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“I wouldn’t try it if I were you, mister,” said a man with a pistol pointed toward one of Chris’s Montgomery uncles who had his hand to his vest.
Everyone stood still, looking at the twenty or so men who surrounded the interior of the church. The big double doors in the back were open, three men guarding the entrance.
Chris watched with widened eyes as she heard a horse approach the back doors. The rider seemed as if he had all day.
Through the doors rode Tynan on top of a big chestnut stallion, his gun sheathed, looking for all the world as if he were out on a Sunday stroll. He halted about halfway down the aisle, then, with everyone watching in open-mouthed astonishment, with twenty guns aimed at the guests, he took the makings of a cigarette out of his pocket and began to roll one.
“I don’t guess I can let you do this, Chris,” he said softly, licking the paper to stick it around the tobacco.
Chris took a step forward, but her father was there before her.
“You aren’t taking my daughter without being married to her,” Del said. “You’re not going to make a whore of her.”
“I never meant to. That’s why I came to church.” He hadn’t yet looked at Chris, but kept looking down at that cigarette that was taking a long time to roll.
Del stepped back. “You can get on with it. The boy’s marrying my daughter.”
“But—” Asher began but Del grabbed him by the ear as if he were a little boy and pulled him to a pew.
“You can all sit down,” Del bellowed out to the congregation as if it were the most normal thing in the world that the bridegroom was sitting on top of a horse in the middle of the church. “And you men,” he said to the gunmen around the periphery of the room, “take off your hats.”
They did as they were bid.
Chris heard chuckles from the congregation, then they sat down. She turned back to the pastor who looked a little pale and didn’t seem to know what to do. “Perhaps you should hurry before the horse spoils the church,” she whispered. “His name is Samuel James Dysan III, also known as Tynan.”
“Yes,” the preacher said and cleared his throat.
This time, Chris didn’t have any trouble answering his questions. Her hearty “I do,” caused the congregation to laugh. When the preacher got to Tynan’s part, she turned back toward him. She wanted to watch his expression when his name was said.
Tynan blinked a few times, and hesitated, and glanced at Samuel, saw the man nod once, then looked back at Chris—for the first time. “I do,” he said and the congregation broke into applause.
Chris let out a yell of “hallelujah,” tore off her veil, sent it flying toward Asher and ran toward Tynan on his horse. He caught her arm, heaved her behind him and backed the horse out of the church amid cheers and yells and guns being fired in jubilation.
She held onto him with all her might as he thundered across the countryside.
It was twenty minutes later that he stopped and hauled her around to the front of him and started kissing her. Her dress was unbuttoned to her waist after the first kiss.
“Wait a minute,” he said, drawing back. “Is anybody going to come after us? I mean, is your father planning to send a posse out after us?”
“Maybe to send his thanks,” she said, trying to continue kissing him.
“What was all that back there? Why did that man say my name was Dysan?”
“Because it is. Oh, Tynan, I have so very much to tell you. I know who you are and about your mother and father and Sam is your grandfather and I’m going to have your baby and what made you come back for me?”
He sat there looking at her for a moment, not able to take in all of it. “Is your father going to have me sent back to jail?”
“Only if you desert me.”
“Ow,” he said as she ran her hands along his ribs. “Stop that.”
“You’ve been hurt. What happened?”
He grinned at her. “Lester Chanry found me again.”
“And what did you do to that poor man this time?”
“I gave him a piece of the old miner’s gold and told him where the mine was.”
