The hayseed (as a noun or an adjective); a bridal dress; and cowboy boots.
It was late evening on a Friday night in the western town of Lazy Creek. The sun had just sunk below the stand of cottonwood trees when Jethrow rode his pinto pony in from a week on the range. He reined up in front of the Short Horn Saloon and dismounted, entered the barroom, ordered a beer and joined Cowboy Billy Bob at a table. They sat soaking up their suds and when the honky-tonk music ended, Billy Bob said, “Since you’ve been on the range all week I guess you ain’t heard the news about that sod-buster Mitchell getting hitched up with Sally May?”
“Why’s he doing a crazy thing like that,” Jethrow asked, “is she fragrant?”
“I don’t think so,” Billy Bob said, “He claims it’s cause he loves her.”
“That’s horse puckey, everybody in town’s loved that gal, once or twice.”
“Don’t seem to make him no never-mind.”
“When they gon’a do it?”
“I heard the wedding is set for tomorrow morning, right here in the Short Horn.”
* * *
Saturday morning finds Mary Beth, Sally May’s best girlfriend in Sally’s room on the second floor of the Short Horn Saloon. Mary Beth has had a bit of book learning and claims to know something about weddings. She told Sally May, “When you gets married you needs to be warin’ some special stuff.”
Sally May answered back, “I knowed that!” then asked, “What kind a stuff?”
Mary Beth recited, “Sumthin’ old, sumthin’ new, sumthin’ borrowed, and sumthin’ blue – and you got to put a penny in your shoe.”
“That’s easy,” Sally May, said, “I got two of them right here.” She went to the large trunk that sat at the foot of the well used four poster bed and pulled out a long flowing gown; she continued, “I’m going to be barrowin’ Grandma’s old weddin’ dress.”
The dress was clean and obviously had been white many years ago, however, age had taken its toll and all but the satin bustle had turned a dingy yellow.
Mary Beth said, “That’s good – but what about the new and the blue?”
“That’s easy too,” Sally May said as she went and opened the dilapidated door to a small closet and returned with a bright blue neckerchief, “Mitchell bought me this just the other day.”
“That’s OK too,” Mary Beth said as she tied the scarf around the bride’s wrist. She then fumbled deep in the pocket of her apron, pulled out a shiny copper penny, and handed it to Sally May, “Here, I’ve been savin’ this for you; now get dressed, I can hear the varmints gallivantin’ downstairs.”
Mary Beth left her girl friend to finish dressing and went down to the barroom to check and see if Mitchell had actually shown up. Sure enough, he was there with the cowhands all gathered around laughing and making fun of him.
“OK, boys, break it up,” Mary Beth ordered, “the bride will be down shortly.”
The town preacher had arrived and the drinks were on the house. As the piano player began to belt out “Here Comes the Bride” on the harpsichord, all eyes turn to the stairway and silence fell across the room. Despite the aged gown, no one had ever seen Sally May look so fine. She was glowing with a radiance that lit up the room and made every man there envious of the sodbuster. It put them all to wondering; maybe that hayseed was not as dumb as they thought.
The wedding ceremony proceeded without a hitch and after the preacher said, “You may now kiss the bride,” the envious men in the room watched as Mitchell kissed his new bride in earnest. He then picked her up and began swinging her around. As they spun, centrifugal force pulled her old western cowboy boots off and sent them flying; one flew through the window and the other knocked the beer bottle out of Billy Bob’s hand. When Mitchell stopped their spin, he lifted her up, seated her on the bar, and said, “Ain’t she beautiful. I’m the richest man in the territory.”
“Why?” Billy Bob asked as he wiped the spilled beer from his vest, “because of that penny she’s got clutched between her toes?”
“Not exactly, it’s because she loves me – and besides – we just learned that her uncle bequeathed her his silver mine.”