Snowflake Bride

by Jillian Hart

  Focus, Ruby. She no longer had time for schoolgirl wishes. Pa’s tired gait drummed on the floorboards behind her, coming closer. In the dying storm, Lorenzo was a shadow, then a hint of a shadow and finally nothing more. The beat of Poncho’s hooves faded until there was only the whispering hush of falling snow and the winter’s cold.

  She closed the door firmly against the darkness. Discarded wishes followed her like snowflakes in the air as she headed toward the stove to make a cup of tea for her father. She had the chance to make a real difference for her family. Monday was what she ought to think about. Monday, when she started her new job.

  In the predawn light, Ruby slid off of Solomon in the shelter of the Davis’s barn. Breathing in the scents of hay and warm horse, she glanced around. Stalls were filled with animals eating out of their troughs. What did she do with Solomon? Where did she take him?

  Something tugged at her hat, knocking it askew on her head. Dear old Solomon’s whiskery lips nibbled the brim and the side of her face in comfortable adoration. They had been friends for a long time. She patted his neck and leaned against him, her sweet boy. “I’m sure I’m supposed to put you somewhere, but I didn’t think to ask when Lorenzo delivered the letter.”

  Solomon’s nicker rumbled low in his throat, a comforting answer of sorts. Fortunately, she did not have to wonder for long as footsteps tapped her way, echoing in the dark aisle. She couldn’t see his face, but she would know those mile-wide shoulders anywhere.

  “Good morning, Ruby.” Lorenzo Davis ambled out of the shadows. Two huge buckets of water sloshed at his sides as he made his way to the end stall. “You are early.”

  “Only twenty minutes.” She’d meant to be earlier, but the roads had been slow going with a thick layer of ice. It had been all Solomon could do to keep his footing. “I’m surprised to see you packing water. Isn’t that the stable boy’s job?”

  “Sure, but I help with the barn work.” His answer came lightly as he hefted one of the buckets over the wooden rail. Water splashed into a washtub. “Stay back, Sombrero, or you’ll get wet again.”

  Inside the stall, a horse neighed his opinion. A hoof stomped as if in a protest or a demand to hurry up with the water. The man had a way with animals, she had to give him credit for that. His powerful stance, his rugged masculinity and his ease as he lifted the second ten-gallon bucket and emptied it etched a picture into her mind. That picture took on life and color, and when she blinked, it remained. Another image of the man she could not forget. Her soul sighed just a little. She couldn’t help it.

  Solomon nudged her a second time, gently reminding her she was doing it again—staring off into thin air when there was work to be done. She shook her head, cleared her thoughts and gently patted her gelding’s shoulder. “Where can I put up my boy?”

  “I’ll take him.” Lorenzo set down the bucket and held out a hand to Solomon. “You remember me, don’t you, old fella?”

  The swaybacked animal snorted in answer. His ears pricked, he snuffled Lorenzo’s palm with his muzzle, gray with age. His low-noted nicker was clearly a horsy greeting. Did every living creature adore the man?

  “Are you nervous about starting your new job?” He caught Solomon’s reins. If he noticed the leather straps were wearing thin, he didn’t comment.

  “Just a tad.” That was an understatement, but she wasn’t about to admit it. All she could see was doom. So much could go wrong to cause Mrs. Davis to change her mind or for the stern-looking Lucia to fire her. Anxiety clawed behind her rib cage like a trapped rodent.

  Just breathe, she told herself. No need to panic.

  Lorenzo’s intensely dark blue eyes glowed softly as if he cared. While his gaze searched hers, she felt as if she were the only woman on earth. His slow smile spread wonderfully across his mouth. Like the sun dawning, his smile could light up her life if she let it.

  “Everything will be just fine.” Lorenzo’s hand settled on her shoulder, a pleasantly heavy weight meant to be comforting.

  It wasn’t. Why was he touching her? The panic clawing inside her chest doubled. Maybe he was trying to soothe her, but it unnerved her. Air squeezed through her too-tight throat in a little hiccup.

  His hand didn’t move, his touch remained like out of a dream. Was she really smiling up at him, so close she could see the nearly black threads in his irises and the smooth-shaven texture of his square jaw? Good thing she was independent, because a woman less confident might be tempted to lay her cheek on the powerful plane of his chest.

  Not her, but some other woman might let herself dream what it would be like when he folded his iron-hewn arms around her and held her tightly.

  It was a good thing she had her feet firmly on the ground. Because that wasn’t what she wanted. Nope, not at all. What she wanted was to save her family’s farm. To lessen her father’s burden.

  Solomon blew out his breath, drawing her out of her thoughts. Lorenzo moved away, rubbed the gelding’s nose. “Go in the back door. Just follow the path around the side of the house.”

  “Take good care of my boy.” She lifted her chin, trying to shake away the effects from being too near to the man. He was an absolute hazard.

  “I’ll treat him like my own. Right, Solomon?” That irresistible kindness rumbled in the low notes of his voice.

  Her heart fluttered against her will as she watched both horse and man head down the dim aisle.

  A little strength, Lord, please. Strength to resist the man’s warmth and decency, strength to put one foot in front of the other and face the grim Lucia, strength to make it through the day without making any mistakes. It was a lot to ask for, but she thought of her father’s burdens and added, for my pa.

  Horse hooves clomped behind her, and she spun around. A roan horse flared his nostrils at her, bared his teeth and careened to a stop. On his back sat a woman she did not know, who was a few years older.

  “So you are the new girl.” Her tone was not friendly. Her green eyes squinted with a hint of disdain. “You must have been a pity hire.”

  A pity hire? Heat stained her face. Lorenzo heard that. He might have been gracious enough to disregard her patched shoes and secondhand dress, but this woman was not. Ruby lifted her chin higher. This job mattered to her. That’s why she was here. Not to compete with another maid for his attention.

  “Lorenzo.” The newcomer brightened when she spotted the boss’s son. She swung down from her horse with the air of a princess leaving her throne. Her attention riveted to the man stroking Solomon’s cheek. Her smile was breathtaking. “I didn’t know you would be in the barn this morning. This is my lucky day.”

  “Not mine, as I’ve been packing water.” His smile had vanished, but his kindness had not. “I’ll have Thacker see to your roan. Mae, this is Ruby.”

  The moment between them had broken. With the gelding’s reins in hand, he took a step backward and tipped his hat in farewell. A tiny pain clutched behind her sternum as he withdrew into the shadows. She was not smitten with the man. She was utterly in charge of her heart.

  “You won’t last the day.” Mae shook her head as if she were an experienced judge of such things. “Whatever happens, don’t think I will do any of your work.”

  “No, of course not, I—” But the woman took off, leaving her alone in the barn. A horse stretched his neck over the top of his railing and tried to catch the hem of her scarf with his teeth.

  That could have gone better, she thought as she tucked the scarf around her throat. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. At least there would be no shoe disasters today. Last night, she’d spent an hour and a half tightening and repairing all the threads holding her shoe buttons in place. Confidently, she launched out of the barn and into the snow.

  That was the key. To be confident. To visualize a good outcome instead of disaster. This would be her new attitude. She breathed the wintry air deep into her lungs until they burned and breathed out great, white clouds of fog. Her shoes crunched on the pa
th, her skirts rustled and swirled with her gait. She had to concentrate on her work and not on Lorenzo. Forget how handsome he’d looked. Forget how kind. Make her heart stop fluttering because he’d smiled at her.

  Her family’s livelihood hung in the balance.

  The sky began to change to a lighter shade of gray. The beauty of the still plains, sleeping snow and amazing world buoyed her spirits. The enormous house rose up in front of her with bright windows and smoke curling from numerous chimneys. Far up ahead, Mae yanked open a door. A few moments later, Lucia appeared on the threshold, gesturing impatiently. “Let’s get you in a uniform. You can’t work for the mistress wearing that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The panic returned, clawing her with a vengeance. She hurried up the steps and the minute her wet shoes hit the floor, squeak. Creak.

  Great, Ruby. Just great. She slipped out of her coat and hung it on a nearby wall peg.

  “Definitely a pity hire,” Mae whispered from the far side of the foyer.

  Not knowing what to say, Ruby dutifully followed the head housekeeper. Squeak, creak.

  It was going to be a very long day.

  A weak sun filtered through a thin blanket of quick-moving clouds. Although at its zenith, the bright disc gave no warmth. The arctic winds dominated, burning the high Montana prairie with its bitter chill. In his warmest coat, Lorenzo’s teeth chattered as he trudged the snow-covered path to the house. He could tell himself he hurried along the path at a breakneck speed because he couldn’t wait to unthaw in front of a fire with a cup of tea and a hot meal, but that would be a lie.

  His gaze searched through the main-floor windows. His toe caught on a snow clump. His right foot skidded on a patch of ice. Did he watch where he was going? No, he didn’t lift his eyes from the house. He spotted his mother in the parlor, working at her embroidery. Lucia bustled around the dining room table, checking that everything was ready for the family’s meal. He spotted Mae at a window above the kitchen’s water pump but saw no sign of Ruby.

  He had thought of nothing else all morning. He’d finished his barn work, hauled hay and taken a pick once again to the cattle’s water supply. He’d spread out bags of feed corn and stopped to doctor a cow who had a painful run-in with a coyote, but Ruby stayed front and center in his mind, a beautiful song he could not forget.

  “Renzo!” Boots pounded on the path behind him. His cousin, Mateo, fell in stride beside him. Mateo was a few years older, a few inches shorter and a dedicated cattleman. “You spent a lot of time in the horse barn this morning.”

  “Not much more than usual.” Snow scudded across the pathway ahead of him as he debated slowing down or speeding up. His cousin had a sharp eye; he didn’t miss much. Not ready to have a member of his family aware that he was sweet on Ruby, he launched forward, faster. If Mateo wanted to give him a hard time, let him at least have to work for it.

  “Sure, you do your fair share with the horses, but did I see you tending one of the maids’ horses?” Mateo caught up, breathing hard. “Don’t tell me you have an interest in that ancient, swayback horse she was riding.”

  “Sure I do. Solomon and I are old friends.” Maybe humor would distract his cousin, because the back door loomed closer and this was not a conversation he wanted anyone in the house to overhear. “I wanted to check on his shoe. I re-shod him yesterday.”

  “Oh, so that was the errand you went on.” Mateo didn’t look fooled. “Whoever the young woman is, she’s awful pretty. She’s easy on the eyes.”

  “Maybe you should stop looking.” A furious power radiated through him as strong as iron, and he heard the growl in his words. Jealousy wasn’t his style, so it surprised him.

  “Sorry, man. I wasn’t interested, really.” Mateo’s smile flashed. “But you are.”

  Couldn’t he hide it better than that? He stomped the snow off his boots on the step and grasped the doorknob. “Let’s keep it quiet. Ruby doesn’t know.”

  “Sure. But when she rejects you, I’m next in line to beau her.” Mateo probably wasn’t serious, but his words were like an arrow to a target.

  Would Ruby reject him if she knew about his feelings? She hadn’t done one thing to confirm any affection on her part. Shy smiles, gentle humor, yes. But did she feel drawn to him? A weight settled on his chest as he turned the knob. The warmth of the kitchen pulled him in, but his knees knocked as he shrugged out of his coat. What he felt for Ruby was powerfully rare. It was gentle as a December sun dawning, as everlasting as the stars in the sky and so true it came from the deepest places in his soul.

  He still did not know if he had a chance with her. Would she want him for a beau? What would he do if she didn’t?

  He shouldered into the kitchen doorway, searching for her in the ordered chaos. Cook sliced a roast chicken, steam billowed from a potato pot while workers scurried around putting food on platters and finding a colander for the boiling potatoes. Everything faded when he spied Ruby at the farthest worktable, transferring piping hot dinner rolls into a cloth-lined basket.

  Gossamer tendrils of her platinum hair curled around her face as she bent over her work. He took in the long, lean curve of her arm, the straight line of her back and the way her every movement was graceful. She plopped the last roll into the basket and covered the baked goods to keep in the heat. How dear she looked in her dove-gray maid’s dress and white apron. She spun around, holding the baking sheet with a hot pad in one hand and their gazes collided.

  The chaos vanished, the clatter silenced and time froze. In the stillness, he saw her unguarded, with her feelings exposed. A lasso of emotion lashed around him and roped his heart to hers. For one perfect moment, they were bound and tied together in an immeasurable way, and he could see something he hadn’t before. Her heart. Tenderness washed over him like grace.

  “Hey, Romeo.” Mateo lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Didn’t you hear your pa? He’s calling you.”

  He heard nothing but Ruby. When she shyly broke away, hope took root in his soul for what could be.

  Chapter Five

  Crocheting was harder than it looked, at least for her, but it gave her something to focus on aside from the fact that she had been forced to sit at one of the worktables crammed into the corner of the kitchen for her midday meal. When she’d gone to join the others at the table near the warm stove, all the chairs had suddenly become mysteriously saved for someone else.

  No matter. She suspected her knowing Lorenzo might have something to do with it. Lorenzo. She hoped a sigh hadn’t escaped her as she unhooked her crochet needle from the loop of white thread and gave it a tug. Hard-won stitches disappeared before her eyes, unraveling as she counted backwards to the place where she’d made the error.

  She’d decided to learn to crochet because she figured working with one crochet hook instead of two knitting needles had to be easier, but she had been sorely mistaken. She inserted the hook, checked the pattern Scarlet had copied down for her and looped the thread three times. Concentrating, the morning’s troubles slipped away.

  “How is it going?” A man’s voice sounded close to her ear, and she startled. The needle tumbled from her grip, more stitches unraveled and the ball of thread rolled across the floor.

  “Lorenzo.” She gaped up at him like a fish out of water. Dashing in a dark, blue flannel shirt and black trousers, he knelt to retrive the ball. “What are you doing here?”

  “Scaring you, apparently.” He handed over the thread, kneeling before her like a knight of old, so gallant every head in the room was turned toward him. Apparently she wasn’t the only young woman on the staff who couldn’t keep her eyes off him. His dimples framed his perfect smile as she took the ball. Her fingers bumped his, and the shock trailed up her arm like a lightning strike.

  “You were right.” She dropped the skein onto her lap. “Everything has gone fine. I’m trying to learn all I can.”

  “Good to hear. Do you mind if I join you?” He unfolded his big frame, rising to his six-foot heigh
t. His hand rested on the back of the chair beside her. “I thought we could catch up.”

  “But we talked a lot on the sleigh ride, and we aren’t exactly friends.”

  “We can change that.” He pulled out the chair, turning it sideways so that when he settled on the cushion, he faced her.

  Not a good thing. How could she think with his handsomeness distracting her? Worse, the women at the other table had fallen silent, openly staring.

  “What are you making?” He lowered his voice, perhaps hoping to keep the conversation just between the two of them.

  “It’s supposed to be a snowflake. For Christmas ornaments.” She held up the poor misshapen mess of stitches. So far, her greatest aptitude in the needle arts was crocheting, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to Lorenzo. His nearness tied her in knots, and she wondered what he really saw when he looked at her. Although she wore a uniform just like the other maids, she could still feel her patches. A world separated her and Lorenzo. So, why was he really talking to her?

  “It does look like a snowflake.” He tilted his head to one side, studying the rows of stitching. “You were working on this when I came by the other night.”

  “Yes, although I already finished that one. I’m making them for Christmas gifts and to add to my hope chest.” She blushed, aware of how that must sound. “Not that I’m hopeful or anything. It’s just something girls do.”

  “I’m aware. My sister has one, too.” He relaxed comfortably against the chair back and planted his elbow on the table. A shaft of watery sunshine tumbled through the window, bronzing the copper highlights in his dark hair and worshiping the angled artistry of his face. “Bella and my mother do a lot of sewing for her hope chest. They have been at it for years now.”

  “That sounds nice. It must be wonderful to have a ma.” She tried not to think of all the ways she missed the mother she’d never known. She fingered the half-made snowflake, trying to imagine what it would have been like to sew alongside a mother. “Yours is especially nice.”