Homespun Bride

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where does he hail from?”

“St. Louis.”

“Your parents came from here,” he remembered.

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

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

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

“You had to have been gravely injured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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