“James did not give me an opportunity to see him, but hurried him off to make his own ‘gordeous’ toilet. We shall have to wait now until you are Mr. and Mrs. Davis.”
“Oh!” came from Bess’ lips in a startled breath, as again she felt a sharp pain at her heart.
James had been instructed that exactly at twelve o’clock he, with Mr. Davis, should proceed to the tree and wait for Bess and her bridesmaid there at the rock. Mrs. West had watched until the last moment for her son’s return, but he had not come, although one of the cowboys said he thought he had seen him early in the morning. She decided it must have been one of the other men passing through the yards.
Bess heard the stroke of twelve, then she listened until the two men had passed down the steps. Mrs. West, dressed in soft white, met the two young women as they reached the foot of the stairs.
Berenice wore a pale pink gown and carried a bunch of autumn leaves and flowers. The simple dress which Bess wore made her look more girlish than ever. About her soft, brown hair was entwined the waxen leaves of the kinnikinick with its scarlet drops, while long, tendril branches of the same were fastened from her shoulder to her waist. Somehow it seemed more fitting for an autumn bride than June roses, and Bess had insisted upon wearing the kinnikinick in preference to anything else. Half in earnest, she said she wished she might also wear her “precious” beaded belt! As she stopped a moment before going out-of-doors, Mrs. West kissed her tenderly and gave her hand a pressure of love and strength, then led the way to where the others, together with Father Damien, stood waiting.
“The birds are the orchestra! See that beautiful leaf! Hear that saucy squirrel!” said Bess, disconnectedly, as she walked slowly forward, clinging to her friend’s arm.
Berenice’s attention was fixed in wonderment upon several Indians with squaws standing about among the trees. They had heard of the agent’s prospective marriage and decided to attend, in hopes of receiving some of the “muck-a-muck” and participating in the “big eat.”
As Bess lifted her eyes to Dave Davis’ face when she took his extended hand and was assisted upon the broad surface of the rock, she wondered at the deep love it revealed.
“It has been so very long, dear,” he whispered, as his lips brushed her hair.
The priest had opened his prayer book, and, waiting an instant for the pair to face about, began: “In nomine patris, et filii, et—”