by Jillian Hart
“That’s good, because I don’t want to be late. I have a spelling test this morning and I can’t miss it,” Minnie chattered on. “I really worked hard and I know every word perfectly.”
“You do?” Shane seemed interested in a kindly, brotherly way.
If Meredith didn’t have her heart set against him, then she would have liked how he treated her little sister.
“It’s the very first time I have studied so hard.” Minnie swiped snow from her eyes. “I always pretend to study, but Mama keeps getting really mad at my grades. I have to go to finishing school in two years, and my marks are abysmal. That’s what Mama says. I don’t think they are all that bad. I would rather be riding horses than sitting in school.”
“That’s the way I felt, too, shortcakes. I finished school first, and then I started working with horses.” He turned his attention to the road ahead of them, the half-frozen mud clutching the buggy wheels like glue. The old mare struggled, lowering her head to dig in with all her might.
“You called me shortcakes.” Minnie’s grin stretched from ear to ear. She knocked the snow accumulating on her pink cap. “How come?”
“’Cuz you’re cute and you’re sweet.”
“I am?” Pleased, her grin went dazzling. No doubt about it, in a few years she would be breaking more than a few young men’s hearts.
“I would appreciate it if you were not so familiar with my sister.” That cool voice could only belong to Meredith. How he could ever have mistaken her for a sweet country miss was beyond him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she had her chin up and a regal look on her beautiful face.
“The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree?” he asked.
With a gasp, she fell silent. He gave thanks for the whipping wind and thick snow sailing into the buggy. He had his opinion on many things, such as a fancy summer buggy being used for winter driving, but he kept his tongue. He tried to convince himself it didn’t hurt that she obviously didn’t like him. As he guided the mare down the snowy landscape, doing his best to guess where the higher ground beneath the snow might be, he felt her disregard like the beat of the wind.
Admit it. You don’t like disliking her. He’d been captivated by the country beauty in the road yesterday, but what he’d told Braden was also true. These days he was a working man, not his father’s son, and pretty debutantes like Miss Meredith Worthington had to stay out of his reach. He’d learned his lesson about debutantes the hard way. His brief fiancée, Patricia, had only cared about having material things and more of them than her friends, and he did not want to go down that path again. Regardless of how beautiful Meredith was or how fascinating, she was not the kind of woman who could capture his heart.
Not that he was looking for one.
The mare heaved, struggling with the weight she pulled. The ground was not fully frozen, and mud sucked at the wheels, making the going rough. Without a word of reassurance for the fine Worthington girls in the backseat, he hopped out of the buggy to lighten the load and gripped the icy trace. He walked beside Sweetie the rest of the way to town, glad to be battling snow and the road instead of thoughts of Miss Meredith and her cool disdain.
The school’s bell tower could be seen from the town of Angel Falls’s main street, rising like a ghost above the two-story buildings and playing peekaboo through the veils of snowfall. Meredith thought of her friends and wondered if they would already be gathered in the schoolhouse, or would Providence be with her and she would arrive first so that no one would be able to notice the new driver. Watching the stiff line of his back and the way he purposefully ignored her had not put her in a pleasant mood. She wondered if she should ask him if she could help, too, but could not summon up the will to speak to him. If only she was as tough as she wished to be.
They turned the corner and the schoolyard came into view. Well-bundled students marched along the streets. Horses and vehicles clogged the roadway as parents dropped off their children for the day. Screams and shouts rose like shrill music as snowball fights dominated the well-covered lawn, gangs of girls clustered together to laugh and share news, and the first series of bells tolled from the tower.
“Shane is a really good driver.” Minnie clutched the lap robe and shivered in the cold. “We didn’t get stuck once and we got here really fast. Ooh, look, there’s Maisie.” She leaned over the side to wave at her friend.
Not only was he a good driver, but he was kind to their dear mare. His soothing tone, his care when she struggled, the way he laid a hand on her neck when a snowball from the schoolyard flew into her path all spoke well of him. She’d paid attention to the way he’d handled the horse all the way to town, realizing that as a driver he had done so much more than hold the reins and tug on them now and then. It bothered her greatly that she could learn much from him, the one man she did not ever want to talk to.
Sweetie stopped in front of the school. Finally. Meredith hopped down, not bothering to wait for the new driver’s assistance, and slung her book bag over her shoulder. She did not require his assistance. Her dignity may still be smarting, but he did not seem the least bit affected. He stepped away from her and gave Minnie his attention.
“Meredith!” Fiona waved, trudging through the snow, her lunch pail swinging from one red-mittened hand, her book bag from the other. “I just finished blanketing Flannigan. Could you believe all the vehicles stuck on the road? I didn’t think you would make it.”
“We have a new driver who is surprisingly competent.” Surely Shane could hear her. He was merely feet behind her, helping Minnie from the buggy, so close the hair on the back of her neck tingled.
“So I see.” Fiona, happily engaged, glanced curiously at the hooded figure who was mantled with snow. “Oh, he’s good-looking.”
“Is he? I thought so when I first met him, but then I changed my mind.” He was beyond what a sane woman would call handsome; he was magnificent. The steady strength, the quick world-changing grin added to his gentle manner would make the toughest female look twice. But she could not bear to let him think she thought him so fine.
“Isn’t he your type?” Fiona asked. “Handsome, rugged, very manly?”
“My type?” Please, don’t let him have heard that, Lord. She glanced over her shoulder to see Shane handing Minnie her lunch pail with a big brother’s kindness. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He had heard her.
“Oh, he’s all right,” she said, letting her voice lift on the wind, knowing full well Shane could hear her. “But he’s not fine enough to interest me.”
“Meredith! What a thing to say, and I think he heard you.” Dear gentle Fiona was shocked. She skidded to a halt, jaw dropped, eyes wide with a sad censure. “I’ve never known you to be mean before.”
“I—” The excuses died on her lips. Cold quivered through her, burrowing deep into her bone marrow and further, as if into her soul. She’d only meant him to know that she hadn’t been thinking about romance, that she hadn’t been hoping he was interested in her. She wanted him to know that he’d hurt her, but the words had come out wrong, and now she’d made matters worse.
The man drove her crazy.
Shane’s gaze fastened on hers, holding her prisoner as time stilled. Snowflakes tangled in her lashes, but she could not break away from the compelling mix of hurt and sadness darkening the wondrous blue of his eyes. She could feel his emotions as clearly as her own. It was the oddest sensation. The connection they’d forged upon first sight remained, but it was wounded, no longer light and full of laughter but of something grave.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say, but before she could, he broke away. The wind gusted and the snow fell harder as if even God were ashamed and trying to steal him from her sight.
“Fiona! Meredith!” Scarlet Fisher emerged from the storm, her bag swinging from her shoulder, her beautiful red hair dusted with snow from her walk through town. “Who was that?”
“Nobody.” The word was out before sh
e could stop it. Meredith drew her scarf over her face. She could hide her humiliation from her friends, but not from herself. How could she have done such a thing?
“He’s almost as handsome as Lorenzo.” Scarlet shook the snow from her knit cap and fell into stride alongside them. Snowballs flew over their heads and little kids darted into their path as they waded through the yard toward the schoolhouse’s front steps. “Is he Eli’s replacement?”
“He must be,” Fiona replied, “although Meredith doesn’t seem to like him.”
“What’s not to like?” Scarlet asked. “Did you see his shoulders? He looks like a hero out of a novel.”
“You always say that.” Fiona rolled her eyes, although she was smiling. Ever since she had become engaged at Christmastime, she had been a lot happier. It was good to see. “Sometimes men like that are even real.”
What they needed was to change the subject, Meredith decided and took charge of the situation. “Did either of you figure out the last math problem in our homework assignment?”
“Who cares about our homework?” Scarlet grabbed Meredith’s hand, staring in the direction of the school steps. “Lorenzo.”
Sure enough, Lorenzo Davis stood off to the side, chatting with a few of his close friends. Their nemesis, Narcissa Bell, was easy to spot as she laid a possessive hand on Lorenzo’s arm, as if staking claim.
Fiona said something, words lost in the wind and snow and the fuzz in Meredith’s brain. Of all the sounds in the school yard, it was a single note of baritone, low and gentle, that rumbled to her ears. It was Shane speaking to the old mare, encouraging her through the combination of deep mud and spots of ice the busy road had turned to.
The snowfall hid him, but she could picture him perfectly, his straight impressive posture, powerful and so caring as he walked alongside the mare. Other horses neighed in frustration, other drivers shouted in exasperation, and even a whip crack or two snapped out. But Shane’s comforting voice did not show impatience or frustration or cruelty.
You do not like him, Meredith. She stared at the ground where the snow grabbed at her shoes and her ruffled hem, sick with regret. She’d never been so disappointed in herself. Had he taken her words to heart, the way she had his? Or was he tougher, able to disregard the hurtful comments from a girl he’d found less than worthy?
From a girl who had just sounded extraordinarily like her mother. The realization punched through her like a physical blow. Her knees weakened, shock rolled through her and she’d never felt so bad. One thing was for certain: Shane Connelly brought out the worst in her.
Perhaps it was her duty to bring out the best.
“Meredith.” A sneering voice broke into her thoughts, a familiar and unfriendly voice. Narcissa Bell gave her perfect blond ringlets a toss. “I heard your father hired a new horse trainer. When my father was looking for a new trainer, he had considered the same man but found someone much better. Too bad your papa couldn’t afford to do the same.”
“Leave her alone.” Scarlet, fearless as always, shouldered up to Narcissa hard enough to knock her back a step. “You ought to be more careful. Your jealousy is showing.”
“As if I could be jealous of her.” Narcissa dropped her tone, so it wouldn’t carry to the crowd she had been with. “Lorenzo is as good as my beau. I don’t see him hanging around with your circle. Meredith isn’t so much.”
“If you can’t say anything nice, then maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all.” Fiona led the way up the stairs. “C’mon, Meredith.”
“Poor Lorenzo.” Meredith followed her friends, her shoes slipping on the icy step. She was aware of Narcissa’s glare, the quick glance up and then down at her new hat, her elegant traveling coat and the new dress Mama had finished the other day with the ruffled and embellished hem finer than even Narcissa’s.
She had learned a lot of lessons living in this small town, ones she had never learned at finishing school where Mama had wanted her to turn out so fine. Clothes did not make the person, material possessions did not matter, certainly not in the way that God cared about. As she shrugged out of her wraps in the crowded vestibule, she was aware of each rustle of the green velveteen gown, every ivory button, every inch of imported French lace.
“This time she’s probably telling the truth,” Scarlet said as she hung up her practical brown coat. “You know, one of these days, she’s going to snare him.”
“Poor Lorenzo,” Fiona agreed, hanging up her old dove-gray coat with care. She smoothed the wrinkles from her plain gingham dress. “It’s important to be with someone kind you can trust to be good to you.”
“You would know all about that,” Scarlet answered, gathering up her book bag, adorable in her blue flannel plaid dress, trimmed with wooden buttons and matching ribbon. “Your wedding is three weeks away. Are you getting excited?”
“Nervous. Marriage is a big change. But I’m excited, too.” Fiona reached out, taking Meredith’s hand. “You are off in a daze again. Are you still worried about your homework?”
“I’m always worried about my schoolwork.” At least that was true, and a good way to avoid admitting her most cherished goal had not been on the forefront of her mind. Shane had.
Right now he was battling the road and weather conditions right along with Sweetie, his shoulders as unbowed as his spirit as he guided her on the long trip home. His work was harder because Papa would not let his girls be seen in the serviceable but plain sled with the right runners for this weather, a vehicle made for hauling hay to the animals.
I wish I were a simple country girl, she thought, because then Shane would still like her and she would not feel as if she stuck out here, among her friends and the place she loved.
“Meredith.” Lila, keeping her voice low, opened her bag and pulled out a comb. She began to fluff at her sleek cinnamon-brown hair. “Love your dress. Is that the one your mother just finished?”
“No one can embroider like Mama.” She felt self-conscious of the fluffs and the flourishes and the rose embroidery in matching silk thread that adorned the bottom tier of the skirt. It was lovely, but it didn’t fit the image of the one-room schoolteacher she wished to be—the woman she wanted to be. She set her book bag on the desk, which she shared with Scarlet, and gestured toward the empty seat where the rest of their friends should be. “I guess both Kate and Earlee are having trouble making it.”
“Kate has a long way to travel on worse roads,” Scarlet agreed. “I notice none of Earlee’s sisters and brothers are here. They have to walk all the way in.”
“I wonder how Earlee is?” Lila asked, leaving unsaid what they were all thinking. Her lot in life was the hardest among them. If she was on the road right now attempting to reach town, then perhaps she would be meeting Shane on the way.
Shane. Even the thought of him weighed on her. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, she told herself, but she knew that it was a lie.
It mattered, and much more than she could explain.
Meredith Worthington was a piece of work. Shane blinked hard against the snowflakes diving at his face and eyes, swiped them away with the cuff of his coat sleeve and tightened his trip on the trace. Not even the weather of the morning’s hardship could drive her from his mind.
The morning’s traffic to town had broken the crusted ice and churned up doughy mud that grabbed hold of his boots with every step. A mean wind sliced through his layered garments, cutting clean through to his bone marrow. A sky cold as steel and as light as snow made the world one ball of white, except for the mud tracking ahead of them.
Sweetie nickered and stopped in her traces, her harness jingling. The mare shook her head, snow flying off her mane, as she surveyed the road ahead. She remembered the exact spot and direction she had become stuck the day before. Nervous, she didn’t want to take another step forward. He patted her neck, hoping to give her comfort.
“You’re scared of that happening again, but I’m with you this time.” He kept confidence in his voice so
the mare would hear it. “Trust me, girl.”
The mare nickered, leaning into his touch. Her brown eyes and curled lashes searched his, tentative and worried. She must have been frightened, held captive by the buggy she could not budge. She was trying to let him know it.
“We’ll keep to high ground as best we can,” he promised, putting all his understanding in his voice and gentle pressure on the bridle, waiting until she was ready before he whistled and led her through the muck. Snow crunched beneath one boot as he took to the shoulder, eyed a deep ditch, and felt thick mud ooze beneath his tread. Sweetie quivered with nerves as she picked up her pace, half in a panic as she clamored and slipped in the icy and slick mixture.
“That’s a good girl,” he praised, stepping fast to keep up with her. Something grabbed hold of his toe and with a sucking sound, his boot slipped right off. His stockinged foot squished in the freezing muck.
“Whoa,” he called out, holding on, ignoring the stunning cold of his exposed toes as each step he took made his sock wetter and icier.
Great. Just what he needed. Once he had the mare safe on firmer ground, he set the buggy’s brake and splashed back to tug his boot free. Bending over, vulnerable in the road, awareness snaked down the back of his neck. Unarmed and defenseless, he whirled in the road, sensing he was no longer alone.
Chapter Six
“That almost happened to me!” A little boy who couldn’t be more than six or seven broke through the veil of white. A knit blue cap crowned his head and matching mittens covered his hands, where he held on to a small bundle wrapped against the weather—schoolbooks, Shane guessed. The family was on their way to school. The boy skidded to a stop in the mud. “What are you gonna do about your sock, mister?”