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“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.”
