“Jim leaves all such decisions to me.”
“That’s what Minister Bachs said in his notes.” With a white and wooden smile, Minister Orton motioned toward the lectern that stood atop the dais and then led Beatrice up the aisle.
T.W. looked away from his daughter and over to Oswell, who now standing just outside of the door. The rancher withdrew a fountain pen from a fancy case, removed its cap, gave the writing implement to the sheriff. opened the wedding ledger, scanned the names with his index finger (his lips moved while he did this), located the object of his search, and tapped a blank space.
“Theodore William Jeffries,” said Oswell. “Please sign here, right next to where she wrote your name.”
T.W. pressed the iridium tip to the paper and signed his name in the tight neat cursive that he
