Snowflake Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “You are carrying a great deal more than you left home with.” He studied her over the top of the page. “What’s in those packages? Remember, I said I need no Christmas presents. We can’t afford them.”

  “Lila mended a dress from the church barrel for me.” Her tongue tied, and she didn’t know how to speak of the gift of yarn and needles, so she said nothing more and stroked Solomon’s nose.

  “What about the other?” Pa glanced at the message, giving nothing away on his face. The news could not be good. “Did you decide to spend your wages on yourself like I told you?”

  “I’m saving my money, just in case there is a chance.” She knew her hopes were too high, her one foolish, illogical hope. That Roop would find immediate work in these tough times, that they could scrape together the payment with her earnings. That they could keep their home. Part of her just couldn’t let that hope go.

  “There will be no ‘just in case.’ We could sell everything we have, and we still wouldn’t make it.” Pa folded the telegram and slipped it into his pocket. “Roop says he will be moving on with the morning’s train. Maybe he will find work farther west.”

  “Maybe.” She battled overwhelming disappointment. There was no more optimism to have, no more positive thinking that could help. She tucked away her feelings, determined to be what her pa needed, the father who had done his best to be both a ma and a pa, who had always been kind to her. His love for her had never faltered. Hers would not now. “I’m sorry, Pa.”

  “We have what matters.” He shrugged one brawny shoulder, as if the farm and the dream he had worked for was no great loss. His eyes told a different story. He was shattered.

  There was no way she could make it better for him. No way to sweep up the pieces of those broken dreams, dust them off and sew them back together again. Solomon sensed their sadness and lifted his head, looking from one to the other, with worry quirking his horsy brows.

  “I spoke to the gal who runs one of the boardinghouses in town. Just down the street from your friend Lila’s place.” Pa cleared his throat. He laid one hand on Solomon’s flank to reassure him. “The boardinghouse gal promised to look after you. She’s a motherly sort and has seen you walking to and fro with your friends. I believe she will take care of you, make sure you are eating all your meals and keep you safe for me.”

  “What are you saying?” She gasped, her hopes rising for one, bright moment. Could it be true? “We are going to stay in town after all?”

  “You are.” Pa nodded once, a man with his mind made up. “You have a life here, Ruby. A good job. That’s no small thing to throw away.”

  “Pa, you know I can’t leave you.” That one hope tumbled again and hit the ground hard. “We’re a family.”

  “That we are, but there comes a time when a bird has to fly the coop and take to the sky with her own wings.” Pa cleared his throat, but his words grew heavy with emotion and tears he did not shed. “Don’t know what I will do without my Ruby-bug, but you need to stay. It isn’t every day a man like young Mr. Davis comes courting.”

  “Lorenzo? He’s not courting me.” She had to agree to it before he could officially court her. Courting was not a one-sided endeavor. What he was doing was being kind, being interested, being gallant, but he could never be anything more than what-might-have-been. “You have it wrong, Pa.”

  “That young man is in love with you. How could he not be, my beautiful little girl?” Pa gently laid his gloved hand to her cheek, as he always used to do when she was a child. Memories of a lifetime of kindness and love snapped between them, father and daughter. “Don’t let this chance for happiness get away. Chances like this come around rarely in life.”

  “Pa, it’s not like that. I am never going to be the lady of Davis Manor.” Could she imagine it? Never. She would picture Kate or Scarlet there instead and pray for it. She wanted Lorenzo’s happiness and her friends’ more than she wanted her own. “I appreciate the thought, but I cannot stay here. Maybe I can find work in a kitchen or caring for children somewhere up north. There’s always the fields come spring.”

  “I want a good deal more for you, honey.” Sorrow stood in his gaze. “You remind me so much of your mother. You are just like her. Sweet and stubborn and good, the light of my life. You deserve to live in a mansion.”

  “Love makes a home greater than any mansion could ever be. And I’m not changing my mind. You can’t make me.” She smiled up at him, resolute. “How much longer do we have here?”

  “Not long. I’ll speak to the banker again tomorrow.”

  “And what about Solomon?” At his name, her old friend nibbled at her knit cap, stealing it from her head. Her heart broke more, already knowing the answer.

  “He would never make the trip north. I don’t know what to do, poor fellow. I do not think I can even give him away. He’s too sick and old for anyone to want.”

  Worry choked her.

  “The neighbor has offered me fifteen dollars for Clover, when the time comes.” Pa’s voice cracked, his only show of defeat. “That will be enough for train fare for the two of us.”

  It was settled. They would be leaving most everything behind. Ruby wrapped her arms around Solomon, swallowing every last tear, refusing to let even one fall. Life was not fair. God had never promised it would be so, only that they would never be alone to face it.

  Tucked in the warm stable lost in heartache, heaven felt far away.

  So very, very far.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Son, surely you are not abandoning me now.” Gerard Davis leaned on his cane, his ready grin etched into his lean face. Behind him the manor was a flurry of activity, maids scurrying to and fro with mops and dusters, ordering around stablemen carrying their ladders and who knew what else.

  Lorenzo sighed. So far he hadn’t been roped into helping, but that was only a matter of time. He shrugged into his coat. “Sorry, duty calls. Some of the cowboys spotted tracks. Rustlers. They came back.”

  “How many head of cattle are missing?” Pa’s good humor vanished, replaced by ashen worry.

  “None yet. We’ve only spotted a downed fence.” Last summer’s trouble with rustlers had been serious, over a hundred animals had been taken. “Looks as if the rustlers spotted one of the cowboys on his rounds and ran before they took anything. Likely a small gang, maybe an individual, judging by the prints. It was hard to tell. But we want to put an end to this before anyone gets hurt.”

  “You be careful.” Gerard swallowed hard. “I want to go with you, but I can’t sit a horse with this leg.”

  “Ma needs you here.” He knew his father carried great guilt over not being able to pull his weight around the ranch. Lorenzo clapped him on the shoulder, son to father, and smiled encouragement into his pa’s worried eyes. “Mother needs one of us to order around. It might as well be you.”

  “That’s a fate I’m proud to suffer.” A hint of his good humor returned but not strong enough to outshine his worry. “You hurry back and suffer with me, you hear?”

  “I hear.” He understood what Pa didn’t say. He squeezed once before letting go, blessed to have such a father, and grabbed the rifle he’d leaned against the wall. “I’ll be back in one piece. Promise.”

  Pa didn’t look reassured, but perhaps that was a father’s job. Lorenzo cut in front of the upstairs maid, nearly invisible beneath a mound of lace draperies, and headed toward the kitchen. He intended to drop by and see Ruby. That put a spring in his step. Things had been so busy the last few days, he’d hardly seen more than a glimpse of her. His eyes hungered for the sight of her, searching for her the moment the kitchen doorway came into sight.

  She was awe-inspiring. Nothing could be finer than those gossamer, white-blond tendrils curling around her heart-shaped face. Her big, light blue eyes, the cute slope of her nose, the purse of her rosebud mouth as she patted what looked like bread dough into a mound in a big bowl and covered it carefully with a dish towel. Love strengthened within him, too powerfu
l to contain. It spilled over the rim of his heart.

  What could he do to make her see it? To make her understand?

  When she’d walked away from him again in the churchyard, it had taken every bit of his self-discipline to let her go. She’d said there could be no more kisses. Her circumstances in life must be overwhelming. With every fiber of his being, he wanted the right to fix her problems and to call her his own.

  “Master Lorenzo.” Cook’s knowing look was full of mischief as she spooned flour into a measuring cup. “Your coffee is ready. Ruby, hand it to the young man, will you? My hands are floury.”

  It was nice to have Cook on his side. Ruby didn’t acknowledge his presence. She swept to the counter to rescue a towel-wrapped canteen of coffee. She kept her eyes down, her chin tucked, moving like ten kinds of grace toward him. With every step she took, love arrowed more deeply into him, leaving his heart so consumed it was little good for anything else.

  “Here you go.” Her soft melody was his most favorite song as she thrust out the jug.

  “Thank you, Ruby.” What he meant was, I love you. What he meant was, I don’t want you to leave. He could not say the words in front of Cook, and so he took the coffee instead. “This will help keep me warm this morning. You look busy.”

  “Yes, the ball is in two days, as you well know.” A light dusting of flour streaked across her cheek, making her even more adorable. He resisted the urge to brush it away with the pad of his thumb.

  “So I’ve heard.” He tucked the canteen into the crook of his left arm. “I was nearly trampled by a stampede of maids on my way here.”

  “They are preparing the ballroom.”

  “I noticed.” The memory of their kiss played through him, like music too gentle to endure. Something mightier than tenderness seized him, a power of love he could not describe, but it was more unbreakable than steel. Did she think distance would stop his devotion to her? Is that why she had torn away from him that evening, sure there could be no more kisses?

  She swirled away from him now, her duty in bringing him coffee done, but he was not done. Separation could not stop what he felt for her. Nothing could diminish it.

  Lord, I pray again for her happiness. I pray for You to show me the best way to give that to her. All that mattered was her. Whether or not God meant for him and Ruby to be together, he intended to do right by her. He opened up to the Lord’s leading, not knowing where it would take him. To heartbreak or happiness? There was only one way to find out.

  He squared his shoulders, passed through the door and bowed his head against the biting wind. Judging by the angry clouds sailing in from the north, a bad storm was coming.

  “You’ve got a knack for baking.” Cook sidled up to inspect the row upon row of butter cookies cooling on racks. “Not a browned one among them. I’m rarely impressed. While they cool, come help me finish the gingerbread men.”

  “I’ve never iced anything before.” Nervous, she wiped her fingers on a dish towel following Cook around one work table to another one in the corner. It was lined with several different types of cookies in various stages of decoration. Elegant swirls of colorful and lacy icing, sprinkles of cocoa and sugar powder, tiny accents of homemade candies were far too artful for her inexperienced hand.

  “Then I shall handle the icing. You may add the buttons.” Cook gripped a pastry bag and bent to work, adding smiling, red mouths to a row of cookie men one after another. “Surely you can do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She harbored a great fondness for the stern lady, who wasn’t so intimidating once you got to know her. She would miss working here. Trying not to look ahead to a future she dreaded, she sorted through a dish of small gumdrops choosing three yellow ones and pressed them neatly into the icing placket of a gingerbread man’s coat. “I’ve never seen these kinds of cookies before, but shouldn’t they be wearing pants, too?”

  “Pants?” Cook roared with laughter. “Why, that hadn’t crossed my mind. Surely we cannot have bare-bottomed cookie men at our ball.”

  It was pleasant watching Cook add flourishes of pants cuffs and then marking the toes and heels of stockings, for good measure. Amused, Ruby chose gumdrop after gumdrop and after the gingerbread men were fully clothed, added peppermint disks to the top of Christmas tree cookies. It took all her discipline to keep her mind from returning to Lorenzo, but she did it.

  “The wind’s picking up.” Cook straightened and set aside her work. “Time to get that roast in the oven. You may as well get started on the potatoes. I’m planning on baking them tonight.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Ruby tucked the last candy into place, watching as the snow tumbled in a torrent of wind-driven ice. An angry wind struck the house and rattled the glass in the panes. The gray light of afternoon drained from the sky.

  “Mercy me, we need more lamps lit. See to it, Ruby.” A roasting pot banged against the preparation table. “That is one mean storm blowing in.”

  She lifted the match tin off the shelf by the stove and lifted the crystal chimney of the wall sconce. One strike, the match sparked to life, and she tipped it against the wick, watching it catch.

  The side of the house shook again as a harsh gust collided with it. The window turned white. She could see nothing, not one thing. Lorenzo was somewhere on the prairie in that. Was he all right? Could he find his way?

  “That’s one mighty blizzard.” Gerard Davis ambled in, leaning heavily on his cane. Concern marked his forehead as he glanced at the closed door. Perhaps he had come to check to see if his son had made it home. “No one is coming or going in this. Ruby, looks as if you will be staying here for the night.”

  “Yes, sir.” She replaced the chimney. She thought of Pa alone at home. “My father will worry.”

  “I’m sure he will miss you, but he has to know I wouldn’t let you try to head home in this. You are safe, dear, that’s what matters.” He gazed out the back window, straining to make out any shapes in the storm, any glimpse of his son returning.

  Her stomach twisted tight. What if Lorenzo hadn’t made it to shelter in time? The bitter wind swirled, as if with a tornado’s hand, and thunder cannoned so hard, it shook every pot and pan in the kitchen. Glasses tinkled. China rattled. Mr. Davis’s shoulders sank a hint before he straightened his spine, leaned heavily on his cane and tapped away.

  Worry ate at her as she lifted a second glass chimney and struck another match. Had Lorenzo felt the change in the storm and turned back from tracking the rustler? Or was he caught in the blinding blizzard, fighting his way with every step?

  “Ruby, best get to those potatoes.” Cook’s voice drew her back into the kitchen.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She set the matches down with a clank on the shelf and pulled open the knife drawer to root through it, looking for a paring blade.

  The back door burst open and slammed against the wall, caught by the wind. Icy flakes blasted across the threshold, borne on the blizzard’s gale. A familiar silhouette broke apart from the deluge. Lorenzo, coated in white. He stumbled stiffly, frozen, as he awkwardly wrestled the door closed.

  “Quick, Ruby, help him.” Cook abandoned seasoning the roast and grabbed a chair from one of the work tables. Lorenzo stood, nearly board stiff. What she could see of his face behind his muffler was bloodless and caked white.

  All the warmth had fled from the kitchen in the force of the wind, and she shivered hard. Ice crackled beneath her shoes. She didn’t remember crossing the kitchen, only that she was at his side. “You’ve looked better.”

  “I’ve been warmer.” His good humor hadn’t been damaged. His midnight blue eyes warmed when he saw her.

  Air clogged in her throat, and she blushed at the familiarity of his gaze, oh, so dear. He was a thick layer of ice everywhere. “Where do I begin?”

  “The muffler.” When he unclenched his jaw, his teeth clattered. “I can’t move my hands.”

  “Don’t worry. Let me.” Concern rushed through her. Her uncle had lost part of his foot
to frostbite. She knew how serious winter weather could be. Hoping Lorenzo would be spared, she broke through the caked snow looking for the end of his muffler.

  There it was. Ice tinkled to the floor as she seized it and unwound it in one powerful tug. Aware of Lorenzo’s eyes on her, she went up on tiptoes unwrapping the wool fabric from around the back of his neck, exposing his face. White skin, pale blue lips. Panic set in, and she yanked his gloves from his hands.

  White. Dangerously white. Poor Lorenzo. Misery resonated in his eyes. He shook so hard, snow tumbled off him like rain. She grabbed his arm, pulling him into the kitchen where the stove’s fire seemed defenseless against the encroaching cold. She cupped her hands around his much larger ones, willing warmth into them. Stumbling, she kept walking backward until she reached the stove.

  “Sit here.” Cook had moved a chair into place and now grabbed a hot pad to open the stove door. “You’re frozen clean through. I must be fond of you to let you track so much snow on my clean floor, young man.”

  “Can’t be helped. I’m part snowman.” He hated it when Ruby’s hand left his. He couldn’t feel the floor or his feet. Heat flared from the stove, heat he could barely feel. But he could feel it. Relief hit him hard. Something tugged at his collar. Ruby, loosening his coat buttons. The fabric was full of ice, and it had packed around the buttons, making her task harder.

  She smelled like ginger cookies and candy. The radiant breeze from the fire whirled fine tendrils against her ivory cheeks. Honest fear for him drew adorable crinkles into her forehead and around her Cupid’s-bow mouth. He would never forget their kiss, the sweetness of it, the awe. Like a miracle, it had transformed him. His life would never be the same.

  He saw his future in the aquamarine-blue of her eyes, his children in the shape of her porcelain face as she inched so close her hair brushed his jaw and caught on his day’s stubble. She eased the frozen jacket off his shoulders, and for one priceless moment, their eyes locked. His spirit brightened, his soul filled and was renewed. He could see within her clearly, see the wrinkle of her brow, the surprise, her will. She moved away to hang up his jacket, unaware of her effect on him. He listened to the pad of her shoes on the floor and the rustle of her skirt as she left his sight.