by Jillian Hart
“I’m not sure I have anything interesting to say.” He unlatched the wide door and drew it open. He didn’t seem to realize how fascinating he was. “I’m not a terribly interesting man.”
“Interesting is in the eye of the beholder.” She knelt and settled her skirts, aware of how impressive Shane looked staring out at the gray-and-green world. His hands were planted on his hips, which showed off his amazing shoulders and the strength in his arms. His feet were braced apart, emphasizing his height and power.
Meredith, you are staring at him again. She blushed, thankful he had his back to her and didn’t know. She cleared her throat, hoping she sounded perfectly normal because she certainly didn’t feel that way. “What about your friends?”
“Right.” He pushed away from the open door, outlined by the falling rain as he paced toward her. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Positive.”
“I might bore you.” He folded his long legs, swept off his hat and reached for the basket.
“If you do, I’ll stop you.” As if this man could possibly bore her. He had set her world upside down the moment he’d ridden into it.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He winked, his manner light, but there was something deeper, something private that remained just out of sight. He lifted the basket’s lid. “Just before my twelfth birthday, many of my father’s investments went bad and we fell on hard times.”
“I’m sorry. That happens to a lot of people.”
“And we were no exception.” His voice stayed steady, betraying no emotion. “We had to rent out our house in order to keep it, so we moved in with my grandmother.”
“And you left your friends behind?” she guessed.
“Worse. I had no friends to leave behind.” He kept his face down as he pushed aside the cloth keeping the food warm, speaking casually, perhaps thinking she could not hear the shades of strain hidden behind his words of the lingering hurt he must be trying to hide. He pulled a plate from the basket. “When our financial situation changed, the friends I had grown up with turned their backs on me.”
“How awful. You had to be crushed.”
“Something like that.” He unwrapped the plate of fried chicken. “I can still remember standing in the front yard waiting for Ted and Zachary to come home from school, the school I’d been forced to quit because we could not pay the tuition. It was raining just like it is today, a fine drizzle that wet your face and misted the world. It was cold and turning colder, but I refused to go inside because my mother was upset packing up our house and because I was lonely staying home from school. I wouldn’t wait to see my two best friends.”
“But your family losing money changed things with them?”
“Yes. When they came down the road driven in their family carriage that day, their driver didn’t stop. They didn’t lean out the window and wave, shout some remark or even throw a spit wad. You know how little boys are. Ted saw me and turned away, as if he were ashamed of me. Zachary sneered as he rolled past, and called out something unkind. He made it clear I was no longer their friend.”
“That had to devastate you.”
“I never forgot it.” He withdrew a second plate from the basket, hardly paying attention as he set it on the blanket. The memories had changed him, drawing layers of emotion and sadness she’d never seen before. “Two weeks later we moved into my grandmother’s house. I was feeling as lonely as a boy could be. Two kids from across the street came over to see what was going on. When they saw I was their age, they invited me to come play tag with them. Neither of them cared about my family’s name or what my grandfather did for a living. We’re friends to this day.”
“Is that what the writing desk is for? So you can keep in touch?”
“Yes. Eventually my family’s finances improved, and we moved back into our house a few years later. Warren, William and I have been corresponding ever since. Some friendships are able to survive time, life’s events and even great distances.”
“Yes, and whenever you’re together again it is as if no time has passed and nothing has changed.” She leaned forward to help him by lifting the cloth from the plate. “Such is the nature of real friendship.”
“I can’t argue that.”
“You know what this tells me about you?”
“I’m afraid to guess.” His dimples returned, edging out the sadness of his story and leaving the hope.
“That you have more character than I gave you credit for.”
“Did you just pay me a compliment? Or did my ears deceive me?”
“I’m as astonished as you are.”
They laughed together. She couldn’t hold back her admiration or the strange power he seemed to have over her affections. Like a rope binding her heart to his, when he felt, so did she. His gladness rolled through her and they smiled together as if in synchrony, as if friends for real.
“And I have even more news,” she confessed. “I officially have no reasons left not to like you.”
The sunlight broke through the doors, spilling across them like a sign from above. They laughed together, their chuckles echoing in the peaked roof of the loft and drowning out the rise of birdsong from the green fields.
Hitching up Sweetie had not been nearly as difficult as she feared, not with Shane teaching her. She pulled the last strap through the buckle, securing the buggy’s traces to the mare’s thick leather collar.
“Did I do it right?” she asked.
“Perfect,” Shane praised from the other side of the horse. “How does it feel to have hitched up your first buggy?”
“Liberating.” The floor bit into her knee, so she stood and dusted off her skirt. Bits of dirt and scraps of hay tumbled off the cotton, swirling like dust motes in the sunshine. “Thanks to you, all the lines and buckles and pieces are no longer completely mystifying. Now I can hitch up any horse, no problem.”
“You’re one step closer to your plans.” Over the top of Sweetie’s broad back, he tipped his hat to her. “Well done. Soon you will be driving your own buggy across the plains.”
“I wish. I still have examinations to pass, and they are usually very hard.” The mare nickered as if wondering why she was standing still if she was hitched to go somewhere, and Meredith rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “It’s getting closer, and I’m getting more nervous. What if I don’t pass? I’m starting to see doom. All the ways things can go wrong.”
“Don’t worry. You will do fine, the same way you do everything.”
“You’re just saying that. You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you’re smart and hardworking.” He laid his arms across the horse’s back and leaned close, resting his chin on his hands. “I know you enough to guess you are at the top of your class.”
“Earlee always gets the top grades, but I come close.” Just thinking about it made nerves settle into her stomach, hopping around like trapped grasshoppers. “I’ve been wanting this for so long and suddenly it’s almost here. If I pass the exam, I can have my own little schoolroom this summer.”
“Summer? Doesn’t school usually start in the fall?”
“Yes, but some areas can’t afford to pay a teacher or there are too few students for a district. Summer school helps to bring education to the rural areas. It’s a great place for a beginning teacher.”
“You light up when you talk about it. Why do you want to be a teacher?”
“Because education can better a child’s life. I believe everyone should have the chance to learn.” A curl tumbled into her eyes, as one always did, and she brushed it away, totally unconscious of the adorable gesture. She tucked the lock behind her ear. “I took my schooling for granted until I moved here and saw life from a different perspective.”
“My move to Charleston to live with Grandmother did the same thing for me.” His throat closed, full of so many things he couldn’t admit or felt too bashful to say. It was fine to have material things, but a man could no
t build his character accepting inherited money that he had not earned. That was another reason he had walked away from his family. He supposed Meredith felt the same, and he admired her for seeing the work she could do in the world instead of closing her eyes to the need.
The door at the other end of the barn opened with a wrench of wood and a drum of boots. Didn’t sound like Braden back early from town. That meant the intruder could only be Robert Worthington.
“Meredith!” Harsh tones reverberated the length of the structure. “Are you out here?”
“Uh-oh.” Across Sweetie’s withers, Meredith stepped back, panic pinching her lovely features, animating her in the most darling of ways. “I’m not supposed to be here, but mostly I’m not supposed to touch the horse or buggy.”
“I’ll take care of her,” he whispered back. “Go on. Talk to your father.”
“Thank you.” Her sincerity washed over him as surely as the spring breeze at his back, and he felt her gratitude in his inner-most heart. She seemed to take the light with her as she scurried away on pretty kid slippers, leaving him as if in winter’s gloom.
The mare curved her neck to toss him a questioning look, as if to say, “What’s going on? Aren’t we going somewhere?” He reached to unfasten the buckles holding the collar to the buggy traces, working fast. Those striking boot steps had stopped midway through the barn, dangerously close. Not that he intended to deceive Worthington if he should question him, but if the horse was unhitched in time and back in her stall, the man might not think to ask a question he would not have to answer.
“But, Papa!” Meredith’s protest rang in the breezeway.
She was probably being sent back to the house. Shane lifted the collar from Sweetie’s neck and hung it on the nearby hook. Lighter steps tapped away, her gait diminishing with distance. She must be gone. The barn door squeaked closed and he led Sweetie back to her stall.
“Connelly.” Robert Worthington’s voice boomed in the stillness, chasing a sparrow from a perch on the grain barrel. Horses stirred in their stalls and many poked their noses over the bars of their gates, nickering and whinnying at the disturbance. A sign of anger in the man’s voice.
Even Sweetie skidded sideways, suddenly nervous. Shane laid a hand on her neck, murmuring low to her.
“I’m in here, sir.” He opened the gate and Sweetie hurried into her stall.
“I need a word with you.” Worthington pounded closer, his boot steps preceding him. He came into sight still in his Sunday’s finest—a waist coat, pleated trousers and shining boots. He was no longer the doting, easygoing patriarch, not with anger tight on his face.
“What do you need, sir?” Shane checked Sweetie’s latch and pushed away from the stall.
“A moment of your time.” Robert glowered. “I don’t know how to say this.”
“Clearly something is wrong. Let me guess. You were concerned about your daughter being alone in the barn with me without a chaperone. Is that right?”
“That’s it.” Robert pounded closer, closing the gap between them. With every step he took, the disapproval lining the man’s face became deeper and more apparent. “Meredith is a good girl, but she is headstrong and naive.”
“I would never do anything to insult or harm her or any of your daughters.” He had done nothing wrong, so it was easy to meet the man eye to eye and ignore the tension thick in the air.
“I believe that.” Robert came to a stop outside the stall, his tone dark. “Which is why you will understand. I have to insist that you limit your interaction with my daughter to strictly the business I’ve hired you for.”
“You hired me to train your horses.”
“No, I hired Braden for that. You, as his assistant, will do the various menial tasks around this place. If you cannot, I will hire someone who can.” Shoulders back, chin up, unflinching, Robert looked like a man who meant what he said. “Is that clear?”
“Of course. I don’t want to lose this job for Braden.” He thought of Meredith in the house. He didn’t want her punished for spending time with him. They had been talking, nothing more. Surely no one could believe differently. “I meant no disrespect to you or to Meredith.”
“See that it stays that way.” Worthington jammed his fists into his pocket, his gaze narrowing as he looked Shane up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way, son, but you’re young and you have little to show for yourself. You’re learning a trade. For that I commend you, but do not misunderstand my daughter’s propensity for befriending those less fortunate than herself.”
“Less fortunate?” He blinked, a little puzzled be cause he had thought the father was concerned they had been alone together and for his daughter’s reputation. Apparently the greater issue was their budding friendship. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“The man who wins my Meredith’s hand will not be an itinerant saddle tramp working a few months out of the year, living hand to mouth, with nothing to offer. Now do you understand?”
Now it made sense.
“You are as clear as a bell, sir.” Anger built like a fire behind his sternum, but he tamped it down. He should have been prepared for this. He should have seen it coming. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt.
“It’s nothing personal, son.” Robert wasn’t a cruel man, and his tone softened a notch. “Things might be different if you had the right family connections and a fine spread of land to call your own.”
“I can’t say that I do, sir.” Not anymore. He had given up that life. He was no longer that man. He was twenty years old. Worthington wasn’t exactly wrong. He’d built up a savings, but he had no plans to settle down. He was sweet on Meredith. He felt closer to her than he should.
“Otherwise, you have done a fine job for us. I hope there are no hard feelings.” Robert dipped his chin in a formal nod before pivoting on his heel.
Hard feelings? Shane blew out a breath, determined to hold on to his dignity. Best to let the man’s words roll off him instead of take them to heart. He couldn’t say that if he was in Robert’s shoes he would have done anything different. Meredith was amazing, worth protecting, worth the sting he felt on his pride.
He was a wanderer, that was part of his job. He was itinerant, he had no home and every material possession he owned could be tied to the back of his saddle. It shouldn’t matter that he’d been told not to be friends with Meredith. The weeks would soon be ticking by until it was time to leave. There was no future for them anyway, and he didn’t want one. He wasn’t looking for anything serious. Not now. Not at this place in his life.
The sting remained like a welt, tender and inflamed, as he headed out into the yard. Leaves rustled overhead and the breeze sang through the blades of grass at his feet as he made his way to the bunkhouse. The sunshine winked on the windows of the house, drawing his attention, forcing him to glance at the big window where Meredith could be seen sitting at the dining-room table, laying out a piece of material. Her oldest sister stood nearby. The two young women commented, studied, furrowed their brows and Meredith moved around a few pieces of fabric. The sisters smiled, as if pleased.
Shane twisted away, realizing he was staring. The woman had more power over him than he’d realized. He forced his feet forward where the bunkhouse and a good book awaited him.
Chapter Eleven
“Girls!” Mama’s call rang through the morning stillness. China cups rattled in their saucers as she barreled into the dining room. “Hurry and get ready or you’ll be late for school.”
“I wouldn’t mind being late.” Minnie dropped her fork on her plate with a clink. “I have a quiz today.”
“And let me guess. You didn’t study?” Meredith took one last sip of apple cider before pushing away from the table. “I would have helped you.”
“But I didn’t want to do it.” Minnie flashed her dimples and bobbed out of her chair. “What I want is for summer weather to come, so I can play in my tree house.”
“That is hardly ladylike.” Mama drew he
rself up, shook her head with disapproval and gave Minnie a loving nudge. “Off with you, now. Gather your books and put on your wraps. Sadie! Where are the girls’ lunches?”
The kitchen door swished open and the maid, hair curling from the kitchen’s heat and looking frazzled, scurried into sight, carrying two small pails. “Here you are, ma’am. Is there anything else you’ll be needin’?”
“No, go back to your work, Sadie.” Mama took possession of the tins. “Meredith, why are you daydreaming again? Stop staring at the window and get ready to go.”
Had she been staring? She hadn’t noticed. Meredith blinked, realizing she was indeed facing the window, and launched out of her chair. A strange flickering feeling traveled through her as she followed her mother through the parlor. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just a novel one that was as pure as the morning’s gentleness and as uplifting as the budding lilacs waving their tiny perfect flowers in the breeze.
Shane. She could see him through the parlor window driving the buggy to the front door. He perched on the edge of the seat and the wind tousled the ends of his dark hair. The new day’s light bronzed him as if he’d come straight out of a painting.
“Did you not hear me, child? Goodness, you are preoccupied today.”
“Sorry, Mama.” She took the coat her mother thrust at her and jabbed her arms into it. Something was definitely wrong because it was the strangest phenomenon that the closer Shane came to her, the more she was aware of him. The tug he held on her heart increased. Her thoughts centered on him. Her senses filled until he was all she could see—not the door opening, not Minnie jumping down the steps and skipping along the walk, not Mama kissing her cheek and wishing her a good day—just him.
Only him.
It was as if something had gone wrong with her entire brain and she was helpless to stop it. She hardly felt the bricks at her feet or the change in the wind that May day brought. The air evaporated from her lungs, leaving her breathless as her hand settled into his. His fingers closed around hers, and the connection between them became more powerful, as it did every time they touched. She did not recall climbing into the buggy or settling on the cushioned seat, only that his hand released hers, he moved away and she felt the purest of lights the heavens had to offer.