Roland awoke first. He turned to gaze tenderly at Constance Sweeny, now sleeping quietly beside him. Her auburn hair was not tied in the severe bun she wore when minding her dry goods store; it was loose, laying slightly mussed across her bare shoulders. Her hazel eyes were closed. A slight smile was on her face as she roused a bit, rolled over, and was still again.
Constance had kept a trim figure, and she certainly could turn the heads of all the bachelors in town, and certainly some of the married men. Mason also knew that her good looks continued under the clothes she wore, including a fine pair of toned legs.
Mason shook that thought out of his head.
Today was Saturday, October 15, and, that afternoon, Roland and Constance were to be married in the Episcopal Church right here in Laramie, Wyoming Territory.
It seems like such a whirlwind, Roland thought. He rode into Laramie last year, a drunk without a reason to live. He saved the life of store owner Constance Sweeny, and his life changed.
He had decided to settle in Laramie. With the help of Constance, he had given up the bottle. The bond between them grew, turning into love.
Roland was torn between anticipating the event and wondering if it was the right thing to do.
On the negative side, he was not sure that he deserved a woman such as Constance Sweeny. Even though he was a lawyer- a man supposedly to be looked up to- he came into Laramie as a drunk, and the respectable townsfolk did not often look at him as one of the gentry, but rather a man to be tolerated, even pitied.
He had several incidents that could be tallied in his favor. He foiled a robbery. He helped the sheriff disburse a lynch mob. Several other events were to his credit. But he still seemed to stride that dividing line between respectable and not respectable.
She…
…Was a widow who maintained, by herself, a shop in the city, after the unfortunate death of her husband.
…Was pious, a churchgoer.
…Had all the attributes of a moral, Christian woman.
And Roland had…
…A law practice.
…A known proficiency with a Colt .45.
…A drinking habit, now under control, thus far. But he was not well received among the upper class and probably never would be.
…A shady past. He had not made it a practice of talking about a decade and a half of wandering, but the citizens of Laramie could recall him riding into town alone, his bouts with the whiskey bottle, and the fights. They may have guessed at least a part of his past, and it would not have reflected well on him.
It hardly seemed a fair trade.
And Roland did not want his past to tarnish Constance’s reputation and her standing in the community by her marriage to person such as himself.
Roland got up quietly, not wanting to wake his soon-to-be bride. He picked up his watch from the night stand.
6:45.
The floor was cold on his bare feet, and the nightshirt he wore did little to keep out the cold of the October morning. He went to the stove, picked up a fresh log and some kindling, and soon had a small, warming fire going. Roland held his hands over the stove to warm them. From the shelf, he took down the yellow can of Arbuckles coffee, measured out the proper amount of ground coffee, added water, and soon the aroma of perked coffee filled the small kitchen.
From behind, he heard, “Good morning, my love.”
Constance emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in a robe, with doeskin slippers warming her feet.
Roland poured a cup of coffee for himself, and second cup, which he handed to Constance.
Constance took a sip. She sighed. “I’ll grant you, Roland, that you can make a fine cup of coffee.”
“And bacon and eggs. My specialty.”
Constance giggled, a sound Roland loved.
“Why don’t we sit down to breakfast?” Roland said. “We have a busy day ahead of us.”
“’Busy’ is hardly the word for it,” Constance replied. “I expect Hiram and Hattie Morris to arrive in an hour or so, and Hiram needs to get over to your home, where he will join your best man before the service. Then Hattie can help me get ready, and you will be on your own to get yourself ready, too. And then you will meet me at the church at two.
“Oh, goodness,” Constance said, eyes widening. “I forgot. Melissa told me she would be back sometime this morning, to help me get ready and to make a lunch for Hattie, Beth, Melissa, and me.”
“Then I had best take my leave, Constance. Let’s see.” Mason checked a cuckoo clock on the wall of the living room. “It is only 7:15. I have plenty of time. I shall be at the church, with my groomsmen, Odd Martin and your brother Hiram, without fail, at two o’clock.”
“I’m happy to know that you have two strong men to keep you out of trouble. It seems you can get into scrapes just walking down the street.”
“Yes, sometimes, but, I swear, they’re not my fault. And not today. Let’s finish breakfast, I’ll get dressed, and I will see you at the Episcopal Church at two.
“I promise.”
