Книга - Patchwork Bride

Patchwork Bride
Jillian Hart


At last, Meredith Worthington is returning to Angel Falls, Montana. Now that she's escaped the matchmaking and scheming of her East Coast finishing school, she can follow her dream of becoming a teacher. And perhaps get to know Shane Connelly, the intriguing new wrangler on her father's ranch….Shane had a bellyful of "eligible ladies" back East. So he left them–and his high-society family–behind. Meredith reminds him of everything he'd like to forget, yet he can't resist her charm. But will love have time to blossom before she discovers the secret he's been hiding all along?









This was a Meredith that Shane had never seen before…


A bell jangled as she opened the store’s glass door, waltzing toward him like sunshine on the darkest of days. As her shoes tapped on the damp boardwalk, he launched off the seat and with a bow, held out his hand.

Meredith lifted a slender eyebrow, perhaps sensing his sarcasm. He could not stop the rolling crest of emotion threatening to take him over. The snow did not touch him, the wind did not chill him as she laid the palm of her hand softly against his. Time stopped, Shane’s soul stilled and her gaze found his.

Wide-eyed and startled as a doe by a hunter, she did not move. Nor did he. A second stretched into a moment without heartbeat or breath, and he felt as if eternity touched him….




JILLIAN HART


grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.




Patchwork Bride

Jillian Hart





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




A man’s heart plans his way,

but the Lord directs his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9




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

Chapter Nineteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Angel Falls, Montana Territory, April 1884

Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

With the crisp April wind in her hair, Meredith Worthington braced her hands on her hips and glared at the mud-caked fender of their ladies’ driving buggy. The vehicle was currently mired in the deep mud in the country road. Totally and impossibly stuck and she didn’t know what to do. How would they get home from school?

This had never happened when she was at her finishing school back east. Then again, she never would have been allowed to drive a horse and buggy along the busy city streets. A lady was expected to be driven, not to do anything as garish as handle the reins herself.

“This is a fine mess I’ve gotten us into,” she muttered, sloshing through the mud in her new shoes. “Me and my bright ideas.”

“You wanted to drive.” Her littlest sister rolled her eyes. “In fact, you insisted on it.”

“Don’t remind me.” Not a request she’d regretted because she’d been wanting permission to drive for a long while, but why did this happen on her first day? She stared at the axle nearly buried in mud. Who knew the mud puddle would be that deep?

“I bet you miss Boston now.” Wilhelmina, Minnie for short, hopped in the shallow mud at the shoulder of the road, making little splashes with her good shoes.

“Miss that place? Hardly. Finishing school was like a very comfortable, very pleasant prison.” Meredith puffed at a hunk of hair that had fallen down from her perfect chignon, but the stubborn curl tumbled right back into her eyes. Much better to be home in Montana, even if she had to figure a way out of the very mud her mother had warned her against.

She winced, already hearing the arguments. Her independent ways were not popular with her family. If she didn’t get the buggy home and soon, she feared she would not be allowed to drive ever again. And if she couldn’t drive, how would she secure employment and get herself to work every day? Her dreams may be as trapped as her buggy.

“A prison? I’m telling Mama you said that.”

“You will do no such thing,” she informed her sister, who squished around in the ankle-deep mud quite as if she liked it. “If you don’t stop playing and help me, we will be stuck here forever.”

“Or until it starts to rain.” Minnie looked up from making shoe prints in the soupy earth. “It looks like a storm is coming. With enough rain, the mud will thin down and we can get the wheels out.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. Stand here in the mud and rain for hours.” She tugged affectionately on Minnie’s sunbonnet brim. “Any excuse to stay out of doors, I suppose.”

“What? I like outside. I don’t know how I shall ever survive when Mama sends me away to school.” The girl wrinkled her freckled nose at the thought of the expensive and well-respected finishing school where two of their other sisters were currently attending. “Was it really like a prison? Is that why you don’t want to go back?”

“No, I just didn’t like feeling as if I were a prized filly being prepared for a contest. Everyone was set on getting married, as if that is all a girl can do.” Her parents said that an appropriate match was the most important thing a girl could accomplish, and sadly, her mother was bent on finding her a suitable husband.

Forget suitable and appropriate. She wanted true love in her life, the kind that surpassed reason, a riot in the heart and soul, an eternal flame of regard and feeling that outshone all else. That would not be easy to find.

The cool wind gusted, reminding her she was about as far away from her dream as a girl could get. She swiped the curl out of her eyes again. Those rain clouds definitely appeared foreboding. She may as well concentrate on the goals she could attain.

She braced her hands on the buggy’s muddy wheel well, ignored the muck that squished between her fingers and called out for Sweetie to get up.

“We are never going to budge it. Our horse isn’t strong enough. We ought to unhitch Sweetie and ride her home. We can get Papa and Eli, and they can come pull out the buggy.” Minnie grinned, proud of herself for solving their problem.

“Do you want to give Mama heart failure?” The girl, she feared, was a lost cause. “Our mother would never recover if her very proper daughters rode the countryside perched on the back of a horse for all to see.”

The old gray mare gave another valiant try. The wheels rocked just enough to give a girl hope, but they could not escape the bonds of mud. Exasperated, she blew the lock of hair out of her eyes again. “Minnie! Why aren’t you helping? Do you want to stand here all afternoon?”

“Look, I made a smiling face.” The girl grinned ear to ear, pleased with the imprint of eyes, nose and a curving mouth her shoes had made. “I don’t recognize those horses. Do you reckon that’s the new deputy? He looks in charge.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The two horse and riders.” Minnie pointed down the road.

Riders? Meredith peered over her shoulder, squinting through the weak shafts of disappearing sunlight. Sure enough, two riders ambled close on horseback, but her gaze found and stayed on only one of them. He wore a black Stetson, a black coat, denims and boots. Dark hair tumbled over his high forehead to frame blue eyes. Awareness crashed through her hard enough to wobble her knees. It was like she knew the man, as if she had known him somewhere before.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He tipped his hat, amusement curling up the corners of his mouth. “Looks like you have a problem.”

A problem. Meredith opened her mouth, but nothing happened. No words, not a sound, not even air. Her entire head had gone blank, as if she had forgotten every word in the entire English language. She straightened, the mud sucking at her shoes and clinging to her skirts, and swiped at that curl with one hand.

“Yeah, we’re stuck!” Minnie spoke up.

“So I see,” he drawled, just short of mocking, as he dismounted, his boots landing with a splatter in the shallow end of the mud hole. “April is going out like a lion. We’ve been battling hard rains all over the territory.”

“Where you are from?” They weren’t locals. Angel Falls was a small enough town that she would have seen him before. His was a face she would never forget. Was he passing through or had he come to work on the new railroad grade up north?

“I’m from Virginia.” Blue eyes twinkled handsomely as he plunged closer, disregarding the mud sticking to his boots. He gestured to the much older man still mounted behind him. “Braden is from Texas.”

“You’re both far from home.” A strange skitter of sensation traveled down her nape. One of warning, or of something else? It didn’t feel comfortable and she took a step back. Something felt out of place. Should she refuse his help?

He stalked closer, impressively strong. Even wearing a coat, he gave an impression of power and confidence. There was no mistaking he was a man who worked hard for his living. He had an edge to him. It was in the day’s growth shadowing his granite jaw and the sense of worldliness he carried easily on his wide shoulders.

“I’m Shane Connelly.” He tipped his black hat, revealing more of his face. What struck her most was the chiseled high cheekbones that gave him character. With his dark blue eyes, straight no-nonsense nose and hard slash of a mouth, he could have been a dime-book hero come to life. A down-on-his-luck man of principle who was capable of defeating any bad guy.

There she went, being far too fanciful again. The trouble was that she read too much. Was it her fault that men were better in books than in real life? He was obviously trouble on two feet, and she could well imagine what Mama would say if she were to learn she was accepting such a man’s help.

“I’m Minnie.” Her little sister spoke up, clearly interested by this turn of events. “Can you get our buggy out?”

“I plan to try.” He swaggered over to inspect the front wheels and as he bent, his coat shifted, revealing an inlaid silver belt buckle and a gun.

She gulped. He was armed, a rarity for those riding these peaceful country roads. Proof the man was not as civilized as seemed.

“You managed to get the wheels wedged in good.” He straightened, shooting her a breezy grin bracketed by dimples. “It might take some muscle to get this out. Good thing for you Braden and I came along.”

“I suppose so.” She took a step back, her pulse thudding in her ears as he approached. My, he was certainly tall and imposing. She bumped into the buggy’s fender. She wasn’t entirely sure she should let them stay. “Thank you for going to the trouble.”

“Oh, we don’t mind.” He went toward her like a predator scenting prey, his Stetson slanted at a jaunty angle, his chiseled jaw rock-solid. He didn’t blink. It didn’t seem as if he breathed.

“But I do.” If she was going to be a woman of independence, then she ought to solve the problem herself. After all, she intended to be driving her own buggy working for the Upriver School District this summer, God willing. She could not depend on a rider happening along to help her then, could she? No. Besides, she didn’t like the look of these two strangers. With their trail dust and unshaven jaws, they could be anyone—drifters, thieves, escaped convicts from the territorial prison.

Fine, they did not look that disreputable, but there was something amiss about Shane Connelly. “I’m not used to being beholden to strangers.”

“Then you might want to keep the buggy wheels up on the grass and out of the mud hole next time.”

“And risk turning over in the ditch?” As if she hadn’t thought of that for herself. She didn’t remember asking for his advice or for the way he bent to inspect the rigging. “I know how to drive.”

“I see that.” A friendly smile flirted along with his dimples. A hint of kindness, not meant to make her feel chastised or defensive.

She wanted to be defensive for some peculiar reason. “For your information, my cousin was blinded and her parents killed when their buggy overturned. I was trying to be prudent.”

“Then the mud was the right decision.” Good humor beamed across his granite face, softening the lean planes and hard angles and turning his eyes an arresting midnight blue.

“You have a smear on your face.”

“I do?” She gulped, watching as the distance between them began to vanish. He stopped a hand’s breadth from her. My, but he was close. As he unfolded a clean handkerchief from his pocket, time screeched to a halt. Something deep within her shouted to turn and flee while she could, but she did not move as the piece of muslin brushed against her cheek.

Should it surprise her that his touch was gentle? She’d never been this close to a man her parents did not know. Her cheek tingled from the dab and scrape of the cloth. He folded his crisp white handkerchief and rubbed again at her cheekbone, close enough that she could smell the rain on his coat. Near enough that she could see the individual stubbles of his unshaven jaw and the threads of gold in his breath-stealing blue eyes.

Should she be noticing such things? Aloof, he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and took several steps back. Now that he was not so near, the breathless feeling should go away, shouldn’t it? Oughtn’t her pulse rate return to normal?

“I had best see to your buggy, miss. You need me to carry you over to the grass?” His baritone held a smiling quality as he took another step back, his gaze never leaving her face.

An odd feeling, being peered at like that, as if she were something worthy to be looked at. Vaguely she remembered the buggy and her little sister somewhere nearby watching, cleared her throat and tried to do the same with her cluttered mind. “No, I’m not afraid of a little mud.”

“A little? You look like you were in a rolling contest with a pig and won. No offense, miss.”

“None taken.” Why was she laughing? She looked down helplessly at the drying mud on her light yellow silk overskirt. Mama would definitely get the vapors when she saw this. “I feel as if I should lend a hand. At this point, I cannot get any muddier.”

“Don’t be too sure.” He knuckled back his hat, revealing dark brown hair that was thick, untamed and a little too long for decent fashion. “I was wrong about you. At first look I mistook you for a vain, helpless miss, but you are clearly a country girl.”

“Surely I am at heart.” There was no way he could know how wrong he was. She worried that no matter how hard she tried to be otherwise, she would always be Robert and Henrietta Worthington’s daughter, expected one day to be the perfect wife living an impeccable life of giving parties, raising well-mannered children and upholding the family’s fine reputation. She feared her dreams of teaching children would never be realized.

“It’ll only take a moment to hitch up.” He whistled to his horse.

The wind gusted, batting the troubling lock of hair back into her eyes. She swiped at it, wondering how she must look standing in the mud with her hair a tumble and her skirts spattered enough to hide the intricate shirring and stitching and expensive satin hem. Easy to see how he could mistake her for a country girl, which she truly longed to be. Her friends, Fiona, Earlee and Kate, were country girls and some of the best friends a girl could have. She wanted nothing more than to be like them.

The spotted bay gelding trotted obediently forward, nose outstretched, nickering low in his throat in answer to his master. Shane took a moment to stroke his horse’s nose, and Meredith remembered his gentle touch. Another shiver slid down her spine imagining being taken up in his arms. If a girl were to lay her cheek against his broad chest, she might feel safe and sheltered. Maybe even treasured.

There she went, spinning daydreams again.

“Are you coming, Braden?” Shane knelt to squint at the buggy’s rigging, his horse nibbling at his hat brim.

The other man didn’t answer, only nudged his big black horse forward. This one appeared much older, his face weathered and not a hint of softness on his features. When he rode by Meredith, it was like an arctic wind blowing by, cold and impersonal. Definitely not a friendly man.

The first drops of rain pelted from the sky. They struck the ground like wet bullets, tapped on her bonnet and plinked in the enormous puddle at her feet. The prairie stretched around them to the horizon without more than a single barn in sight, one big curtain of rain. With no one else on the road, she suddenly felt vulnerable. A small hand crept into hers—Minnie’s.

“Do you reckon they are outlaws?” Her littlest sister’s whisper was incredulous, and her big blue eyes widened with excitement.

It was hard to tell the manner of man Shane Connelly was, and even harder to guess at the older man who was hitching the two horses alongside their gray mare. But Shane must have heard Minnie’s whisper, for he glanced over the wheel well and let his eyes twinkle at her. Humor danced in those dark blue depths and told her all she needed to know about the man.

“No, I reckon he’s a never-do-well with an appalling reputation,” Meredith answered wryly.

“True.” Shane’s gravelly tone deepened as he chuckled. “I am one sorry renegade.”

“Are you like Robin Hood?” Minnie boldly asked. “Do you help those down on their luck?”

“I have been known to aid a lovely country miss or two, if the peril is great.” When Shane rubbed a hand over his gelding’s muzzle, a softness came over him.

A kind man, then. Hard not to like that.

“You’ve got a pretty horse,” Minnie spoke up. “What’s his name?”

“This is Hobo. He’s an—”

“Appaloosa.” The single word tumbled across Meredith’s tongue. “He’s beautiful.”

“You know of the breed?”

“My father has a fondness for Western lore,” she answered, her face heating. Was she really blushing? “Perhaps I do, too.”

“Perhaps?” He questioned, his dimples deepening.

“Fine. I love everything Western, but it’s not ladylike to admit it and my mother would have an apoplexy if she heard me say it.”

“Then it’s best not to tell her.” He winked, and opened his mouth about to say something else when the other man hollered out to him.

“That’s enough, Romeo. I’ve got the horses hitched. Time to push.”

“Gotta go.” Shane waded to the buggy box and positioned his hands on one side of the soiled fender. “You two ladies might want to hop onto the grass.”

“I told you. I intend to help.” She mimicked his stance on the other side of the buggy by bracing her feet and placing her hands. “If this happens again, I want to know what to do.”

“I really don’t think—” His argument was cut off as a “Git up!” from Braden rang from the front of the buggy.

Horse hooves clamored on sodden, wet earth. The vehicle rocked forward and then back. Another “Git up!” and the buggy rolled forward again. The mud gripped the wheels, refusing to let go.

A little help please, Lord. She prayed and pushed with all her might, fearing there was no way the vehicle would move. She fought visions of their little driving buggy stuck here in the middle of the main road to town for the rest of the rainy season. Folks would have to somehow maneuver around it, muttering about that Worthington girl who had the poor sense to have dropped out of finishing school.

“Harder!” Braden shouted as he tromped through the mud and grabbed the bumper nearest to her. Even Minnie took a position and pushed. The buggy rocked again, almost out, before it sloshed back into the muck.

She hardly noticed because what was she watching? Shane. Out of the corner of her eye, his grimace fascinated her. All her friends, except for Fiona who was engaged, agreed no man ever had been as handsome as Lorenzo, the most gorgeous boy in their class at school. But now she begged to differ. Shane Connelly was stunning, but something beyond his physical good looks made him captivating—some strength of spirit, she suspected, and a steadfast character, she hoped.

The buggy lunged forward, suddenly rolling up out of the muck. Mud flew off the fast-turning wheels and sprayed like slop across her face, cold and wet. Too late, she realized she was the only one standing directly behind one of the wheel wells. Ooze clung to her eyelids and dripped like thick cream frosting down her face. The earthy taste seeped between her lips. The cold weight pressed on her, penetrating her bodice and weighing down her skirt.

“Oh, Meredith,” Minnie soothed, shocked. “Your dress is ruined.”

Humiliation seeped into her, as cold as the mud. She swiped the yuck from her eyes with her sleeve and only managed to smear it.

“Whoa!” Shane and Braden shouted together from a fair distance away, stopping the horses on the uphill slope of the road. When young Mr. Connelly turned around and spotted her, a wide grin stretched his mouth and he shook his head slowly from side to side. “Something tells me you are a whole peck of trouble, Miss Meredith.”

“She is,” Minnie spoke up, sounding pleased as punch. “It’s her first time driving the buggy alone.”

“Minnie, don’t tell him that.” Really, she looked bad enough without adding “idiotic, inexperienced driver” to the list. That was what she felt like. Out of her element, when she wanted to fit in so badly. Too badly—maybe that was what the Lord was trying to tell her.

“You are a right mess.” Shane pulled out the handkerchief again and wiped the white surface across her eyes. This close, she could see there were green threads, too, in his deep blue irises, to match the gold ones, and something noble within.

There she went, being fanciful again.

“The good news is that your horse and buggy are fine, aside from the mud.” He folded the cloth to scrub at her nose and cheeks. His nearness was a funnel cloud, pulling her helplessly toward him. “You, miss, I’m not so sure about. Maybe Braden and I had best see you home.”

“No!” That came out a mite defensive, but she could imagine Mama’s reaction. “Please, if our mother knew there was a mishap, she wouldn’t let me drive again. It’s imperative for me to become a better driver.”

“You don’t sound like a country miss to me.” His gaze narrowed, his presence and his sculpted features steeled. “Who are you?”

“Just Meredith.” That was who she wanted to be. She needed to be herself, not her father’s daughter, not her mother’s achievement, but someone real. This man, who rode where he wanted and who did as he liked, would never understand.

“All right, then, Just Meredith.” His grin returned, crooked and dimpled. “Let’s get you in the buggy and on your way home.”




Chapter Two


Just Meredith was beautiful, no doubt about it. Shane glanced over his shoulder to make sure the gray mare pulling the buggy was managing all right. The spring storms had turned the roads to every kind of muck, although judging by the downpour it was hard to call this brand of cold spring.

“Stopping to help those girls made us late for our next job,” Braden commented drily as he tucked the much-folded telegram for the riding directions back into his slicker’s pocket.

“Helping them was the right thing to do.” It wasn’t something they hadn’t done before in their travels. “We couldn’t leave them there.”

“I’m not arguin’ that. Truth is, this new stint has me worried. Heard the wife is a whole peck of trouble.”

“Wife? I thought that we were working for a mister, not a missus.”

“Shows what you know about marriage.” Braden cracked a rare smile. “I say we give it a trial before we commit. I don’t want to get knee-deep into a job, figure out it’s more trouble than it’s worth and then tear myself up trying to figure if I should run for my sanity or stay and finish the job the right way.”

“I see your point.” Shane was new at this. Not green, but not experienced either. He’d only had a year of apprenticeship under his belt since he’d hooked up with the best horseman this side of the Mississippi. He’d left everything behind in Virginia—family, reputation, duty—to learn horsemanship the real way. It had been the roughest year of his life and the best one. Finishing his apprenticeship was all that mattered. So why was he thinking about the woman and not the upcoming job?

Another glance over his shoulder told him why. There was something special about her, something extra—like a dash of both sweetness and spirit not often seen. “Just Meredith,” she’d called herself in a dulcet voice that made him think of Sunday-school hymns and Christmas carols. And pretty? She put the word to shame with those blond ringlets tumbling down from beneath her plain brown hood and eyes the color of the sea in the rain. She was a rare beauty with creamy skin, delicately cut features and a mouth made for smiling.

He liked country girls the best, he’d learned long ago, not missing the perfectly mannered and prepared debutantes who were part of his world back home. It heartened him to see honesty and goodness in a female. It was far preferable in his opinion to the veils of pretense that filled his growing-up years.

Out west, things were more likely to be what they seemed and the people, too. He liked the image of Just Meredith in her simple but elegant brown coat, pretty yellow dress and sincerity. She made quite a picture holding the reins as the chilly weather battered and blew. With the smears of green in the nearby fields and the world of colors blurred and muted by the rain, she could have been the focus of an impressionist watercolor. A prized painting meant to be cherished.

“You’re watching me,” she called out above the twists and gusts of the wind. “You think I’m a bad driver and I’m going to get stuck in the mud again.”

“No, but I am keeping track of the mud holes. I don’t see a thing you can get mired down in, at least not yet.” He let Hobo fall back alongside the buggy. “You’re doing pretty good for it being your first day driving.”

“You may be fibbing.” The look she threw him from beneath her brown hood was a challenge.

He laughed. He liked the dazzle in those interesting gray-blue eyes. “I’m trying to be encouraging. Keep to the positive. Avoid the fact we nearly had to go in search of a pair of oxen to free your buggy.”

“Thanks for not mentioning it.” When she grinned, she was like a sunbeam on this dismal day.

“You still don’t figure on letting your mama know about this?” He couldn’t resist asking, not that it was his business.

“What she doesn’t ask about, I won’t have to tell her.”

“And what if she notices the mud?”

“That’s the flaw in my plan. I’m hoping Mama doesn’t notice. She could be busy and not even hear us driving up.”

“She will be watching, Meredith.” The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Nothing gets past Mama. You ought to know that by now.”

“That won’t stop me from trying.” She laughed. At heart she was not a deceitful daughter but one apparently amused by her mother. “If Mama revokes my driving privileges, then I won’t learn enough about driving to make it on my own come June.”

“Why June?” Call him curious. He couldn’t help it. Something tickled in his chest like a cough, but maybe it was interest.

“That’s when the summer school term begins.” A ringlet bounced down from beneath her hood to spring against her cheek. “I’m studying for the teachers’ exams. If I pass, I hope to get one of the smaller county schools just north of here.”

“A schoolteacher.” A fine ambition. He couldn’t say why that pleased him either. He wasn’t looking to settle down, not with his long apprenticeship hardly more than half over.

“But Mama doesn’t know,” the little girl added impishly. She was a bit of trouble, that one. “And no, Meredith, I won’t tell on you, but it’s likely to kill me.”

“I wish you had never overheard me talking with my friends. You can’t keep a secret to save your life.” Meredith wrapped an arm around her sister’s neck and hugged her close, an affectionate gesture. “I’ll never forgive you if you blurt it out and ruin my plans.”

“It won’t be easy.” The girl rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh, as if her life were truly trying indeed.

“It seems you keep a lot of secrets. The mud incident, the teacher’s exams.” He swiped rain from his eyes. “It won’t be as easy to hide an entire job when summer comes.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t want to deceive Mama. That’s not what I mean to do. I want my own life is all.”

“I’ve known that feeling.”

“How can you? You’re a man.”

“True enough, but why do you say it like that? Like being a man is a bad thing.”

“Not bad, exactly. I’m just exasperated.” She blew the curl out of her face, but it just sprang back. Did she dare take both hands off the reins? No. Sweetie was as gentle as a horse could be, but doom had a tendency to follow her around. She had no intention of letting anything else go wrong.

“Meredith often gets exasperated,” Minnie explained with a little girl’s seriousness. “Mama says it’s because nothing is quite to Meredith’s liking.”

“That’s not true,” she hotly denied, as she always did. “Okay, so maybe it’s true sometimes. It’s just that boys have it easier. They can do what they want.”

“That depends.” Shane’s voice dipped low, butter-smooth and warm with amusement. “My mother thought I should join my father in business and one day follow in his footsteps. Carry on the family legacy.”

“Drifting from town to town?” The quip escaped before she could stop it. What was wrong with her?

“I wasn’t always a saddle tramp.” Those crinkles around his eyes deepened, drew her closer and made her want to know more.

She shouldn’t be curious, not one bit, not one iota. The dashing, mysterious, slightly dangerous young man was not her concern. Although it was easy to imagine him lassoing wild horses, fighting to defend the innocent or performing some noble act. Beneath the stubbled jaw and traveling coat, he might be full of honor, a real-life hero with the rain washing away the mud on his boots.

She tried to imagine what her best friends would say. Earlee, the most imaginative of the group, would pen him as an intriguing hero of a fantastic tale. Lila, ever the romantic, would compare him to the most handsome boy in their high-school class, Lorenzo. Kate and Scarlet would heartily agree and start dropping hints about the status of their hope chests, the reason they met every Saturday afternoon to sew for a few hours. A sewing circle of friendship and of hope, they tatted doilies, embroidered pillowslips and pieced patchwork blocks for the marriages they would all have one day.

Yes, this chance meeting was going to be a huge topic of conversation come Saturday.

The rain turned colder, falling like ice, striking the great expanse of prairie with strange musical notes. Beauty surrounded her, but she could not take her eyes from the handsome wanderer.

“What did you do in your former life?” Was that really her voice, all breathless and rushed sounding? Her face felt hot. Was she blushing? Would he notice?

“Back home, my father and grandfather are lawyers, although now they have many partners to manage the firm.” He let his horse fall back, to keep pace beside her. “As the oldest son, I am a great disappointment traveling around on the back of a horse.”

“I think it takes courage to follow your own path.” Courage was what she was trying to find for herself.

“Could be courage. My father called it stupidity. My mother said it was stubbornness. She was none too happy with me when I left, since she was in the middle of planning my wedding to a young lady of their choosing.”

“You ran out on a wedding?”

“I never proposed, so I didn’t see as I had an obligation to stay for the ceremony.” Dimples belied the layer of sorrow darkening his voice.

“Your parents had your whole life mapped out for you?”

“Mapped out, stamped and all but signed and sealed.” Understanding layered the blues in his eyes and softened the rugged, wild look of him. “Something tells me your parents adore you. They want the best for you, and that’s not a bad thing, as long as it’s what you want, too.”

“Tell that to Mama.”

“Sounds like our mothers are cut from the same cloth.”

The howl of wind silenced and the veil of rain seemed to vanish as he leaned over in his saddle, close and closer still. The sense of peril returned, fluttering in her stomach, galloping in her veins and did she turn away?

Not a chance.

“No one I know has a mother like mine.” Strange they would have this similarity between them. “Is yours overbearing, impossible, full of dire warnings and yet she’d throw herself in front of a train to save you?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Does she drive you beyond all patience with her meddling and fussing and trying to do everything so your life is easier?”

“That would be an affirmative.”

“And you love her so much you can’t bear to say no and disappoint her?”

“In the end, I did say no and it broke her heart.” No way to miss the regret. It moved through him, deep like a river, reflecting on his face, changing the air around them. “It was hard for her to let go, but I wouldn’t be the man I wanted to be unless I made my own life. She’ll come to see that in the end.”

“So she hasn’t forgiven you?”

“Nope. Not yet. But I’m confident she will come to see I was right.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.” If only following her own path would not potentially cost her her mother. “I’m praying my experience will be different from yours.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to be a teacher?”

“She doesn’t want her daughters to work.” She hadn’t corrected his misimpression of her as a simple country girl, so how did she explain her mama’s view of society and a woman’s role in it? “My only hope is that Papa will understand.”

“Then I’ll pray for that, too.” Serious, his words, and so intimate that it was as if they were the only two people on the entire expanse of the plains. Completely odd, as she’d never felt this way with anyone before. It was as if he’d reached out and taken her hand, although they did not touch. A tug of warmth curled through her, which was sweet like melting taffy and enduring in the way of a good friendship.

“Meredith!” She felt a tug on her sleeve. “Don’t forget to turn.”

She blinked, the feeling disappeared and the world surrounding her returned. Wet droplets tapped her face, the jingle of the harness and the splash of the horse’s hooves reminded her that Minnie was at her side, home was within reach and the time to say goodbye to this man had come.

“Is this your driveway?” Shane broke the silence between them, one brow arched with his question.

Did he feel this way, too? As if he did not want the moment to end?

“Yes.” The word rasped past the regret building within her. She drew Sweetie to a stop, knowing he would go his way, she would go hers and she would never see him again. Her spirit ached at the thought. “Where are you headed?”

“To a ranch somewhere in these parts.” He knocked off the rainwater gathering on the brim of his hat. “Since we’re running late, we might as well see you to your door. Braden, is that okay with you?”

“Goin’ this way anyway,” came the answer as the older, gruff man pulled his mount to the roadside and consulted the telegram in his pocket.

“Guess that means we don’t have far to go.” He shivered when the wind lifted, knifing through his wool coat. Nearly wet to the bone, he ought to be eager to get into dry clothes and thaw out in front of a fire. Gazing down at Just Meredith, he wasn’t in much of a hurry. “You ladies must be freezing. The temperature is falling. I could dig a blanket out of my saddle roll. Might keep you warmer.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you, but we’ll be fine.”

“Meredith!” Minnie protested. “I’m cold. Look. It’s starting to snow.”

“No wonder I’m half an icicle.” Nothing like a joke to warm a fellow. He twisted in his saddle to tug on the ties and pulled a folded length of red wool from beneath the oiled tarp protecting his things. “This ought to keep you two ladies a little more comfortable.”

“Thank you, Shane.”

He liked the way she said his name with a touch of warmth—unless he was imagining that—and a bit of respect, which he didn’t mind at all. He gave the blanket a snap, settled it over the ladies’ skirts, nearly falling out of his saddle to hand over the edge to Meredith so she could tuck it around her and Minnie. Leaning close, an odd sense of warm curled around his ribs, something tender and fine like first light on a spring morning.

Once she had the blanket settled, she gathered the reins in her slender, smooth hands. In retrospect, maybe he would have thought about that more and realized it was a sign. That a country girl’s hands wouldn’t look soft and pampered instead of callused and rough from work. But the bit of warm felt cozy in his chest, a nice and wholesome thing, so he didn’t think too much as he followed the buggy off the main road and down a narrower drive curving between a copse and tall fencing.

Braden signaled him. “I don’t want you gettin’ too friendly with any of the neighbors.”

“Are you tellin’ me you want me to be rude?” He angled his brim against the driving snow tapping against his hat and stinging like icy needles on his jaw.

“Not rude, no. But I want your mind on horse business.”

“It will be.” The chance to keep learning at Braden’s heels was all he wanted. So why did his gaze stray to the buggy? Although he couldn’t see Meredith from this angle, he wanted to, as surely as he sat in the saddle. That could not be a good thing.

“I know how it is. It’s only natural to take interest in a pretty gal. But remember, we move on. Our commission here is only two months at the most.”

“I know that.” He knew what was important and why he was here. He had learned a lot, and on this assignment he would have more responsibility and a real opportunity to use what he had been taught. “I know what you’re asking, Braden, and you can count on me. I’m not going to leave you with all the work while I chase after a pretty calico. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I’m still waiting to see the brand of man you are.” Braden, tough for his years, iron-strong and jaded, had a look that could pare like the sharpest blade. “You have potential, Shane, but you’re a blue blood. I’m waiting to see which wins out.”

“I’m not playing at this. I’m here to work.” He still had a point to prove. Right now his work was the only importance in his life. He squared his shoulders and did not flinch when arctic blew in on the wind. The curtain of snow thickened, obscuring Meredith’s driving buggy and the rest of the world from sight.



Home was nothing more than a hint of a roofline and a glint of windows through the whiteout. The weather could often be a surprise in Montana Territory and she liked that about this part of the country. Here, you could build a fence, but you couldn’t fence in the prairie. The adventurous part of her, the one Mama did her best to lecture right out of her, thrilled in the feel of the icy wind and violent snow.

“Uh-oh.” Minnie stood up, gripping the dashboard, to squint in the direction of the front porch. “That’s Mama. Do you think she will notice the mud?”

“How could she not?” Meredith drew poor snow-covered Sweetie to a stop and set the brake. Beneath the blanket, the mud thick on her coat and skirt had frozen, crackling as she moved. The good news was that snow had iced over it, so it was almost impossible to see the dried brown beneath.

Please, Lord, let Mama be understanding. She laid the reins over the snowy dash and squinted into the white haze. She saw nothing but shadows and no sign of handsome Mr. Connelly.

“Allow me.” His voice rolled through the storm. A gloved hand caught hers, and in the thick of the storm she could make out the cut of his wide shoulders and the hint of his square jaw.

When her hand settled against his broad palm and she felt the power there, awe thrilled her. He was a perilous man because he made her feel both safe and in jeopardy in the same breath. Simply allowing him to help her from the buggy was like taking a grand adventure. For a moment she floated, caught in midair as if defying gravity before she flew downward and her shoes touched solid ground. The veil of snow had thickened, obscuring him completely, and when his hand released hers she felt alone.

“Girls!” Mama’s shrill voice dwarfed the howling late-spring storm. She barreled into sight, well-wrapped against the cold, marching down the walkway like a general at battle. “I have been worried sick! Where have you been? And who are these people?”

Although it was hard to tell in the snowfall, Meredith could well imagine Mama’s curled lip. Mama did not approve of strangers, particularly strange men who were not in the same social class. Meredith winced, picking her way through the ice toward the lee of the house, where the snowfall thinned.

“We wanted to make sure your daughters arrived home safely.” Shane Connelly appeared, dappled with snow, safely seeing Minnie onto the pathway. He faced Henrietta Worthington as if he were not intimidated by four-star generals. “The storm has turned treacherous.”

“Indeed!” Mama disregarded him with a turn of her shoulder and hugged Minnie against her. “I have been half ill with worry. Where have you been?”

And today had started out so well, she thought. “We had a bit of trouble with the mud.”

“Did I not warn you? Don’t think I didn’t notice the mud caked all the way up to the dash, young lady. I knew it was a mistake to let you drive.” Mama grabbed Minnie protectively and pointed her toward the steps and the front door with a motherly push. “I suppose I owe these people some sort of thanks for seeing you home.”

How embarrassing. Meredith’s face burned. It was not respectful to correct her mother, but the argument sat on her tongue. A muscle ticked in Shane’s jaw, and she felt his muscles bunch in his arm. Tension. Maybe a sign of hurt.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly but he seemed so far away. Maybe it was the snow’s veil putting distance between them, but probably not. Mama’s opinion of him had altered everything. The closeness and the taffy-sweetness within her had died. Was there any way to repair it? “I am grateful for your assistance, Mr. Connelly.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was gallant. And muddy.”

“In truth, I did not mind the mud.” Any hint of a smile was gone. His striking blue eyes had shielded, his handsome face as set as stone.

Of course he would be unhappy with the way Mama treated him. Who wouldn’t be? Anyone would be offended. Meredith ached to set things right, but how could she? She would have to speak to her mother later for all the good it would do, and that wouldn’t mend things at this moment. She longed to say something to Shane, but he stepped quickly, deliberately away. His unflinching gaze hardened.

This was why she wanted to be her own woman and not her mother’s daughter. She wanted to stand tall for what she believed in without apology. She loved her family, but she was embarrassed by them, too.

“I can have Cook reheat some stew,” Mama announced in her superior way, thinking she had been so kind to the rough-looking men. “You may circle around to the back door. Take off your wraps and boots first. Be mindful of your manners. I’ll expect you to keep your hands to yourself, no pilfering the silver, and you must leave as soon as you are finished eating.”

Meredith watched another muscle jump along Shane’s clenched jaw. If only she could melt into the snow and disappear. She couldn’t believe Mama had said such a thing. Whether these men were down on their luck or simply passing through, they did not deserve to be spoken down to. “Mama, you must mean to say how happy you are that these fine men offered to help Minnie and me. It probably inconvenienced them and since it’s nearly dark, perhaps they would like to join us for dinner—”

“That is not what I meant!” Mama gripped her shoulder and firmly guided her up the steps. “What has come over you, Meredith? In the house, now, and start your homework. I’ll deal with you later.”

“But, Mama—”

“And change that dress. I want this understood. You will never ask to drive that buggy again.” Her mother drew herself up full height, not in an understanding mood. “Now, inside before you catch your death of cold. I must have a few words with these people.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all Meredith could offer Shane.

She watched a hint of understanding soften his iron gaze before she stumbled over the threshold and into the warmth of the house. The door slammed shut behind her and she felt Minnie’s hand curl into hers.

“It’s too bad we’ll never see them again.” She sighed. “But wasn’t it something to see his Appaloosa?”




Chapter Three


Shane swiped snow from his face, ignoring the icy pinpricks against his skin and the letdown within. He might have known. Just Meredith, as she’d claimed, was a far sight more. This was the Worthington estate and although he couldn’t see more than a hint of a roofline, the long stretch of lamplight windows gleaming through the storm suggested not a simple house but a dignified manor. Meredith was no country miss.

“I’m Mr. Shaw,” Braden attempted to explain to the dismissive Mrs. Worthington. “I’m the horse trainer.”

“The man my husband hired?” The woman drew her chin up and looked down her nose at the rough and ready pair. “And the one who gave my daughter special attention? Is that your assistant?”

If looks could maim, he would be in need of a pair of crutches. Shane stepped forward. He was no longer Aaron Connelly’s grandson, not in these parts. He was a horseman and proud of it. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Shane Connelly.”

“You were being awfully forward with my daughter.” Mrs. Worthington barreled fearlessly farther into the snowfall to meet him, her apple-cheeks pinched severely and her gaze hard with accusation. “Tell me I am wrong.”

“I was helping her out of the buggy and through the storm. That was all.”

“And that’s the way it will stay if you wish to work here. Do we have an understanding?”

He held his ground, fighting down the urge to argue and correct her misimpression. He may have been enjoying the pretty miss’s company, but that was all. If he felt anything more, then he refused to admit it. It stung to be reprimanded when he’d done nothing wrong, and he couldn’t explain the tightness within his chest. Nor could he remember being offended by a woman so quickly. He wanted the job here and he did not wish to disrespect a lady. He was not raised that way, so he did not argue with her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Fine. Mr. Shaw? If you two will take the mare and buggy to the stables, you’ll find Eli waiting. He’ll show you around, get you acquainted with our expectations before he leaves us for good at the end of the day. I’ll tell Cook to keep the stew warm for when you’re ready. Use the back door only.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Although Shane couldn’t see Braden’s expression, he could sense a wariness. The hardest part of their job wasn’t the horses but the people who owned them. He swiped snow from the old mare’s forelock, taking care to keep the cold wet from falling into her eyes. She was a sweet thing, watching him patiently with a liquid brown gaze and a quiet plea.

“You did a fine job today,” he assured her as he took hold of her bridle. It was the mare that had fooled him into believing Meredith’s pretense. This was no fine pedigreed animal, but an elderly mare with a slightly swayed back. Strange that she was the driving horse of choice for the Worthington girls and not some fancy pony.

His nape prickled as if Meredith Worthington was watching him from one of those dozen windows. He studied what he could of each glowing pane but caught no sight of blond curls or her big gray-blue eyes. Probably just his imagination or the wish that people—especially women—could be what they seemed at first sight. That was why he wanted to spend his life training horses. A horse didn’t put on airs, put you down or figure they were better than you because of the quality of their possessions.

“I plan to tell Worthington I want a trial period.” Braden fell alongside, leading both horses by the reins. “I’m not sure about that woman.”

“She was protecting her daughters.” Akin to the way a mother bear defended her cubs.

“Sure.” Braden nodded, his jaw tense. “But one thing needs to be made clear to Robert Worthington. I came to work with the animals, not to be nitpicked to death by a lady who has nothing better to do with her time.”

“You’re still ticked from our last job.”

“True enough. After those difficult people, we deserve an easier assignment.” Braden shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Not sure if we’re going to get it this time.”

“No, I don’t think we are.”

Lord, please let this work out.

The first outbuilding they came to was a well-built barn with a wide breezeway marching between big box stalls. Several horses poked their noses out into the aisle to nicker a welcome to an old friend and to greet new ones. Hobo sidestepped, head up, cautious as he looked around.

“Whoa there, buddy.” He left the old mare standing to lay a hand of comfort on his boy’s neck. Snow tumbled from his black mane.

Best to get these horses rubbed down, dry and stabled and no sense in hurrying. His stomach might be rumbling, but he wasn’t looking forward to heading up to the main house to eat. Meredith would be there. That made his gut clench tighter.

Maybe it would be best to avoid her, he decided, if that could be possible as long as he had a job here. That young woman had as good as lied to him. He’d had enough people in his life being less than honest, and he wasn’t looking for more of the same.

“Ho there.” A man about his same age with a friendly grin and a trustworthy look hiked down the main aisle. “I’m Eli Sims. You must be the new trainers. Good to meet you. Let me lend a hand with your horses.”

Braden stepped forward to ask a few details about Mr. Worthington, as Shane knelt to uncinch saddles and unhook harnessing. He kept half an ear to their conversation but couldn’t seem to concentrate. At least he hadn’t been fooled by her for long. Not that the not-so-country girl was on his mind. He was doing his best to purge every thought and image of her from his brain.

Whether or not he was successful was another question entirely.



Meredith couldn’t forget the look on Shane’s face when Mama had spoken down to him, which was by her guess the exact moment he realized she was not the country miss he’d assumed her to be.

Did he hate her? Was he the kind of man who would understand? She hadn’t meant to mislead him. Was her parentage her fault? Hardly. They lived in the country, so she technically was a country girl. It wasn’t a lie she had let him believe, but she hadn’t corrected him.

She regretted that now. She stared out her bedroom window instead of at the history book open on the desk. She could not concentrate and let her gaze wander over the roll of high prairie and the rugged Rocky Mountains hugging the horizon. Sunset dusted the snow-capped, craggy peaks with dabs of mauve and streaks of purple.

“Meredith.” Matilda, her older sister, poked her head around the door frame. “Mama wanted me to come fetch you. Dinner is about to be served.”

“Dinner.” She was not in the mood. “I don’t suppose I can have a tray sent up here?”

“Mama is mad enough as it is. I wouldn’t ask if I were you.” Sympathy softened Tilly’s features, making her almost pretty in the lamplight.

If only a fine beau could see Matilda as her sisters did, with a beauty of spirit, a sweetness of temperament and a generous soul that made her the finest catch in all of Angel County. Men were notoriously shallow, as Meredith had decided, and so dear Tilly was still unmarried and, worse, unbeaued at the age of twenty. Not a single man had come courting, when marriage and a family were all that her sister desired.

“Then I suppose I’ll survive dinner.” With a wink, Meredith closed her textbook, pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. The sun was going down on the day and on her hopes. Her one chance to prove herself as a sensible driver to her parents was over. “Do you think it will be the topic of conversation? My big failure as a driver.”

“You may have to endure a few comments from Mama, but Papa believes a woman should know how to drive,” Tilly encouraged. “Remember how he bought Sweetie for me, so I could be more independent? And that means—”

“You can drive me,” Meredith finished, reaching out to squeeze her sister’s hand. “The certification exam is coming up. Will you find a way to help me take it?”

“I’ll drive you there and back myself, even if I have to defy both our parents to do it.” Voices at a whisper, they meandered down the long stretch of hallway. “There is always the hope that the new horseman will be as helpful as Eli has been.”

Eli was a gem and while it was a boon to him that he was joining his brother’s teaming business, she seriously doubted that Shane Connelly was going to go out of his way to help her. The disbelief on his face flashed back to her as they’d stood in the falling snow.

Would he understand, especially after the way Mama had treated him?

She hoped so. There had been a spark of something between them on the ride home. She shivered remembering the warm taffy sensation his nearness had brought her. She was still dazzled by his dimpled smile, the snapping connection when their gazes met and the tender touch of the rough and rugged man.

“I hadn’t realized Papa hired two horse trainers.” Matilda’s comment echoed in the stairway as they descended to the main floor. “Minnie says the older one is a little scary.”

“Not scary exactly, just distant and in charge.” In truth she hardly had an impression of the older horseman. Shane had so dominated her senses at the time that no one else could matter. She could not tear his image from her thoughts, and her gaze shot to the windows hoping to catch a single sighting of him.

“Girls, there you are.” Mama bustled toward them, skirts swishing, floorboards shaking, cups rattling in their saucers on the dining-room table. “Hurry. We are waiting the meal on you.”

“Sorry. I was lost in my studying.” And wondering about the new horse trainer, but she kept that to herself. She felt Tilly’s hand on hers give an encouraging squeeze. Glad she wasn’t alone, she headed toward her chair. Papa and Minnie were already seated. Meredith cast an apologetic look at her father, who looked stern as she slipped into her chair next to Minnie. Definitely not the best of signs.

“I heard you had some trouble today, young lady.” His deep voice seemed to fill the room, although he spoke softly. Papa had a presence, too, a formidable one when he wanted it. “Something about nearly ruining the buggy and being covered with mud.”

“We came back in one piece.” The last thing she wanted to do was to disappoint her father. She set her chin, determined to accept with grace the loss of her driving privilege, which was sure to be coming. She tried to be upbeat. “All’s well that ends well.”

“It certainly was not.” Mama’s chair scraped as she settled up to the table. “Anything could have happened to you. You could have been killed or maimed.”

“I was careful. We are fine.” Humiliation rolled through her. She was a sensible girl who got good grades. She needed practice driving, that was all. She swallowed hard against the rising sense of failure that seemed to fill her to the chin.

“Not fine enough,” her mother argued. “Your dress was near to ruined, Meredith.”

“I know.” Mortified, she folded her hands, preparing for grace. She felt bad enough, seeing herself from Shane Connelly’s point of view. She could have had “loser” painted on her back in scarlet letters. Not merely a loser, but a failure and a disappointment. Papa appeared so grave and Mama furious.

“I’m sorry.” The apology wasn’t easy. “You are right. A more experienced driver would not have gotten stuck.”

“It was all the mud’s fault.” Minnie spoke up. “Meredith isn’t to blame. It could have happened to anybody.”

“Not anybody.” Was that a hint of amusement in Papa’s voice? “For instance, I drove that stretch of road home and I had no problem avoiding the mud holes.”

Doom. Meredith hung her head, knowing the official pronouncement was imminent. She would be banned from the family’s horse and buggy forever.

“Dear Father,” he began to pray instead using his most serious voice. The room fell silent except for the creak of the back door opening, muffled by the closed kitchen door.

Was it Shane coming in for his dinner? Were those his boots thudding with authority against the floorboards in the other room?

“Please bless this food we are about to partake and know that we are grateful for Thy bounty.” Papa’s brow furrowed in concentration, his face set with sincerity.

I should be paying attention. She did her best to rope in her thoughts, but her disobedient ears continued to strain for the texture of that low, deep voice talking with Cook. It had to be Shane’s because her soul knew it, the rise and fall and rumble.

Please help him to forgive me, Father, she asked silently.

“Although we are far from perfect,” Papa continued, “You forgive us and continue to bless us with Your loving kindness.”

Was it her imagination or did Papa wink at her? It was hard to tell because he was so very somber as he finished his prayer.

“Guide us to Your will, Lord, and Your eternal light. Amen.”

“Amens” rang around the table, but the faint low rumble of Shane’s chuckle was the only sound she heard. It rolled through her like a spring breeze, welcome and refreshing. Why did he affect her so?

“Meredith!” Minnie nudged her with an elbow. “Pass the gravy.”

“Right.” She shook her head, trying to scatter her thoughts, but Shane remained front and center, the tap of his boots against the floor, the deep note of his “thank you,” and the final squeak of the closing door more drawing than the delicious scents steaming up from the serving platters and her family’s conversation.

“I know how you feel, Henrietta,” Papa said to Mama as he plopped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “But this is the best horseman around. Even our dear Thad recommended him. Braden Shaw and his apprentice are genuine wranglers. They’ve broken and trained horses from Texas all the way to Canada. They’ve been all over the West. Can you imagine? Just like in my favorite novels.”

“Novels are made-up fiction,” Mama pointed out as she always did from her end of the long table. “Just you mind that. Real horses kick and bite and run away with their drivers. Remember what happened to you? You were nearly killed handling an unbroken horse. I hardly think we need animals like that in our stables.”

“That’s why we have a horse trainer, my dear. Besides, I’m fit as a fiddle and fully healed. As Meredith says, all’s well that ends well.”

“All ends well only with eternal vigilance, heaven’s guidance and common sense.” If a corner of Mama’s mouth upturned as if battling good humor, it had to be Meredith’s imagination. “I know where this is going, Robert, and no, I refuse to reconsider. Meredith will not be driving that buggy again anytime soon.”

Meredith was certain Papa winked at her as he handed Minnie the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“I would like to learn to drive.” Minnie dug into the potatoes with unladylike zeal. “Do you think Shane could teach me?”

“Wilhelmina!” Mama’s fork and knife tapped against the rim of her dinner plate. “Such talk! You are far too young, and no, I know what is coming next. You may not learn to ride horses either. A Worthington lady does not resort to such behavior.”

“But, Mama, I don’t want to be a lady.”

The back of her neck tingled, as if someone were watching her. Shane? His path from the kitchen door to the bunkhouse would take him through the garden and right past the dining-room windows. Sadie, their maid, would have given them their meals in a basket. Hired men were not allowed to eat in the house. Was he standing outside looking in, and what was he thinking of her?

She craved the opportunity to talk with him. She glanced over her shoulder, searching through the glass for the sight of his black Stetson and his striking face. But all she saw was the turn of his back and the impressive line of his shoulder as he strode away.

He had understood about her mother when they had spoken before. Surely he would do so again. And if she ought to be wondering why his opinion of her mattered, she didn’t want to analyze it and took the potato bowl from Minnie instead.

“Why don’t you tell us all what Lydia’s letter said,” Papa began as he cut into a slice of roast beef. “I brought home the mail today and there was an envelope from our girls.”

“And another letter from the school’s headmaster.” Mama’s mouth pursed as she held out her hand, waiting for the potatoes. “Angelina is on warning. She was caught smoking behind the outhouse again. Another stunt and she will be permanently suspended.”

“Did you truly think finishing school would change her?” Tilly said in her gentle way. “She doesn’t want to be there, Mama.”

“I know how that feels.” Meredith handed over the bowl and accepted the beef platter from Minnie. She forked a slice of meat onto her plate, remembering how restricted she had felt, how smothered. “Sometimes a girl just has to be who she is, or she feels as if her heart will die.”

“Nonsense.” Mama dished up with a clink of the spoon against her china plate. “We have a family obligation and standards to uphold. We may have moved out West for practical purposes, we are still considered a part of good society. We must not allow our conduct to slide.”

Mama cared far too much what certain people thought about her. Life in St. Louis had been much different, and her mother had been happier with her numerous clubs and charities there. They had moved to take care of cousin Noelle when she had been blinded in a buggy accident, and her parents—Mama’s brother—killed. But what the Worthington girls had seen as an adventure, Mama had viewed as a necessary duty, a hardship she struggled to rise above.

“I hope you do not rue the day you dropped out of that fine school.” Mama’s pronouncement was punctuated by another dollop of mashed potato hitting her plate. “Now, back to Lydia’s letter. Your dear sweet sister writes that she loves her teachers and her course-work this year is most enjoyable.”

Meredith glanced over her shoulder again. The pathway was empty and all sight of Shane gone. She felt as if something important, something she couldn’t describe, had slipped away.



The bunkhouse smelled like fresh lumber, coal smoke and boiling coffee. Shane pushed back his now-empty dinner plate on the plank table and took in his new home. Much better than their last place with separate rooms for sleeping and living, comfortable chairs near the generous windows and a woodstove. Cozy enough to spend a comfortable evening reading and plenty of room for at least a half-dozen hired men. The place echoed around them.

“Looks like Worthington is hoping to be a major operation one day, judging by the size of this place.” Braden ambled over with the coffeepot and filled both ironware cups. “Good for him. I had a chance to ride around the spread. He’s got some prime land for raising horses.”

“And plenty of it.” That took money, and judging by the looks of things, the Worthingtons were rolling in it. Memories of the life back home, the one he’d been dying to get away from, hit him like a slap to the face.

“Tomorrow we look over the horses we’ve come to train.” Braden set the coffeepot on the stove with a clunk. “Caught sight of the two-year-olds in the paddock. Fine-looking bunch. Robert Worthington has a good eye. Shouldn’t be too hard of a job, if we can answer to Worthington only. That wife of his…” Braden didn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head.

Shane didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what his boss was thinking. Braden had issues with women, especially the domineering type. Thinking of his own mother, who managed her family and alienated his father with her overbearing determination to have everything her way, Shane couldn’t blame him. It was the reason he’d chosen his own path in life. He pushed out of his chair and opened the door a crack. With the fire going full bore, the well-built house was sweltering. “At least we can leave when our work is done, and sooner if you decide to.”

“There’s nothing better than freedom,” Braden agreed, swinging into his chair. He dug into the sugar bowl and stirred a couple teaspoonfuls into his coffee. “It’s why I’ll always be a bachelor.”

“Always? That’s a mighty long time.”

“And well worth it. I can come and go as I please, do what I want without being henpecked to death by a woman.” He slurped the steaming coffee, a man content with his life.

“Or lied to.” Hard not to talk about what had been on his mind all afternoon, since they’d come upon the young ladies in the road. Just Meredith, she’d been then, pretty as a picture in her pretty yellow dress and gold locks tumbling down from her hood, flyaway curls that framed her beautiful heart-shaped face like a dream. She looked sweet with that swipe of mud on her peaches-and-cream cheek and wholesome, so determined she was to help free the buggy.

Captivated, that was a word he might have used to describe her effect on him. That was before she’d gone from Just Meredith to a Worthington daughter, one of the richest families in the county and, according to Braden’s research, the territory. The way she’d tricked him taunted him now, reminding him of how easy it was to get the wrong impression about someone. He tugged the sugar bowl closer to his cup and stirred in a heaping spoonful. Coffee steamed and the strong rich brew tickled his nose.

“You aren’t thinking about the Worthington girl, are you?” Braden stared at him over the rim. The rising steam gave his piercing look a menacing quality.

“Don’t worry about it.” He had been, so he couldn’t lie. “It’s nothing.”

“Make sure it is. This is the first time I’ve seen you show interest in a calico since I’ve known you.” Braden took another slurping sip. “I feel beholden to warn you to stay away from her. She’s the boss man’s daughter. That’s a brand of trouble you don’t want to get tangled up in.”

“Not intending to.” The hot coffee scorched his tongue and seared his throat and shook him out of his reverie. He was here to work and to learn. Braden was one of the best trainers in the country and he wasn’t going to mess up this chance to work with him. “I suppose Meredith Worthington is eye-catching enough, but I’ve seen who she really is. Nothing she can do from this point on can make me see her differently. She’s not pretty enough to distract me from my work.”

“Good to know.” Braden nodded once, turning the conversation to tomorrow’s workday, which was scheduled to start well before dawn.

Shane didn’t hear the muffled gasp on the front step or the faint rustle of a petticoat. The gentle tap of the falling snow outside and the roar of the fire in the stove drowned out the quiet footsteps hurrying away through the storm.




Chapter Four


Meredith shook the snow from her cloak at the back door in the shelter of the lean-to before turning the handle. Clutching the covered plate, she eased into the busy kitchen, where Cook scrubbed pots at the steaming soapy basin and barked orders to their housemaid, Sadie, who scurried to comply.

Sadie never missed anything and glanced at the full plate Meredith slid onto the edge of the worktable. “They don’t like cookies?” she asked.

“Something like that.” Still smarting from the conversation she’d overheard, she numbly shrugged out of her wraps and hung them by the stove to dry. Shane’s words rang in her head, unstoppable. He wasn’t going to understand. He didn’t want to be friends. He didn’t think she was pretty.

She squeezed her eyes shut, facing the wall, glad that her back was to the other people in the room so no one could see the pain traveling through her. It hurt to know what he thought of her.

“Meredith?” The inner door swung open, shoes beat a cheerful rhythm on the hardwood and Minnie burst into sight, cheeks pink, fine shocks of dark hair escaping from her twin braids. “There you are! You are supposed to help me with my spelling. Mama said so.”

“I’ll be right up.” Her voice sounded strained as she arranged the hem of her cloak. She could not fully face her sister. Pressure built behind her ribs like a terrible storm brewing. Shane’s tone—one of disdain and dismissal—was something she could not forget. He’d said terrible things about her. So, why did pieces of their afternoon together linger? The way he’d swiped mud from her cheek, leaned close to tuck his blanket around her and the steadying strength of his hand when he’d helped her from the buggy hurt doubly now. Why it tormented her was a mystery. She didn’t know why she cared. She no longer wanted to care. A man who would say that about her was off her friend list.

“Meredith?” Minnie asked. “Are you all right?”

“Couldn’t be better.” Fine, so it wasn’t the truth, but it would be. She was an independent type of girl, she didn’t go around moaning the loss of some boy’s opinion. She was strong, self-reliant and sure of her plans in life, and those plans had nothing to do with some horseman who was too quick to judge. He undoubtedly had a whole list of flaws and personality defects.

“Good, because you looked really unhappy.” Minnie crept close and took her hand, her fingers small and timid. “Are you terribly upset at losing your driving privileges?”

“A little.” A lot, but she would deal with that when the morning came, when she had to be driven to town like a child. With Eli gone, Shane would be the logical person to take his place.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Her pulse stalled, her knees buckled, and she grabbed the wall with her free hand for support. However could she endure being close to him and, remembering what he’d said about her, pretending not to? Sitting there next to Minnie on the backseat through the silence of the drive to the schoolhouse staring at the back of his head?

“I think Papa understands.” Minnie’s grip tightened, the melody of her voice ringing with loving sympathy. “Maybe he will let you drive again after the roads firm up. The mud won’t last forever.”

“Yes, sure.” She squeezed her sister’s hand, so little and trusting within hers. She loved her sisters; she was so blessed to have each and every one of them. “Now, let’s get you upstairs and we will see how well you know your spelling lesson.”

“I studied and everything.” Minnie wiggled her hand free and skipped ahead, rattling the china in the hutch.

“Minnie!” Mama admonished as the kitchen door swung open. “No running in the house. How many times must I tell you?”

“I forget.” Minnie meekly skidded to a stop in the dining room, although her fast walk held quite a bit of a skip as she headed toward the staircase.

“Walk like a lady!” Mama peered around the edge of the sofa in the parlor, her sewing on her lap. “Do not forget you are a Worthington. We glide, we don’t gallop like barnyard animals.”

“Yes, Mama.” Minnie grabbed the banister and pounded up the steps, perhaps unaware how her footsteps thundered through the house.

“Quietly!” Mama’s demand followed them up to the second story, where Minnie popped into the first doorway on the right and jumped onto the foot of her bed. The ropes groaned in protest.

Did Minnie’s window have to have a perfect view of the new bunkhouse? Meredith stopped at the small desk, pushed up to the sill and stared beyond the greening leaves of the orchard to the glowing squares of lamplight. Behind those muslin curtains was the man who’d maligned her, who’d judged her and whose words she could not get out of her mind.

I’ve seen who she really is, he’d said. She wrapped her fingers around the back rung of the chair until her fingers turned white. The pain returned, digging as if with talons around the edges of her heart. How could he judge her like that without giving her the chance to explain?

“Meredith? The list.” Minnie bounced impatiently on the feather mattress.

The list? She shook her head, an attempt to scatter her thoughts, but they remained like hot, red, angry coals glowing in her skull. She glanced at the book lying open on the desk before her and concentrated on the words printed there, forcing all thoughts of Shane Connelly from her mind.

She chose a word randomly from Minnie’s spelling assignment. “Insularity.”

“Insularity,” Minnie repeated, taking a deep breath, pausing as she wrestled with the word. “I—n—s—”

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. Her gaze strayed to the windows of the bunkhouse, where the bracing scent of fresh coffee had filled the rooms and carried out the cracked open door.

“—i—t—y,” Minnie finished. “Insularity. It means to be narrow-or small-minded.”

Not that a certain horseman came to mind. She cleared her throat, grateful when no emotion sounded in her voice. She chose another word from the list. “Supposition.”

“S—u—p—” Minnie’s dear button face furrowed in concentration.

Meredith did her best to stare at the word on the page, checking carefully to make sure her baby sister got the spelling right. Was it her fault her eyes kept drifting upward? It was as if there was something wrong with them, as if Shane Connelly held some sort of power over her ocular muscles tugging them in his direction.

“—n.” Minnie sounded proud of herself. “It means to draw a conclusion or an assumption.”

That was exactly what had happened today. Shane had met her mother, seen the family’s rather extravagant house and assumed she was the same, a pampered young lady of privilege who was not good enough for an honest man like him. The talons of pain clutched tighter, as if wringing blood. She didn’t want to think why this mattered so much.

“Prejudice,” she squeaked out of a too-tight throat. She felt as if she did not have enough air to speak with. As if all the surprise and shock of what she’d overheard had drained away, leaving no buffer. She had not leaped to conclusions about him, although she was happy to do so now.

“P—r—” Minnie paused, scrunching up her face as she tried to visualize the spelling. “—e—j—”

What was she doing, fretting about a saddle tramp? She didn’t care what he thought of her. He was clearly not the type of person she wanted to befriend, and if a tiny voice deep within argued, then she chose to ignore it. He’d insulted her, hurt her feelings and now her dignity. Well, she was hurting, and she had better things to dwell on than a man like that.

“—i—c—e.” Minnie finished with a rush. “Whew. I almost always get that one wrong.”

“It’s tricky,” Meredith agreed, gathering the book with both hands and turning her back to the window. Forget Shane Connelly. That was certainly what she intended to do from this moment on.

A knock rapped against the open door. Her oldest sister hesitated in the threshold. “Hey, are you busy?”

“I’ve spelled three words in a row correctly!” Minnie gave a hop, beaming with pride.

“That’s what happens when you study first,” Tilly teased in her gentle way, love obvious on her oval face. Her brown curls bounced as she bounded forward with a sweep of her skirts and plopped on the free corner of Minnie’s bed. “I overheard Papa and Mama talking. I have a suspicion Papa will be able to make things right.”

“In time for school in the morning?” Meredith asked.

“Probably not that soon.”

Of course not. However soon her father talked her mother into changing her mind, it could not come fast enough. First thing tomorrow she would have to face Shane. Dread filled her. The thought of him waiting for her alongside the buggy, reaching out his hand to help her up, being able to listen in on her conversations with Minnie from the front seat, filled her with a burning mix of confusion, hurt and rage.

Well, she didn’t care about his hurtful words. Her pride was wounded, that was all. So what if he didn’t like her? Why would she want him to? She simply didn’t have to like him. She pulled out the chair and sat down, her spine straight, her back to the window. What she needed to do was to banish all thoughts of the man from her head.

Pleased with her plan, she could focus on her sisters’ conversation.

“No, Minnie, I can’t drive you tomorrow.” Tilly smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. “I wish I could, but I promised Mama I would help her finish your new dress. You are growing like a weed, little sister.”

“I am.” Pleased, Minnie grinned, showing off her adorable dimples. “Pretty soon I ought to be tall enough to ride a wild mustang. Then I could help break next year’s new horses and Papa wouldn’t have to hire anyone to do it.”

“I don’t think that’s likely to happen, not if Mama has anything to say about it.” Worrying the discussion would turn to the hired men, Meredith changed the subject. “What about the day after tomorrow? Can you drive me then, Tilly?”

“I have a meeting at the church that afternoon, but I think we can work it out. Unless Mama has objections about the road conditions. After all, you can’t miss going to your weekly sewing circle.” Her older sister stared at her intently, as if trying to see at something beneath the surface, something Meredith did not want anyone to know. Tilly shook her head, as if she could not figure it out. “I understand not wanting one of the new hired men to drive you. I’m shy around strangers, too.”

Shy? That was hardly the problem. She thought of how she’d bantered with Shane, how he’d made her blush and laugh and quip. She feared her face was heating and her emotions would show and her sisters would guess at the truth.

You don’t like him, Meredith, she reminded herself. It’s impossible. He’s impossible.

“Oh, Meredith wasn’t one bit shy when they met up with us on the road,” Minnie burst out. “She and Shane talked practically the whole way home.”

“Is this true?” Tilly studied her again, her curiosity greater and her scrutiny more intent.

Heat burned her cheeks. She could feel her skin across her face tighten. Surely she was blushing. A dead giveaway. “I was polite to him, nothing more. I assure you of that.”

“But you’re blushing.”

“Because I feel uncomfortable.” That was true. Uncomfortable with the way Shane made her feel, with her hurt dignity and with this discussion. “You know I have plans that have nothing to do with finding a man to marry me right out of school. What would I want with an iterant horseman who is here for two months at the most and then he’ll leave, never to be seen again?”

“I wasn’t thinking of that.” Tilly shrugged, her slender shoulders sagging a notch. The hint of sadness that overcame her was heart-wrenching. “I was wistful, that is all, hoping that true love would come your way, since it is sure not to be coming to mine.”

“Don’t say that.” Meredith slipped onto her knees before her sister, gathering her slim hands in hers. “There is always hope for true love. Emmett is simply busy with his business.”

“Oh, he was never truly interested in me. I was the one. It was all me. I mistook his politeness for more, that’s all.” Although her chin came up and she pasted on a smile, there was no disguising the hint of heartbreak on Matilda’s dear face, a sorrow she kept hidden. “A girl has to have wishes, or what else does she have?”

“God. Family. Principles.” Mama thundered into the room. They had all been so engrossed they hadn’t heard her until she towered over them, glowering. “Some men are more appropriate to love than others, my girls. Now, why aren’t you studying? And, Matilda, shouldn’t you be downstairs sewing?”

“Yes, Mama,” they muttered in unison, Meredith leaping to her feet, Tilly pushing off the bed and Minnie bouncing once before hopping two-footed to the floor.

Meredith glanced over her shoulder, drawn by the lit windows gleaming in the dark evening, unable to stop a deep pinch of regret and, to be honest, a wish that Shane had not been Papa’s hired man. That they had parted ways at the driveway and he had kept riding so she would have been left with the romantic tale of their brief meeting, a moment in time when she could have forever believed in the man and his dimples, his good humor and character. She could have lived the rest of her days with the legend of their meeting and what she had believed him to be.

Now that she knew the truth, there was no legend, no sweetness, no tale of romance. Just the broken pieces of what had never been.



In the long gray shadows of dawn, Shane dragged on his boots by the back door, head pounding and eyes scratchy from what fell far short of a restful night’s sleep. He’d been fitful, unable to drift off on the top bunk of what was a comfortable feather tick, in clean muslin sheets and plenty of blankets. After a hard day’s ride he should have slept hard enough that only Braden’s rough shaking by the arm could have woken him.

“Quit dragging your feet and let’s get the morning started.” Braden growled as he jammed one arm and then the other into his riding jacket. “We’ve got work to do.”

Not that he minded work. No, he thrived on it. He loved every aspect of horse care from the shoveling to the riding. But this morning a dull ache stabbed his temples as he finished tying his boots, winced when the wind caught the door and smacked it against the wall. He grabbed his coat.

Dawn hadn’t yet softened the night’s shadows, but already the horses were stirring, some more enthusiastic than others, nickering for attention and feed. Braden led the first animal out of her stall—a demure white mare—and cross-tied her in the breezeway.

“Get to work.” Braden handed him a pitchfork and left him to take care of business.

A lot must have been on his mind last night because it tried to surface as he worked. He dug the tines into the soiled straw and hiked it into a pile. He worked with quick, even strokes, lifting and turning the fork, making fast work of the roomy stall before moving onto the next. Was Meredith far from him mind?

Not a chance.

Worse than that, he couldn’t stop thinking of home. As merry golden light fell through the cracks in the walls and the double doors open on either end of the barn, he lost his battle to keep sad things buried. Maybe it was this place, he conceded, with its impressive stone-and-wood manor house. The no-expenses-spared stables and fine pedigreed horses reminded him of his family’s stable back home. Not that Father was a horseman by any means, but he took pride in owning the best driving horses in White Water County. Appearances were everything in his family.

His guts still twisted up remembering the pressure he’d felt as the firstborn. The love he’d tried so hard to earn most of his childhood until he finally figured out that if you had to earn it, then it wasn’t love. Not the real thing, anyway.

Although he’d been gone a while, he missed his family. Just because he couldn’t get along with them didn’t mean a lack of love. He thought of Grandmama and her kitchen full of delicious smells and her plain house full of blooming flowers. Mother with her narrow view of the world and her belief that she ought to control what she could of it. His younger brother who was always in and out of one scrape or another. Hard to imagine him buckling down to work in Father’s and Grandfather’s firm and being groomed for politics. He missed the boy’s constant ribbing and antics.

Homesickness tugged at him. There were good things he missed—wrestling with his brother, riding with his dad, his mother’s cookies and his grandmother’s understanding. Sure, he missed home, although he did not want to be there.

“Time to harness up the gray mare for the schoolgirls.” Braden’s announcement rang through the barn like a death knell.

Shane grimaced. In truth, he’d been hoping to put that task off as long as possible. Nothing to be done about it but put aside his pitchfork, leave the rest to Braden and go in search of the old, placid mare.

Sweetie greeted him with hopefulness. Recognizing the gleam in those big brown eyes, he searched his pockets for a sugar cube. She took it daintily from his palm, a polite girl. Hard not to like her. Her beauty wasn’t in long, perfect lines or the quality of her breeding, but in something far more important. He led her gently through the barn to the buggy he’d washed while his hands froze in yesterday’s last bit of daylight and slipped a collar over her neck.

“Whatever happens—” a voice broke the silence behind him “—don’t let Meredith talk you into driving.”

“Yes, Mr. Worthington.” He’d met the patriarch of the family late last night after all the barn work was done. He didn’t have an opinion of the man one way or the other. Worthington hadn’t been as off-putting as his wife and was far friendlier. Shane gave the mare a pat. “I expect the roads to be tough going, so I’d like to get an early start.”

“Wise. I’ll inform the girls.” Robert hesitated like a man with something on his mind.

Here it comes, Shane predicted. He buckled the gray mare into the traces, bracing himself for whatever warning or judgment the wealthy man was about to make. Most likely a threatening warning to stay away from the Worthington daughters.

“It was hard to let Eli go. He had been a fine employee. Always took care of my horses and my girls. I never gave either of them a moment’s worry when they were in his care.” Robert cracked a smile, a masculine hint of Meredith’s, and he had the same stormy blue eyes.

This job meant a lot to him so he would take the warning on the chin. Not let insult to injury show.

“I can read between the lines,” Worthington went on. “The mud on the girls. Mud on the buggy. And poor Sweetie was barrel high. I noticed you cleaned the buggy, boots and tack without saying a word. You helped the girls when they needed it, and I’m much obliged. I can rest easier knowing they are in safe hands with you at the reins.”

Sometimes folks surprised you, Shane thought as he gave the last buckle a tug. Maybe this would be a better assignment than he’d figured, not that he was looking forward to driving Miss Meredith Worthington around town. But this was what Worthington wanted, so he would do it to the best of his ability. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

“You say that like a man who has no clue what he’s in for.” Worthington shook his head, retracing his steps. “Meredith is not happy about this. Consider it a word of warning.”

Meredith. As if his thoughts had summoned her, she bustled into the barn, dusted with snowfall and clutching a big stack of schoolbooks in the crook of her arm. If the scowl on her beautiful face was any indication, she was about as thrilled with the situation as he was.




Chapter Five


Her plan to banish Shane Connelly from her thoughts backfired like a Winchester with a jammed cartridge. Meredith swiped snow from her face as she took smaller and smaller steps toward the waiting buggy. He was there, as remote as stone, as unmoving as marble. He did not even seem to be breathing.

Perhaps it was especially difficult for him to be anywhere in proximity to her. She pushed Minnie ahead of her, gently nudging her along so she would reach the buggy first. She’d worried over this moment all night long, whenever dreams would pull her from her sleep, taunting dreams of Shane’s smile, his dimples, the snap of aliveness she’d felt in his presence. Regret had chased her all night long, keeping her sleep fitful and dawn a welcome release. She’d risen out of bed, dreading each step she took, each word to her sisters, every bite at the breakfast table because it led her all inexorably here to this unstoppable moment as he helped Minnie into the buggy’s backseat and then held out his gloved hand.

Memories of that hand in hers mocked her. Worse, he gazed past her, as if she didn’t exist to him. Much worse than she’d anticipated. She didn’t have to worry about meeting his gaze and being reminded of his words last night. She ignored his hand and clamored into the buggy of her own accord, settling her skirts and reaching for the lap robe before he could help.

You can be tougher than this, Meredith. She set her chin, focused her gaze forward, aware of his hesitation, so near to her she could hear him breathe. His gaze scorched her, raking the side of her face like a touch. If she turned and dared to face him, would she see regret softening the rugged angles of his handsome face? Or would she see his disdain?

His opinion of you doesn’t matter, she told herself, curling her fingers tightly around the hem of the robe. She was independent. She should not need any man’s regard, and it irked her beyond all reason that his opinion did matter. Somehow the air turned colder, the morning less bright as he took a silent step away and settled with a creak of leather onto the front.

“What about the roads?” Minnie scooted forward and laid her arms against the back of his seat. “Are we going to get stuck again?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” came Shane’s reply, warm and friendly as he gathered Sweetie’s reins. “The snow is too wet for the sleigh and the road is too soft for the wheels. It ought to be interesting.”

“I trust you.” Minnie grinned at him, flashing her adorable dimples. “I know you’re a really good driver. I can tell because Papa hired you.”

“Then I’ll try not to let you or your papa down.” Shane released the brake and gave the thick leather straps a careful slap. The old gray mare stepped out into the yard, eager to lift her nose to the flyaway snowflakes tumbling from the sky. An arctic wind fluttered her mane and ruffled the edges of the lap robe, letting in a cold blast of air.

“That’s good, because I don’t want to be late. I have a spelling test this morning and I can’t miss it,” Minnie chattered on. “I really worked hard and I know every word perfectly.”

“You do?” Shane seemed interested in a kindly, brotherly way.

If Meredith didn’t have her heart set against him, then she would have liked how he treated her little sister.

“It’s the very first time I have studied so hard.” Minnie swiped snow from her eyes. “I always pretend to study, but Mama keeps getting really mad at my grades. I have to go to finishing school in two years, and my marks are abysmal. That’s what Mama says. I don’t think they are all that bad. I would rather be riding horses than sitting in school.”

“That’s the way I felt, too, shortcakes. I finished school first, and then I started working with horses.” He turned his attention to the road ahead of them, the half-frozen mud clutching the buggy wheels like glue. The old mare struggled, lowering her head to dig in with all her might.

“You called me shortcakes.” Minnie’s grin stretched from ear to ear. She knocked the snow accumulating on her pink cap. “How come?”

“’Cuz you’re cute and you’re sweet.”

“I am?” Pleased, her grin went dazzling. No doubt about it, in a few years she would be breaking more than a few young men’s hearts.

“I would appreciate it if you were not so familiar with my sister.” That cool voice could only belong to Meredith. How he could ever have mistaken her for a sweet country miss was beyond him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she had her chin up and a regal look on her beautiful face.

“The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree?” he asked.

With a gasp, she fell silent. He gave thanks for the whipping wind and thick snow sailing into the buggy. He had his opinion on many things, such as a fancy summer buggy being used for winter driving, but he kept his tongue. He tried to convince himself it didn’t hurt that she obviously didn’t like him. As he guided the mare down the snowy landscape, doing his best to guess where the higher ground beneath the snow might be, he felt her disregard like the beat of the wind.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jillian-hart/patchwork-bride/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.