Книга - Homespun Bride

Homespun Bride
Jillian Hart


Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesMontana Territory in 1883 was a dangerous place–especially for a blind woman struggling to make her way through an early winter snowstorm.Undaunted, Noelle Kramer fought to remain independent. But then a runaway horse nearly plunged her into a rushing, ice-choked river, before a stranger's strong, sure h saved her from certain death. yet this was no stranger. Though she could not know it, her rescuer was rancher Thad McKaslin, the man who had once loved her more than life itself.Losing her had shaken all his most deeply held beliefs. Now he wondered if the return of this strong woman was a sign that somehow he could find his way home.









Homespun Bride

Jillian Hart















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue




Chapter One


Montana Territory, 1883

The tiny railroad town of Angel Falls was a symphony of noise. Because she was blind, Noelle Kramer had gotten the knack of separating one sound from another. There was the chink of horseshoes on the hard-packed snow and ice as teamsters and riders hurried on their way. The merry bell in the church steeple clanged a melody, marking the late-afternoon hour. The business-like clip-clip of ladies’ shoes on the swept-clean boardwalk was like a metronome tapping the meter. The low-throated rumble of the train, two blocks over, added a steady bass percussion as it idled on steel tracks.

It all painted a picture, of sorts, but there was so much missing. She could not see the colorful window displays of the shops. Were they bright with spring colors yet? While she could not know this, not without asking her dear aunt, who was busy fussing with their horse’s tether rope, she tried to picture what she could. She hadn’t been blind so long that she couldn’t remember the look of things. She only had to pull it up in her mind, the main street with its cheerful window displays, awnings and continuous boardwalks.

What she couldn’t picture was her friend Lanna, from their school days, who’d been in the dress shop when she and her aunt had stopped to pick up a new hat. Lanna had been bursting with happiness. The brightest notes of joy rang in her voice as she’d been fitted for her wedding dress.

Noelle closed her eyes against the pain; she closed her thoughts and her heart, too. She’d never asked what had become of the wedding gown she’d had made. The one she’d never had a chance to pick up for her wedding day.

She rubbed the fourth finger of her left hand, so bare beneath the thick woolen glove. She understood why Shelton had changed his mind. What surprised her was that her heart wasn’t broken; she’d not been deeply in love with him but she’d hoped for happiness anyway.

No, what had devastated her had been his words. You’re damaged goods, now. Her blindness was the reason she would never have a hope of marrying. Of being a wife and a mother. Her affliction was a burden to others. She, alone, could not tend fires and watch after servants or see to the dozens of details in the running of a household and caring for small children.

Still, she had a lot to be thankful for.

“Now, you settle down like a good horse.” Aunt Henrietta’s no-nonsense scolding easily drowned out the street noise. Even her gait was a sensible brisk stride and her petticoats rustled as she climbed into the sleigh.

“Is he giving you more trouble?” Noelle asked, trying to hide her worry.

“He won’t if he knows what’s good for him.” Henrietta settled her heavy hoops and plentiful skirts around her on the seat. “I gave him a talking-to he won’t soon forget. He’s a Worthington now, and he has a standard of conduct to uphold. I won’t be seen around town wrestling a horse for control like some common teamster.”

Noelle bit her lip trying to hide the smile for she knew her aunt was dreadfully serious. To Henrietta, appearances and reputation were everything. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s probably just not used to all the noise in town.”

“I don’t care what he’s used to!” Henrietta huffed. The seat groaned beneath her weight as she leaned forward, perhaps in search of the lap blanket. “Where has that gone to? Wait, here it is. Cover up, dear. There’s a dangerous cold to the air. Mark my words, we’ll see a blizzard before we reach home, if we make it there in time.”

Noelle bit her lip again. She was endlessly amused by Henrietta’s drama. A blizzard? Surely that was a dire assessment of the situation. She held up her gloved hand but couldn’t hear any telltale tap, tap against the leather. “I smell snow in the wind. It is falling yet? I can’t tell.”

“Nothing yet, although I can hardly hear you. I shall never get used to that newfangled contraption.”

“Which newfangled contraption is bothering you now?”

“Why, the train, of course.” Henrietta took delight in her complaints, for her voice was smiling as she gathered the thick leather reins with a rustle. “I can tell by the look on your face that once again my disapproval of modern progress amuses you.”

“I wonder why the Northern Pacific Railroad didn’t ask you before they laid track through our valley.”

“That is exactly my complaint with them.” Henrietta gave the reins a slap and the gelding leaped forward, jerking them to a rough, swift start. “There, now. That’s more like it. I don’t put up with a horse’s nonsense.”

Or any nonsense, Noelle knew, which was why she hadn’t asked about Lanna’s dress when they’d left the shop. Why she tucked away her sadness. Henrietta didn’t have a mind to tolerate sadness. She always said that God knew best and that was that.

No doubt that was true. Sometimes it was simply difficult to understand.

The wind changed, bringing with it the fresh wintry scent of snowflakes. Noelle could feel them, as light as a Brahms lullaby, and she lifted her face to the brush of their crisp iciness against her skin.

Henrietta snapped the reins briskly, intent on directing their horse. “Do you smell that?”

“Yes, isn’t the snow wonderful?”

“Goodness, not that, dear. It’s the train. At least you’re spared the ugly view of the trailing coal smoke that hovers over the town like a black, poisonous, endless snake. What are we expected to do? Expire from the discharge?”

“I doubt the men in charge of the rail company are concerned by the smoke cloud.”

“Well, they can afford not to be! They are not here to breathe it in! And why do we need such progress? Gone are the days when a person labored to get to their destination. I walked beside my parents’ wagon halfway to Missouri, and it put the starch in my bonnet. It’s what’s wrong with young people nowadays. Life is too easy for them.”

The train whistle blasted, drowning out her words. And there was another more frightening sound—the high-noted terror in a horse’s neigh. Noelle cringed, panic licking at her. Years ago, their mare had made that terrified, almost-human scream when a rattlesnake had startled her and she’d run with the family buggy over the edge of the road. On that day, Noelle had lost her mother, her father and her sight.

Surely, that sound wasn’t coming from their horse?

She glanced around the street, as if she could see; it was habit, nothing more. She gripped the edge of the sleigh tight in reflex and in memory, but there was no time to open her heart in prayer. The sleigh jerked forward. Wind whizzed in her ears and snow slapped against her face. The sleigh’s runners hit grooves in the compact snow at a rapid-fire pace, bouncing her on the seat.

“Good heavens!” Henrietta sounded deeply put out. “Calm down, you ill-behaved brute—”

The train whistle blew a second time. The sleigh jerked to a sudden stop. Noelle slid forward on the seat and something hard struck her chin. Pain exploded through her jaw, as she realized she’d hit the dashboard. Was that high, shrill bugling neigh coming from their horse? Sure enough, she could feel his huge body block the wind as he reared up. For one breathless moment, she feared he might fall on them. Henrietta’s terrified gasp confirmed her suspicions.

“Quick!” She found her aunt’s arm and gave her a nudge. “Out of the sleigh. Hurry! Before—”

Too late. The whistle blew, the sleigh lurched and the horse came down running. The train’s loud chugging and clamoring only seemed to drive the gelding to run faster, right down the middle of Main. Shouted exclamations and the sudden rush of other horses and vehicles to get out of the way overrode all other sounds. The sleigh swayed from side to side in a sickening way. They were going too fast for the vehicle. She braced her feet and held on tight. Fear tasted coppery and bitter on her tongue. The past rose up in a colorful image in her mind’s eye. Her mother’s cry as the buggy broke apart. The horrible falling at great speed. The sudden blinding pain—

No. Not again. Lord, stop this from happening. Please. Panic beat crazily against her ribs. Fear felt thick on her tongue. It was too late to jump from the sleigh, and she wouldn’t abandon Henrietta. She tried to make her mind clear enough to form another prayer but only one thought came. Help us.

Somewhere, over the sound of Henrietta’s continued demands for the horse to stop and stop now, a man shouted out, “Runaway horse! Grab him!”

Maybe someone could stop them. Hope lifted through her panic, and Noelle clung to it. Please, Lord, send someone to help us.

There was no answer as the sleigh began to buck harder and rock from side to side. Had they left the road? Soft snow sprayed against her face. She held on to the edge of the seat with all her might, but her stomach gripped from the sleigh’s violent rocking motion. Foliage crumpled and crunched beneath the runners.

Had they gone off the road? Fear shot through her heart. They were going too fast, they were going to overturn and the sleigh was going to break apart. Henrietta must have realized this, too, because she began sobbing. That only drove the horse to run faster. Noelle squeezed her eyes shut. A sob broke through her, and the seat bucked beneath her. They would be hurt—or worse—and she could not stop it from happening.

The Lord hadn’t answered her prayer last time, either, and look at what she’d lost. Her heart squeezed with pain. She could not lose so much again, and yet she had no choice. The sleigh rose sharply upward, and tipped violently to the right, slamming her hard against the dashboard again. She felt no physical pain, only an emotional one. It was too late for answered prayers now.

Then, through the rush of her pulse in her ears, she heard something else. Something new. The drum of hoofbeats.

“Whoa, there, big fella.” A man’s voice, a deep vibrant baritone rumbled like winter thunder from the sky, overpowering every other sound until there was only silence. Only him. “Calm down. You’re all right, buddy.”

The sleigh’s bumping slowed. Noelle hung on to the dashboard, drawn to the sound of the man’s confident and powerful voice coming as if from the sky.

Am I dreaming this? Noelle had to wonder. None of this felt real. The sleigh tipped dangerously and listed to a stop. The dizzying sense of movement stopped. There was only the blast of the winded gelding’s ragged breaths and that soothing baritone. She could hardly believe that they were safe.

Safe. Because of him.

She heard the creak of his saddle as he dismounted. The sensations of Henrietta clutching her, the wind’s low-noted howl like a lonely wolf’s cry and the chill that set in all faded into the background. She was riveted to his voice; there was something about his voice, but as he spoke low to keep the horse calm over the clatter of the harnessing she couldn’t place what it was. Maybe he was tethering the horse.

Relief flooded her. The remnants of fear jarred through her, making her blood thick and her pulse loud in her ears. She turned toward the faint squeaking sound his boots made on the snow. His gait was even and confident; not too fast, and long-legged. Already her mind was trying to paint a picture of him.

“Are you two ladies all right?” The man’s baritone boomed.

It wasn’t a cold tone, Noelle heard, but warmth in that voice, character and heart. And something more, indefinable like a memory just out of reach.

“F-fine. Considering what c-could have happened.” Was that really her speaking? She probably sounded so breathless and shaky from the aftereffect of fear, that was all, and not because of the man.

Henrietta still gasped for breath, frozen in place, but still managing to talk. “We’re a little worse for the wear, I d-dare say. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened, sir. You s-saved us just in time.”

“Looks like it,” the rider answered easily as if it hadn’t been his doing. “What’s important now is that you two try to make as little movement as possible. I’m going to get you out one at a time. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe.”

Safe? Noelle gulped. Did that mean they were still in danger? She could tell they were tipped at an odd angle, but her hearing had failed her. Her ears seemed to be ignoring everything, save for the man’s voice. It was strange, as was the feeling that she ought to know him, and how could that be? If he wasn’t a stranger, then Henrietta would have called him by name.

“D-dear hea-vens!” Her aunt sounded quite strained. “A-are you q-quite sure that we’re not about to plunge into the river?”

The river? That took her thoughts off their rescuer. Fear shivered down her spine. Only then did she realize there was another sound above the raging howl of the wind—the rush of the fast-moving river.

How close were they to the edge? She tried to breathe but her lungs felt heavy and the air in them like mud. As her senses settled, she could better hear the hungry rush of the river alarmingly close.

“Let me help you, miss.”

His voice seemed to move through her spirit and, confused, she didn’t realize that he was taking her hand until suddenly his fingers closed around hers. His touch was strong and as steady as granite. Every fear within her stilled. It seemed impossible to be afraid as his other hand gripped her elbow.

Stunned, she could feel the faint wind shadow as he towered over her. She knew he was tall, wide-shouldered and built like steel. She knew, somehow, without seeing him. It was as if she was familiar with his touch. How could that possibly be?

“Careful, now.” His calm baritone boomed. “Step up a little, that’s right.”

She could feel his strength as he lifted her out of the tipped sleigh. For an instant, she felt weightless as if there was no gravity that could hold her to the ground. As if there were only wind and sky. She breathed in the winter air, the faint scent of soap and leather and wool. Her shoes touched the snow and the impact jarred through her, although he’d set her gently to the ground.

Who was this man? The last time she’d felt like this, suspended between earth and sky, between safety and the unknown was so long ago, she dared not let her mind dig up those buried dreams.

With a whisper of movement he released her. “Stay here while I fetch your mother.”

She stood wobbling on her shaky legs, feeling the kick of fear still racing through her veins. Riveted, unable to think of anything else, even her aunt’s safety, she listened to the crunch of the snow beneath his boots as he moved again. The wind and snow lashed against her nose and eyes like tears. She tucked the muffler more snuggly around her face, shivering not from fear or cold but from something else.

She heard Henrietta’s sob of fear, she heard the jingle of their rescuer’s horse’s bridle and that low reassuring baritone, although the howling wind stole his words.

Never had she so sorely missed her sight. Every fiber of her being longed to be able to see him. Then she heard the squeak of the sleigh’s runner as it moved against the snow and she realized the rush she heard was the swift-running river and roar of the falls—the highest waterfall in all of Montana Territory.

A prayer flew to her lips, but before she could give it voice, she heard the crunch of her aunt’s sturdy gait.

“Let me take a look at you. I have to see with my own eyes. This is like an awful nightmare.” Henrietta grabbed her and turned her around, like a mother hen checking on one of her chicks.

Love for her aunt filled her—she’d learned that love made everyone perfect. What were flaws? They hardly mattered when she could have lost Henrietta as she had her parents. Emotion burned in her throat, emotion she dared not speak of, since Henrietta did not approve of outbursts of any kind.

“I’m fine,” she told her aunt to reassure her. “But are you all right?”

“Worse for the ordeal but right enough. I saw you hit the dashboard. Are you bleeding?”

“I’m fine, I told you. It’s blizzarding, and—”

“You ladies need to get safely home.” He spoke up. “The storm is likely to get worse before it gets better.”

“Young man, you saved our lives.”

“I was at the right place at the right time is all.” He took a step, which made it easier to keep his eye on that high-strung horse. “Are you sure you’re both all right? A ride like that could shake anyone up.”

“I have nerves of steel.” The woman’s chin firmed as she tugged at the daughter’s scarf, which obscured her nearly completely. “My niece, however, is quite fragile as she’s blind.”

“Niece?” Not daughter. And blind at that. Wasn’t that too bad? Thad thought. Sympathy filled him as he watched the aunt fuss.

“My dear, let me see. I have to make sure you’ve not broken anything.”

“As long as you two ladies are safe enough, I’ll just see to the horse then.” He stepped back. His mind should be working out how to get that vehicle out of the bushes, but he couldn’t concentrate on it.

There was something about the young woman—the niece—something he couldn’t put his finger on. He’d hardly glanced at her when he’d hauled her from the family sleigh, but now he took a longer look through the veil of falling snow.

For a moment, her silhouette, the size of her, and the way she moved reminded him of Noelle. How about that; Noelle, his frozen heart reminded him with a painful squeeze, had been his first—and only—love.

It couldn’t be her, he reasoned, since she was married and probably a mother by now. She’d be safe in town, living snug in one of the finest houses in the county instead of riding along the country roads in a storm. Still, curiosity nibbled at him as he plowed through the knee-deep snow. Snow was falling faster now, and yet somehow through the thick downfall his gaze seemed to find her.

She was fragile, a delicate bundle of wool; snow clung to her hood, scarf and cloak like a shroud, making her tough to see. She’d been just a little bit of a thing when he’d lifted her from the sleigh, and his only thought at the time had been to get both women out of danger. Now something chewed at his memory. He couldn’t quite figure out what, but he could feel it in his gut.

The woman was talking on as she unwound the niece’s veil. “We were tossed about dreadfully. You’re likely bruised and broken from root to stem. I’ve never been so terrified. All I could do was pray over and over and think of you, my dear.” Her words warmed with tenderness. “What a greater nightmare for you.”

“We’re fine. All’s well that ends well,” the niece insisted.

Although her voice was muffled by the thick snowfall, his step faltered. There was something about her voice, something familiar in the gentle resonance of her alto. Now he could see the top part of her face, due to her loosened scarf. Her eyes—they were a startling shade of flawless emerald green.

Whoa, there. He’d seen that perfect shade of green before—and long ago. Recognition speared through his midsection, but he already knew she was his Noelle even before the last layer of the scarf fell away from her face.

His Noelle, just as lovely and dear, was now blind and veiled with snow. His first love. The woman he’d spent years and thousands of miles trying to forget. Hard to believe that there she was suddenly right in front of him. He’d heard about the engagement announcement a few years back, and he’d known in returning to Angel Falls to live that he’d have to run into her eventually.

He just didn’t figure it would be so soon and like this.

Seeing her again shouldn’t make him feel as if he’d been hit in the chest with a cannonball. The shock was wearing off, he realized, the same as when you received a hard blow. First off, you were too stunned to feel it. Then the pain began to settle in, just a hint, and then to rush in until it was unbearable. Yep, that was the word to describe what was happening inside his rib cage. A pain worse than a broken bone beat through him.

Best get the sleigh righted, the horse hitched back up and the women home. But it was all he could do to turn his back as he took his mustang by the bridle. The palomino pinto gave him a snort and shook his head, sending the snow on his golden mane flying.

Yep, I know how you feel, Sunny, Thad thought. Judging by the look of things, it would be a long time until they had a chance to get in out of the cold.

He’d do best to ignore the women, especially Noelle, and to get to the work needin’ to be done. He gave the sleigh a shove, but the vehicle was wedged against the snow-covered brush banking the river. Not that he put a lot of weight on the Lord overmuch these days, but Thad had to admit it was a close call. Almost eerie how he’d caught them just in time. It did seem providential. Had they gone only a few feet more, gravity would have done the trick and pulled the sleigh straight into the frigid, fast waters of Angel River and plummeted them directly over the tallest falls in the territory.

Thad squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to think of Noelle tossed into that river, fighting the powerful current along with the ice chunks. There would have been no way to have pulled her from the river in time. Had he been a few minutes slower in coming after them or if Sunny hadn’t been so swift, there would have been no way to save her. To fate, the Lord or to simple chance, he was grateful.

Some tiny measure of tenderness in his chest, like a fire long banked, sputtered to life. His tenderness for her, still there, after so much time and distance. How about that.

Since the black gelding was a tad calmer now that the sound of the train had faded off into the distance, Thad rehitched him to the sleigh but secured the driving reins to his saddle horn. He used the two horses working together to free the sleigh and get it realigned toward the road.

The older woman looked uncertain about getting back into the vehicle. With the way that black gelding of theirs was twitchy and wild-eyed, he didn’t blame her. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll see you two ladies home.”

“Th-that would be very good of you, sir. I’m rather shaken up. I’m of half a mind to walk the entire mile home, except for my dear niece.”

Noelle. He wouldn’t let his heart react to her. All that mattered was doing right by her—and that was one thing that hadn’t changed. He came around to help the aunt into the sleigh and after she was safely seated, turned toward Noelle. Her scarf had slid down to reveal the curve of her face, the slope of her nose and the rosebud smile of her mouth.

What had happened to her? How had she lost her sight? Sadness filled him for her blindness and for what could have been between them, once. He thought about saying something to her, so she would know who he was, but what good would that do? The past was done and over. Only the emptiness of it remained.

“Thank you so much, sir.” She turned toward the sound of his step and smiled in his direction. If she, too, wondered who he was, she gave no real hint of it.

He didn’t expect her to. Chances were she hardly remembered him, and if she did, she wouldn’t think too well of him. She would never know what good wishes he wanted for her as he took her gloved hand. The layers of wool and leather and sheepskin lining between his hand and hers didn’t stop that tiny flame of tenderness for her from growing a notch.

He looked into her eyes, into Noelle’s eyes, the woman he’d loved truly so long ago, knowing she did not recognize him. Could not see him or sense him, even at heart. She smiled at him as if he were the Good Samaritan she thought he was as he helped her settle onto the seat.

Love was an odd thing, he realized as he backed away. Once, their love had been an emotion felt so strong and pure and true that he would have vowed on his very soul that nothing could tarnish nor diminish their bond. But time had done that simply, easily, and they stood now as strangers.

He reached for Sunny’s reins, mounted up and led the way into the worsening storm.




Chapter Two


Huddled against the minus temperatures and lashing snow, Noelle clenched her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering.

The whir of the frigid wind and the endless whisper of the torrential snowfall drowned out all sound. It deceived her into imagining they were being pulled along in a void, cut off from the outside world, from everyone and everything, including the stranger who had helped them. She knew he was leading the gelding; Aunt Henrietta had assured her of this fact as soon as they’d set out.

It was only concern, she told herself, because she’d been behind two runaway horses in her lifetime. She did not wish a third trip. Of course she wanted to make sure they arrived safely home and that the stranger would keep his stalwart promise to lead them there.

The stranger. She couldn’t seem to rid him from her mind. Her thoughts kept turning over and over the moment she’d first heard his buttery-warm baritone and the strange, vague sense of recognition she’d felt when he’d lifted her from the sleigh.

You know who he reminds you of. She shivered against the cruel cold and swiped the snow from her lashes. No, it couldn’t be her old beau. Thad McKaslin was probably in Texas by now, judging by how fast he’d left her years ago. Her heart cracked in small pieces just thinking his name.

No, there was no possibility—none—that he was the stranger. Their rescuer was a Good Samaritan and a dependable, mature man, not a boy who only saw to his own concerns.

“Henrietta?” Uncle Robert’s bass boomed through the sounds of the storm. “Noelle! Thank God you’re here safe. I was just about to ride out looking for you. Didn’t you see the blizzard cloud, Henrietta? You are both half frozen.”

“Oh, Rob.” Henrietta stumbled off the seat with a thud and clatter.

The storm blocked any other sounds, but Noelle knew her aunt had flung herself into her husband’s arms. Though stiff with cold, she waited in the sleigh to give them a private moment.

“Do you need help?”

She turned toward the sound of his voice, thinking of all the ways his baritone didn’t sound like the Thad she remembered. It was deeper, more mature, made of character and depth of experience. Besides, if it was Thad, he would have said something. See, it couldn’t be.

“Miss?”

She ignored the knot of foreboding in her stomach and answered him. “I would appreciate the help. Storms with winds like this tend to disorient me. I get a little lost on my own.”

“Me, too, but I don’t need a storm for that.” There was a touch of warmth to those words.

She wondered if he were smiling, and what kind of smile he had. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course. She began to shake the snow from the lap blanket.

“Let me get that for you.”

He blocked the storm as he towered beside her. She felt the weight of the snow-caked blanket fall away. She breathed in the wintry air, the faint scent of his soap and leather and wool and remembered that boy she’d once loved.

His hand cradled her elbow to help her step out of the sleigh. Cold snow sank to the tops of her ankle-high shoes. For a moment, she felt a strange quiver of familiarity and denial seized her like a fist. Thad McKaslin here, in Angel Falls? Could it be?

She took one step, and he moved to her side to block the worst of the wind and snow. And the way he towered beside her made recognition shiver through her.

I don’t want it to be him, she thought, her stomach tightening even more. But just because she didn’t want it to be Thad, didn’t mean it wasn’t. She took another step. “Should I know you?”

“Not really,” his comforting baritone rumbled.

“When a man saves a woman’s life, well, two women’s, she likes to know what name to call her rescuer when she thanks him.”

“Maybe some things are better left a mystery.” Friendly, that’s what his voice was and cozy, the way a fire crackling in the hearth was cozy. “Careful, now. There’s a deep drift coming up.”

His grip tightened on her and he responded so quickly and gallantly, he must have thought she was truly helpless. It was a common misconception. “Don’t worry,” she said, easily correcting her balance. “I’ve gotten used to tottering around. I’m fine.”

“The snow drifts high here. Lift your steps a little higher,” he said with concern.

Concern she didn’t need, not from him. She tried to concentrate on feeling her way over the crest of the snowdrift with the toe of her shoe. Her feet were numb from cold, making it only a little more difficult.

“You do this very well.”

She recognized the surprise in his words. “When I lost my sight, I realized I had two options. To see it as a reason to give up or as a reason to go on. Of course, I walk into a few walls and catch my toe on the top of snowdrifts, but I do all right.”

“I’ll say.”

She could feel the flat level of the brick stone walkway that her uncle kept carefully cleared. Snow had accumulated on it, but not more than a few inches, and the walking was easier. She released her rescuer’s arm. “Thank you, but I can get in from here.”

“No, I should see you to the door.”

“You’ve done enough all ready.”

“But you’re blind.”

“Yes, but I’m not incapable.”

“No, I see that.” What did he say to that? Thad didn’t have the slightest notion. It was breaking his heart in every way. He cleared his throat to ask the question most troubling him. “How long have you been like this?”

“Tripping in the snow? Or blind, do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for your loss of sight.” Her smile was still the same, he realized, modest and sweet as the finest sugar, and how it transformed her lovely face the way dawn changed the night sky. But something had changed. She no longer held the power to render him a love-struck fool. No, he thought stoically, her smile had no effect on him whatsoever.

“It’s been over four years, now.”

“Four years?” That surprised him. He’d been gone just about five.

“I hit my head when our buggy rolled and I lost my sight. It wasn’t the worst thing I lost. My parents were killed.”

“I—I’m sorry to hear that.” It surprised him that the venom he’d felt for Noelle’s parents vanished. Whatever they had done to him aside, they had loved their daughter dearly. She was their greatest treasure. Hard to blame them for it; harder now that they were gone.

The venom had died but not the bitterness. It was hard to keep it buried where it belonged. “I guess that had to be hard for you.”

A single nod, nothing more.

His feelings aside, he knew it had to have been an unbearable loss for her. She had loved her parents deeply, which was one reason why he’d made the decision he did five years ago and why they stood together now as strangers. The only decision he could have made.

Despite her condition, she looked well. Very well. Soft lamplight glowed from the wide windows, gilding her in light. Snow had gathered like tiny pieces of grace on her hood. She looked beautiful, more lovely than ever. Vibrant and womanly in a way he’d never seen her before.

She’s happy, he realized with a punch that knocked the air from his lungs and every last speck of regret from his heart. He’d done the right thing in leaving. Her father, rest his soul, had been right.

He didn’t like what that decision had done to him, but he’d learned a hard lesson from it. Be wary of the woman you give your heart to.

He took a moment to capture one last look of her, happy and lovely and matured into a sweetheart of a woman. Knowing this only made him feel colder. Glad for her, but cold in the way of the blizzard baring its teeth.

“Won’t you come in? You must be half frozen.” Concern was there on her face for the stranger she thought he was. “Come in and warm up. We have beef soup and hot tea.”

“Can’t. My horse is standing in this cold.”

“You could put him in our stable.”

“No.” Would she still ask him in if she knew who he was? What did she think about the man who’d broken his promise to elope with her? Did she even remember him?

Probably not. The bitterness in him won out, but it wasn’t only bitterness he felt. That old tenderness, a hint of it, remained. No longer a romantic tenderness; that had been surely destroyed, but his feeling of goodwill surprised him once more.

He lifted her free hand, small and disguised by her woolen glove. He knew by memory, still, the shape of her hand from all the times he’d held it in his own. It was with well wishes for her future that he pressed a gentleman’s kiss to the back of her hand.

“Now that I’ve got you and your aunt home safe and sound, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“Only one good deed per day?” She withdrew onto the brick walk. “You remind me of an old beau of mine.”

“Pardon me, but he couldn’t have been the brightest fellow. I can’t imagine any man passing you by.”

“I must be mistaken, then.” She shook her head. Why had she been so sure? But as she swiped the snow out of her eyes, she realized he hadn’t answered her question. “How long have you lived in Angel County?”

“I, uh, just moved back to the area. Haven’t been here long.”

So, it was as she thought. The voice she remembered had been an eighteen year-old’s voice, manly, yes, but still partly boyish, too, not in full maturity. This man’s voice was deeper and confident and wholly masculine, but still, it was Thad’s.

“Miss, you take care of yourself. No more riding behind runaway horses.”

“I think my uncle will see to that.”

“Where is your husband? Shouldn’t he be the one seeing to your safety?”

“My husband? No. I’ve never married.” Was he moving away? The wind was gathering speed so she couldn’t hear him move. “The blizzard is growing worse. You can’t go out in that.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me, Noelle.”

Noelle. The way his baritone warmed like wild honey around her name made her absolutely certain. “Thad?”

But there was no answer, just the moan of the wind and the hammering of snow falling with a vengeance. It pounded everywhere, on the top of her hood, on the front of her cloak, on the steps at her feet, and the sound deceived her.

Had he already disappeared into the storm? She couldn’t tell. She stood alone, battered by howling wind and needle-sharp snow, feeling seventeen again. Those feelings of love and heartbreak and regret were a lifetime ago. She’d had enough of all three these past years to last her a lifetime. She knew it was foolish of her to wonder about Thad McKaslin now. He had rejected her, too.

She turned on her heels and waded through the snow to the covered porch steps. They were icy, so she took them with care. It was best to keep her mind focused firmly on the blessings in her life. On what was good about this moment and this day. No good came from dwelling on what was past and forever lost.

“Young man, where do you think you are going?” Henrietta demanded from, what sounded, near the bottom of the porch steps. “You’ll come back here and warm up with a cup of tea in front of a hot fire.”

“I’ve got stock to see to before the storm gets much worse. Good day, ma’am.” Thad’s voice came muted by distance and the thick veil of snow.

“Mark my words, you’ll freeze to death before you make it to the end of the driveway!” Henrietta humphed when no answer came. “What a disagreeable man. He may have saved us, but God help him. We’ll likely as not find him frozen solid on the path to town come morning. Terrible thing,” she said, leading the way into the house.

Apparentlys back to her usual self. Noelle gave thanks for that.

After following her aunt into the warmth of the house, she found herself wondering about Thad. He’d disappeared back into the blizzard, just as he’d come to them.



A narrow escape.

He wasn’t bitter, Thad told himself as he nosed Sunny north. No, he was as cold to the past as the wind. But he was unprepared. Unprepared to have seen her. Unprepared to accept the fact that she’d said the words that kept playing over and over in his mind. I’ve never married.

Wasn’t that why he’d left Angel Falls? To do as her father wanted and get out of her life? So she could marry the right kind of man? Because there was no way an immigrant’s son like him could give Noelle the comfort she was used to. There had been many times over the last lonely years that he’d seen the older man’s point.

The love he thought they had was a fool’s paradise. A dream that had nothing to do with the hard reality of life.

They’d been two kids living on first love and dreams, but the real world ran on hard work and wages. He’d driven cattle from all over the West to the stockyards, from California to Chicago. He’d eaten dust and branded calves and tucked away every spare dollar he could and, except for a few months every winter, he’d lived out of his saddlebags. He’d learned what life was about.

The icy wind gusted hard, pulling him out of his thoughts. He’d gone a fair ways down the driveway. There was nothing around him but the lashing wind and the pummel of the iced snow, which had fallen around him like a veil. He gave thanks for it because he couldn’t see anything—especially the house he’d left. Noelle’s house. The twilight-dark storm made it easier to forget he’d seen her. To forget everything. Especially those early years away from her and how his heart had bled in misery until one day there’d been no blood left. Until he’d felt drained of substance but finally purged of the dream of her and what could have been.

Sure, there had been times—moments—since then when he’d thought of her. When he saw a woman’s chestnut hair twisted up in that braided fancy knot Noelle liked to wear. Or when he saw an intricate lace curtain hanging in a window, he would recall how she’d liked to sit quietly in the shade on the porch and crochet lace by the hour. Any time he heard a piece of that fancy piano music she liked to play with the complicated chords and the long-winded compositions, he would remember.

It was the memories that could do him in, that were burrowing like a tick into his chest. He tried to freeze his heart like the winter’s frost reaching deep into the ground. Usually that was the best way to handle those haunting thoughts of her and of the past.

He would never have come back to Angel Falls except for his kid brother. The boy didn’t know what kind of a sacrifice Thad was making in coming back here and in his decisions to stick around, help the family and start to put down roots for a change.

Roots. He’d been avoiding doing that all this time, aside from the money it took to buy the kind of land he wanted—because settling down would only remind him he wasn’t building a life and dreams with her.

Don’t think about Noelle. He willed the words deep into his heart. Now, if only he were strong enough to stick by them. Whether she was married or not, their past was dead and gone. He was no longer that foolish boy thinking love was what mattered. He was a man strong enough to resist making a mistake like that—like her—again.

The white-out strength winds blasted harder; Sunny shied and veered off the faint path of the road. Not a great sign. Thad pulled his mustang up, so he wouldn’t lose his sense of direction. It wouldn’t take much for a man to get himself lost in a blizzard like this. He shaded his eyes from the wind-driven downfall to try to get a good look, but he couldn’t see a thing. Still, he dismounted, to make sure. Something could be in the road—like another rider driven off track by the storm in need of help.

The curtain of snow shifted on a stronger gust of wind, and something red flashed at the roadside only to disappear again. Keeping hold of Sunny’s reins and his sense of direction, Thad knelt to find a lady’s hatbox tied up with a fancy red ribbon and, next to it, a small flat ice-covered package.

Must be Noelle’s things, he figured, scanning what little he could see for landmarks. This sloping slant of ground was probably at the junction of the main road. The sleigh had made a sharp turn onto the driveway here. Combined with the wind, the goods had probably slid right over the edge of the sleigh.

It looked as though he wasn’t completely done with Noelle yet. The small package fit into his saddlebag, but not the bulky hatbox. That he had to hang over his saddle horn by the ribbon.

Just his luck. Now, as he nosed Sunny north into the storm and toward home, there was a reminder of Noelle he could not ignore. The blizzard grew with a ruthless howl, baring its icy teeth. He was cut off from the world. He could see only gray wind, white snow, brutal cold and the cheerful slash of a Christmas-red bow, making it impossible not to think about her. To wonder, but never to wish.

No, not ever again.



Shivering between the cold sheets, Noelle burrowed more deeply into the covers. Her toes found the metal bed warmer heating the foot of her bed. Ah, warmth. Above the background drone of the blizzard, she heard the hiss of the lamp’s flame as it wavered, pausing to draw more kerosene up its wick.

On the other side of the bedside table, her cousin’s mattress ropes groaned slightly as she shifted, probably to keep the lamplight on her Bible page. “‘The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’”

There was a gentle whisper of the volume closing and the rasp as Matilda slid her Bible onto the edge of the table. “I didn’t want to say anything when Mama was around, but did you two almost drown in the river? You know how she exaggerates.”

“We didn’t fall into the river. The sleigh stopped before that could happen. Fortunately.” Noelle knew she would never understand why this runaway horse had been stopped short of disaster, when another one hadn’t. Why the stranger had been in the right place at the right time to help them—this time. There was a greater mystery troubling her, though. Their rescuer. She wouldn’t stop wondering about that man—against all reason and all wisdom.

“Divine intervention, beyond all doubt.” Matilda sounded so sure. “Mama said that man was an angel. She said she wasn’t sure how he’d been able to come through the storm like that and to stop that new horse of Papa’s just in time. Then he disappeared like he was called up to heaven.”

“He took my hand to help me out of the sleigh and, trust me, he was a man and nothing more. He was no angel.”

“Then how did he disappear?”

“It was a blizzard. All he had to do was walk three feet and he would be invisible. You know how your mother is.”

“Yes, but it’s a better story that way.” Matilda sighed, a girl of nineteen still dreaming of romance. “Do you think they exist?”

“Angels?”

“No, of course they do. I mean, dashing, honorable men who ride to a lady’s rescue.”

“Only in books, I’m afraid.”

“But the stranger, he—”

“No.” Noelle cut her cousin off as kindly as she could and pulled her covers up to her chin. “He was probably mounted up and at the edge of town when the gelding broke away. I heard other men shout out to try to stop the horse. He himself said he only did what anyone would do.”

“You don’t sound grateful.”

“Oh, I am. Deeply.” She’d done her best to try to keep her calm; as she’d told her aunt, all’s well that ends well. But the truth was, about midway through supper the calm had worn off and she’d trembled in delayed fear and shook through most of the evening. Now, she felt worn-out and heartsick.

Why hadn’t Thad introduced himself? Why had he used her blindness against her? He knew she couldn’t look at his face and recognize him, so he’d chosen to stay safely in the dark. Certainly no hero, not in her book, she thought, knowing that was the broken pieces of her heart talking, apparently still a bit jagged and raw after all this time. He’d been the one to leave her waiting at her window, with no note, no one to break the news to her, nothing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could stop the hurt from flooding her spirit. It was a long time ago, and it didn’t matter now.

Put it out of your mind, she ordered, but her heart didn’t seem to be listening. She would never forget the way it had felt to wait through the heat of the September afternoon and into the crisp twilight and refuse to give up on him. Vowing to wait however long it took, that’s how much she believed in him. How strong her love. But as the first stars popped out in the ebony sky and the cool night set in, she’d had to accept the truth.

Thaddeus McKaslin, the man she’d loved with her entire soul, had changed his mind. Not the strong stalwart man she’d dreamed him to be, but a coward who couldn’t tell the truth. Who couldn’t commit. Who’d changed his mind, broken his promise and left town without her.

Why was he back after all this time?

Sharp footsteps knelled in the hallway. “Girls! I know you’re in there talking. Lights out! It’s past your bedtime.”

“Yes, Mama,” Matilda answered meekly.

Noelle knew her cousin was rolling her eyes, greatly burdened by her mother’s strict role in her life. She herself had been that way once, but it had taken tragedy and maturing into an adult for her to understand the love that had been behind her mother’s seemingly controlling behavior. Love, the real kind, was what mattered.

“Good night, girls.” Henrietta’s steps continued down the hallway to check on her other children.

“Good night, Matilda.” Noelle curled onto her side, listening to the rustle of bedclothes and the squeak of the mattress ropes as her cousin leaned to put out the light.

She tried to let her mind drift, but her thoughts kept going back to Thad. To his questions as he’d walked her to the door. He’d asked about her blindness and her parents and her unmarried state. She added one more silent prayer to the others she’d said, as she did every night before she fell asleep, kneeling beside her bed moments earlier. Please watch over him, Father. Please see to his happiness.

If a tear hit the pillow, then she was certain it was not hers. The storm droned and, finally warm enough, Noelle let sleep take her.



Thad put away the last of the dishes and hung the dish towel up to dry. “You all set for the night, Ma? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not one thing. You’ve been a great help. You’ve had a long day, too. You go put your feet up and read some of the newspaper with your brother.”

His older brother, Aiden, gave him a forbidding look over the top of the local paper.

“I’ll go on over to the shanty, then, where my books are. Good night.”

“I’ll make pancakes tomorrow morning just the way you like them.” Ida glowed at the prospect and untied her apron. “Good night, son.”

Aiden didn’t look up from his reading. “’Night.”

The clock was striking nine as he closed the back door behind him. He had to fight the blizzard across the yard and through the garden to his dark, frozen shanty. Typical Montana weather, snowing just when you thought there couldn’t be any more snow left in the skies.

He found his home dark and empty and cold. As he knelt to stir the banked embers, air fed and sparked the coals. They glowed dull red and bright orange and he carefully added coal until flames were licking higher and bright enough to cast eerie shadows around the tiny simple dwelling.

He left the door open and the draft out, keeping his eye on the fire as he pulled the match tin down from the high corner shelf. Ice shone on the nail heads in the walls and on the wooden surface of the table. The lantern was slick with ice when he went to light it.

This was not the Worthington manor. Then again, he wouldn’t want it to be. He hooked his boot beneath the rung of his chair and gave it a tug. Noelle was as unwelcome in his thoughts as the bright red hatbox on his corner shelf.

Just showed that what he’d come to believe in the last five years was true. The good Lord had better things to do than to watch over an average working man like him.

The shanty was warmer, so he closed the stove door and drew his Shakespeare volume down from the bookshelf. While he read of lives and love torn apart for the better part of two hours, Noelle was never far from his thoughts. He knew she never would be again.

When the shelf clock struck ten, he closed the book and got ready for bed. He shivered beneath the covers trying to get warm, and he prayed for her as he did every night. As he had for the last five years.




Chapter Three


“Three whole days trapped in this house by that blizzard.” Aunt Henrietta bored through the parlor like a locomotive on a downhill slope. Crystal lamp shades trembled on their bases with a faint clink and clatter. “Three whole days I could have been sewing on Matilda’s new dress, and instead I had to spend them in idleness.”

“Well, not in complete idleness,” Noelle couldn’t resist pointing out as she paused in her crocheting to count the stitches with her fingertips. “You spent a lot of time composing letters to the local newspaper and to our territorial lawmakers.”

“I hardly expect them to listen to a woman.” There was a thwack, thwack as Henrietta plumped one of the decorative pillows on her best sofa. “But I will have them know what a danger that contraption is. What newfangled invention will they think up next? I shudder to think of it.”

“Well, you should,” Noelle said as kindly as she could. “With that dangerous contraption on the loose, do you think we ought to risk another trip to town?”

“It gives me pause.” Henrietta moved on to pummel another pillow on Uncle Robert’s favorite chair. “I must post these letters of complaint immediately. Noelle, I am sure, poor dear, you are frightened beyond imagining. Perhaps you ought to stay home with Matilda. No sense the two of you endangering your lives. I shall be fine.”

Across the hearth from her, Noelle could hear Matilda struggling to hold back a giggle.

“I’ll come with you. I’d like the fresh air.” Noelle gathered her courage. Driving was a fact of life. She couldn’t stay afraid of one thing, because she’d learned the hard way that fear easily became a habit. It had nearly consumed her after she’d first gone blind.

“No, I won’t risk it.” There was that smile in Henrietta’s voice again. “Although my trusty mare is now reshod, so we shall not have to take that wild gelding, there is no telling what peril we could meet with.”

“If that’s true, then I must come, or I’ll sit here worrying over you the entire time you’re gone.”

“You are a sweetheart.” Henrietta blew a loud kiss across the room. “Now then, I’ve got my reticule. It’s a shame about your new winter hat. Perhaps we can find another.”

“The one I have is serviceable enough.” Noelle carefully anchored her needle in her lacework, so she wouldn’t lose any stitches or her place in the pattern, and folded it into the basket beside her chair. The floorboards squeaked beneath her weight as she stood.

“Maybe you’ll catch word of the dressmaker’s nephew,” Matilda whispered, sounding a little breathless and dreamy. Perhaps she wasn’t aware that her affections for the handsome teamster weren’t well hidden. “Or, maybe you’ll happen into the stranger’s path again. If he’s new to town—Mama didn’t recognize him and you know she makes it her business to know everyone—then perhaps he’s looking to settle down. Homestead. Marry. He did rescue you.”

“He stopped a runaway horse, it was nothing personal. Besides, he’s probably already settled down with a wife and kids at home.” But Thad married? She couldn’t imagine it. She told herself it wasn’t bittersweetness that stung her like an angry hornet as she crossed the room. Because she was steeled to the truth in life. It was best to be practical. She almost said so to Matilda but held back the words.

Once, like her cousin, she’d been young and filling her hope chest with embroidered pillow slips and a girl’s dreams. Maybe that was a part of the way life went. Maybe she would be a different woman if she’d been able to hold on to some of those dreams, or at least the belief in them. She reached for her cloak on the third peg of the coat tree.

“Goodness! I’ve never seen such poor manners!” Henrietta burst out and threw open the door so hard, it banged against the stopper. “You! Young man! Where do you think you’re going? You get back here and do this properly.”

Thad. Noelle knew it was him. Somehow, she knew.

“Uh, I didn’t want to disturb, ma’am.” His baritone sounded friendly and uncertain and manly all at once. “It’s too early to call, but I was on my way to town and didn’t want to make a second trip to drop this by.”

“Still, you ran off before we could properly thank you the other evening.”

“There was a blizzard raging, ma’am. I had livestock I had to get back to. The storm was growing worse by the second.”

He sounded flustered. She really shouldn’t take any pleasure in that. If only she could draw up enough bitterness toward him—but now that he was here she realized that she couldn’t.

“I’ll have to forgive you, young man, seeing as I am standing here alive and well to scold you, because of you.” Henrietta’s voice smiled again. “Are you coming in?”

“I, uh, was planning to get on with my errands.”

Noelle could feel his gaze on her like the crisp cold sunshine slanting through the open door. She wanted to say his name, to let him know she had figured out who he was and that he couldn’t hide behind her blindness any longer. She also wanted to hide behind it, too. It made no sense, either, but it was how she felt.

Maybe it was easier to let him go back to his life, and let it be as if their paths had never crossed. What good could come of acknowledging him? What good could come from not?

Henrietta persisted. “We are on our way to town, too, but I’m willing to put aside my pressing concerns to thank you properly. You should come in. I’ll have the maid serve hot tea and you may meet my oldest daughter.”

“Uh, no thank you, ma’am.” Thad scooped up the box and package he’d left on the swept-clean porch. “I found these in the road on my way out the other night.”

“Oh, the new fabric. And, Noelle, your hat. How good of you to bring them. And to think we thought we’d lost these forever. It wasn’t a tragedy, mind you, but a bother to have to go back to town and risk whatever peril would befall us this time around. Bless you for sparing us that.”

“No trouble at all, ma’am.” Thad wasn’t sure what to make of this woman who stood as straight as a fence post and had the air of an army general, but there was one thing he did recognize. The way she was sizing him up and down as a husband candidate. He could spot a matchmaking mama a mile away. This one was so eager, she was giving off steam.

Or, he thought, maybe that was from his near state of hyperventilation. He was no good at social calls. “I’m more at home in a roundup, ma’am, or riding a trail. I don’t get invited into parlors much.”

“Then you’re not married.” She sounded real happy about that.

“No.” He reckoned she would be glad to help him remedy that, so he backed up a few steps doing his best to escape while he could. Dragging his gaze from Noelle, who looked even lovelier in the soft lamplight. He didn’t want to bring her more pain. Best just to leave. “Well, I’ve got to be on my way. Nice seein’ you again, ma’am.”

“Soooo,” she dragged the word out thoughtfully. “You’re not married. We have not been properly introduced. I’m Henrietta Worthington, that is my lovely daughter, Matilda, in the parlor and you already know my niece, Noelle.”

“Yes. Good to meet you, miss.” Tongue-tied, he tipped his hat, backing away, avoiding looking at Noelle again. The frozen tundra of his heart remained solid. In place. It was probably best if he didn’t notice how her apple-green dress brought out the emerald flawlessness of her eyes and emphasized the creamy complexion of her heart-shaped face. Or how the dark hints of red in her chestnut hair gleamed in the firelight from the hearth.

No, it was best not to notice all that. Which was why he’d planned on leaving the goods on the front step and riding away without announcing himself. Too bad it hadn’t turned out that way. He didn’t know how, but he had to disappear from Noelle’s life the way he’d come into it. He hadn’t forgotten that he’d been the one to leave her waiting to elope with him.

“Let him go, Aunt.” Noelle looked at him with a quiet, confident air as if she saw him perfectly. Her gently chiseled chin hitched up a notch. “I’m sure you have Mr. McKaslin trembling in his boots at the thought of being alone with so many eligible young ladies.”

So, he hadn’t been as nameless as he’d hoped. She had recognized him. Don’t let that affect you, man, he told himself, but it was impossible. He’d hoped to spare her this, nothing could come of digging up the past, rehashing things that could not be fixed. They were both changed people now. Strangers.

Why, then, was the small flame of tenderness in his chest struggling to life again? It was tenderness in a distant sort of way, in a wish-her-well sort of way. It could never be anything more. He wouldn’t let it be.

All he had to do was to look around. When he’d been here before, a blizzard’s heavy downpour had cut off his view of this grand home, the elaborate spread, the plentiful fields that would yield quality wheat. Such a place could not compete with the claim shanty he lived in now, behind his brother’s modest home. Such a place could not compete with the land he planned to buy—when he found the right place that he could afford, that is.

No, there was no storm now to hide the differences between him and Noelle. The differences, which had always separated them, always would.

Henrietta Worthington gasped. “Noelle! Shame on you. You’ve known who this man is this entire time? Why haven’t you said anything? And why don’t we know this friend of yours? Come in—”

“He is no friend of mine. Not anymore.” She cut off her aunt with her gentle alto, giving no real hint of the emotion beneath.

Anger? Bitterness? Or was it nothing at all? Probably the latter, Thad realized. Lost love first left hurt and anger in its wake, then bitterness, and finally it was forever gone, leaving not so much as ashes to show for it or an empty place for all the space and power it had taken over one’s heart.

Proof that love was simply a dream, not real or lasting at all.

“I’d best be going.” He gave Noelle one last look. Figured this would be the last time they would come face-to-face. He didn’t intend to spend much time on this side of the county. He didn’t intend to play with fire; he’d only get burned if he tried. He knew that for certain. All he had to do was gauge it by the narrowing of the aunt’s gaze, as if she were taking his true measure.

And Noelle, what would she see in him now if she had her sight? Probably the man who sweet-talked her out of one side of his mouth and lied to her out of the other.

He took a step back, already gone at heart. “Not that it’s my business, Mrs. Worthington, but don’t go driving that black gelding again. He’s no lady’s horse. It’s not worth your lives if he bolts a second time.”

It was Noelle who answered, who’d stepped into the threshold with her wool cloak folded over one arm, staring directly at him. “That sounds as if you care, and how can that be?”

“My caring was never in question.” He took another step back and another. “I’ll always want the best for you. Take good care of yourself, darlin’.”

“I’m not your darling.” She tilted her head a bit to listen as he eased down the steps. “Goodbye.”

His steady gait was answer enough, ringing against the board steps and then the bricks and the hard-packed snow. She felt the bite of the cold wind and something worse. What could have been. Thad was a lost path that would be forever unknown, thank the Lord. She thought of all the reasons why that was a good thing, but his words haunted her. Was he simply saying the easiest thing, or part of the truth, or was there more truth to tell?

She told herself she wasn’t curious. Truly. She didn’t want to know the man he’d become. So why did she wait until she heard the creak of a saddle and the faint jangle of a bridle, a horse sidestepping on the icy crust of deep snow before she stepped back into the warmth and closed the door?

“Noelle Elizabeth Kramer!” Henrietta burst out. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew that man?”

“I don’t. Not any longer. That’s simply the truth.” Why did she feel emptier as she hung her coat back on the tree? “I knew Thad long ago before, from my school days. As it turned out, I did not know him very well at all.”

Henrietta fell uncharacteristically silent, and Noelle wondered if her aunt was compiling a list of questions on the man’s character and wealth. Which would be completely expected, but Thad was bound to be a disappointment to her aunt’s high standards for an acceptable beau for one of her daughters.

From the corner of the parlor, Matilda gasped. “Do you mean he once courted you?”

“No, there was no courtship.” No official one. Why it shamed her now, she couldn’t begin to explain. It had all seemed terribly romantic to a sixteen-year-old girl with stars in her eyes and fairy tales in her head, to secretly meet her beloved.

Oh, it had been terribly innocent; Thad had been respectful and a complete gentleman, had never dared to kiss her even after he’d proposed to her. But now, looking back with disillusionment that had forever shattered those fairy tales and dimmed the stars, she could see a different motive. Not a romantic one, but a less than noble one. He’d courted her behind her parents’ backs, purposefully fooling them, and for what?

In the end, he’d chosen to run instead of marry. In the end, if there had been any truth to his courtship, then his affection for her had paled next to the strength of his fear. At least, that was the way she’d rationalized it. That’s why his words were haunting her. My caring was never in question.

Perhaps his caring had been only that. Caring and not the strong, true love she’d felt for him. Either way, it hardly mattered now. She knew his true measure beneath the handsome charm and solid-appearing values. Thad McKaslin was not a man of his word. He was a coward. A man who ran instead of stayed.

“What about his family? Does he own property?” Henrietta persisted. “That’s a fine young man. And handsome. Don’t you think, Matilda? Noelle, you must tell me what you know about him. Here’s your cloak. We’re still attending to our errands in town. I’ll not be put off my cause, you know.”

Noelle fumbled with the garment Henrietta pressed into her hands. Certainly she knew that; why had she rehung her cloak in the first place? It simply went to show how tangled up her emotions were. A mess of them, threads of old hurt and confusion and the sharp tang of lost love were as hopelessly knotted. “I’m afraid I know very little about Mr. McKaslin. He left town long ago. I never knew what became of him. I never cared to.”

After she’d finally accepted that he’d broken his vow to her. That he’d left her waiting for a promise he’d never meant to keep.

“Perhaps he left to make his fortune.” There was the rustle of wool as Henrietta slipped into her coat. “Perhaps he has very respectable family back East.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Noelle lost count of her steps and had to reorient herself. Three more steps and she was at the door. The handle felt warm from the radiant heat of the fireplace, which was blazing on this frigid, late-winter morning—like her emotional tie to Thad. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t depend on Thad McKaslin as a reliable kind of man.”

When she stepped outside, the still morning air seemed to wait expectantly, as if some wonderful thing were about to happen. But what? She lived a quiet life teaching piano and crocheting and sewing for her five cousins’ hope chests. The days, while happy, were predictable and routine. Why did it feel as if something was about to change?

Simply her wishful thinking, no doubt. Before she’d lost her sight, she had a love for romantic novels. Or, she reasoned, maybe spring really was right around the corner. It was, after all, late January. A month and a few weeks more and March would be storming in. It had been her father’s favorite time of the year.

Her father. She missed him so strongly, it was like taking an ax to her midsection. She gripped the rail and froze a moment, drawing in the fresh, icy air. He’d been at her side when she finally accepted that Thad had abandoned her. He’d run away from marrying her. After she confessed, her father had comforted her and reassured her as she cried for the pieces of her shattered heart and broken dreams. Only the death of her parents had hurt with that same keen-edged grief.

I miss you, Papa. She felt the lonesomeness for him as solidly as the boards at her feet. Her knees felt weak as she tripped down the steps. Thad had brought all this up. Simply waltzing into her home, pretending he was such a good dependable man. Why the pretense? She already knew the kind of man he was.

An opportunist, her father had said to her, kindly, while she’d sobbed. She remembered how her mother had come into her room with a steaming pot of tea for all of them. She sure ached for her parents’ comfort, their company, everything. They had held her up after her innocent illusions had been so thoroughly destroyed.

If they were still alive, they would be the first to reassure her and to send Thaddeus McKaslin back on his way to wherever it was he’d run off to. Good riddance.

But as she reached the brick walk, she heard the low, deep-throated nicker of a horse’s greeting and the chink of steeled shoes shifting in the ice-crusted snow. Was it Thad’s horse? Was he still here? And why was she allowing herself to be so upset by him that she hadn’t paid enough attention to remember if she’d distinctly heard him riding away or not?

The horse’s bridle jingled and she could hear him take a step her way. She held out her hand and the steel-shod hooves padded closer. This time the low nicker was accompanied by the radiant warmth of a horse’s big body, and the tickle of whiskers against her fingertips warned her a second before the horse scented her palm and rubbed against her.

Oh, she loved horses. She cherished the warm-silk feel of his muzzle and stroked the animal’s nose.

“You are a handsome one,” she said, running her fingers over the length of his nose to his forelock. He snorted as if in answer and pressed into her touch. Joy, warm and quiet, flowed through her. “I miss riding the most but you’ll just keep that secret, right? My aunt does not approve of women horseback riding, even sidesaddle.”

The horse seemed likewise offended as he snorted and leaned in, lowering his head to give her better access; at least that’s how she chose to think of it. “It’s a pleasure to be with a well-behaved horse. That’s not usual around here now that my uncle has—”

An angry, buglelike whinny shattered the morning’s peace. Noelle spun toward the sound—the stable. That new stallion of Uncle Robert’s was so spirited, he was dangerous. “—has decided he’s a horseman,” she finished.

Please, don’t let my uncle get hurt, Lord. She took a step off the brick walk and stopped, unsure of the uneven drifts of snow that would be no challenge if she could see them. Not that she could help if there was a problem, but she wanted to help. Robert knew next to nothing about horses, although he was certain he knew everything, the poor, dear, misguided man. Perhaps that’s where Thad was, giving her uncle a hand and a word of advice. Robert needed it.

The front door slammed shut and Henrietta barreled down the steps with the speed of a tornado. “Where is my horse? Why hasn’t Robert brought out Miss Bradshaw?”

“I don’t know why your mare is not hitched up yet. It sounds as if he’s having problems with the stallion again.”

“The stallion? What about my mare? He’d best not even contemplate the possibility of my driving to town behind that—that creature! As if that new gelding hadn’t been bad enough of an experience. We shall meet peril for certain. Wait here, dear.” Henrietta tromped by on the walk, her shoes striking against the brick and then muffled by the snow.

Noelle imagined her aunt lifting her skirts and wading through the snowdrifts like a Viking conquering the fjords. Since she had to stand alone in the cold, she may as well get better acquainted with Thad’s horse. As if the horse agreed, his bridle bit jingled—perhaps he was shaking his head—and then he nosed her hand for more affection.

How could she resist? She savored the little joys of it. The alive feeling of the warm, velvet coat. The rhythmic breathing hot against her hand. The ticklish muzzle whiskers. The heart of the horse as he politely lipped at the pocket of her cloak. She liked him; it was hard not to. Once, in simpler times, she had dreams of horses and living all her life with them—and Thad.

Thad. At least she didn’t have to worry about him lingering around, or coming back into her life to stay. His leaving was a certainty. She ran her fingers through the horse’s coarse forelock. What was keeping Henrietta’s sleigh?




Chapter Four


Seeing her haloed by the frozen mist and chatting with his horse was like being kicked by a bull. He’d been kicked several times, so he knew exactly how it felt. The sight of her knocked the wind from his chest. She looked like his dreams. She looked like his idea of heaven. Always had. Always would.

“So, McKaslin,” Robert Worthington said from the finely built stable’s main aisle where he fastened the last buckle on a docile mare’s harness. “What do you think of my fine purchase in that stall over there?”

Thad looked up and down the aisle; only a few stalls were occupied and one by a white horse showing his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to compliment the ill-tempered colt. The scent of newly cut wood and fresh shavings at his feet told him this enterprise of Worthington’s was brand-new.

Noelle’s aunt marched into sight. “Is that fine purchase the reason my sleigh is not ready? Poor Noelle is out there half-frozen in this cold. She’s fragile, you know that.”

“I know, dear. Just had a bit of a problem is all. McKaslin gave me a hand.”

“A problem? It looks like a wild bull got loose in this stable—”

Noelle. Thad’s attention swung back to her and stayed there. She was petting Sunny. The mustang was no fool. He was nosing her hand affectionately, looking as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to win a smile from her. Poor fella. Thad knew how he felt. He’d once felt the same way.

Seeing her again—Whew. He froze in place. He’d wanted to avoid her this morning so he wouldn’t cause her any pain, but now he realized he wasn’t as tough as he liked to think.

He could resist making a mistake like her again, but what he couldn’t seem to do was to stop the pain. Why, it was impossible to forget how his love for her had once filled his spirit the way a rising sun filled the hollows of a mountain’s peak.

Time to leave, man. He nodded in Worthington’s direction. “Good luck with that wild boy of yours.”

Robert looked up from rechecking the bridle buckles and grinned. “You say that like you think I need good luck.”

I think you’re gonna need more than that. Thad glanced at the big white stallion, teeth bared and ears plastered flat against his head, and was glad he didn’t have to deal with that animal. “I hope you got a good price for him.”

“Cost me a pretty penny.”

That’s what Thad was afraid of. “I meant a low price, sir.”

“Well now, he’s got excellent confirmation. And his pedigree. Why, it’s about as impressive as it can be.”

“I’m not about to argue with you, but personally I like a horse who isn’t keen on biting me when I get anywhere near him.” Thad tipped his hat. “Good day to you, ma’am.”

“Uh, well, thank you, young man.” With the ferocity of an army general the fine lady squinted her eyes and looked him up and down. “Do you have relatives up north?”

“I believe so. My father’s side of the family.”

“Very well. It showed a fair amount of character to deliver our lost packages. You went out of your way when you didn’t need to.”

“I just did what anyone would do.” He took a step away before she could invite him back into the parlor for supper or some such nonsense. He didn’t figure that she’d want much to do with him if she knew the truth about the way he’d treated Noelle. “Again, good luck, Mr. Worthington. You be careful when you’re handling that stallion.”

“I intend to.” Robert straightened and took the mare by the bit to lead her, but seemed frozen in midstep. He glanced through the wide, open double doors to the picture Noelle made, befriending the gold-and-white mustang. “You wouldn’t know a good horseman you could recommend to me, would you? I could use some help around here.”

“I, uh—” Me. He clamped his mouth shut before the words could escape. He needed a job, but not that bad. Besides, Noelle wouldn’t like that idea. And the notion of facing who he was every day—the man she made him remember. The man she saw as a coward. That’s what he felt like, even though he knew it wasn’t true.

Maybe Noelle’s opinion of him meant more than he’d ever thought. He steeled his chest and took a step back, staring hard at the ground, at his scuffed boots, anywhere but where she stood, framed in silver light. “I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone.”

He left the husband and wife to their chatter, keeping his eyes low, feeling the ache of regret tug at him. There she was. He could sense her somehow like warmth on a spring breeze. What did he do? Walk up to her and make pleasant conversation? He didn’t reckon she wanted that. He didn’t, either.

The trick was to keep control of that spark of caring in his heart. Keep it small and eventually it would snuff right out. That was his hope anyway.

She must have heard him coming because she turned toward him. There was no smile on her face and she stood in shadow. He’d always remembered Noelle as she’d been when he’d left her—she’d never aged or changed for him in memory, but time changed everyone.

He saw that now. The way hard loss and sorrow had changed the shape of her mouth and eyes, no longer wide with an easy, assumed happiness. Her face was as soft as a rose blossom still, but leaner. Time and maturity had sharpened her high cheekbones. Her emerald-green eyes, still so lovely, did not twinkle and smile at him with good humor, the way they once had. The way they never would again.

She was lovelier than ever, but changed. It was the change now he saw, not the similarities to the young woman he remembered.

“You have a very polite buddy,” she said gently, politely. “Unlike my poor uncle’s horse.”

“Sunny’s the best. I’m lucky to have him.” He didn’t bother to hide the affection he felt. “Pardon me, your uncle seems like a fine man but not that good with horses. I’m worried about that stallion in there.”

“As am I. My uncle is inexperienced with horse handling. He’s city raised.” She turned her attention back to Sunny, who didn’t seem to mind more petting a bit. “My aunt is not pleased with this notion of his to quit the bank and realize his dream of raising horses.”

“Pleased? Nah. It’s worse than that. When I left, she was lighting into him real good.” Thad came close to reach for the reins. “Doesn’t a family like this have hired stable help?”

“We’re between hands right now. Henrietta disapproved of the last one’s interest in one of her daughters—my cousins. Two are in town at school, and two more were sent away to finishing school. That’s where Angelina will be next year, especially if another stable boy becomes interested in her again.”

“Of course. I suppose a family has to be careful of its reputation.”

“My aunt seems to think so. Listening to her, it would be impossible to find anyone good enough for her daughters to marry.” Noelle kept a careful lid on her heart. Hearing the creak of the saddle and the jingle of the bridle as he obviously gathered the reins so he could mount up, she stepped back so he could leave. Good. She didn’t have anything to say to him that hadn’t already been said.

He was the one who seemed to be lingering. “Well, now, I’d better get along.”

“Yes.”

Perhaps she’d answered too quickly. Perhaps that single word had been too sharp. She hadn’t meant it to be, but it was too late to change the awkward silence that settled between them like the frigid air. She was sorry about that. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, don’t.” He stopped her with a hand to her arm. “You have every right to hate me.”

She didn’t hate him, but she couldn’t seem to correct him, either. His touch made a sweet, heartfelt power sweep through her, and it was unsettling. In memory came the summer’s heat beating on her sunbonnet, casting a blue shade from the bonnet’s brim, the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls and ripening wild grasses, and the pleasantly rough texture of Thad’s large hand engulfing hers. Grass crushed beneath her summer shoes as they left their picnic basket and strolled near the river’s edge.

The memory of color and shape and sight came, too. She remembered the way Thad’s thick, collar-length hair shone blue-black with the sunlight on it. His eyes were the honest blue of the Montana sky before sunset. She could see again the shape of his sunbrowned, handsome face, rugged with high slashing cheekbones and a strong blade of a nose. His jaw had been cut square and stubbornly; she supposed it still was.

The horse—Sunny—gave a low nicker of complaint. Thad’s hand fell away from her arm, the bridle jingled and Thad spoke. “Looks like your horse and sleigh are ready to go.”

The past spiraled away, bringing her solidly into the present with not even the memories of images and color before her eyes.

In darkness, she stood shivering in the cold, listening to the clip-clop of the mare, Miss Bradshaw’s gait and the faint hush of the sleigh’s runners on the icy crust of snow. Hurt rose up like a cold cutting fog until it was all she could feel.

As if from a great distance she heard her aunt and uncle saying goodbye to Thad, she heard the beat of his steeled horseshoes on the icy ground and felt the tears of the girl she’d used to be, the girl who believed in love and in the goodness of the man who was riding away from her. Even now.

Please let him move on, Lord, she prayed as Henrietta’s no-nonsense gait pounded in her direction. Please take this pain from my heart.

She didn’t want to feel, especially after all this time, the ragged pieces of her spirit broken. She’d waited at the window for Thad watching the moon rise and the stars wheel across the sky. She stood waiting, shivering as the September night turned bitterly cold. Still she’d waited, believing in the goodness of the man she loved—a goodness that didn’t, apparently, exist. She’d believed in a love that wasn’t true.

Now, five years later, she felt the burn of that old heartache and gulped hard to keep it buried. The pieces of that shattered love still cut like tiny shards of sharp glass.

At least I know he will move on, she thought. Please, Lord, let that be soon.

Her world was dark and pragmatic. She set her chin, gathered herself and turned toward her aunt’s approaching steps. “You have your letter? I wouldn’t want you to face such a perilous trip to town and realize you’d left the letter behind.”

“Exactly.” Henrietta sounded cheerful and it was no trouble at all to imagine her delighting in the prospect of more drama. There was a rustle and shuffle as she gathered her skirts. “I certainly pray we shall not run into any further trouble. Now that Robert has agreed to take that beast of a runaway to the sale this very day, I am most relieved.”

“Yes, but think of whoever buys the gelding,” Noelle pointed out, struggling to put a smile on her face, as Robert took her elbow and helped her into the sleigh. “There is more peril awaiting that unsuspecting buyer.”

Robert chuckled, warm and deep, a sure sign he was amused. “I will make it clear the gelding has certain training problems, so that we won’t have that on our consciences.”

“Good.” Noelle patted his hand before she let him go. “Thank you for that. I don’t want anyone to get hurt the way—” she swallowed hard, forcing the past back where it couldn’t hurt her “—we almost did.”

“And I’ll drive you two lovely ladies to town myself, just to make sure there are no more mishaps.”

Henrietta’s humph of disapproval was loud enough to disturb the placid Miss Bradshaw. The mare sidestepped in her traces with a quick clip-clip on the ice. “Robert, you’ll not hitch that beast to this vehicle!”

“Now, my dear, I’ll just tie him behind the sleigh. There will be not a single thing to worry about.”

“We shall see when we get safely to town. If we get safely to town.” Henrietta gave the lap blanket a sound snap, shaking it out.

Noelle felt the rasp of the blanket fall across her knees. Whatever her losses and lessons in her life, she was so grateful for her wonderful aunt and uncle. Their love, their acceptance and their funny ways reminded her of her own parents. She hooked her arm through Henrietta’s and held on tight.



By noontime, the freezing fog had been blown apart by a cruel north wind bringing with it the look of snow. Thad reckoned the growing storm cloud in the northeast might bring another whiteout. With the responsibilities at the home place partly his now, too, Thad worried about the livestock. He blew out a breath, knuckled his hat back and glanced around the busy town street.

Angel Falls was still a small town by most standards, but it had grown in the time he’d been away. There were more shops, and the look of the street was fancier, as if the whole place, despite the current recession, was managing to thrive. Fancy ribbons brightened up one window, colorful ladies’ slippers another, even here at the far end of Second Street, making him feel out of place as he looked for the land office. But he did spot a bookstore. He’d have to go in there another time.

Was he on the right side of the street? He tugged the piece of paper from his trouser pocket and squinted at the address Aiden had scribbled down for him. A woman’s gruff voice lifted slightly above the drone of noise on the street. A familiar voice.

“I shall never become accustomed to this weather!” Mrs. Worthington was climbing out of their sleigh a good half-dozen shops up ahead. “You’re likely to freeze sitting still in this wind. You must come in, dear.”

“I have a difficult time in a crowded place. No, I’d best stay here and try not to freeze in the wind.” There was a note of humor to Noelle’s voice.

A note that was like an arrow to his heart. Just a hint of humor, but without the brightness and the gentle trill of laughter he remembered so well. They truly were strangers, he reminded himself, surprised how much losing the last little piece of Noelle—the way he’d kept her in memory—hurt. So much for the notion of love. Not only was it ashes, but even long after the ashes had scattered, blown into nothing by the wind, the scar from the burn remained.

Yes. He rubbed at the center of his chest with the heel of his hand. The burn remained.

Mrs. Worthington hadn’t see him; her back was to him as she marched along the boardwalk and disappeared into a doorway. He stared at the numbers written on the paper. Sure enough, he’d have to head in Noelle’s direction. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her more. Chances were he could walk right by her without her knowing, since she could not see him. The boardwalks were fairly busy, and the noise from the street would disguise him well enough.

He headed on in her direction. It was best not to say howdy to her, or the burn on his heart would start hurting fresh. He kept his gaze focused on the icy boardwalk ahead of him and did not look her way, but there she was in his side vision, alone and lovely and sitting in the cold, blind and alone. He had to fight the powerful urge to stop and stay with her, to watch over her until her aunt’s return.

She’s not your lookout, remember? Not when her father forced him out of town the way he did. Not when her father had threatened his family’s land. The trouble was, his heart didn’t seem to care about all those sensible arguments. His spark of caring remained. There was a brightness within him that remembered, that would always remember, the schoolgirl who’d laughed so easily, saw wonder and joy everywhere, hummed with every step she took and was full of love and dreams.

Maybe his notion of love being nothing at all was a poor one, when put to the test. Seeing Noelle made his heart cinch up tight. Did she still matter to him?

The embittered part of him wanted to say no. No a thousand times. But as a gust of wind hit him square in the chest, he had to admit the truth.

He’d gone through a lot of misery for her sake. He’d left home, his family and everything he’d ever known. He’d slept on hard ground in freezing weather and in mostly unheated bunkhouses come winter. He’d ridden hard from sunup until sundown in blazing summer heat long day after long day. He’d lived a life he did not like or want because somewhere beyond his unhappiness was her joy, bright and shining and everything she deserved.

Yep, a wise man would just keep on walking and not give her another thought. He forced his boots forward on the icy boardwalk and kept on going.

“Thad?” Her gentle voice said his name the way it always had.

He could tell himself he didn’t remember, that she was a stranger to him, that the past was past. It didn’t matter so much for deep down in his heart, he would always know her.

She turned toward him as if she saw him. Her sightless eyes looked at him but did not see him. He stopped in the middle of the boardwalk. “How did you know it was me?”

“I’d know your gait anywhere. Do you see my uncle? He’s at the horse sale.” She sounded hopeful.

She looked that way, too. She might not notice how easily her emotions played on her lovely face. He might not want to think about how easy it was for him to read her feelings. It always had been for him.

Aching at all the things that had changed between them, he leaned over the hitching post to peer down the alley. Robert Worthington in his fancy tailored suit stood out in the crowd of cowboys and ranchers. “He’s right ahead, but he’s looking at a half-crazed mare. Doesn’t he have any horse know-how at all?”

“My poor uncle means well, but he’s city born and bred. He’s spent his life reading books on wranglers and cowboys, so he has a lot of fictitious notions in his head.” Fondness shaped her soft face. “It’s been a lifelong dream of his to be a great horse trainer. The poor man has no notion of ranching or real experience handling horses.”

“Where does he hail from?”

“St. Louis.”

“Your parents came from here,” he remembered.

“Yes. When they passed away and I was so injured, Henrietta came straightaway. She took charge of everything until Robert could settle things enough at his work to come help. He took over Papa’s interest in the bank, started managing my investments, which I had inherited, and finally sold my family home.”

Her family home? It had been a mansion and not a home, but he didn’t comment on that. To her, it must have been jammed full of memories. “Was it too painful to live there, afterward?”

“Yes. You would know that about me.” There was no mistaking the sorrow shadowing her face. “Robert moved his whole family to Montana Territory. He didn’t want to take me away from this country where I grew up.”

“You had to have been gravely injured.”

“Yes, at first, but then I began to recover. God spared me my life, and I am thankful. I have to believe He has some purpose for my life yet.”

“I’m sure of that, Noelle.” He sounded so sincere, it was impossible not to believe him, impossible not to be touched by that. He shook his head once and cleared his throat. “Well, now, this mare looks much more suitable for a lady’s driving horse.”

“Yes, that’s Miss Bradshaw. She’s very sensible.”

“So I see.” His step drummed closer. “Miss Bradshaw?”

“Henrietta doesn’t believe in calling a horse by his or her first name. She prefers a more formal relationship.”

“Best not tell her all the nights I slept beside my horse.”

“Best not.” Noelle couldn’t think of more to say; at least more that she wanted to. She wanted to be unaffected, beyond the pain of her schoolgirl’s broken heart and above holding on to old anger. She’d healed from his betrayal and moved on, truly. But there, beneath the lid she kept on her heart was something more devastating than anger. She didn’t know how to fill the silence between them.

And what a silence it was. Five long years of silence. She didn’t know how to break it. She was fairly sure she didn’t want to. It wasn’t easy holding back the memories of how wrong she’d been about him, about love.

“McKaslin!” Robert’s bass boomed cheerfully above the noise and motion on the street. His boots drummed quickly as if he were in grand spirits. “Glad to see you’re still here. I was just telling my wife how well you handled that stallion. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It was nothing. I’ve been around horses all my life, is all.” A note of humility deepened his baritone.

Noelle knew he was being modest; Thad had a way with horses and an understanding of them she’d always thought was a divine blessing.

Not that it was her business anymore. She carefully drew the lap blanket more tightly around her, leaning to listen. Even when she told herself she shouldn’t want to hear. His voice was deeper, manlier and rang with integrity, enticing a long-forgotten part of her to want to believe in him again. But she could not let down the guards on her heart.

“Say, Thad,” Robert boomed out jovially, “you’re good with horses. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for work?”

Noelle’s heart forgot to beat. No, her uncle couldn’t be about to hire Thad. No, that was simply not possible—

“Rob!” Henrietta scolded above the sudden staccato of her steps. “How can you offer Mr. McKaslin a job? It’s as if he isn’t successful in his own right.”

Noelle could hardly hear anything above the panicked rush in her ears. Surely, Thad would not accept Robert’s offer. He had no interest in anything permanent, she was certain.

Thad’s friendly chuckle rumbled with amusement. “Pardon me, ma’am, but do I look successful to you? I’m a simple cowboy, nothing more.”

Noelle fisted her hands around the hem of the lap blanket. A simple cowboy? He had never been that.

“You can’t fool me, son,” Robert answered. “You are a born horseman. I’ve never seen anyone calm down a horse as fast as you calmed the stallion this morning in my stable. You must make your living training horses.”

Noelle felt as cold as the rising wind as she waited for Thad’s answer, although her heartbeat filled her ears so loudly, she didn’t know if she would be able to hear him when he answered. She turned toward where he’d been standing on the boardwalk and wished she wasn’t wondering. Wished she didn’t want to know the pieces of his life and if he’d found his dream without her.

“No, sir,” Thad said at last, his baritone heavy with regret. “I’ve been making my way as a drover. Riding cattle is hard work but it pays well enough.”

“Cattle!” There was no mistaking the excitement in Robert’s voice.

Noelle gulped in a bite of air, feeling oddly lost. She wasn’t sure if it was worse to know Thad hadn’t lived out his dreams than hoping he’d found them without her.

“I imagine that’s a hard life, living on the trail,” Robert went on to say. “Imagine you’ve gained a lot of experience.”

“Yes, sir. I’m a good all-around man. I know my way around a cattle ranch. I mostly rode cattle. Spent March through October in the saddle on the trail.”

She hadn’t known she was holding her breath until the air rushed out of her lungs. Riding cattle? Was that what he left her for? To live a cowboy’s life wandering from job to job far away from his responsibilities to his family and his promises to her?

Maybe she hadn’t forgiven him as much as she’d thought. Shame filled her. There was this hardness in her heart she hadn’t realized was there. She shivered beneath the layers of wool and flannel she wore. Determined, she tucked the sheepskin-lined robe covering her lap neatly around her and anchored it so the wind wouldn’t creep beneath it. It didn’t help. She still felt as cold as a mountain glacier.

Thad’s words, calmly spoken, continued to ring in her ear. “Yes, I did like it very much. It’s a tough life. Not as romantic as the dime novels make it seem.”

“I should think not!” Henrietta humphed as she marched up to the sleigh, her steps quick and confident. “Not at all a preferable livelihood.”

Judging by her uncle’s chuckle, he was completely amused. “I keep telling my wife that it’s the mark of a man how he handles hardship, not what he does for a living.”

“Robert! You know that I don’t completely disagree with you.” By the sound of her voice, half shocked and half smiling, Henrietta was probably shaking her head fondly at her husband.

She could also imagine Thad standing quietly, hands on his hips, in that patient way of his.

“Riding cattle.” Robert sounded impressed. “Now, that’s excitement. Is it like they say? Singing the cattle to sleep and using your saddle for a pillow?”

“I mostly use my saddlebag, as it’s a might softer.” Thad’s baritone rang with an equal amusement.

That was the sound she recognized—the ring of Thad’s easy, warm, good humor. If she’d met him anywhere else, and not in a blizzard with fear thrumming in her ears, she would have recognized him no matter what.

“A saddlebag, eh? That doesn’t sound much better. I suppose it’s true what they say about the dust in the air and those long hot days.”

She waited for Thad’s answer, realizing that the lid on her heart was a little ajar. Had Thad found whatever he’d been looking for? Down deep, beyond her disillusion and her hurt, she truly hoped he had.

“Sir, that doesn’t begin to capture it. Hundred degrees in the shade, a herd of cattle, say anywhere from a hundred to a thousand kicking up dust, why, it makes a Montana blizzard look like a clear day.”

“That does not sound quite as thrilling. I imagine there’s a lot of gain to that lifestyle despite its hardships. Sleeping under the stars must be nice.”

“It surely does make for a good night’s sleep. Nothing like having the heavens and the wonder there for your roof.”





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