Page 22 of Wild Sweet Wilderness (Missouri #1)

The story of the siege at the MacCartney homestead and Berry’s heroic effort to save her lover from Linc Smith, the mad riverman, spread up and down the Mississippi and Missouri rivers like petals in the wind.

The pioneers had a heroine, and on her wedding day they came to wish her well.

Silas and Biedy and three of their four boys arrived two days before the appointed day so that Biedy could help prepare the wedding feast.

Jeff, Light, and Will followed soon after, with an antelope and a half-dozen turkeys.

They had helped to pass the word to the settlers, and shortly after daybreak the local families began to arrive.

The women came to the house to introduce themselves and to leave contributions to the wedding feast.

The men, under Fain’s supervision, set up long tables in the yard.

The women gathered wild flowers to make a bower for the couple to stand under during the ceremony.

Ernest Wenst and his family arrived from Saint Louis, as did Della, the girl who had come to the homestead with her granny the night Faith was born.

She rode in on horseback with her pa and little brother.

Rachel made all her guests feel welcome.

The homestead buzzed with activity.

Children played, running beneath the table, and were scolded by their mothers.

The men gathered in front of the shed and drank whiskey from the keg placed conveniently on the wash bench.

It was a time to get acquainted, exchange gossip, and argue politics.

Shortly before the ceremony was to begin, a blast from a riverboat was heard.

A young boy came running to the homestead with the exciting news that Zebulon Pike had arrived for the wedding.

The flamboyant Pike led a detail of six men up the trail from the river.

He doffed his feathered hat, dipped into the whiskey barrel, and entered into the festivities.

Berry and Rachel came out of the house at straight-up noon.

Berry made a picture that the assembled guests would long remember.

She was attired in a beautiful white dress Simon had had made for her in Saint Louis and Ernest Wenst had delivered this morning.

Her raven hair was piled atop her small head and entwined with white blooms from the dogwood tree.

She wore soft kid slippers, and pinned to a white ribbon encircling her neck was a delicate gold brooch, Simon’s gift to his bride.

She was unbelievably beautiful.

Her whole being glowed with a happiness that seemed to surround her like an aura.

Simon went forward to take her arm, and her green eyes glinted up at him, causing him to pause and to stare.

Admiring grins crinkled the burly faces of his friends as they surrounded the couple, ushering them toward the bower.

For this most important event in his life Simon had dressed for the occasion in a white silk shirt and dark blue coat and breeches.

Berry had never seen him dressed so elegantly, but that wasn’t what drew her eyes to him again and again.

It was the pure pleasure she saw written in every line of his face, in the smile on his lips, and in his eyes.

The dark seriousness was gone.

Happiness radiated from his dark eyes.

Silas performed the ceremony before a gathering of almost a half a hundred people, with only the wilderness sounds to break the silence.

When it was over, the hushed crowed erupted in shouts of traditional well-wishing and advice as they surged around the bride and groom.

The dancing began as soon as the wedding feast was over.

Isaac Cornick got out his fiddle and the clearing rang with music and merrymaking.

Berry danced with Simon and then with those men who were able to dance after their numerous trips to the whiskey barrel.

Simon danced with all the ladies but kept his eyes on the vision in the white dress who clogged and whirled and clapped her hands with obvious enjoyment.

It seemed like hours before the bride and groom were free of other partners.

Simon caught her hand and ran with her into the woods.

They ran between the trees, laughing, dodging, and shouting.

Berry gathered her skirts in her hands and raced away from him.

He pursued, and when they were deep in the woods he caught her from behind, wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and twirled her around.

She shrieked with joyous laughter. It stopped only when she slid down his body and he turned her in his arms to cover her mouth with his.

The kiss was long and sweet and dedicated to the love they shared.

He lifted his head and looked down at her, his face open, his eyes adoring.

“Everything about you is so beautiful. I love you so much.”

She clung to him tightly. She felt safe, loved, and, for the first time in her life, wanted.

“I wanted to love my husband,”

she said softly, with just a touch of happy tears in her voice.

“Remember when I said that?”

“I remember.”

He kissed her with tender concern.

“I do love him. I love him so much I think I’ll burst from it.”

He smiled down at her, loving every expression that flitted across her face.

“I also remember you saying you liked soft words.”

“I did say that . . . and you’d better remember it for the next forty years, Simon Witcher!”

Mischief glinted in her green eyes. She rose on tiptoes so that her lips could reach his ear.

“And you know what else I like!”