Patchwork Bride

“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.