Kip didn’t say a word. She just turned and walked as calmly as she could manage to the old pine stairs. She climbed fast, hoping no one would see her. She made it to her room, slamming the door behind her, and let the tears come hot and furious.
She was so tired of being the reason everyone had to circle the wagons and load the rifles.
For the first time, the room, which still didn’t feel like hers, seemed too small. She was getting married in a few hours, and all she could think about was the burden she was to everyone. Besides that, all she had to wear was her jeans, a flannel shirt, and a worn-out black sweater that looked like it had lost a fight with a barbed-wire fence.
Nothing white. Nothing pretty. Nothing that said bride.
Her throat locked up so hard it hurt to breathe. She stood there, fists balled at her sides, when the truth punched her right in the chest. She didn’t own one thing worthy of the day her Daddy decided they were having.
She gazed out the window, the snow beyond it, the long, cold miles to anywhere else. Every cell in her body urged her to run again. Well, except those in her heart. Her fingers brushed the frame Trace had hung the day after she almost ran before. He’d framed it, and honestly, it did her heart good to see it every day.
You are wanted here. Stay.
Pressing her forehead to the cool wood, she cried silent, angrytears that tasted like heartache and surrender. She hated crying, hated how small she felt, hated that even now she was the reason everyone downstairs had to rearrange their lives.
A sudden knock startled her. Then Kenzie called, “Open up, bride.”
Kip wiped her face and opened the door. Kenzie, Joy, and Tilde spilled in, arms full. Ruby followed behind, carrying a mason jar bouquet of forced hothouse roses and baby’s breath tied with red ribbon.
As soon as Tildi saw Kip, she ran to her and enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, Kip, you’re crying! Don’t you want to marry Trace?”
If it were only that easy. “Of course I do. I love him.”
“Then what’s the prob, sis?” Kenzie asked. “Has he said something stupid. Because you know, that’s usually Tanner, but Trace has his moment. Do I need to go yell at him?”
“No! Trace is incredible. It’s me. I don’t want him to feel like he has to marry and then regret it later. And all of you, you’ve all been so nice, and I don’t do anything but cause trouble. None of these bad things would have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“Girl,” Joy said, “we have got to get you caught up on ranch history. I think it’s called Wild River around here for a reason. There have been some wild, scary things that have happened to Tildi and me. You don’t even come close to causing the most drama.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ruby said, but her eyes were filled with love. “And as far as Trace is concerned, let me tell you a story. When Trace was around eleven years old, this city fella showed up at the Wilder Rodeo with a big black stallion nobody could ride named Bastion. He offered five hundred dollars, cash money, to anyone who could stay in the saddle for eight seconds, but they had to give him fifty if they didn’t.
“Every man there took a turn. Some of them got thrown so hard they limped for a week. But your Trace, skinny as a fence post andhalf their size, watched from the rails with his arms folded just like he does now. When he decided he’d seen enough, he told the owner he wanted to try. Well, the owner laughed and told him to go home to his mama. Trace climbed that fence, looked that man dead in the eye, and said, ‘You said anybody here. I’m here, and I’m anybody. And I’ll bet you the papers on that horse that I can ride him until he settles.’
“Everybody there tried to talk him out of it, but he’d made up his mind. Didn’t matter that he didn’t have the money to pay if he got bucked off. Didn’t matter that every cowboy there called him foolish. He never flinched, never looked back. Ten minutes later, the stallion was Trace’s, and the city fella was out one horse. And all because Trace decided he didn’t feel like being thrown that day.”
Ruby smiled, soft but sure. “Honey, that boy has never done one single thing he didn’t choose with his whole heart. Still hasn’t.”
Kip released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She’d needed to hear those words. Ruby wouldn’t lie. Neither would Trace. It was time for her to stop listening to her fears and start listening to her heart.
Running to Ruby, she threw herself in the woman’s arms. “Thank you, Ruby. You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”
Kenzi cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention, then laid a garment bag across the bed, unzipping it with reverence. “Trace never does anything unless he wants to, but he’s still a man. And leave it to a man to spring something incidental on his girl. You know, like her wedding!” Rolling her eyes, she pushed the sides of the bag open. Inside was ivory lace, tea-length, simple but luminous.
“Kenzie!” Kip whispered her name, “It’s beautiful, but… how? How did you have a wedding dress just lying around?”
Kenzie ran her fingers down the tea-length, ivory lace dress, simple yet luminous. Turning her attention to Kip, she smiled eventhough her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It isn’t mine. This is the dress my mother wore when she married my dad forty years ago.”
Kip stepped back from the dress, honored but horrified. “Kenzie, it’s beautiful, but I can’t wear something so valuable.” What if she spilled something on it?
“She’d want you to wear it, and Trace will like it, too. It'll almost be like she’s here with us.”
“Great!” Tildi cried out. “Now I’m crying. That’s so sweet! It’s perfect.”
“I’m shorter than your mom,” Kip whispered. “It will get dirty on the bottom.”
“Two inches,” Kenzie said. “We’ll tuck the hem if we have to. Try it on at least.”
Snick. Snick.
