Homespun Bride (15 page)

Thad looked up to a course of “amens” and where did his gaze naturally go? To Noelle.

“So, where did you learn all of this horse knowledge?” Henrietta passed him a bowl of dinner rolls and she gave him a stern look over the crusty tops. “Did you attend some kind of training?”

“Training? No, ma'am.” It sure looked as if he'd hit a rocky trail with this woman. He got the notion that the Worthington Inquisition was just getting started. “I learned what I know from growing up on my family's homestead.”

“I see. No formal education?”

“Just the local school.”

“No academy or college?”

“Begging your pardon, ma'am, but do I look like I've been to college?”

“No, but it was a hope.”

He took a dinner roll and passed the bowl to the youngest girl, who looked at him as if he'd turned into a horse right there before her eyes.

Yep, he was feeling mighty uncomfortable. As he accepted the bowl of creamed potatoes from a tight-lipped Henrietta, he caught Noelle's amused expression across the table. She had to know that he was suffering. She didn't seem to mind it at all.

Well, she
had
warned him.

“I got a good look at that mustang you ride.” The girl across the table—Angelina?—dumped a spoon of buttered peas on her plate. “Was he once wild? Did you catch him in a roundup? Did you break him?”

“Yes,” Robert said from the head of the table. “Tell us about your mustang. A plucky breed, as I understand it.”

“Sunny is a mustang?” Noelle asked breathlessly.

His pulse ground to a halt. Regret bit him like barbed wire. He forked a helping of roast beef on his plate, knowing what no one else knew at the table. She'd once dreamed of raising her own horses—mustangs, native to this rugged country. It was a dream they'd shared long ago.

“I'd just finished a drive on the Northern Trail and was on my own, heading from Baker City in Oregon to my next job. It was a long haul following the Yellowstone River and there wasn't a town in sight, so I chose a spot near water to camp. Something woke me up around midnight. My horse was nervous, so I got up with my Winchester thinking there was a hungry wolf or mountain lion nearby, but it was an injured colt.”

“Was he still a foal or was he more grown-up?” the littlest sister asked wide-eyed.

“He was probably six months old, I reckon. When I got up to him, he tried to run, but couldn't get up. He'd been shot.”

“Shot?” Noelle gasped.

“On purpose?” Angelina burst out.

“Hard to tell but I don't think so. Likely as not he caught a stray bullet from a hunter, since we were far up in the high country. I searched for his mother, too, after I'd patched him up, but there was no telling how far he'd wandered hurt like that. I found out later there was a wild horse roundup a few days before that.” He picked up his fork and knife with a slight clink. “I always figured that's how he got separated from his ma.”

“It's lucky you found him.” She could see the image in her mind, the dark night, the campfire, the caring man and the fragile colt.

“I always figured I was the lucky one.” Thad cleared his throat for all the good it did. There was no hiding the fondness in his voice. “I wasn't sure he'd last the night, but he had spirit and surprised me. I named him Sunny because he was a palomino pinto. His coat is as bright as a summer day.”

“He took to you like a best friend.” Noelle could see that, too.

“Did you break him like a bronco?” Angelina asked again, her voice resonating with excitement. “He was a wild horse, so did it take longer than a tame horse?”

Noelle took a bite of her dinner roll, but her attention remained on Thad and his answer. She suspected she wasn't the only one since the clink of silver slowed around the table. In her heart, she already knew Thad's answer.

“Sunny was and is my best buddy. He's no more wild than I am, and when it comes down to it, breaking a best friend isn't my way of doing things.”

“That's how the last horseman Papa hired did it.” Angelina ignored her mother's throat clearing. “He got up on the horse's back and stayed on while the stallion kicked and bucked like a bronco. It was exciting.”

“Probably not for the horse,” Thad pointed out.

How was it that she knew Thad so well, after all? Noelle searched for her glass of water with careful fingers, listening to more questions fired from around the table, including one from Uncle Robert.

The meal progressed as Thad told of how he taught his colt to trust him. He painted a vivid picture of working with the mustang on the journey to his next job, introducing him to kindness and campfire bread and friendship. How he'd worked with Sunny in the fresh, green, wild grasses.

She could see Thad, gentle and patient and dependable, never giving the colt a reason to doubt his kindness. She could picture man and colt together in the rugged mountain wilderness, surrounded by yellow, red and purple wildflowers and crowned by majestic mountains. The honey-gold colt and the dark-haired man painted an image she wanted to believe in.

 

The lightning storm had passed by the time the maid cleared the dinner plates, and Thad had helped Robert back upstairs, so he'd taken his escape. The mercury had dropped well below freezing as he said his goodbyes and left Noelle with her family. But the way she'd smiled at him, and the hope in his heart stayed with him through the frigid ride home.

As the wind-driven snow battered him, memories of her kept him cozily warm. He couldn't seem to forget how she'd bitten her lower lip in worry as he'd told of Sunny's first cattle drive two weeks later, and how he'd got swept away in a stampede. Likely as not come to a sad end, but the little guy had made it. Thad kept him on a shorter lead rope from then on.

The sigh she'd made of delight wasn't something he could forget, either, when he'd told of the evening, a year later, when he'd been trying to spark a campfire with a flint and looked up at the sound of thunder. It was a herd of wild horses streaking across the plains and there'd been no mistaking the yearning in Sunny's eyes. So Thad had climbed to his feet and slipped off Sunny's halter. The yearling had taken off with an eager whinny, bolting after the herd and out of sight.

How lovely she'd looked, graced by the lamplight, and captivated by his story as he told of standing in the knee-high grass, feeling nothing but lonesome, when a low welcoming whinny sounded in the dark—Sunny had come back to stay with him.

Had he been alone with Noelle when he'd been telling that story, he would have said it had felt like a sign on that lonely night. He'd been traveling too long, miserable living out of his saddle packs and Sunny's return seemed to give him the hope that heaven was watching over him after all. Maybe there were still dreams to be had, and that he shouldn't give up all hope.

But since he hadn't been alone with her, he'd kept those words to himself. They seemed to whisper within the chambers of his heart, in the lonesomeness within that he'd not been able to shake. He'd missed her. He'd been lonely for her these long years, for his best friend, for the woman he'd wanted to marry, for his one true love.

Distant thunder rumbled through the mantle of cloud and snow, but the cold and dark did not feel as bleak as it once had. Thad nosed Sunny toward home.

 

Noelle shivered in the cold as she knelt in prayer. The storm howled like an angry wolf outside the bedroom window. She ended her nightly prayers as she always did.
I pray that You will watch over Thad, Father. Please see to his happiness. Amen.

She rose, teeth chattering and dived under the covers. Cold had sunk into the marrow of her bones and the sheets felt as cold as the air in the room. The flatiron at the foot of the bed gave off blessed heat, and she scrunched down to find the warmth with her toes.

“Amen,” Matilda whispered. Her teeth chattered, too, and the thwack of the quilt told that she'd covered herself completely beneath the blankets.

The house had quieted. Henrietta's voice came faintly through the walls two rooms down the hall as she wished Minnie good-night. A door shut and then silence.

Surely Thad had made it through the storm safely. So, why was she worried about him? She rolled onto her side to contemplate that. It made no sense because she knew he'd managed to drive cattle and ford dangerous rivers and crest mountain summits for years successfully. Surely he could manage to find his way home through one blustery whiteout.

She had to be honest with herself. It wasn't his safety she was worrying over. It was her feelings for him. For the man he'd made her believe in tonight with his tales of strength and steadfast gentleness.

That was the Thad McKaslin she'd fallen so hard in love with, she would have defied her beloved parents and a life of security for the chance at her dream—to love him for all the days of her life.

How could that Thad, the one she'd known so well, have forsaken her? He was not a man who could break a promise, let alone a vow of love and forever. That man was the one she'd glimpsed tonight through his honest, plain stories of befriending a wild colt.

He'd probably meant to tell of his horse-gentling philosophy, but she'd heard something different—a man who was trustworthy and steadfast and committed. The man Thad had always been.

A sharp rustle came from Matilda's side of the room. She must have thrown the covers off her head. “I'm too cold and tired to read tonight. Can I read two passages aloud to you tomorrow?”

“Of course. I'm half-asleep as it is, and I hate to trouble you anyway. You know that.”

“It's no trouble. I'm just greatly fatigued. I think my mind is overworked from those thrilling stories Mr. McKaslin told at dinner.”

“Yes, they were very enjoyable.” And for her, personal, although that wasn't something she was about to admit to anyone, even to someone she trusted as much as Tilly. Why, she could hardly admit the truth to herself. “Angelina was enthralled. Do you think she's going to torment your mother with a new desire to run off and herd cattle?”

“Probably. It's Angelina's lot in life to torment poor mama. She ought to be careful or Mama just might make good on her threat to send her to finishing school.”

“Think of all the outhouses to overturn there. Angelina will be quite busy.”

“True.” Matilda chuckled. “He likes you, you know. Really likes you.”

“You mean Thad?” Noelle ran her fingertips over the lace edging the pillow slip. “You've told me this before, but I only have f-friendly feelings for Thad.”

And there were practical reasons, of course, why she could never risk her heart on him again. Reasons that could not be changed. She groped for the edge of her sheets to pull them up to her chin.

Matilda's mattress ropes squeaked as she leaned to put out the light. “Good night, Noelle.”

“Good night, Tilly.” She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, knowing she would dream this night of a wide-shouldered man and his wild horse.

A
s Thad watched Noelle standing at Solitude's stall alongside her uncle, who was leaning heavily on his stout wooden cane, he tried not to take it as a sign. Of course Robert was feeling strong enough to venture outdoors. It only made sense the first place he'd visit was his horses and had asked Noelle to accompany him.

It didn't mean that she'd changed her mind about
his
offer. That was the story he was trying to sell himself. He wasn't sure it was working. As he patiently waited for the stallion to approach him, he knew one thing—Noelle's face and manner, when she'd greeted him earlier, had been warm and friendly. Not polite and cool, as it had once been.

It didn't hurt to hold out a little hope, did it?

“You've done wonders with these spirited horses of mine,” Robert praised as he limped closer, leaving Noelle alone at Solitude's stall. “I knew you were helping out with the stable work and heavier chores around here. What I didn't know was that you've been working with these horses.”

Thad kept eye contact with the ill-tempered stallion and kept the apple in his pocket. “I'm only doing what needed to be done.”

“But your work with the horses. Triumph is standing still. A first for him, I believe. It's amazing.”

“Just a little horse know-how is all.” Thad shrugged, keeping his attention on the horse because looking at Noelle would hurt too much. He wasn't sure what risk his heart could afford to take. He'd been up half the night, unable to sleep for working out his plans for the day—his plans for her. “It doesn't much seem like work to me.”

“You've made an impressive difference.”

“Hate to argue with you about that, sir, but in my view, these horses have a long way to go.”

“They'll get there.” Robert leaned heavily on his cane, but despite the obvious pain he was in, he was grinning ear to ear. “I'd best get back in before my wife hunts me down and drags me back. She's not keen on this horse-raising venture of mine.”

“Do you need help, sir?”

“I'll manage.”

There she was, right in his line of sight. Thad gulped hard, and, since Triumph had decided to be a gentleman and stand still without showing his teeth, he palmed him the apple. The stallion took the treat and then lunged back with it, his temper showing as he shook his head like a bull in full charge.

“That stallion does sound more well behaved than he has been.” Noelle sparkled with good humor. “He doesn't sound as ornery when he kicks the wall.”

“This one has a long row to hoe, but he'd be all right in the end. I'm happy to work with him.”

“That's good of you.”

“I can't have your uncle getting kicked like that again, not if I can help it.” That had her smiling. He loved her smile; he loved everything about her. She tilted her head slightly to one side, as if focusing on the approach of his footsteps, and the soft fall of her hair brushed her face.

“I think we're alone now.” She paused to listen. “Yes, we are. There's something I've been wanting to ask you.”

“Uh-oh. That sounds plenty serious.”

“You have no notion of just how much.” She reached out to him, her sensitive fingertips finding first the air, then the edge of his sleeve. “I'm sorry I didn't wait for you to bring me to see Stormy. Robert asked me and he was so excited to be feeling well enough to venture out here. I didn't have the heart to turn him down.”

“Sure. I understand that. The question is, do you have the heart to turn me down.”

“Turn you down? Why ever would I—” She paused, tilting her head to the side to listen closely. “I hear something. A clink of metal.”

“Yep.”

“What are you up to, Thad McKaslin?” There was rustling, too.

His chuckle thrummed through her spirit like a harp string. “Guess. It was something you used to love to do. I found this out, and so I asked you for our first—”

“—date,” she finished as the
clank-clank
came again. What did he have there? Probably it had something to do with the stables and horses, but for the life of her, the high-noted, pleasant steely sound made her think of one thing. “That can't be ice skates.”

They clanked again. “And exactly why is that so impossible? I brought your old pair from home. It seems they were still in the barn where I'd left a few things.”

“The skates you'd bought for me.” Pleasure filled her up like a warm sip of hot cocoa. “I spent many an hour twirling on one pond or another while you patiently froze on the bank.”

“I didn't see it that way. I always figured it was a privilege just to be with you.”

“Still a sweet-talker after all this time.”

“Hey, it's only the truth, but I'm glad you think so.”

Was that a smile in his voice? It was, she was sure of it, warm and sweetly handsome. She sighed a little, remembering how captivated she used to be by the sight of his smile—and now, by the sound and feel of it.

“Come take my arm,” he offered, his baritone resonant with warmth and promise. “Let me take you out on the ice.”

“To skate?” A sweet longing filled her with a sweet force. Longing to be twirling on the ice once again, she told herself firmly—and
not
longing to spend time with Thad.

Or was it?

With his hand firmly on hers, he coaxed her toward the back door. “You used to be a good skater.”

“Yes, but I'm likely to fall on my nose. Or worse. It might be a complete disaster.”

“I'll keep that from happening, I promise. I'll be right there with you, seeing for you.”

How could she keep from caring for Thad now? Every beat of her heart grew stronger because of his words, his presence and the promise that made her feel free again.

“I'll never let you fall.” He used that wondrous voice of his against her, replete with humor and unspoken dreams. Quiet, secret dreams that had her heart opening and her wishes coming to life.

Wishes she could not give life to.

He guided her along the uneven path with a gentle hand—not a domineering one—on her elbow.

“Sit here.” His baritone dipped low. With quiet tenderness, he helped her settle on the garden bench.

She hardly noticed the cold trying to seep in through her layers of wool and flannel. The burn of the wind, the twitter of winter birds and the scent of wood smoke on the air faded away. There was only the crunch of snow beneath his boots, the rustle of his clothes as he knelt before her. His scent of hay and horseflesh and leather and his soothing presence was all she could think about. All she could notice.

He lifted her right foot onto his knee, and emotions that had sat like a heavy lump in her chest began to unravel, one aching thread at a time.

She could no longer hold back the question that had been troubling her. “I think I know why you ran off instead of marrying me and why you left me behind.”

The ice skate slipped from his fingers. “Let's leave the past where it belongs.”

“I'm not speaking about the past. I'm talking about this moment. Right now. What's happened between us since you've come back.”

“There's no sense in digging up what's done.”

“But—”

“Trust me, Noelle. It's for the best if we don't talk about this.” He shook the snow off the skate and fit it to her shoe. All he wanted to do was to keep her safe and happy and thriving. It was the only way he was allowed to love her.

And love her he did, with all the broken pieces of his heart and all the lost pieces of his soul. He was more than the nineteen-year-old boy he'd once been, and his love was more now, too. Fuller. Deeper. More everlasting.

More selfless. Which was why he took a long drink of the sight of her, savoring each careful detail. The heart-shape of her lovely face, her high cheekbones and sweetly chiseled chin, her jeweled emerald eyes, her cinnamon hair, her creamy complexion, her delicate features, her small slender hands that felt so dear when he held them in his own.

He reached for the second skate. “I need your other foot.”

“You've taken over my uncle's responsibilities around the house and yard.” She switched feet, allowing him to take her left foot in his hands. “You've gone beyond your duty as our stableman. You're the kind of man who does the right thing, who works hard, who can always be counted on.”

“I take my work seriously, is all.”

“No, you are the boy I fell in love with, and you've always been the man you are now. I see you, Thad. All of you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her words were an answered prayer. If he'd ever had one for himself, it was this. For her to see that he was the kind of man who would never hurt her, who would always do what he could for her greatest happiness. Without condition. Without end.

He clamped the blade into place on her shoe and checked to make sure it was on good and tight. He ignored the chill seeping through the knees of his denims and the gnawing of regret.

She reached forward as easily as if she saw him, and her fingertips brushed the collar of his coat, then the scarf at his throat and finally cupped his jaw. “You left me thinking something had happened to you. You left me waiting, stubbornly believing in you. Even after I learned you'd left the county for good, it took me a long time to give up believing that you had to leave for some reason and you would be coming back to me. That's how strongly I believed in you. In noble, good, unfailing you.”

My dear, beloved Noelle. He pressed his jaw against the fuzzy sweetness of her gloved hand. Here was the chance he'd always wished for—to tell the truth, to right the wrong and win her back. He gently moved away and climbed to his feet.

There was nothing more precious to him in all the world, and there never would be. Her loveliness was something he would never tire of, the sight that would refresh his weary heart the most. She was everything good and womanly and rare in this world, and the heart of his deepest dream come true. A dream he would not hurt for any reason.

Her happiness was more important than anything he could ever want for himself. Maybe bringing her here, where mist swirled around the frozen pond like lost dreams, hadn't been the best idea. “You might think that breaking my promise to you that night came pretty easy.”

“It had once been my impression.”

“I can honestly say it was the hardest decision I ever made.”

“I understand that now.” She held out her hand, confident that he would take it, that he wouldn't leave her sitting alone in her darkness.

He took her hand to guide her. She rose lightly to her feet, balancing easily on her blades, and he tried not to notice the thud of his heart hitting his soul. He loved her more. He'd been a fool to think he had ever stopped loving her. The love he had for her had not vanished. It had simply bided its time, quiet and dormant as the trees in winter, waiting for spring to come.

The dreams he'd given up on were there, alive after all. He swallowed hard against the pressure building in his chest. “I did what I thought was best at the time. I hate that I left you waiting and hoping. I know what I did came at a cost, but I did what I had to do, what I thought was right.”

“I know that.” Her emerald eyes, her face, her voice, her manner all shone with that truth. “My father forced you out of town, didn't he?”

The blood in his veins stilled. How did she know? Had she guessed? And if she had, if she knew the truth, there was the temptation to tell her the rest of it. But was it the right thing to do? He could not seem to move, although her skirts whispered as she stood, wobbling on the thin blades. He caught hold of her, keeping her steady when he was the unsteady one.

Forgiveness. It shone in her emerald eyes and radiated in her smile. The way she turned to him, the way she trusted him meant more to him than anything in the world.

“I know how you loved your folks, Noelle. I can't ruin their memory for you.”

“You won't. Whatever they did, they did out of love. That's what you did, too.”

She understood. An enormous weight lifted from his soul. His throat closed and he could not speak. The burdens of the past, of the wrongs her father had done to him and his family, and the misery he'd suffered melted away.

She looked like a little drop of heaven—or at least his notion of heaven—full of goodness and mercy and kindness. Mist clung to the gossamer curls caressing her sweet face. “My parents were wrong and misguided and they had no right to interfere, but they're gone now. And if there's something to learn from this, then it's that our time here is so very short. I don't want to waste another moment in heartache. Take me skating, Thad.”

She held out her mittened hands, and it felt as if she were offering him a second chance. They'd navigated the short way to the head of the little pond where mist curled over the ice like wishes. “Straight ahead a few steps. That's right.”