and Etta, but it had changed her nonetheless.
It wasn’t just forgetting to wipe a window for days and getting used to being pampered at the nice boardinghouse. June had somehow let herself become used to this life—this fake life.
And she knew she had to do something about it, before the happiness took over and then got torn away from her.