by Linda Ford
More than anything she sensed his absence was typical of Emmett’s abiding negligence. Since he clearly wasn’t worried about her, it probably never occurred to him that she might be worried about his safety. He’d reach out when he was good and ready, no matter how much his silence frightened her. Not because he was a cruel man, only thoughtless.
Blurry figures appeared in the distance, a line of horse and riders remaining ominously still, and she clutched Shane’s arm. “Who are they? What do you think they want?”
There was no good reason for anyone to be out in this miserable weather, which left the alternative.
He switched the enormous tangle of reins to one hand and brushed a spot of snow from the tip of her nose. Her stomach did that odd flip once more.
“Those are my men.” A tinge of pride crept into his voice. “They must have been keeping watch. I’m later than usual. With the weather, they’d have been keeping a lookout.”
She scooted farther away lest he feel her chilled trembling. “Will they mind? About m-me, I mean?”
Shane frowned. “Why should they mind about you?”
“Well, um, won’t our marriage be a s-surprise?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. They’ll get over it.”
Not for the first time she found his economy of words frustrating. Emmett had always managed to fit three sentences into a place where one would do. While the quirk had sometimes been annoying, at least she’d never had to guess what he was thinking. Other worries crowded out thoughts of Emmett. Despite her best efforts, the shaking began anew. It seemed her body had a will of its own.
She considered asking Shane how long until they arrived, then abandoned the idea. If she appeared impatient, he might catch on to her misery. Instead she concentrated on the approaching riders, squinting through the snow as they took shape.
One man separated from the other three and took the lead. Something covered part of his face, and as he approached, she realized he wore a patch over his left eye.
The man’s good eye widened at the sight of her while the other three riders openly gaped.
The man with the patch turned toward Shane, his right arm tucked at an awkward angle against his side. “You’re late, boss.”
By his tone, the words were a statement rather than an accusation.
Shane shrugged. “I’m surprised you spotted me.”
“Parker saw the movement. He’s got eyes like an eagle.” Though clearly curious about Tessa, the man was obviously waiting for an explanation from Shane. “We were saddled and ready. Thought you might have trouble in the whiteout.”
“No trouble. The kids are in the back. This is my wife.”
The man’s good eye nearly bugged out of his head. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McCoy.”
Tessa started. No one had spoken her new name before now, and the sound of it brought home the permanence of her situation. This was her new life, her new home. She’d best get used to the change. Though aching from the bitter cold, she assumed her most polite expression.
She leaned around Shane, seeking a better view of the men he employed. “Call me Tessa. I didn’t catch your name.”
Shane had gone oddly silent. He hadn’t even attempted an introduction. She wondered if he was embarrassed or uncertain.
The first ranch hand touched the brim of his hat with one hand, his other still bent against his side. “Call me Finch. This here is Red, Milt and Wheeler.”
Tessa’s violent trembling hadn’t yet abated and she gritted her teeth against the chattering once more. “It’s a pleasure to meet y-you all.”
Even bundled in their winter gear, the men were distinctive. There was Finch with his patched eye, Milt with his ragged gray beard and Red with a shock of ginger hair peeking out from beneath his hat. Wheeler was the most striking of all, a tall black man with an amused expression in his dark eyes. He kept looking between her and Shane, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
When he caught her staring at him, his grin widened as though someone had told a joke and he was the only one who understood the humor. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. McCoy.”
The men’s mounts seemed oversized for horses. Even sitting in the wagon, they towered above her. Their breath puffed white and they pawed at the ground.
“We can finish the introductions later,” Shane said. “Finch, drive the wagon the rest of the way. I’ll ride your horse back with Tessa. Red can stay behind and make sure you don’t get stuck. Wheeler, why don’t you head on up to the house and get the fire started, maybe put on a pot of coffee.”
Wheeler glanced between Tessa and Shane once more, his dark eyes glistening with suppressed laughter, then nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”
She touched her head and caught sight of her mittened hand, recalling her matching woolen muffler with a grimace. He was probably wondering what was beneath all that knitting. No doubt she appeared two stones heavier as well. They were probably curious as to what had possessed their boss to marry such an odd creature.
Shane and Finch quickly swapped places and Shane urged his behemoth mount around to Tessa’s side of the wagon. The animal was as dark as midnight with flecks of snow catching in its hide and melting just as quickly. She kept her gaze focused ahead, blinking her watering eyes against the flakes pelting her face.
Shane motioned with one hand. “You’ll ride with me.”
She gazed up at him, light-headed at his superior height atop the enormous horse. There were limits to one’s endurance, and she’d just discovered hers. “I’ll stay with the children.”
Finch stiffened beside her and she considered offering him an apology. Continuing back to the house with a woman swathed in green knitting was probably not to his liking, but she’d reached her boundary for new adventures as well. She absolutely wasn’t giving up the safety of the wagon for that enormous beast, no matter how chilled.
“Finch can handle things,” Shane said. “They’ll only be twenty minutes behind us.”
“We’ll only be twenty minutes behind,” she corrected him. Even if she was frozen solid by the time they arrived, she wasn’t budging. “Right, Finch?”
Finch blanched and looked away.
Shane leaned down and pitched his voice low. “Riding is quicker. And it’s a whole lot warmer back at the house.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be warm again,” she grumbled, having exhausted her good nature as well as the limits of her resilience. The frigid cold had seeped into her very marrow and she figured it’d stay that way until the spring thaw. “I’ll be fine.”
His jaw tightened and he extended his arm. “You’re making Finch nervous. Now give me your hand.”
“I’m not making Finch nervous. He’s perfectly fine.”
Finch shrugged.
Shane’s fingers waggled encouragement and his face reflected command. There was compassion and understanding there, too, but the command remained. If he’d ordered her, she could have resisted easily. Instead he’d gentled his voice into a soft appeal.
“Please.”
She huffed. “All right.”
With obvious hesitation, she gathered her skirts and rose unsteadily. Before she reconsidered, he grasped her around the waist and tossed her onto the horse before him.
She yelped and clutched the arm he’d wrapped around her waist, then glanced down at the nauseating expanse between her new perch and the ground. “Why are all your horses so tall?”
“I raise draft horses. They’re bigger than average. I train the runts for saddle. No sense in wasting good horseflesh.”
Tessa gaped. “This horse is considered a runt?”
His chuckle rumbled against her back. “Yes. This horse is small by dray standards.”
Her fingers dug into his arm and he eased her closer. “Hook your right knee around the saddle horn and brace your left foot on my boot. You’ll have more balance and feel more secure that way.”
She didn’t exactly feel insecure. Though she was alarmed by the
height, the arm holding her steady was strong and sure. Settling into position with her frozen and stiff limbs was awkward at best, painful at worst. After elbowing Shane in the stomach and butting the back of her head against his chin, she stilled.
He grunted and she muttered an apology before saying, “I’m ready.”
Finch had taken on an amused expression remarkably similar to the one Wheeler had assumed earlier. Tessa sighed. If nothing else, at least she’d been a source of entertainment for the men.
As Shane expertly spun the horse around she stifled a squeak.
“Meet you back at the house,” Shane called.
Tessa peered around. “Will you be all right, Finch?” She gazed up at Shane, her thoughts veering into panic. “What if the children wake up? Won’t they be scared?”
“They’ll be fine. They know Finch. Since Abby died, the men have taken turns helping with Alyce and Owen.”
His eyes were inches away, and she noticed the flecks of amber surrounding his irises and the way the green darkened around the edges. Her breath hitched. Already the heat of his body had seeped through his jacket, promising the first hint of a thaw. The tantalizing warmth relaxed her and eased the ache in her bones.
He kicked his horse into step and Tessa yelped once more. “A little warning, if you please.”
He tightened the arm holding her. “I won’t let you fall.”
“I know.”
“Relax, Tessa.” He pried her grasping fingers from the folds of his shirt. “You’re cutting off my circulation.”
She tried to loosen her grasp—really, she did. But her fingers wouldn’t mind. Self-preservation had taken over her muscles, and they refused to loosen. In order to keep her seat, she remained staunchly upright. Never the best of riders, she hadn’t been on a horse in years. Usually Emmett borrowed some horribly expensive animal from a friend of a friend if he needed a mount. Those horses were always delicately boned and much, much closer to the ground.
The jerky gait sent her bumping against Shane. Taut and sore from the cold, she collapsed deeper into abject misery with every step. Feeling wretchedly sorry for herself, she cataloged her discomforts. Beginning with her frozen ears and ending with her frozen toes, she mentally counted her list of aches and pains.
“Relax,” Shane soothed. “Don’t fight the horse’s gait. Sink into the movement.”
She’d much rather be sinking into a hot bath with lavender-scented oil. “I’ve never ridden double before,” she offered by way of excuse.
Of all the things she’d worried about, neither freezing to death nor breaking her neck in a tumble from an oversized horse had been on the list. She hadn’t considered whether riding would be part of her new life. Considering Shane lived on a ranch, she probably should have thought that one through. What other surprises did her future hold?
She’d face whatever came next with courage and grit. Well, with grit at least. The courage might come later.
“Don’t worry,” Shane said. “If you like, I’ll buy you a nice, docile mare. Something small and meek. Perhaps a Shetland?”
“Absolutely not! A poor little pony amongst all these dray horses? They’ll trample the wee thing underfoot.”
“You might be right. Something a little larger, then.”
“Yes, but not too large.”
The conversation had temporarily distracted her from her dangerous perch, and she gradually relaxed back into the gait. After a few strides, she caught the rhythm of the animal and swayed in unison. Nothing could distract her from the miserable weather. Snowflakes pelted her face, stinging her cheeks. She turned her face into Shane’s jacket, clutching his lapel. Raising his arm, he adjusted the fluttering edge of her muffler, tucking the loose end between their bodies. The gesture was absurdly comforting and protective, banishing some of her earlier fears.
Fatigue crept up on her once more, and her eyes grew drowsy. She was exhausted, but the cold wouldn’t let her rest. Though she fought against them, violent tremors racked her body, and there was no hiding her suffering from Shane. Though he said nothing, she felt him urge the horse into a faster pace.
“Just a little bit longer,” he said near her ear, his warm breath puffing against her temple, “and we’ll be out of this weather.”
“I’ll be f-fine once we’re inside.”
The past few weeks caught up with her in a rush, sapping her strength. She’d set out from Emmett with all sorts of lofty aspirations and high hopes, and she’d failed on all accounts. Truth be told, she’d left with more than her fair share of arrogance as well. Like an errant child, she’d harbored a bit of an “I’ll show you” attitude toward Emmett. She’d come to believe that she’d done most of the work in keeping them afloat, and maybe she had. But Emmett had always solved their most pressing problems. Perhaps not in the most conventional way, or even the most legal way, but he’d always kept them one step ahead of disaster.
What a fool she’d been. She’d apologize to him for her foolish overconfidence if they ever met up again. He’d treated her as a child and she’d behaved like one. Emmett had preferred her as a little girl, staring up at him with wide-eyed devotion. He preferred being adored to being chastised. Didn’t everyone?
Slackening his hold, Shane tucked her arms between them and adjusted the lapels of his coat, cocooning her against his body. “You’ll be warmer this way.”
His masculine scent teased her nostrils and a tremor that had nothing to do with the cold shook her. The familiarity was foreign and disturbing, but exhaustion prevented her from resisting his comfort. Sagging into the solid wall of his chest, she slipped her arms inside his coat and anchored them around his waist. The heat of his body sparked life back into her icy fingers.
She’d never been this close to a man before. That same foolish longing for unconditional love pierced her heart like a spear, overwhelming any vestige of good sense or restraint. Husbands and wives were allowed a greater degree of affection, and she’d only just realized how much she craved the touch of another human being. She felt as though she’d been given her first sip of water and discovered a desperate, unquenchable thirst.
The rough wool of Shane’s coat scratched against the chilled patch of skin exposed between her forehead and her muffler, the discomfort barely registering against the rest of her complaints. “R-really, I’m f-fine. Just a little ch-chilly.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t want you to think that I’m ill-suited for the w-weather.”
His chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. “Out here, everyone is ill-suited for the weather.”
“You don’t s-seem to mind the cold.”
“I mind. Not as much as other folks, but I mind.”
She angled her head and caught sight of a modest ranch house, the chimney already billowing dark smoke into the sky. Relief flooded through her. The building was a neat structure, one story with a porch that stretched across the entire front. The house was dwarfed by enormous buildings set farther back and a third, smaller structure off to the left.
Shane leaned away and slipped two fingers against her chin, lifting her head a notch.
“Look, we’re nearly there.”
Wind whistled between their bodies, robbing what little warmth she’d captured.
Home.
She was damp, cold, miserable and homesick for something she couldn’t even name. She craved a sense of familiarity, of recognition. Her life had changed in the blink of an eye this morning. No one could blame her if it was all too much to absorb. This wasn’t her home. Not yet. None of this felt any more memorable than the copious number of hotels and boardinghouses she’d stayed in over the years.
She glanced at the silent man she’d married. Could she make this her home? How did someone who’d never had a home make a home for someone else?
Chapter Eight
Tessa’s violent trembling reminded Shane that she was huddled against him only for his shared warmth. He should have left her in town, though a part of h
im knew she’d have refused. His new wife definitely had a stubborn streak.
He watched her reaction to his homestead, unable to read her response. He’d never much considered how his place looked to other folks. The ranch had been arranged with the house facing the road, two enormous barns sitting back and to the east, the bunkhouse between them. He’d built every structure on this land alongside his men. He’d planted all the trees a decade before. Fast-growing elms and poplars, along with slower-growing evergreens that were already making a fine windbreak. Though sturdily built and neatly arranged, the ranch house was woefully inadequate. He hadn’t been thinking of a family when he’d laid out his plans.
After Abby had arrived, the small space had quickly filled with supplies for the babies. His aunt Edith, the local midwife, had taken one look at Abby and warned them of the possibility of twins. Abby had been miserable in those last months, and his presence had only aggravated her. Eventually, he’d moved to the bunkhouse. Even after the children were born, he’d stayed away. The ladies from town had clustered around, taking turns and helping out. His presence had seemed unnecessary.
Tessa blinked, her eyes welling with tears in the sharp wind. “This all belongs to you?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
“To us,” he replied. “You’re my partner now, remember? This all belongs to us.”
Something had been missing from his life for a long time. Too long. He sensed a kinship with Tessa and a renewed sense of purpose. The past couple of years had been difficult, harder than he’d even admitted to himself. He hadn’t realized how glum he’d been until the first ember of hope had illuminated his discontent.
Between the twins’ birth and Abby’s illness, there’d been no time to plan for the future. All the change and tragedies had narrowed his focus. Like moving through this blizzard, he’d only been able to take the steps immediately before him. For the first time in a long time he caught a glimpse of a fresh start, and he felt the faint stirrings of enthusiasm once more.
He’d planned on adding a second story to the house after the twins were born, but the addition had no longer seemed necessary after Abby’s death. He’d dig out the plans this winter and get Tessa’s opinion.