Snowflake Bride

by Jillian Hart

  Please, let him not be there. She sent one more prayer heavenward for good measure, as the structure loomed overhead.

  Knowing shelter from the cold was close, dear old Solomon nickered low in his throat, as if with relief, and picked up his pace. He had no desire to avoid a certain dashingly handsome man, so he was more than happy to prance into the stable and blow out his breath to get some attention.

  “Hello, Miss Ruby.” Mateo strode in from the shadows of the stalls. He had the same strapping strength as Lorenzo did, although his features were rougher and his black eyes full of merriment. “It’s a cold one this morning. How would Solomon feel about some nice, hot oats along with his rubdown?”

  “I’m sure he would like it.” She swung down awkwardly, not realizing how numb she’d become. Her feet hit the ground hard enough to rattle her teeth. She couldn’t feel her toes.

  “You go on in and warm up before your shift starts.” Mateo took the gelding’s reins, gently rubbing the horse’s nose as if they were fast friends.

  She patted Solomon goodbye and headed out into the cold, eyes peeled for any sign of Lorenzo. So far, nothing. Maybe he was out in the fields, feeding cattle. A girl could hope. She took off at a fast pace, relieved the coast stayed clear. Her footsteps echoed in the vast, lonely morning, where deep purple clouds tried to blot out the view of the twilit sky. All alone, she skidded on the icy pathway, slid on the steps and stumbled through the door. A broad-shouldered shadow towered over her.

  Lorenzo. Not out in the fields, as she’d hoped. She skidded to a stop, gasped in shock and fought the panicked urge to leap back outside.

  “Good morning.” His baritone rang friendly. A smile beamed across his chiseled features.

  She jerked her gaze to the floor, but it was too late. She’d seen the caring in his eyes and felt it like a touch against her cheek as she unbuttoned her coat. “Good morning.”

  “I noticed you made it to church last night.” The warmth in his voice urged her to look up. “Looked like you were having fun.”

  “I was. I’m not sure I should have spared the time, but Pa talked me into going.” She bit her lip and shrugged out of her coat. What was she doing? Talking with him when she ought to be pushing him away. “Then Meredith came by in her sleigh with Scarlet and Lila, and they wouldn’t give up until I agreed to go.”

  “You sound glad that you did.” Gentle like a touch, that voice, impossible to ignore.

  “I was.” Her eyes swept up of their own accord, their gazes connected, and all the words evaporated from her brain. Gone. Vanished. Why couldn’t she get her feelings for him under control? Why did they grow with each heartbeat and each breath?

  “Let me hang that up for you.” He took her coat, a little shabby and patched on one sleeve.

  “No, I mean—” Her protest came too late. Her coat already hung from a peg. She couldn’t feel more awkward, probably looking like an idiot, standing in the entryway, just standing, struggling to find the right words. Not at all sure how she could tell him what she was honestly feeling. That she would much rather just go back to not knowing him. She was uncomfortable with him liking her.

  He should be liking Scarlet or Kate. They deserved him. Their lives were stable. They weren’t fearing they might be homeless before month’s end.

  “Ruby, do you want to drink a cup of coffee together?” He jammed one iron shoulder against the wall. “I know you have some time. You arrived really early.”

  “Yes, but I have to change into my maid uniform. I’m sure Cook could use my help. There are some things I need to work at, to get faster.” She stumbled away from him, apology in her eyes and gentleness in her voice. “I slowed her down terribly yesterday. I don’t want to do that again.”

  “Sure, I understand.” A band of tension cinched around his chest, pulling tight as he watched her scurry away with a swish of her skirts and a flip of her braids. “I know what your job means to you.”

  “Thanks.” She offered him one tentative smile and squeaked away on her worn-out shoes. He hated that hard times had come to her family and that the Ballards had been struggling for so long. He wished there was something he could do. He would start with finding out what his father may have said to her.

  “Renzo, to what do I owe this pleasure?” His mother floated into the dining room. “You are always out in the fields this time of morning.”

  “I finished up with the early-morning fieldwork. Pa and I have papers to go over after breakfast.” He gave his coffee another stir with his spoon, pushed away from the sideboard and crossed in front of the hearth, where a cheerful fire chased away the chill from the air. “Now that the water problem is fixed and the cattle are snug in the winter pasture, Pa decided it’s time for me to learn about the books.”

  “A word of warning. Book work vexes your father.” Ma poured a cup of tea. “He would much rather be outdoors with the animals. I suppose you’re likely to feel the same.”

  “As it’s so cold out, I don’t mind staying in where it’s warm. For now. I imagine I’ll start feeling antsy midway through the day and need to get back out there.”

  “You are a fine rancher, son, and a hard worker. Your father and I couldn’t be more proud of you.” She landed a peck of a kiss to his cheek. “Now that I have you all to myself—”

  “Sugar?” He interrupted her, sure she was going to bring up the Christmas ball again. The last of the invitations were going out this morning. He plopped two sugar cubes into her cup. Best to distract her. “Are you going to town today?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” Her forehead furrowed as she studied him thoughtfully. “I’m taking your sister in for a dress fitting. Our Christmas ball is fast approaching.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” Seemed there was no getting around this conversation. He grabbed his cup and headed over to the fireplace to finish thawing out. “I plan to skip it this year.”

  “What?” His mother dropped her teaspoon. “Don’t tease me like that. I almost believed you.”

  He grinned. As if he could disappoint his mother. “You aren’t going to make me get a new suit, are you? Last year’s fits just fine.”

  “You would be more dashing in the latest fashion.”

  “I don’t care about fashion.” He took a sip of hot, strong coffee and spotted Ruby. She carried a china teapot so carefully she seemed afraid of dropping it as she stepped into the room.

  Ruby. He lowered his cup, captivated as she padded to the table and lowered the pot. Her dove-gray maid’s dress and crisp, white apron looked darling on her, but he didn’t speak to her, remembering his father’s rules.

  “Ruby, dear.” Ma set her cup on the table. “Could you please move the coffeepot to the table?”

  “Of course.” She gathered up the coffeepot, not looking his way once. Even when she faced him, her eyes were solely on her work. Not one glance, not one smile.

  “Just put that near my husband’s chair. Thank you.” Anyone could tell by Ma’s indulgent smile that she was fond of Ruby. Who wouldn’t be? It was impossible not to like her, and he’d passed “like” a long while ago.

  “Ma, can we stop at the jeweler’s after school, too?” His little sister, Bella, bounded in, her petticoats rustling, looking like a page out of Godey’s. Her dark hair shone in the lamplight as brightly as the hope on her face. “I need something really sparkly to go with my new gown.”

  “We will see.” Ma’s standard answer when she was likely to say no. “Breakfast, first. Then school. Besides, your fitting may take up all the time we have to spare.”

  “I know, but I am still going to hope.” Bella dropped into her seat and poured a cup of tea.

  Ruby moved the sugar and creamer to the table before silently padding from the room. Still, not a single glance his way. He hated how stilted and unnatural it felt as she slipped out of sight.

  “Good morning.” Pa’s cane tapped on the hardwood as he limped into the room. “Renzo, looking forward to cracking the books?
”

  “Why not? Arithmetic was my favorite subject in school. I might even like it.” He took another sip of coffee, upset over Ruby. He really needed to talk to his father, but they weren’t alone. And likely Ma would side with Pa.

  “For your sake, I hope you do. There’s more book work with running a big ranch than anyone wants to think about. And don’t you look lovely this morning, Selma.” Pa held out his arms.

  “The same as always, Gerard.” Ma stepped into his embrace and the happy pair cuddled, their love for each other as cozy as the fire blazing in the hearth. “Will you and Renzo need all day for the books? I have hopes of stealing you away this afternoon.”

  “You do? I wouldn’t mind being stolen as long as I’m with you.”

  “Careful, Pa. I was nearly roped in to try on new clothes. Sounds like she might be trying to trap you next.”

  “Best stay away from that.” Pa laughed as he held out his wife’s chair for her. “I’m busy, Selma. All day. Terrible busy. Not a thing I can do about it.”

  “You men. What am I going to do with you?” Ma’s merriment filled the room, but he hardly heard it. His sister rolled her eyes and poured honey into her tea. He plopped down in his chair, debating what to do.

  He saw how Ruby’s life was. Right now, her job was the only thing supporting her family. If her family’s finances didn’t improve, she could be moving away. They wouldn’t have a chance.

  Maybe he should just let his feelings for her go. Perhaps that would be best for her.

  Frustrated, he shook his head, hating the roiled-up ball of confusion lodged in his chest.

  When she reappeared through the door behind Mae, carrying a tray of oatmeal bowls, tenderness surged through him. She appeared so very serious as she kept the heavy tray balanced and level and convenient for Mae, who served bowls around the table.

  Ruby inched closer to him, her gaze down as if absorbed in her task. His adorable Ruby. Emotion knotted him up so tight, all he could see was the platinum-haired beauty doing her best to avoid him.

  “Aren’t you done with the floor yet?” Cook didn’t bother to hide her irritation as she slammed a lid on the soup kettle. “I’ve got the noon meal to get on the table, and here you are dallying.”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” She inched backward on the floor. She’d been cleaning all morning long. Her arms ached as she scrubbed the brush around and around on the tile. She was doing the best she could, but she’d been too slow, and she was holding up the Davis’s midday meal.

  “I’m not helping her.” An imperial voice rose above the whistle of the tea kettle. Mae swirled around a table. “I got my work done on time. Lucia will not be happy to hear about this.”

  Just keep working, Ruby. Around and around the scrub brush went, making quick progress toward the far side of the room. She was almost there. Her knees protested as she inched backward, still scrubbing. She squeezed the brush tighter and made the last swipes.

  There, done. Relieved, she relaxed back on her heels and surveyed her work, breathing hard. The kitchen was huge, far larger than her family’s entire shanty.

  “At least you were thorough. Very thorough.” Cook padded across the wet floor, face pruned as she squinted into corners and beneath the cabinets. She gave Mae a hard stare. “Unlike some people. Ruby, you go throw out that wash water, wash your hands. We have a meal to get on the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She rose to her feet, grateful. She would do better next time. She had to. Pa was counting on her. She gathered the brush and the bucket and hurried toward the door, dodged a frowning Mae and popped outside just long enough to send the wash water sailing in a sparkling arc into the snow at the side of the house. Her breath rose in great gusts and, teeth chattering, she bounded into the hallway. Lorenzo’s coat still hung on its peg. She’d been aware of his presence all morning, though she did her best not to notice.

  Maybe if she stopped looking at the man, her feelings for him would stop. It was worth a try, right? She stowed the bucket and brush in the closet and hurried toward the basin. She needed to get her hands washed so she could—

  Her shoe slipped on the wet tile, skating right out from under her. She went down so hard and fast, she didn’t have time to grab anything. She sailed backward through the air, reached out to break her fall and heard something snap. Pain screeched up her left arm as she slammed onto the floor. The back of her head hit and bounced off the tile, only to fall back with a final thud.

  Ow. She lay stunned, hardly able to breathe. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she sat up. Her head whirled, and she had to blink hard to keep the room still. Fortunately, she was on the far side of the cook’s table and cabinets. Maybe no one saw. Maybe if she could get up fast enough, she could pretend this new humiliation hadn’t happened.

  Excellent, Ruby. Just perfectly brilliant. Everything ached, but her pride hurt most of all.

  She planted the palms of her hands on the wet floor and pushed to sit up. Sharp pain lashed through her left arm, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. It hurt terribly.

  Please, Lord, don’t let it be broken. It can’t be. Cradling her hurt arm to her chest, she pushed off with her right hand, rose slowly to her feet and headed straight to the wash basin. Her head hurt, her arm hurt. She felt bruised where she’d landed. When she went to grab the bar of soap, it, too, was blurry. She worked the pump handle and it was blurry. Any turn of her head made her skull pound. When she glanced slowly around, the entire kitchen was fuzzy.

  “Are you all right, girl?” Cook plunked the lid onto its pot and broke away from the stove. “You hit mighty hard. Sit down and get your bearings.”

  It was a good idea, because honestly, the spots were getting worse. They had taken to swirling a little, and she was afraid if she sat down even for a minute, she wouldn’t be able to get back up. If she couldn’t do her job, then she wouldn’t get paid. Her family needed her wages.

  “I’m fine.” She rubbed the bar of soap between her hands, agony shot through her left wrist, and her vision went momentary black. Pure will kept her upright. She rinsed beneath the stream of water from the pump spout. Holding her head very still, she gingerly patted her skin dry. Any movement of her left hand and forearm made her eyesight dim.

  “You don’t look fine.” Cook bustled over. “You hit your head.”

  “I have a hard head.” At least, she hoped that was true.

  “You’re as pale as a sheet.” Cook squinted carefully, assessing. “Your eyes look off. Can you see all right?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, truly.” She appreciated the older woman’s concern, but how could she admit the truth?

  “I think we should fetch a doctor.” Cook pursed her lips, debating. “I wonder if Mateo can be spared from his work?”

  “No. Please.” A doctor cost money, and how could she pay him? She thought of the looming mortgage payment, the one her father didn’t think he could make. “Bothering Doc Frost is not necessary. My shoes slipped, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “All right, but it’s against my better judgment. If you begin to feel faint, you sit down right away. Understand, young lady?” Cook’s scowl emphasized she was not a woman to be messed with. “Mae, what are you smirking at? Get out the serving tray. I’m ready to dish up the meal.”

  Somehow she had to help. Ruby willed the spots away and took a careful step. The dots before her eyes did not fade as she opened the cabinet with her good hand and counted out three soup bowls. Her left hand protested, but she bit her bottom lip, did her best not to wince and set the bowls gingerly on the counter for Cook to fill.

  “The missus will be eating alone.” Cook ladled out dipperfuls of the fragrant chicken-and-dumpling soup. “The men will take their meals in the library. Ruby, you are having trouble moving your left hand.”

  “I’m fine. See?” She wiggled her fingers to prove it. Okay, they didn’t exactly move well, but good enough if she ignored the overwhelming pain radiatin
g up her arm.

  “Mae, you will serve the meal on your own.” Cook appeared mightily displeased as she filled the last soup bowl and set it with a clink on the tray.

  Ruby groaned. She wasn’t even going to be allowed to carry the tray of food? That was her job. It felt like a disgrace not to do it. Was she being dismissed for the afternoon?

  “Take this.” Cook shoved a clean dish towel at her. “Fill this with snow. You need to put ice on that wrist. Now go, no arguments.”

  “It will be as good as new in a minute or two.” She took the folded length of soft muslin and headed to the back door, feeling like a failure. Cook was unhappy with her, Mae was sure to be angry over having to do all the serving work, and what if her wrist was truly broken? How could she keep her job?

  First things first. She unhooked her coat and tried to slide her left hand into her coat sleeve. More pain. She sighed. Her day could be going better. She gritted her teeth. Pain bolted up her arm. It’s not broken, she insisted stubbornly.

  “Last month, I swear I saw that same pair of shoes sitting on the top of the donation barrel,” Mae commented under her breath.

  Ruby tumbled out the door, breathing in the sting of bitter cold, thankful to finally be alone. She dropped onto the bottom step, unable to fight any longer. Tears burned behind her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She was stronger than this.

  A little help please, Lord. Just a little help.

  No answer came on the inclement wind.

  Chapter Eight

  Lorenzo set down his spoon, his noon meal done. He’d been trying to pay attention to his father’s teaching, but his gaze kept drifting to the window where he had a perfect view of the steps off the kitchen door and of Ruby seated there. Alone, shivering in the cold, her head hung down with her left hand covered in a cloth. What had happened to her? Concern tore through him.