Foolish Games | Tombstone

Chapter Thirteen Part: III of III

Allie had brought her Irish charm into their little corner of the world the night of the hen party. Clara felt every bit a faerie princess, draped in an old weathered cloak of green with a crown of seven intertwined flowers. A horseshoe for luck was in that derby hat, and the women walked the street of the town, singing old Celtic songs with light hearts combined with the spirit of frivolity. Every shop they entered, just as Allie promised, put a penny in the poor man's hat to bless the bride, along with a kiss on the cheek; an act for good measure, explained to Clara.

The night went on, some townspeople following the little congregation on their journey, eager to have a good time. When they reached the Oriental, the bride was truly blushing. Despite her misgivings for behaving so clownish, the overwhelming sense of freedom it brought was exhilarating. Slowly, Clara was unlearning the rigid indoctrination of Southern etiquette. She was becoming something more.

Louisa announced their arrival, sweeping into a low bow full of laughter. The saloon, occupied by its regular crowd, cheered on, each holding a penny for Clara to collect. As she made her rounds, accepting the copper coins and pecks of goodwill, she extended the phrase 'Go raibh maith agat!', which Allie had taught her meant 'May you have goodness!', the Irish way to say thank you. It didn't take long for Virg, Morg, and Wyatt to step up and take their turns.

Virgil had winked at Allie before flipping a coin from his thumb into the hat. It was his way of admiring his wife's kindness and attention to every detail. As he kissed Clara's brow, she wondered if he was reminiscing about when Allie was the bride-to-be. Her thoughts were cut short when Morgan pushed his older brother out of the way, wobbling slightly from the drink he'd consumed in celebration; Clara having asked him to give her away was his bragging right for the night. Anyone who would listen (and those that didn't) heard about the honor he accepted with a child-like grin.

"Well, ain't you something to look at! Ain't she something to look at, Wyatt?" He giggled, throwing a copper into the cap.

"Go raibh maith agat, Morgan." Clara matched his silliness, bobbing into a playful curtsey.

"Aw, shucks."

Taking everyone in the room by surprise, especially Clara, Morgan swooped in, dipped her low, and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek. When he lifted her back to her feet, her face was flush. Nearly dropping her hat, she was laughing heartily.

"You show pony," Wyatt dropped a hand on his little brother's shoulder, shaking his head. He gave her a penny and a kiss.

Smiling with unbound joy, Clara looked around the tables, spotting Doc sitting alone, admiring her. Intending to wander over to sit beside him, she halted at the sound of the piano and fiddle. Clara's eyes stole away to the musicians.

Josephine Marcus was beaming at the crowd, clapping her hands to the tune before encouraging everyone to join in song and dance. Keeping with the night's theme, the actress bellowed out the first verse of the popular folk song, The Rattlin' Bog. It didn't take long for everyone to fall into the verse while skipping and dancing. Miss Marcus spun around the floor, her dark curls like waves, wafting the scent of roses into the air. She finally made it to Clara, holding her hand for the young girl to take. Keeping with the spirit, the two women were soon dancing about, the derby hat spinning wildly in a free hand as pennies tinked to the wooden floorboards. By the end of the song, everyone was rather tongue-tied and out of breath. Clara's sides ached from all the laughter.

"Congratulations!" Josephine hollered over the commotion. "Wyatt told me all about your engagement and I read the paper!"

The smile nearly faded from Clara's face. She remembered what Doc had told her about Miss Marcus and Wyatt. Instantly, her thoughts targeted Mattie.