Homespun Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Hold on,” Aiden called out from behind him.

  Not sure how much longer I can do that. Teeth gritted, the mare surged upward into a full rear. His feet left the ground. Pain shot through his arms. C’mon, Aiden. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

  A lasso whizzed through the air and hissed around the mare’s neck. The rope yanked tight. Thad’s feet hit the ground, and he shortened the rein.

  Thank the Lord. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother riding close, keeping the rope taut. Free to let go, Thad left the mare to his brother and ran.

  Sunny, standing over the unconscious man, gave a snort of alarm. Thad dropped on his knees at Robert’s side. His guts clenched. Blood stained Worthington’s hair, chest and the snow around him.

  Was it too late? Hard to tell. It didn’t look as if he was breathing. Thad, dreading the worst, thought of Noelle as he tackled the buttons on the man’s thick wool coat. What would she do if she lost her uncle, too? Who would take care of her? Protect her? Look out for her?

  Thad tore back the coat, icy fear making his fingers clumsy. Robert’s chest was still—too still. And then there was the faintest movement. Shallow. Slow. Unsteady. But it was a breath.

  Relief nearly drowned him. Worthington was alive. There was some hope to cling to.

  “Robert!” He unwound his scarf. “Mr. Worthington, can you hear me?”

  No answer. No movement. Nothing. He was hurt bad, Thad knew it. Sweat broke out on his brow. The icy air made him shiver. The snowflakes landed on his nape as he leaned forward to try to bandage the wound.

  “I’ll go for the doc!” Aiden drew up his horse. Behind him, the temperamental mare, squealing in angry protest, was tethered to a fence post. “Or, is it too late?”

  “He’s alive. Barely.” Thad nodded toward his mustang, who stood patiently waiting at Robert’s feet. “Best that you take Sunny. He can run faster than your draft horse.”

  “I’ll be fast.” Aiden slid off and gave the old draft horse a fond pat on his neck before he took Sunny by the reins. He mounted up, leaving without another word, for there was no time to waste.

  “Robert?” Still no response. Thad shrugged out of his coat, debating what to do. At least those years of experience on the trail would come in handy. Thad figured the cut to Robert’s head looked bad enough, but it was the blow to his chest that troubled him. He’d been around enough of this kind of injury to know it was often lethal. His heart could have been damaged.

  The wind gusted, blowing colder. It was likely to be worse before it got better—and not good for Robert. Thad whistled for Clyde.

  The big gentle Clydesdale ambled close, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood, but he wasn’t startled. He was a wise horse as he stood and blew out his breath in a whoosh, as if accepting his new burden.

  The wind was kicking up, and the snow began to fall like rain. In the haze of the downpour, Thad took a moment to gaze down the road, where the Worthington ranch lay.

  Noelle. He hurt for her. He knew that she loved her uncle very much.

  Clyde nickered, scenting the wind. Someone was coming. Thad was no longer a religious man so to speak, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t given over to prayer now and again. He sent one more plea heavenward, Lord, let that not be his family. Let them not see this.

  A dark horse broke through the veil of snow. There was no mistaking Miss Bradshaw’s fine lines and sensible demeanor. He leaped to his feet and grabbed the horse’s bridle bit. “Whoa there. Is that you, Mrs. Worthington?”

  The snow shrouded her, and her voice was sharp. “Who dares stop us? We have no money, for we spent it all in town. Unhand my horse, you—”

  “Thad?” Noelle’s gentle voice seemed louder than the storm. She was already moving out from beneath the lap blanket, looking at him as if she clearly saw him. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “It’s Robert.” So much for his prayers, Thad thought, steeling himself to face her again. “The horse threw him. He’s in the road, and we—”

  “Robert?” Mrs. Worthington cried out. “What’s happened to my Robert?”

  “No, stay where you are, ma’am.” He released the bit to stay the woman’s arm. “He’s injured. I need you to stay collected.”

  “Injured?” The woman began to hyperventilate, breathing deeply and rapidly.

  “Noelle, my brother’s riding for the doctor, but we cannot leave him in the road. I was about to put him on the back of this horse, but the sleigh would be best for him.”

  “Of course.” She looked stricken. Instant grief had carved its way around her emerald-green eyes. “Minnie, crowd the lunch pails and books into the backseat. Tilly, come help me. Angelina, see to your mother.”

  Thad turned on his heel, rushing the few paces back to the fallen man’s side. There was so little he could do for Robert, but do it he would. He crouched down beside the fallen man and knocked aside the snow. A fine layer had begun to accumulate on Robert’s body as if he were already gone.

  Taking gentle care with the injured man, Thad lifted him carefully, determined to get Robert home. With the big man’s heavy weight in his arms, he gave one final prayer. Help him, for his family’s sake. Noelle has had enough losses.

  A low note rose in the strengthening wind, and he feared his faith was not strong enough to lift his request to heaven’s ear.

  “Thad, lay him here.” Noelle had deftly collected the lap blankets and had lined the center seat.

  As the wife and daughters caught sight of their loved one, battered and bleeding and unconscious, their renewed cries rose up and echoed around him. Thad hardened his heart, fearing a sad outcome, and carefully laid down his burden, holding the man’s head in one hand so there would be no further injury.

  He was concentrating so hard, he didn’t notice Noelle’s touch until her hands bumped his. Her fingertips feathered over the blood-soaked makeshift bandage.

  “We’ve got to wrap him up well.” Thad spied the last lap blanket lying over the back of the front seat and pulled it onto the unconscious man. “Make sure to keep him as still as you can. I’ll be riding right behind the sleigh.”

  Noelle nodded. Snow clung to her everywhere, gracing her with a pure white luminescence. Her sadness eked into his stone-hard heart and he gruffly moved away, leaving so much—leaving everything—unsaid.

  “Getup, Miss Bradshaw.” He reached out to give the mare a light pat on the flank and the mare took off, drawing away the sleigh and Noelle.

  His Noelle. He could tell himself a thousand times that she was no longer his. That he didn’t love her, wouldn’t care about her, that the past was done and gone.

  The truth was not so simple. The truth left him feeling as hopeless as the bitter winds howling in from the north. He mounted up and pressed Clyde into the teeth of the growing storm.

  Chapter Six

  Noelle had never felt so useless While they waited for the doctor to come, the maid and cook hustled back and forth from the bedroom to the kitchen and back again bringing all sorts of necessary items. The best thing she could do was to sit in a chair by her uncle’s bedside.

  “Robert? Oh, my Robert, please wake up.” Henrietta clutched her husband’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “You wake up. You hear me? It’s the least you can do for not listening to me. If you had, you wouldn’t be d-dying.”

  Lord, please don’t let that happen. Noelle swiped at a falling tear. She sat straighter on the ladder-back chair the maid had brought up for her and steepled her hands together.

  Please let him be all right.

  She could not see to bind his wounds, cook and prepare a poultice or tend to cleaning his abrasions. The most she could do was to keep out of the way of those who could. The only thing she could do with her hands was to pray. As important as that was, it didn’t feel like enough.

  “If you l-leave me, Rob—” Henrietta choked on a sob “—I shall never forgive you. Mark my words! I will hold it against you for all ete
rnity, that’s wh-what I’ll d-do.”

  Her aunt broke down again, all tears and incoherent fear. Noelle unfolded her hands from prayer and rose to find a fresh handkerchief from the top bureau drawer. The eerie, waiting silence of the room and of the house made her padding footsteps seem louder than a herd of horses at feed time.

  “Here, Henrietta.” She felt her way to the other side of the bed, where her aunt sat sobbing. “What more can I do for you?”

  “There’s nothing you can do, child. All I want is to see my Robert awake and alive and as good as new. That’s what I want.” She took the handkerchief and blew her nose with a trumpeting sound. “That man! Why did he go and do that? Mr. McKaslin told him not to buy that mare. Not a lick of sense. He’s at that age.”

  Knowing her aunt needed to talk, that it would comfort her, Noelle knelt on the wood floor. “What age?”

  “Selling the house in town, moving out here to this wilderness is trouble enough. But he quit his job at the bank. Quit. We still have our girls to raise and marry off, every single one of them. This is not the time to begin a horse ranch. Weddings are expensive and we’ll have five of them, and Lydia’s and Meredith’s finishing school costs. Next year Angelina will be attending the academy in Boston, and the year after that Minnie. How will we find good matches for the girls and their lasting happiness if we cannot afford it?”

  Noelle found Henrietta’s elbow and from there, took her aunt’s hand in both of hers. She knew her aunt well enough to know it wasn’t the finances she was so distraught over. Henrietta’s love was so deep for her husband she could not speak of it.

  Noelle wished she knew how to comfort that kind of pain. She felt inadequate as she gave Henrietta’s hand a loving squeeze. “One worry at a time. You’re not alone, my dear aunt.”

  “You are a blessing to me.” Henrietta sniffled. “What is keeping that doctor? Doesn’t he know my Robert needs him? What kind of a physician takes his own sweet time? I should write a letter of complaint.”

  She heard the echo of an approaching step at the far end of the hallway.

  “The doctor’s riding up now.” Cook charged into the bedroom, breathing hard with her exertion. Water sloshed in a basin and she plunked it down on the top of the bureau. “Out of the room, missy. The doc will need room to work.”

  Yes, she was in the way. Noelle released her aunt’s hand and pressed a loving touch to her uncle’s forehead. He was such a good man. He had taken her in when she’d had nobody else. He was a good husband and father.

  As she slipped from the room the doctor was hurrying up the stairs, perhaps let in by the maid, Sadie, and once again, Noelle was in the way when she wanted so badly to do something to help. She took several paces back and waited in the hallway’s cool corner until the medical man strode through the doorway in a great hurry and clatter.

  Only then did she make her way downstairs. With a trembling step and a heavy heart, she retreated to her chair in the parlor. The low crying and quiet sniffles told her she wasn’t alone in the room. The fire was low, judging by the dull hum of the flames and the lazy occasional pop, but she could not see to add wood to the grate.

  “Matilda? Would you like me to pray with you?”

  Another quiet sniffle. “N-no. I just left Minnie and Angelina praying in the library. I j-just hurt s-so mu-uch.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “There’s nothing that you can do. Only the d-oc-tor. And G-god.”

  “Should I make you some hot tea?”

  “That would be l-lovely.” Matilda stifled a sob. “Cook’s lemon mint?”

  “Of course.” Relieved to have something constructive to do, she headed to the kitchen, counting her steps as she went, ticking off the number of paces from her chair to the dining room and from the table to the swinging kitchen door.

  Thad. She knew he was there by the change in the air, by the scent of horse and leather and hay. Against her will, her heart tugged as if he’d cinched a rope around it.

  Split wood tumbled into the fuel box with a roll and thunk. She waited, holding herself very still as Thad’s movements seemed loud in the still and empty room. The fire’s voice grew to a crackling roar.

  “That’ll do.” Cook’s grudging approval was a rare sound. “That was mighty Christian of you, Mr. McKaslin.”

  “Just helping out while I’m here.” His baritone tensed, as if he knew she was in the room. “I guess I’d best see to the other fires in the house.”

  His footsteps knelled closer with the unhurried, strong beat that she knew so well.

  She stepped aside, knowing she was in the way and expected him to walk on by. After all they’d been through, what could there be left to say? She wouldn’t trust him, wouldn’t allow a friendship, would do nothing but to wish him well. She was certain he felt the same way.

  But his gait halted, and she could feel his calming presence towering over her.

  “I’m sorry for your uncle,” he said gruffly. “I don’t suppose there’s any word from the doc yet?”

  Her eyes watered at the tender caring in his voice—a tender caring she well remembered through all the years and disillusionment. It had been the great gentleness in the powerful man that had once won her heart completely.

  If only her heart did not remember that now. She nodded, not trusting her voice, wishing him to go on his way before the burning in her eyes turned to tears.

  “I’m no longer much of a praying man, but I’ve been keeping him in prayer.”

  “That means a lot.” One hot tear rolled down her cheek. “More than you know.”

  “I care more than you know.”

  The rough, callused pad of his thumb brushed featherlight against her cheek to stop her single tear. He’d moved closer, and he leaned in closer still. She could hear the rhythm of his breathing and smell the faint scent of soap on his shirt.

  “I know Robert is like a second father to you. I don’t want you to lose him, too.”

  Noelle shook her head, too overcome to speak. She recognized the soft note in Thad’s tone, and she knew how his face would look, his eyes caring, his jaw squared, a combination of strength and heart that had always dazzled her.

  Another tear rolled down her face, and he caught that one, as well, brushing it away with a kindness that made her ache with all that she had lost. All that had never been.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Thad was all the stronger, in her view, for his kindness. “I can sit with you.”

  “No.” How did she tell him the truth? She ought to be crying for her uncle, but the tears were for herself. For him. For the fragments of the past she’d never truly let go. She held on to those bright pieces of joy like a miser did his last pieces of gold. They were slivers of happiness she could not stand to remember. They were bits of sorrow she could not forget.

  “N-no.” The word scraped against her raw throat. “You go on home. I shall be fine.”

  “All right, then, but I’m not about to leave. You sure you’re okay?”

  “S-sure.”

  “You don’t look all right.”

  Those pieces of sorrow felt brighter, bigger. It was not him she needed.

  The door swished open and shut, Thad was gone, and she was achingly alone. She could hear the striking of Cook’s shoes on the stairs echoing rapid-fire. Dully, she heard Thad pass through the house before the kitchen door swung shut and cut off the sound of him.

  She felt adrift. She longed for the comforting words of her Bible. She ached for the days when she could have run her fingertips along the edges of the fragile, gold-edged pages, treasuring all those wonderful words and passages.

  It was no trouble to locate the everyday teapot in its place on one of the many kitchen shelves or the tins of tea. A few quick sniffs helped her to find Tilly’s favorite blend.

  While she worked, she heard the younger girls clattering down the hall from the library and questioning Cook.

  What had the doctor said? She plucke
d an oven mitt from the top drawer next to the stove and strained to listen.

  “The doc has said nothing yet, only that the fall should have killed him. Perhaps there is still hope.”

  “What if Papa n-never w-wakes up?” Minnie’s thin, fragile voice held a note of pure anguish.

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs, drowned out by sobs.

  “Angelina, Mama said we all had to stay downstairs,” Minnie called out. “Angelina, I’m telling on you.”

  “I don’t care.” The strike of shoes on the staircase had to be Angelina’s, while Minnie cried.

  I know exactly how much it hurts to lose a father. Lord, I hope You can spare her, spare them all, that pain. She hurt for them in too many ways to count, this loving family who had taken her in as their own. She had done her best to accept a similar hand the Lord had dealt her, but she truly prayed that the Worthington family would have better favor.

  She carefully located the teakettle’s handle and lifted it with the mitt, intent on keeping the kettle level so as not to spill boiling water all over the stove, the floor and her dress. She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t notice a strange burning smell until after she’d returned the kettle to the back burner. Her skirts had gotten too close to the hot stove, and she’d scorched the fabric—again. She touched the hot fabric with her fingertips, unhappy with herself for not remembering to check her dress.

  The door chose that moment to whisper open. “Don’t worry, it’s not bad. Just a small spot.”

  “Thad.” She felt foolish fussing over her skirt, and she straightened, knowing her face was flushed.

  “What are you doing at the stove?”

  “Trying to be useful.”

  “Seems to me you don’t need to be in the kitchen to do that.”

  There it was, his kindness again. It was harder to confront than all the ways he’d wronged her. A lump formed in her throat. Before she could search for something—anything—to say to break the silence between them, a flurry of steps rang in the stairwell. The girls’ voices rose in a clamor. The doctor had come down.