Chapter Nine
Jackson paced back and forth across his bedroom, his mind in turmoil. He had been awake since four in the morning after tossing and turning all night. He awoke feeling panicked and uncertain, wondering how he was to transition from a lonely rancher to a husband in less than a few hours.
He cussed Ethan under his breath as he picked up the very clothes he had intended to wear to Ethan’s wedding.
The crisp, high-collared white shirt with a simple black neck tie and a neatly buttoned waistcoat were nothing unusual for Jackson, especially during his law days, but the dark wool suit made him feel like an imposter.
He was supposed to be attending Ethan’s wedding, not his own.
“Are you ready, dear?” his mother’s voice called through the door.
“Just a minute,” he called back.
A surge of panic swirled through Jackson’s stomach, and he raked his fingers through his damp hair before picking up one of his neater felt hats.
“Your black boots have been polished. They’re in the kitchen,” his mother told him. “Hope is almost ready.”
At the sound of her name, Jackson froze.
So it was really going to happen. Hope had seemed utterly terrified all the way to the ranch, as though she was imagining he was going to kidnap her, or sell her to a group of bandits.
She had only relaxed when Margaret was around.
Jackson had half-expected to be told that Hope had made a run for it in the night and was halfway to Bozeman.
Taking a breath, Jackson hurried to the kitchen and put on his boots. His mother had laid out a simple breakfast for them both, but he couldn’t even swallow half a cup of coffee without it threatening to come up again.
“Good morning, Mr. Hale,” Hope greeted him as she stepped into the kitchen.
Jackson turned and found his bride standing in the kitchen in what looked like a soft silk dress.
It had a fitted bodice and a skirt that brushed against the floor, though it was without a train.
He liked the simplicity of it, the only detail being some delicate lace around the sleeves and high collar, and a strip of satin ribbon tied around her waist. Hope’s blonde hair was arranged in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few curls falling gently around her face.
“It feels strange,” Hope said, blushing under his gaze. “I bought this for Ethan.”
Jackson nodded. He didn’t know what to say except that he felt the same strangeness. Things had happened so fast he felt almost as if he was no longer in control of his own life, despite being the one who had suggested this.
Hope was not meant to be his bride. She was so beautiful that he felt too stunned to speak, and too scared to look at her for very long.
“Ma prepared breakfast,” Jackson finally managed to mutter.
“Oh, I couldn’t eat anything,” Hope breathed, and he noticed a tremble in her hands as she tried to fix a curl that had come loose.
“This dress doesn’t allow for much movement,” she explained, clearly embarrassed at fussing in front of him. “Excuse me.”
She was about to walk out of the room when Jackson stepped over to help.
He took the pin from her hand, her fingertips brushing against his, and clipped the curl back in place.
He had thought it a normal thing to do until her brief touch had made him feel hot around the collar and a little agitated.
He stepped away from her, feeling a bit awkward.
“It looks fine,” he assured her gruffly as she looked up at him, her eyebrows slightly raised.
“Well, don’t you two make a handsome pair,” Margaret said as she bustled into the kitchen carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
Jackson became aware of how close he was standing to Hope, and he turned away from her to pick up his untouched coffee, which he stared at for a few seconds and then put down again.
“Is this too big?” Margaret asked, brandishing an enormous bundle of flowers.
“I think a smaller one would do better,” Jackson commented. “You don’t want Hope to be hidden behind those.”
“No, dear son, we certainly wouldn’t want to block your view of Hope,” Margaret said, her tone deliberately neutral.
They watched in silence as Margaret tied a cream ribbon around a much smaller bouquet of gentle pink and purple wildflowers and handed it to Hope.
“You make such a lovely bride,” Margaret commented, her eyes glistening as she clasped her hands together.
“We should get to the church,” Jackson announced, fidgeting with his hat again.
“Oh, I forgot my shawl!” Margaret exclaimed, hurrying out of the kitchen.
Jackson tried to leave, but Hope took a step towards him.
“It’s not too late,” she said, her eyes wide.
“I’m never late-”
“If you want to call this off. I wouldn’t blame you, Jackson Hale,” Hope said.
He was taken aback by her sudden suggestion.
Was she trying to escape him, or was she being kind in trying to save him from a hastily decided life of matrimony?
Part of Jackson wanted to take back the promise he had made.
He wanted to tell Hope he wasn’t ready to let her into his life.
They were still strangers, and he felt like he only had a life of solitude and silence to offer her.
Hope lowered her gaze, and Jackson worried that his silence might’ve offended her. He shook his head. No Hale would run from a promise.
“I gave you my word, Hope,” Jackson said quietly. “That promise stands.”
***
Jackson stood at the front of the church with Pastor Mark, acutely aware that he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Pastor Mark offered him a warm smile, despite initially being shocked at their sudden union.
He had taken some convincing, but Ethan had spoken up for Jackson, accepting full blame and explaining matters to Pastor Mark. Finally, he had agreed.
Now, standing in the church waiting for Hope, Jackson felt the weight of the roughly hewn pine beams overhead, and the emptiness of the rows and rows of worn wooden pews. It was a plain church built by the bare hands of eager congregants, but Jackson felt he would never forget standing there.
His mother directed silent nods of reassurance at him from the front row, and Ethan sat next to her, grinning wildly at Jackson.
While he was grateful Ethan was there to witness his holy union, he still felt like punching his friend in the nose for throwing him into this situation in the first place.
Ethan’s grin suddenly dropped and he breathed in sharply, as though he had seen something that had quite literally taken his breath away.
Jackson turned to see Hope walking down the aisle, her eyes fixed on the polished floorboards in front of her.
Her shoulders were rigid, and her hands gripped the flowers so tightly he wondered that they still had color in them yet.
She finally reached Jackson’s side, and he could see she was trembling from head to toe.
Even though he had seen her earlier in the kitchen, he was struck by her beauty once again, and felt a tremble in his own hand.
Perhaps her offer to let him out of their deal was because she didn’t want to go through with the marriage either.
He didn’t blame her. What did he have to offer any woman?
He concluded that her life in Dodge City really must have been horrible if she was willing to drag herself down a church aisle and marry him.
He turned away from her stiffly and gave a grim nod to the pastor in front of them.
“We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Jackson Hale and Hope Caldwell,” Pastor Mark began, giving each of them a warm smile. “Let us bow our heads in prayer.”
Jackson did not hear much of the prayer.
His stomach churned inside of him, and he could not help but doubt if he had done the right thing in offering to marry her.
Hope looked like a caged bird, wrought with fear and uncertainty as she stood next to him.
Jackson closed his eyes more tightly as he thought of his insatiable desire to right all the wrongs that crossed his path, yet rarely with the wisdom nor sound judgment to make the right decision under pressure.
His decisions always ended up hurting those closest to him. A memory flashed through his mind of wide brown eyes filled with pain and accusation, slowly turning away from him and staring blankly into the distance.
“Amen,” Pastor Mark said, wrenching Jackson back to the present. “Now, Jackson and Hope, are you both here of your own free will and in agreement with this marriage?”
Part of Jackson believed Hope would use this last chance to run.
“Yes,” Hope answered quickly, before shooting a glance at Jackson.
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Right, then we shall proceed to the vows,” the pastor said with a smile.
“Jackson, we’ll start with you. Do you, Jackson Hale, take this woman, Hope Caldwell, to be your lawful wedded wife, to love and to cherish, to provide for and keep beside you, in sickness and in health, for as long as the Lord grants you both life? ”
Was he really promising to love and cherish Hope, and to keep her beside him? This promise was until death should come for one or both of them. He had not realized that even a marriage of convenience entailed a vow before God, a vow that he had to uphold forever. Jackson took a breath…and nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “I do, Father.”
“Don’t tell me,” Pastor Mark pointed out with a grin. “Promise her.”
Jackson turned to face Hope, and it was only then that he realized the morning light that was streaming through the church windows had illuminated them both in golden sunshine.
Hope was practically glowing, and Jackson felt drawn in by the warmth in her hazel eyes and the rosiness to her lips.
A strange feeling tugged at him that he could not quite understand, as if Hope was somehow pulling him towards her and he was unable to look away.
“I do,” he said gently, his eyes fixed on her.
Jackson heard his mother sniff loudly, and Hope smiled sweetly at him.
“Hope.” Pastor Mark called her attention to him. “Do you, Hope Caldwell, take this man, Jackson Hale, to be your lawful wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to provide for and keep beside you, in sickness and in health, for as long as the Lord grants you both life?”
Again, Hope did not hesitate to answer. She turned to Jackson and smiled. “I do.”
“Do you have a ring?” the pastor asked.
“No.” Jackson shook his head, realizing he had forgotten entirely about the ring. There had simply been too much to organize and not enough time. His forgetting to get Hope a ring served as further proof that he was ill-equipped to be a husband.
“Excuse me, Pastor Mark,” Margaret interrupted. “Jackson, in your pocket, son.”
Jackson felt inside the pockets of his coat and produced a little box. He looked over at his mother, who winked at him as a delicate silver band dropped into the palm of his hand.
“Shall we continue then?” Pastor Mark asked. Jackson nodded, and the pastor said, “Lord, bless this ring as a sign of the vows made here today.”
Jackson slipped the silver band onto Hope’s finger. Her hand was warm to the touch, and no longer trembled in his.
“With this ring, Hope, I thee wed,” he promised, looking into her eyes and feeling that he meant every word.
Pastor Mark smiled at them both and said, “Before God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Jackson, if you so wish.”
Jackson turned to Hope stiffly and noticed she had shyly averted her gaze. After making vows and exchanging rings as a token of that promise, what more was a kiss?
Jackson ducked down a bit, taking Hope’s face in his hands and gently turning it towards him.
He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against her cheek, then to her soft lips that pressed against his.
He had meant the kiss to be a mere formality, but as he drew away from Hope, he could not help but feel that something had passed between them.
The blush across her cheeks told him she had felt it, too.
There was a subtle gasp from his mother, followed by several tears, and a loud chuckle from Ethan that dragged him back to the present. Jackson quickly released Hope, feeling his face was on fire as he walked over to the pastor to sign the necessary paperwork.
“My, my,” he heard his mother whisper to Hope.
The rest of the morning passed by quickly, and Jackson did his best to avoid Hope entirely, for the most part because he had no idea what to say to her or how to treat her.
His mother talked the entire wagon ride home, and Hope listened politely and laughed at her description of how terrified Jackson had looked making his vows to the pastor.
“I hadn’t even noticed his nerves because I was so nervous, too,” Hope admitted. “It all happened so quickly.”
Once back at the ranch, his mother completed the last of lunch, pulling an enormous pork roast from the oven with golden roasted potatoes.
“Go on, you two,” his mother said, ushering Hope into the chair right next to his. “Sit together so I can admire you from over here. There, you make a beautiful couple.”
Hope blushed, and Jackson kept his mouth full of roast potatoes so he didn’t have to say anything. He was grateful when Hope asked his mother about her wedding day, and that set her off on describing the happiest day of her life, second only to the day Jackson was born.
His mother’s animated stories kept them laughing and engaged, but when she told them to leave the kitchen so that she could clean, Jackson had no idea what to do with himself.
He and Hope stood in the sitting room and stared at each other, then sat down on the chairs and stared past each other. She appeared to be just as uncomfortable as he was at being left alone together.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“A little,” Hope said. “Are you?”
He shook his head. He thought about the cattle he needed to inspect and the horses he wanted to brush down. Now that they were married, was he supposed to invite her along to do chores?
“I’m going to check the horses,” he began at the same time that Hope started to speak. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“I should change,” Hope muttered, her arms wrapping around her middle. “It’s a little cold.”
“Of course,” Jackson said, leaping to his feet as she stood up. “Thank you…” He hesitated, not sure what exactly he wanted to thank her for. He noticed the ring glinting on her finger. “Thank you for today,” he finally concluded.
He saw Hope’s expression sink slightly, and he wondered what he had said wrong. He waited in silence for her to cross the room before he added, “You really did look beautiful today.”
To his relief, this evoked a small smile from Hope.
“You looked handsome yourself,” Hope said. She added, with a twinkle in her eye, “Good afternoon, Jackson.”