Patchwork Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Goin’ this way anyway,” came the answer as the older, gruff man pulled his mount to the roadside and consulted the telegram in his pocket.

  “Guess that means we don’t have far to go.” He shivered when the wind lifted, knifing through his wool coat. Nearly wet to the bone, he ought to be eager to get into dry clothes and thaw out in front of a fire. Gazing down at Just Meredith, he wasn’t in much of a hurry. “You ladies must be freezing. The temperature is falling. I could dig a blanket out of my saddle roll. Might keep you warmer.”

  “That’s very gentlemanly of you, but we’ll be fine.”

  “Meredith!” Minnie protested. “I’m cold. Look. It’s starting to snow.”

  “No wonder I’m half an icicle.” Nothing like a joke to warm a fellow. He twisted in his saddle to tug on the ties and pulled a folded length of red wool from beneath the oiled tarp protecting his things. “This ought to keep you two ladies a little more comfortable.”

  “Thank you, Shane.”

  He liked the way she said his name with a touch of warmth—unless he was imagining that—and a bit of respect, which he didn’t mind at all. He gave the blanket a snap, settled it over the ladies’ skirts, nearly falling out of his saddle to hand over the edge to Meredith so she could tuck it around her and Minnie. Leaning close, an odd sense of warm curled around his ribs, something tender and fine like first light on a spring morning.

  Once she had the blanket settled, she gathered the reins in her slender, smooth hands. In retrospect, maybe he would have thought about that more and realized it was a sign. That a country girl’s hands wouldn’t look soft and pampered instead of callused and rough from work. But the bit of warm felt cozy in his chest, a nice and wholesome thing, so he didn’t think too much as he followed the buggy off the main road and down a narrower drive curving between a copse and tall fencing.

  Braden signaled him. “I don’t want you gettin’ too friendly with any of the neighbors.”

  “Are you tellin’ me you want me to be rude?” He angled his brim against the driving snow tapping against his hat and stinging like icy needles on his jaw.

  “Not rude, no. But I want your mind on horse business.”

  “It will be.” The chance to keep learning at Braden’s heels was all he wanted. So why did his gaze stray to the buggy? Although he couldn’t see Meredith from this angle, he wanted to, as surely as he sat in the saddle. That could not be a good thing.

  “I know how it is. It’s only natural to take interest in a pretty gal. But remember, we move on. Our commission here is only two months at the most.”

  “I know that.” He knew what was important and why he was here. He had learned a lot, and on this assignment he would have more responsibility and a real opportunity to use what he had been taught. “I know what you’re asking, Braden, and you can count on me. I’m not going to leave you with all the work while I chase after a pretty calico. I’m not that kind of man.”

  “I’m still waiting to see the brand of man you are.” Braden, tough for his years, iron-strong and jaded, had a look that could pare like the sharpest blade. “You have potential, Shane, but you’re a blue blood. I’m waiting to see which wins out.”

  “I’m not playing at this. I’m here to work.” He still had a point to prove. Right now his work was the only importance in his life. He squared his shoulders and did not flinch when arctic blew in on the wind. The curtain of snow thickened, obscuring Meredith’s driving buggy and the rest of the world from sight.

  Home was nothing more than a hint of a roofline and a glint of windows through the whiteout. The weather could often be a surprise in Montana Territory and she liked that about this part of the country. Here, you could build a fence, but you couldn’t fence in the prairie. The adventurous part of her, the one Mama did her best to lecture right out of her, thrilled in the feel of the icy wind and violent snow.

  “Uh-oh.” Minnie stood up, gripping the dashboard, to squint in the direction of the front porch. “That’s Mama. Do you think she will notice the mud?”

  “How could she not?” Meredith drew poor snow-covered Sweetie to a stop and set the brake. Beneath the blanket, the mud thick on her coat and skirt had frozen, crackling as she moved. The good news was that snow had iced over it, so it was almost impossible to see the dried brown beneath.

  Please, Lord, let Mama be understanding. She laid the reins over the snowy dash and squinted into the white haze. She saw nothing but shadows and no sign of handsome Mr. Connelly.

  “Allow me.” His voice rolled through the storm. A gloved hand caught hers, and in the thick of the storm she could make out the cut of his wide shoulders and the hint of his square jaw.

  When her hand settled against his broad palm and she felt the power there, awe thrilled her. He was a perilous man because he made her feel both safe and in jeopardy in the same breath. Simply allowing him to help her from the buggy was like taking a grand adventure. For a moment she floated, caught in midair as if defying gravity before she flew downward and her shoes touched solid ground. The veil of snow had thickened, obscuring him completely, and when his hand released hers she felt alone.

  “Girls!” Mama’s shrill voice dwarfed the howling late-spring storm. She barreled into sight, well-wrapped against the cold, marching down the walkway like a general at battle. “I have been worried sick! Where have you been? And who are these people?”

  Although it was hard to tell in the snowfall, Meredith could well imagine Mama’s curled lip. Mama did not approve of strangers, particularly strange men who were not in the same social class. Meredith winced, picking her way through the ice toward the lee of the house, where the snowfall thinned.

  “We wanted to make sure your daughters arrived home safely.” Shane Connelly appeared, dappled with snow, safely seeing Minnie onto the pathway. He faced Henrietta Worthington as if he were not intimidated by four-star generals. “The storm has turned treacherous.”

  “Indeed!” Mama disregarded him with a turn of her shoulder and hugged Minnie against her. “I have been half ill with worry. Where have you been?”

  And today had started out so well, she thought. “We had a bit of trouble with the mud.”

  “Did I not warn you? Don’t think I didn’t notice the mud caked all the way up to the dash, young lady. I knew it was a mistake to let you drive.” Mama grabbed Minnie protectively and pointed her toward the steps and the front door with a motherly push. “I suppose I owe these people some sort of thanks for seeing you home.”

  How embarrassing. Meredith’s face burned. It was not respectful to correct her mother, but the argument sat on her tongue. A muscle ticked in Shane’s jaw, and she felt his muscles bunch in his arm. Tension. Maybe a sign of hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly but he seemed so far away. Maybe it was the snow’s veil putting distance between them, but probably not. Mama’s opinion of him had altered everything. The closeness and the taffy-sweetness within her had died. Was there any way to repair it? “I am grateful for your assistance, Mr. Connelly.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was gallant. And muddy.”

  “In truth, I did not mind the mud.” Any hint of a smile was gone. His striking blue eyes had shielded, his handsome face as set as stone.

  Of course he would be unhappy with the way Mama treated him. Who wouldn’t be? Anyone would be offended. Meredith ached to set things right, but how could she? She would have to speak to her mother later for all the good it would do, and that wouldn’t mend things at this moment. She longed to say something to Shane, but he stepped quickly, deliberately away. His unflinching gaze hardened.

  This was why she wanted to be her own woman and not her mother’s daughter. She wanted to stand tall for what she believed in without apology. She loved her family, but she was embarrassed by them, too.

  “I can have Cook reheat some stew,” Mama announced in her superior way, thinking she had been so kind to the rough-looking men. “You may circle around to th
e back door. Take off your wraps and boots first. Be mindful of your manners. I’ll expect you to keep your hands to yourself, no pilfering the silver, and you must leave as soon as you are finished eating.”

  Meredith watched another muscle jump along Shane’s clenched jaw. If only she could melt into the snow and disappear. She couldn’t believe Mama had said such a thing. Whether these men were down on their luck or simply passing through, they did not deserve to be spoken down to. “Mama, you must mean to say how happy you are that these fine men offered to help Minnie and me. It probably inconvenienced them and since it’s nearly dark, perhaps they would like to join us for dinner—”

  “That is not what I meant!” Mama gripped her shoulder and firmly guided her up the steps. “What has come over you, Meredith? In the house, now, and start your homework. I’ll deal with you later.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “And change that dress. I want this understood. You will never ask to drive that buggy again.” Her mother drew herself up full height, not in an understanding mood. “Now, inside before you catch your death of cold. I must have a few words with these people.”

  “I’m sorry.” It was all Meredith could offer Shane.

  She watched a hint of understanding soften his iron gaze before she stumbled over the threshold and into the warmth of the house. The door slammed shut behind her and she felt Minnie’s hand curl into hers.

  “It’s too bad we’ll never see them again.” She sighed. “But wasn’t it something to see his Appaloosa?”

  Chapter Three

  Shane swiped snow from his face, ignoring the icy pinpricks against his skin and the letdown within. He might have known. Just Meredith, as she’d claimed, was a far sight more. This was the Worthington estate and although he couldn’t see more than a hint of a roofline, the long stretch of lamplight windows gleaming through the storm suggested not a simple house but a dignified manor. Meredith was no country miss.

  “I’m Mr. Shaw,” Braden attempted to explain to the dismissive Mrs. Worthington. “I’m the horse trainer.”

  “The man my husband hired?” The woman drew her chin up and looked down her nose at the rough and ready pair. “And the one who gave my daughter special attention? Is that your assistant?”

  If looks could maim, he would be in need of a pair of crutches. Shane stepped forward. He was no longer Aaron Connelly’s grandson, not in these parts. He was a horseman and proud of it. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Shane Connelly.”

  “You were being awfully forward with my daughter.” Mrs. Worthington barreled fearlessly farther into the snowfall to meet him, her apple-cheeks pinched severely and her gaze hard with accusation. “Tell me I am wrong.”

  “I was helping her out of the buggy and through the storm. That was all.”

  “And that’s the way it will stay if you wish to work here. Do we have an understanding?”

  He held his ground, fighting down the urge to argue and correct her misimpression. He may have been enjoying the pretty miss’s company, but that was all. If he felt anything more, then he refused to admit it. It stung to be reprimanded when he’d done nothing wrong, and he couldn’t explain the tightness within his chest. Nor could he remember being offended by a woman so quickly. He wanted the job here and he did not wish to disrespect a lady. He was not raised that way, so he did not argue with her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Fine. Mr. Shaw? If you two will take the mare and buggy to the stables, you’ll find Eli waiting. He’ll show you around, get you acquainted with our expectations before he leaves us for good at the end of the day. I’ll tell Cook to keep the stew warm for when you’re ready. Use the back door only.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Although Shane couldn’t see Braden’s expression, he could sense a wariness. The hardest part of their job wasn’t the horses but the people who owned them. He swiped snow from the old mare’s forelock, taking care to keep the cold wet from falling into her eyes. She was a sweet thing, watching him patiently with a liquid brown gaze and a quiet plea.

  “You did a fine job today,” he assured her as he took hold of her bridle. It was the mare that had fooled him into believing Meredith’s pretense. This was no fine pedigreed animal, but an elderly mare with a slightly swayed back. Strange that she was the driving horse of choice for the Worthington girls and not some fancy pony.

  His nape prickled as if Meredith Worthington was watching him from one of those dozen windows. He studied what he could of each glowing pane but caught no sight of blond curls or her big gray-blue eyes. Probably just his imagination or the wish that people—especially women—could be what they seemed at first sight. That was why he wanted to spend his life training horses. A horse didn’t put on airs, put you down or figure they were better than you because of the quality of their possessions.

  “I plan to tell Worthington I want a trial period.” Braden fell alongside, leading both horses by the reins. “I’m not sure about that woman.”

  “She was protecting her daughters.” Akin to the way a mother bear defended her cubs.

  “Sure.” Braden nodded, his jaw tense. “But one thing needs to be made clear to Robert Worthington. I came to work with the animals, not to be nitpicked to death by a lady who has nothing better to do with her time.”

  “You’re still ticked from our last job.”

  “True enough. After those difficult people, we deserve an easier assignment.” Braden shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Not sure if we’re going to get it this time.”

  “No, I don’t think we are.”

  Lord, please let this work out.

  The first outbuilding they came to was a well-built barn with a wide breezeway marching between big box stalls. Several horses poked their noses out into the aisle to nicker a welcome to an old friend and to greet new ones. Hobo sidestepped, head up, cautious as he looked around.

  “Whoa there, buddy.” He left the old mare standing to lay a hand of comfort on his boy’s neck. Snow tumbled from his black mane.

  Best to get these horses rubbed down, dry and stabled and no sense in hurrying. His stomach might be rumbling, but he wasn’t looking forward to heading up to the main house to eat. Meredith would be there. That made his gut clench tighter.

  Maybe it would be best to avoid her, he decided, if that could be possible as long as he had a job here. That young woman had as good as lied to him. He’d had enough people in his life being less than honest, and he wasn’t looking for more of the same.

  “Ho there.” A man about his same age with a friendly grin and a trustworthy look hiked down the main aisle. “I’m Eli Sims. You must be the new trainers. Good to meet you. Let me lend a hand with your horses.”

  Braden stepped forward to ask a few details about Mr. Worthington, as Shane knelt to uncinch saddles and unhook harnessing. He kept half an ear to their conversation but couldn’t seem to concentrate. At least he hadn’t been fooled by her for long. Not that the not-so-country girl was on his mind. He was doing his best to purge every thought and image of her from his brain.

  Whether or not he was successful was another question entirely.

  Meredith couldn’t forget the look on Shane’s face when Mama had spoken down to him, which was by her guess the exact moment he realized she was not the country miss he’d assumed her to be.

  Did he hate her? Was he the kind of man who would understand? She hadn’t meant to mislead him. Was her parentage her fault? Hardly. They lived in the country, so she technically was a country girl. It wasn’t a lie she had let him believe, but she hadn’t corrected him.

  She regretted that now. She stared out her bedroom window instead of at the history book open on the desk. She could not concentrate and let her gaze wander over the roll of high prairie and the rugged Rocky Mountains hugging the horizon. Sunset dusted the snow-capped, craggy peaks with dabs of mauve and streaks of purple.

  “Meredith.” Matilda, her older sister, poked her head around the door frame. “Mama wanted me to come fetch yo
u. Dinner is about to be served.”

  “Dinner.” She was not in the mood. “I don’t suppose I can have a tray sent up here?”

  “Mama is mad enough as it is. I wouldn’t ask if I were you.” Sympathy softened Tilly’s features, making her almost pretty in the lamplight.

  If only a fine beau could see Matilda as her sisters did, with a beauty of spirit, a sweetness of temperament and a generous soul that made her the finest catch in all of Angel County. Men were notoriously shallow, as Meredith had decided, and so dear Tilly was still unmarried and, worse, unbeaued at the age of twenty. Not a single man had come courting, when marriage and a family were all that her sister desired.

  “Then I suppose I’ll survive dinner.” With a wink, Meredith closed her textbook, pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. The sun was going down on the day and on her hopes. Her one chance to prove herself as a sensible driver to her parents was over. “Do you think it will be the topic of conversation? My big failure as a driver.”

  “You may have to endure a few comments from Mama, but Papa believes a woman should know how to drive,” Tilly encouraged. “Remember how he bought Sweetie for me, so I could be more independent? And that means—”

  “You can drive me,” Meredith finished, reaching out to squeeze her sister’s hand. “The certification exam is coming up. Will you find a way to help me take it?”

  “I’ll drive you there and back myself, even if I have to defy both our parents to do it.” Voices at a whisper, they meandered down the long stretch of hallway. “There is always the hope that the new horseman will be as helpful as Eli has been.”

  Eli was a gem and while it was a boon to him that he was joining his brother’s teaming business, she seriously doubted that Shane Connelly was going to go out of his way to help her. The disbelief on his face flashed back to her as they’d stood in the falling snow.