“Who gives this woman in marriage?" Reverend Tewksbury boomed across the crowd as if he didn't know the person to answer was standing right in front of him.
"I do!" Yohan shouted right back.
Stepping back, Yo placed Esme's hand in Cleav's. The two shared a brief, blushing glance before returning their attention to the preacher.
Yohan, however, was not finished. To the amazement of everyone, he put the fiddle to his chin and began to play a slow, sweet, romantic tune of the mountains.
Esme recognized it as the one he'd written the day she'd gone down the mountain to ask Cleav to marry her. That wonderful day, so long ago now, when she'd learned what sweetness was desire.
Cleav looked at his bride,surprised to see tears forming in her eyes. The song was tender, he had to admit. Too tender for the loveless wedding it commemorated. But then, perhaps it was not loveless for Esme. A woman who so brazenly chased, offered, and even begged for attention was without a doubt infatuated with the man of her pursuit. Maybe it was more than a girlish fancy. She could be deeply in love with him. That pleased him more than it should have.
To have Esme Crabb, with her sweet smile and seductive legs, striving to win his favor. And she'd certainly never be any trouble to him. A woman so desperately in love would be easy to handle.
"Do you, Manfred Cleavis Rhy, take this woman, Esmeralda Joleen Crabb, to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to protect, honor, and cherish her, keeping yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?"
Cleav swallowed hurriedly and then stated with conviction, "I do."
"And do you, Esmeralda Joleen Crabb, take this man to be your husband? Do you promise to love and obey him, keeping yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?"
Esme turned to look at Cleav. There was fear in her eyes but resolution, too. Facing Reverend Tewksbury, she replied with calm determination, "I do."
Cleav brought out the ring. The wide gold band had been in his store for two years. He'd paid a fast-talking drummer too much for it and had never been able to sell it. Although it was too much to hope that it might fit Esme, when he placed it on the third finger of her left hand, it was perfect.
"By the power vested in me by this church and the State of Tennessee, I pronounce this couple husband and wife."
Slipping his hands around Esme's waist, Cleav pulled her close and leaned down to capture her lips with his own.
"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."
Chapter Eleven
There were congratulations and slaps on the back as the young couple stepped out in the churchyard for a cup of punch. Cleav had engaged Sarah Mayfield and her daughter-in-law to manage the refreshments: pink lemonade punch and white layer cake decorated with burnt sugar on the icing. Cleav had told Mrs. Mayfield to spare no expense, and the congregation considered these treats luxurious. Esme Crabb might be a simple hill girl, but her wedding would be remembered as a lavish affair.
Unfortunately, Esme had hardly had time to take stock of her surroundings when Armon Hightower separated her from her new husband. He grabbed her around the waist and forcefully pulled her from the party.
"What are you doing?" she asked, more startled than annoyed.
Armon's grin was wicked. "Miz Rhy, I suspect you'd call it being 'kidnapped.'"
Esme only allowed a second for the meaning of his words to sink in. "Cleavis!" she screamed.
"What's going on there?" Cleav called angrily as he watched in shock as Armon Hightower hoisted Esme on his shoulder and began to head toward the mountain.
"Hightower! Come back here!" he hollered.
His reaction earned him some derisive laughter from Armon's fellow kidnappers. "You can buy her back for three dollars' worth of sorghum and a jug of moonshine!" one of the Roscoe brothers called to him as he followed Armon and the squealing bride.
"What are you talking about?"
"We're talking about a shivaree ransom," Will Gambridge called back with a laugh.
"Three dollars' worth of sorghum would be about a whole barrel," Cleav said incredulously.
"Rolling a barrel up the mountain with a jug of whiskey in one hand will be a trick worth any bridegroom's price," Gambridge taunted.
"Yahoo!" the Roscoe brothers called as they hurried after Hightower.
"Shivaree!" Will added as he rushed past the spectators, now over their surprise and laughing in alliance with the kidnappers.
