While Will was working with Rufus that day, the women had made him a new shirt and pants. It was just a simple set of clothes, but he sure was happy to have them after spending so much time in his raggedy old duds.
Maggie glanced down and frowned at herself. “I wish I had time to make a new dress. This is my nicest one, and it’s worn out.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, meaning it.
“Thank you, Will, but a woman wants to look nice for her wedding day.”
“We can wait if you want time to get material and make a dress,” Will said.
“Not on your life,” Maggie said. “I wish we could go get married right now.”
“So do I. You could always go to town and buy a dress.”
“A store-bought dress? Will Bentley, are you trying to spoil me?”
“If ever a girl deserved spoiling, it’s you.”
“Well, I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. You should save your money. I don’t need a fancy dress. In fact, I don’t even need to make a new dress. I just need you.”
“That suits me just fine,” Will said, secretly relieved. It would be a good idea to avoid town for a while. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go get married, and you’ll make me the happiest man in Texas.”
“You’ve already made me the happiest woman alive,” Maggie said, coming into his arms. “Now make me even happier and kiss me again.”
He was happy to oblige.
They were marriedthe next morning in an impromptu ceremony behind Andrew McLean’s rickety shack. Will wore his new shirt and pants, and Maggie looked absolutely stunning in her normal blue dress.
Andrew McLean, who’d been feeding the hogs when they’d pulled up, wore his filthy clothes but did wash his hands thoroughly before fetching the Bible and coming back outside.
It was a brief ceremony befitting a brief courtship. McLean spoke a bit about love and marriage but thankfully didn’t launch into one of his fire and brimstone sermons.
Will and Maggie said the words, McLean pronounced them man and wife, and they kissed before the smiling attendees: Mama, Rose, Rufus, and Andrew McLean’s wife, Katrina, a dark-haired Swiss German who pulled out a dusty accordion and played “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” singing in a reckless warble that made Will twitch a little.
Despite the preacher in his filthy shirt and Katrina McLean’s awful singing, Will had never been happier.
In just three days, he had come home, bought a ranch, recognized his perfect match, and made her his wife.
Life could not get any better than this.
CHAPTER 21
The next two weeks were the happiest Will had ever known.
He and Rufus plowed and planted and repaired the house and outbuildings, which had been abandoned for some time. The women cleaned the house and stable, helped with the planting, and saw to the cooking and laundry and the making and mending of clothes.
The days were long and busy and happy.
For Will and Maggie, their nights alone were even happier.
When Will and Rufus worked together, they talked. Rufus did most of the talking, and what he talked of was freedom.
Many former slaves were still trapped in their old lives, free in words only. But Rufus was determined to live free or die, and Will reckoned they saw eye to eye on that.
Ironically, defending freedom had led Will to join the Confederacy; but only through their defeat had Rufus gained his freedom.
Such paradoxes sometimes occurred to Will. He didn’t waste time pondering them, instead chalking them up to God working in mysterious ways, a thing every soldier knew.
“I’d sooner die than go back to the Weatherspoons,” Rufus said.
