It was discovered why Samantha kept Rosa on as a cook when they ate supper. "I couldn't do this in a million years if I tried," Sam declared when everyone was finished eating.
"That's alright, honey, I love you anyway," Zebulon reached over and patted her hand. "Not everybody is cut out to do everything well."
"That's encouraging," Sam replied. "How about you go out to the barn with me to check on the horses?"
"Now what does one have to do with the other?"
"Not a darned thing," she laughed in reply. "I just want some company."
"Alright, I think I can manage that." Zeb got up and held Sam's chair for her, and in just a minute or two they were out the door and halfway across the yard.
"Well, I've been dying to ask you. What do you think of them?" Sam was almost giddy with anticipation.
Zeb glanced over at her but kept on walking. "I think Doralice and Ginny are very nice. I like them both."
"No, Zeb, I meant Bret and Bart."
"Oh. They seem nice, too. I just haven't been around them as much yet."
"I don't know. I just can't see Bart with Doralice. Can you?"
They'd gotten to the barn and began checking to make sure all the livestock had been fed. This time Zeb did stop and give Sam a rather odd look. "I think they fit together just fine. He certainly seems to be in love with her. And Lily is just adorable."
Sam wasn't convinced. "He just . . . he just seemed discontented when we talked last night."
"That's his problem, Sam, if he is. Not yours. You should be thinkin' bout the wedding, not your ex-lover."
"We weren't lovers, Zeb. Not ex or any other kind."
"Are you sure? It sounds as if you were."
Sam turned around and gave her fiancé a disgusted look. "And it sounds as if you're jealous."
"Me? I haven't got a jealous bone in my body."
'Maybe you should have,' Sam thought. 'You're beginning to lag behind a certain Texas boy in charisma.' Out loud she just said "Hmpf." And kept checking stalls.
When they returned to the house everyone was sitting in the big front room, drinking coffee and talking. Sam and Zeb joined them for a while, but Sam didn't feel much like talking and begged off, citing an aching head as an excuse. She really just wanted to retire to her bedroom and think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. She'd been sure about marrying Zeb . . . until she saw Bart again. And all those old feelings came rushing back to her, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Life with Zebulon would be so uncomplicated . . . there was no baggage to consider, no half-grown children to worry about.
And she loved Zeb, or something that passed for love. He was the first man that made her feel alive again, after all these years of being alone. But if there was a chance with Bart . . . no, that was crazy and she knew it. So she let herself drift off to sleep, getting ready to marry one man but dreaming about another . . .
She'd waited a long, long time for this day to come, the day she'd walk down the aisle to the man she was going to marry, and it was finally here. He looked so handsome, just like he always did, and she was thrilled that he'd come to his senses and come back to her. She'd waited half her life for him.
He smiled at her and took her hand as she approached the altar. This was right, and she knew it. "Oh, Bart," she murmured as he kissed her fingertips. "You were worth the wait." He smiled again, and they stood before the minister and were married, and she knew her hopes and dreams had all come true . . .
Zebulon crawled into bed sometime later, and she rolled into his arms. "I love you, Sam," he whispered in her ear, and she snuggled close to him.
"Me too, Bart," she murmured, more asleep than awake, and didn't feel his body stiffen against her when he heard her words. Surely he'd heard her wrong. There was a smile on her face and it was obvious to him that she was asleep and dreaming . . . but the dreams weren't about him.
Then he was wide awake, wondering just how long she'd been dreaming about the man at the other end of the hall. The man with the beautiful blonde wife and the little bitty baby, not counting the other four children that were back in Texas. He lay there in pain, questioning just what he'd done to deserve this, before his brain began to reason again and he understood. . . she didn't have any more control over what she dreamt than he did, like the dream he remembered about the longhorns chasing him down Main Street back in Denver half naked and the whole town laughing about it. That's when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again and again, until she opened her eyes and whispered, "Zeb," and he held her tight against his chest and they eventually fell asleep . . . and in her dreams her beloved turned into Zebulon Turner.
XXXXXXXX
When Zeb finally stirred, the bed beside him was empty. He had no problem with that; he needed time to digest what occurred last night. He'd been uneasy when he first climbed in beside her; all he could think about were the men at the other end of the hall, one in particular. He knew that as much as Sam wanted them and their families at the wedding, she'd been nervous about inviting them. He'd encouraged her to do so, believing that the catharsis would be good for her. Now he wasn't so sure.
Years had passed since Samantha Crawford assumed responsibility for the ranch. Years in which she 'd learned to live with the decision she made that morning in St. Joseph, to abandon Bart Maverick and return home to Dry Springs by herself. Now and then she'd hear something about him; she knew when he married; when he began raising a family. It never seemed to disturb her until the day before yesterday, when the stage from Little Bend pulled into town. Zeb could see the difference in her. After last night he wondered if she'd call the wedding off.
He got dressed and went down the hall to the kitchen, where he found Sam trying to help Rosa cook breakfast. "Need some help, beautiful?" he asked Samantha as he started a fresh pot of coffee, then slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.
"Sure," she answered. "What have you got in mind?"
"How's everything going for the wedding?" he asked.
Samantha was so startled that she dropped a spoon. "I thought you meant with breakfast."
"Well, I did. That too. I just wanted to know if you needed help gettin' everything together."
"Yes. You can put the plates out on the table."
"No," he corrected her, "I meant with the wedding."
"Why this big interest in the wedding all of a sudden?"
"Why not? It's my wedding too, you know. I just want to make sure it's gonna go off without a hitch."
"It will." Her voice was positive and steady.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"I'd bet my last dollar on it," was her reply.
"You're sure?" he asked again.
"What is wrong with you this morning? Yes, I'm sure. Why do you think I've changed my mind?"
He shook his head. "I got a look at the competition."
Sam stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Don't be absurd."
"You were in love with both of them, at one time or another, if I remember correctly."
"That was so long ago I don't even remember. It has no relevance. On Saturday I'll be Mrs. Zebulon Turner. And that's the only thing that's important."
"I hope so," Zeb agreed. Samantha sounded so sure about her choice, so confident that everything would fall into place and happen just as it was supposed to. How could he doubt her when he wanted so much to believe her? At that moment he made his decision; he was done second-guessing the woman he intended to marry.
If only Sam had been done second-guessing herself.