Homespun Bride (2 page)

Stunned, she could feel the faint wind shadow as he towered over her. She knew he was tall, wide-shouldered and built like steel. She knew, somehow, without seeing him. It was as if she was familiar with his touch. How could that possibly be?

“Careful, now.” His calm baritone boomed. “Step up a little, that's right.”

She could feel his strength as he lifted her out of the tipped sleigh. For an instant, she felt weightless as if there was no gravity that could hold her to the ground. As if there were only wind and sky. She breathed in the winter air, the faint scent of soap and leather and wool. Her shoes touched the snow and the impact jarred through her, although he'd set her gently to the ground.

Who was this man? The last time she'd felt like this, suspended between earth and sky, between safety and the unknown was so long ago, she dared not let her mind dig up those buried dreams.

With a whisper of movement he released her. “Stay here while I fetch your mother.”

She stood wobbling on her shaky legs, feeling the kick of fear still racing through her veins. Riveted, unable to think of anything else, even her aunt's safety, she listened to the crunch of the snow beneath his boots as he moved again. The wind and snow lashed against her nose and eyes like tears. She tucked the muffler more snuggly around her face, shivering not from fear or cold but from something else.

She heard Henrietta's sob of fear, she heard the jingle of their rescuer's horse's bridle and that low reassuring baritone, although the howling wind stole his words.

Never had she so sorely missed her sight. Every fiber of her being longed to be able to see him. Then she heard the squeak of the sleigh's runner as it moved against the snow and she realized the rush she heard was the swift-running river and roar of the falls—the highest waterfall in all of Montana Territory.

A prayer flew to her lips, but before she could give it voice, she heard the crunch of her aunt's sturdy gait.

“Let me take a look at you. I have to see with my own eyes. This is like an awful nightmare.” Henrietta grabbed her and turned her around, like a mother hen checking on one of her chicks.

Love for her aunt filled her—she'd learned that love made everyone perfect. What were flaws? They hardly mattered when she could have lost Henrietta as she had her parents. Emotion burned in her throat, emotion she dared not speak of, since Henrietta did not approve of outbursts of any kind.

“I'm fine,” she told her aunt to reassure her. “But are you all right?”

“Worse for the ordeal but right enough. I saw you hit the dashboard. Are you bleeding?”

“I'm fine, I told you. It's blizzarding, and—”

“You ladies need to get safely home.” He spoke up. “The storm is likely to get worse before it gets better.”

“Young man, you saved our lives.”

“I was at the right place at the right time is all.” He took a step, which made it easier to keep his eye on that high-strung horse. “Are you sure you're both all right? A ride like that could shake anyone up.”

“I have nerves of steel.” The woman's chin firmed as she tugged at the daughter's scarf, which obscured her nearly completely. “My niece, however, is quite fragile as she's blind.”

“Niece?” Not daughter. And blind at that. Wasn't that too bad? Thad thought. Sympathy filled him as he watched the aunt fuss.

“My dear, let me see. I have to make sure you've not broken anything.”

“As long as you two ladies are safe enough, I'll just see to the horse then.” He stepped back. His mind should be working out how to get that vehicle out of the bushes, but he couldn't concentrate on it.

There was something about the young woman—the niece—something he couldn't put his finger on. He'd hardly glanced at her when he'd hauled her from the family sleigh, but now he took a longer look through the veil of falling snow.

For a moment, her silhouette, the size of her, and the way she moved reminded him of Noelle. How about that; Noelle, his frozen heart reminded him with a painful squeeze, had been his first—and only—love.

It couldn't be her, he reasoned, since she was married and probably a mother by now. She'd be safe in town, living snug in one of the finest houses in the county instead of riding along the country roads in a storm. Still, curiosity nibbled at him as he plowed through the knee-deep snow. Snow was falling faster now, and yet somehow through the thick downfall his gaze seemed to find her.

She was fragile, a delicate bundle of wool; snow clung to her hood, scarf and cloak like a shroud, making her tough to see. She'd been just a little bit of a thing when he'd lifted her from the sleigh, and his only thought at the time had been to get both women out of danger. Now something chewed at his memory. He couldn't quite figure out what, but he could feel it in his gut.

The woman was talking on as she unwound the niece's veil. “We were tossed about dreadfully. You're likely bruised and broken from root to stem. I've never been so terrified. All I could do was pray over and over and think of you, my dear.” Her words warmed with tenderness. “What a greater nightmare for you.”

“We're fine. All's well that ends well,” the niece insisted.

Although her voice was muffled by the thick snowfall, his step faltered. There
was
something about her voice, something familiar in the gentle resonance of her alto. Now he could see the top part of her face, due to her loosened scarf. Her eyes—they were a startling shade of flawless emerald green.

Whoa, there.
He'd seen that perfect shade of green before—and long ago. Recognition speared through his midsection, but he already knew she was his Noelle even before the last layer of the scarf fell away from her face.

His Noelle, just as lovely and dear, was now blind and veiled with snow. His first love. The woman he'd spent years and thousands of miles trying to forget. Hard to believe that there she was suddenly right in front of him. He'd heard about the engagement announcement a few years back, and he'd known in returning to Angel Falls to live that he'd have to run into her eventually.

He just didn't figure it would be so soon and like this.

Seeing her again shouldn't make him feel as if he'd been hit in the chest with a cannonball. The shock was wearing off, he realized, the same as when you received a hard blow. First off, you were too stunned to feel it. Then the pain began to settle in, just a hint, and then to rush in until it was unbearable. Yep, that was the word to describe what was happening inside his rib cage. A pain worse than a broken bone beat through him.

Best get the sleigh righted, the horse hitched back up and the women home. But it was all he could do to turn his back as he took his mustang by the bridle. The palomino pinto gave him a snort and shook his head, sending the snow on his golden mane flying.

Yep, I know how you feel, Sunny, Thad thought. Judging by the look of things, it would be a long time until they had a chance to get in out of the cold.

He'd do best to ignore the women, especially Noelle, and to get to the work needin' to be done. He gave the sleigh a shove, but the vehicle was wedged against the snow-covered brush banking the river. Not that he put a lot of weight on the Lord overmuch these days, but Thad had to admit it was a close call. Almost eerie how he'd caught them just in time. It did seem providential. Had they gone only a few feet more, gravity would have done the trick and pulled the sleigh straight into the frigid, fast waters of Angel River and plummeted them directly over the tallest falls in the territory.

Thad squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't stand to think of Noelle tossed into that river, fighting the powerful current along with the ice chunks. There would have been no way to have pulled her from the river in time. Had he been a few minutes slower in coming after them or if Sunny hadn't been so swift, there would have been no way to save her. To fate, the Lord or to simple chance, he was grateful.

Some tiny measure of tenderness in his chest, like a fire long banked, sputtered to life. His tenderness for her, still there, after so much time and distance. How about that.

Since the black gelding was a tad calmer now that the sound of the train had faded off into the distance, Thad rehitched him to the sleigh but secured the driving reins to his saddle horn. He used the two horses working together to free the sleigh and get it realigned toward the road.

The older woman looked uncertain about getting back into the vehicle. With the way that black gelding of theirs was twitchy and wild-eyed, he didn't blame her. “Don't worry, ma'am, I'll see you two ladies home.”

“Th-that would be very good of you, sir. I'm rather shaken up. I'm of half a mind to walk the entire mile home, except for my dear niece.”

Noelle. He wouldn't let his heart react to her. All that mattered was doing right by her—and that was one thing that hadn't changed. He came around to help the aunt into the sleigh and after she was safely seated, turned toward Noelle. Her scarf had slid down to reveal the curve of her face, the slope of her nose and the rosebud smile of her mouth.

What had happened to her? How had she lost her sight? Sadness filled him for her blindness and for what could have been between them, once. He thought about saying something to her, so she would know who he was, but what good would that do? The past was done and over. Only the emptiness of it remained.

“Thank you so much, sir.” She turned toward the sound of his step and smiled in his direction. If she, too, wondered who he was, she gave no real hint of it.

He didn't expect her to. Chances were she hardly remembered him, and if she did, she wouldn't think too well of him. She would never know what good wishes he wanted for her as he took her gloved hand. The layers of wool and leather and sheepskin lining between his hand and hers didn't stop that tiny flame of tenderness for her from growing a notch.

He looked into her eyes, into Noelle's eyes, the woman he'd loved truly so long ago, knowing she did not recognize him. Could not see him or sense him, even at heart. She smiled at him as if he were the Good Samaritan she thought he was as he helped her settle onto the seat.

Love was an odd thing, he realized as he backed away. Once, their love had been an emotion felt so strong and pure and true that he would have vowed on his very soul that nothing could tarnish nor diminish their bond. But time had done that simply, easily, and they stood now as strangers.

He reached for Sunny's reins, mounted up and led the way into the worsening storm.

H
uddled against the minus temperatures and lashing snow, Noelle clenched her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering.

The whir of the frigid wind and the endless whisper of the torrential snowfall drowned out all sound. It deceived her into imagining they were being pulled along in a void, cut off from the outside world, from everyone and everything, including the stranger who had helped them. She knew he was leading the gelding; Aunt Henrietta had assured her of this fact as soon as they'd set out.

It was only concern, she told herself, because she'd been behind two runaway horses in her lifetime. She did not wish a third trip. Of course she wanted to make sure they arrived safely home and that the stranger would keep his stalwart promise to lead them there.

The stranger. She couldn't seem to rid him from her mind. Her thoughts kept turning over and over the moment she'd first heard his buttery-warm baritone and the strange, vague sense of recognition she'd felt when he'd lifted her from the sleigh.

You know who he reminds you of. She shivered against the cruel cold and swiped the snow from her lashes. No, it couldn't be her old beau. Thad McKaslin was probably in Texas by now, judging by how fast he'd left her years ago. Her heart cracked in small pieces just thinking his name.

No, there was no possibility—none—that
he
was the stranger. Their rescuer was a Good Samaritan and a dependable, mature man, not a boy who only saw to his own concerns.

“Henrietta?” Uncle Robert's bass boomed through the sounds of the storm. “Noelle! Thank God you're here safe. I was just about to ride out looking for you. Didn't you see the blizzard cloud, Henrietta? You are both half frozen.”

“Oh, Rob.” Henrietta stumbled off the seat with a thud and clatter.

The storm blocked any other sounds, but Noelle knew her aunt had flung herself into her husband's arms. Though stiff with cold, she waited in the sleigh to give them a private moment.

“Do you need help?”

She turned toward the sound of his voice, thinking of all the ways his baritone didn't sound like the Thad she remembered. It was deeper, more mature, made of character and depth of experience. Besides, if it was Thad, he would have said something. See, it
couldn't
be.

“Miss?”

She ignored the knot of foreboding in her stomach and answered him. “I would appreciate the help. Storms with winds like this tend to disorient me. I get a little lost on my own.”

“Me, too, but I don't need a storm for that.” There was a touch of warmth to those words.

She wondered if he were smiling, and what kind of smile he had. Just for curiosity's sake, of course. She began to shake the snow from the lap blanket.

“Let me get that for you.”

He blocked the storm as he towered beside her. She felt the weight of the snow-caked blanket fall away. She breathed in the wintry air, the faint scent of his soap and leather and wool and remembered that boy she'd once loved.

His hand cradled her elbow to help her step out of the sleigh. Cold snow sank to the tops of her ankle-high shoes. For a moment, she felt a strange quiver of familiarity and denial seized her like a fist. Thad McKaslin here, in Angel Falls? Could it be?

She took one step, and he moved to her side to block the worst of the wind and snow. And the way he towered beside her made recognition shiver through her.

I don't want it to be him, she thought, her stomach tightening even more. But just because she didn't want it to be Thad, didn't mean it wasn't. She took another step. “Should I know you?”

“Not really,” his comforting baritone rumbled.

“When a man saves a woman's life, well, two women's, she likes to know what name to call her rescuer when she thanks him.”

“Maybe some things are better left a mystery.” Friendly, that's what his voice was and cozy, the way a fire crackling in the hearth was cozy. “Careful, now. There's a deep drift coming up.”

His grip tightened on her and he responded so quickly and gallantly, he must have thought she was truly helpless. It was a common misconception. “Don't worry,” she said, easily correcting her balance. “I've gotten used to tottering around. I'm fine.”

“The snow drifts high here. Lift your steps a little higher,” he said with concern.

Concern she didn't need, not from him. She tried to concentrate on feeling her way over the crest of the snowdrift with the toe of her shoe. Her feet were numb from cold, making it only a little more difficult.

“You do this very well.”

She recognized the surprise in his words. “When I lost my sight, I realized I had two options. To see it as a reason to give up or as a reason to go on. Of course, I walk into a few walls and catch my toe on the top of snowdrifts, but I do all right.”

“I'll say.”

She could feel the flat level of the brick stone walkway that her uncle kept carefully cleared. Snow had accumulated on it, but not more than a few inches, and the walking was easier. She released her rescuer's arm. “Thank you, but I can get in from here.”

“No, I should see you to the door.”

“You've done enough all ready.”

“But you're blind.”

“Yes, but I'm not incapable.”

“No, I see that.” What did he say to that? Thad didn't have the slightest notion. It was breaking his heart in every way. He cleared his throat to ask the question most troubling him. “How long have you been like this?”

“Tripping in the snow? Or blind, do you mean?”

“I'm sorry for your loss of sight.” Her smile was still the same, he realized, modest and sweet as the finest sugar, and how it transformed her lovely face the way dawn changed the night sky. But something
had
changed. She no longer held the power to render him a love-struck fool. No, he thought stoically, her smile had no effect on him whatsoever.

“It's been over four years, now.”

“Four years?” That surprised him. He'd been gone just about five.

“I hit my head when our buggy rolled and I lost my sight. It wasn't the worst thing I lost. My parents were killed.”

“I—I'm sorry to hear that.” It surprised him that the venom he'd felt for Noelle's parents vanished. Whatever they had done to him aside, they had loved their daughter dearly. She was their greatest treasure. Hard to blame them for it; harder now that they were gone.

The venom had died but not the bitterness. It was hard to keep it buried where it belonged. “I guess that had to be hard for you.”

A single nod, nothing more.

His feelings aside, he knew it had to have been an unbearable loss for her. She had loved her parents deeply, which was one reason why he'd made the decision he did five years ago and why they stood together now as strangers. The only decision he could have made.

Despite her condition, she looked well. Very well. Soft lamplight glowed from the wide windows, gilding her in light. Snow had gathered like tiny pieces of grace on her hood. She looked beautiful, more lovely than ever. Vibrant and womanly in a way he'd never seen her before.

She's happy, he realized with a punch that knocked the air from his lungs and every last speck of regret from his heart. He'd done the right thing in leaving. Her father, rest his soul, had been right.

He didn't like what that decision had done to him, but he'd learned a hard lesson from it. Be wary of the woman you give your heart to.

He took a moment to capture one last look of her, happy and lovely and matured into a sweetheart of a woman. Knowing this only made him feel colder. Glad for her, but cold in the way of the blizzard baring its teeth.

“Won't you come in? You must be half frozen.” Concern was there on her face for the stranger she thought he was. “Come in and warm up. We have beef soup and hot tea.”

“Can't. My horse is standing in this cold.”

“You could put him in our stable.”

“No.” Would she still ask him in if she knew who he was? What did she think about the man who'd broken his promise to elope with her? Did she even remember him?

Probably not. The bitterness in him won out, but it wasn't
only
bitterness he felt. That old tenderness, a hint of it, remained. No longer a romantic tenderness; that had been surely destroyed, but his feeling of goodwill surprised him once more.

He lifted her free hand, small and disguised by her woolen glove. He knew by memory, still, the shape of her hand from all the times he'd held it in his own. It was with well wishes for her future that he pressed a gentleman's kiss to the back of her hand.

“Now that I've got you and your aunt home safe and sound, I've done my good deed for the day.”

“Only one good deed per day?” She withdrew onto the brick walk. “You remind me of an old beau of mine.”

“Pardon me, but he couldn't have been the brightest fellow. I can't imagine any man passing you by.”

“I must be mistaken, then.” She shook her head. Why had she been so sure? But as she swiped the snow out of her eyes, she realized he hadn't answered her question. “How long have you lived in Angel County?”

“I, uh, just moved back to the area. Haven't been here long.”

So, it was as she thought. The voice she remembered had been an eighteen year-old's voice, manly, yes, but still partly boyish, too, not in full maturity. This man's voice was deeper and confident and wholly masculine, but still, it was Thad's.

“Miss, you take care of yourself. No more riding behind runaway horses.”

“I think my uncle will see to that.”

“Where is your husband? Shouldn't he be the one seeing to your safety?”

“My husband? No. I've never married.” Was he moving away? The wind was gathering speed so she couldn't hear him move. “The blizzard is growing worse. You can't go out in that.”

“Don't worry your pretty head about me, Noelle.”

Noelle. The way his baritone warmed like wild honey around her name made her absolutely certain. “Thad?”

But there was no answer, just the moan of the wind and the hammering of snow falling with a vengeance. It pounded everywhere, on the top of her hood, on the front of her cloak, on the steps at her feet, and the sound deceived her.

Had he already disappeared into the storm? She couldn't tell. She stood alone, battered by howling wind and needle-sharp snow, feeling seventeen again. Those feelings of love and heartbreak and regret were a lifetime ago. She'd had enough of all three these past years to last her a lifetime. She knew it was foolish of her to wonder about Thad McKaslin now. He had rejected her, too.

She turned on her heels and waded through the snow to the covered porch steps. They were icy, so she took them with care. It was best to keep her mind focused firmly on the blessings in her life. On what was good about this moment and this day. No good came from dwelling on what was past and forever lost.

“Young man, where do you think you are going?” Henrietta demanded from, what sounded, near the bottom of the porch steps. “You'll come back here and warm up with a cup of tea in front of a hot fire.”

“I've got stock to see to before the storm gets much worse. Good day, ma'am.” Thad's voice came muted by distance and the thick veil of snow.

“Mark my words, you'll freeze to death before you make it to the end of the driveway!” Henrietta humphed when no answer came. “What a disagreeable man. He may have saved us, but God help him. We'll likely as not find him frozen solid on the path to town come morning. Terrible thing,” she said, leading the way into the house.

Apparentlys back to her usual self. Noelle gave thanks for that.

After following her aunt into the warmth of the house, she found herself wondering about Thad. He'd disappeared back into the blizzard, just as he'd come to them.

 

A narrow escape.

He wasn't bitter, Thad told himself as he nosed Sunny north. No, he was as cold to the past as the wind. But he was unprepared. Unprepared to have seen her. Unprepared to accept the fact that she'd said the words that kept playing over and over in his mind. I've never married.

Wasn't that why he'd left Angel Falls? To do as her father wanted and get out of her life? So she could marry the right kind of man? Because there was no way an immigrant's son like him could give Noelle the comfort she was used to. There had been many times over the last lonely years that he'd seen the older man's point.

The love he thought they had was a fool's paradise. A dream that had nothing to do with the hard reality of life.

They'd been two kids living on first love and dreams, but the real world ran on hard work and wages. He'd driven cattle from all over the West to the stockyards, from California to Chicago. He'd eaten dust and branded calves and tucked away every spare dollar he could and, except for a few months every winter, he'd lived out of his saddlebags. He'd learned what life was about.