After the first kiss, Catherine hardly saw Wade again for the rest of the evening. Every man there wanted to dance with her, stealing kisses and offering Wade congratulatory thumps on the back. Each time she came close to him, laughing friends pulled them apart, and every matron was as eager to dance with Wade as their menfolk were to dance with Catherine.
But no party lasts forever, and finally John came up to her, pulling her from her latest partner and walking her over to Wade. They left together in a wave of hooting and catcalls, climbing up into the buckboard and driving toward town. Some of the rowdier cowboys ran alongside them, while others went to get their horses and wagons.
When she heard the first round of congratulatory gunshots, Catherine started to get nervous.
“Where are we going?” she asked Wade, raising her voice to be heard over their carousing escorts.
“George Reynolds is letting us borrow his house tonight,” Wade called back, shooting her a grin. “Figured we’d never survive the chivaree if we didn’t have four solid walls around us.”
“We might not make it anyway,” she said, looking around with wide eyes. There had to be thirty or forty men pacing them, and she could hear others on horses coming up behind. At this rate, half the town would be after them. “They won’t damage anything, will they?”
“I hope not,” Wade said. “I’d hate to have to rebuild Reynolds’ house for him. He’s a brave man to lend his place out for a wedding like this one. Especially since he just lost his teacher.”
The crowd followed them all the way to the house, where a concerned-looking Mr. Reynolds met them at the door, flanked by his birdlike little wife, Martha. Wade helped Catherine out of the wagon, tossing the reins to José, who’d followed with the crowd. The men settled down as he lifted Catherine, carrying her over the threshold, then let up a mighty yell as they quickly pulled the doors shut.
The Reynolds house was one of the finest in town, two stories tall with a tiny balcony above the front porch. Martha Reynolds showed them to the master bedroom, looking more than a little nervous as the crowd outside grew larger and louder. Her husband followed, muttering to himself. Catherine heard women’s voices now, and realized wagonloads of revelers had arrived from the barn.
“I hope you have a plan for dealing with them,” George Reynolds said as he stood at the door. “Otherwise they’ll break in and take you to the creek for a dousing, Wade. Mrs. Masters, you might want to get ready for a wheelbarrow ride.”
A new volley of gunshots fired outside, and Catherine gave a little shriek. She and Ryan had eloped—now she wished she and Wade had been smart enough to do the same thing.
“I’ll talk to them,” Wade said. “Don’t worry.”
Mr. Reynolds nodded his head, and shut the door on them. Catherine stood by the bed, listening to the ruckus outside. Wade gave her a reassuring smile, then stepped to the French doors that opened onto the balcony. The drunken cowboys gave a great roar when they saw him, but they quieted down as soon as Wade held up his hands.
“Why are all of you here?” he asked, his tone light and easy. “I know you like a good chivaree, but I’ve got work to do in the bedroom. Can’t you give a man some peace?”
The crowd roared again, and Wade gave a sharp laugh.
“I suppose you want something more to make you leave us alone?” he asked. “Well, I’ll give it to you!”
He pulled a heavy bag from his pocket, one she hadn’t noticed before, and opened it. Then he reached in and drew out a handful of coins, throwing them to the crowd below. He kept it up for several minutes, laughing and calling down to the people below, and Catherine wondered just how much he had in there. The rowdy group hollered and stomped their approval, scrambling in the rain of cash. Catherine moved cautiously toward the French doors, awed by the way Wade so easily managed their pursuers. Then a man called out her name, and she realized she’d made a fatal error. She’d stepped close enough that they could see her, and now they wanted more.
“Catherine! Cat!” voices called to her, and Wade turned to her with a look of rueful pride.
“You’d better come out here,” he said. “They won’t leave until they see you, and if we don’t settle them down they might decide to break in. Then you really will get your wheelbarrow ride, and I’ll get worse. You remember Chester Miller? He didn’t make it back from his chivaree for two days.”
She took his hand and stepped out on the balcony, leaning over and waving hesitantly at the people gathered below. They shouted their approval, and at Wade’s urging she flung a handful of coins to them. Then Wade pulled her back, turning her to face him.
“I think they’ll be happy if we give them a kiss,” he said. “You all right with that?”
She nodded her head, giddy. He reached around her, pulling her body into his as he took her mouth. The kiss was hard and fast, but it went long enough for him to drop one hand down to her ass and give it a squeeze. The men below went crazy, cheering and hooting in drunken delight. The women weren’t much better, clapping and calling out for Wade to show them more. Then Wade ended the embrace, pushing her back into the room before he turned to the crowd once more.
“Now my father has a barrel of whiskey waiting for the men back at the barn,” he called out. “But if you don’t get there soon, it may all be gone. And as for the rest of you, I’m sure there’s more dancing to be done. Have a good time tonight and don’t forget to toast my new bride!”
The group gave another cheer, and there was a general commotion as the mob turned to head back to the party. Wade reentered the room, and Catherine stepped
into his arms, realizing with a start that they hadn’t been alone since their discovery that morning under the wagon.
“That was smart, throwing the money and giving your father the whiskey,” she whispered. “When did you have time to make all those arrangements?”
Wade laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest.
“I’ve seen how these things go,” he said. “I wanted to spend my wedding night with my bride, not being chased around by a mob of drunken cowboys. While you were getting prettied up, Dad and I rode all over the county, searching for cash and booze. He was more than willing to help—he wants grandchildren.”
“Let’s not worry about that just yet,” Catherine said, blushing. “I need to get used to the idea of being married, first. I really was going to take that teaching job, Wade. I had it all planned out.”