Homespun Bride (9 page)

“Noelle?” A familiar baritone rumbled low and quiet in the midnight stillness, and it was as if she'd dreamed him up. But it was his step coming her way and no dream, echoing in the room and not in her hopes.

“Thad? What are you still doing here? I thought you went home.”

“No, I thought I'd stay around and help out. Try to be useful.” There was a smile in his words, small, but sure, a warmth she could not deny still lingered somehow, impossibly, between them. “After Aiden fetched the doc and saw to my ma in town, he brought in the mare. I got her settled and then gave the stable a good cleaning. The animals are snug for the night. Thought I'd come in and bank the fires so the house will be safe for the night.”

“You've been here the whole time?”

“Yes. Sadie brought a dinner plate out to me while I was working. I'll be staying the night in the stable.”

“But it's freezing outside.”

“I've got my bedroll, thanks to my brother. I'll be fine.”

“You won't be fine.” She couldn't say why she was so upset over the image of him bedding down with the horses. “You should stay in the house.”

“Nope, I don't feel comfortable with that. I saddled the doc's horse when he left. He said Robert murmured Henrietta's name a few times, so that's hopeful.”

“Yes, but it's a bad sign that he still hasn't roused.” She thought of the other warnings the doctor had left them with. Robert's condition remained a grave concern. “Henrietta is sitting at his bedside in case he—” Died. She couldn't say the word.

“That's why I'm staying. If you need to send word to the doctor, I'll be here to ride for him.”

“Oh, Thad.” That was all she could get out, simply his name, when his thoughtfulness meant so much more. Why was she having a hard time telling him that much? She folded her hands tightly together, not moving from her chair. She listened to the fire crackle lazily in the hearth and tried to find safe words—ones that would not leave her vulnerable. “That's a comfort knowing you'll be here. That you're here to help if he needs it.”

“Good. I want to make your load lighter. If you're gonna be up, I can feed the fire for you.”

“No, I'm about ready to go upstairs. I was just catching my breath.” She didn't mention she'd been trying not to think about all that could go wrong for this family she loved.

“It's been a tough day.”

“Exactly.”

“You won't mind if I bank the embers?”

“Not at all.”

The leather of his boots squeaked slightly as he eased down beside her. Over the clank of the fireplace utensils, he spoke. “I've been trying to keep out of your way. That's why I've kept to the stable, for the most part. I know it's gotta be hard having me near.”

She couldn't deny it, but she didn't want to say the words, either. She steepled her hands in her lap, feeling raw and worn. “I'm grateful for you. You made a difference for Robert. Matilda said she saw your shadow through the snow this afternoon. She said it was hard to be sure, but it looked as if you were protecting Robert. That you could have been as badly hurt, too.”

“An injury like Robert's is serious business. I've seen quite a few in my line of work.”

“I imagine you have.”

“Not many pull through with a head injury and a bad kick to the chest, but I
have
seen it.” There was another click of the shovel against the grate. “How's your aunt holding up?”

“She refuses to leave his side. For all her confidence and bluster, I think she would be lost without him. I'm scared for him. For my family. You know what that's like.”

“I do.” He'd lost his father more than ten years ago, and Bo McKaslin hadn't been the good, strong father Noelle was used to. The real loss in his life would always be her.

He stood, doing his best to hold in his feelings. “I have a good suspicion that Robert will be all right.”

“It's g-good of you to stay.”

“It's my pleasure. Good night, Noelle.”

“At least let me send some blankets out with you.”

“No. Sleeping indoors is treat enough for me. I'm used to bedding down in unheated bunkhouses and on the trail. I can't tell you the number of summer nights a storm rolled in when we were in the high country and I got snowed on.”

“Didn't you sleep in a wagon when the weather was bad?”

“What wagon? There was usually the chuck wagon, and that was it. Besides, it wouldn't have been good for a cowboy's reputation to act as if a little bit of snow could trouble him.”

“Cowboys are overly concerned about their reputations, are they?”

“The tougher you act, the better cowboy you can fool yourself into thinking you are.”

“I suppose you fooled yourself into thinking you were a very fine cowboy?”

“I surely tried.” There it was, the hint of a grin in his voice and it warmed her a little in the hopeless places where she felt so cold. “I'll be right enough out there. Don't you worry. If your family needs anything, send word to me.”

“Fine.” She rose. Her skirts swirled around her ankles as she took a stumbling step. When she was sure she'd put a safe distance between them, she stopped and turned toward the front door, where she supposed he must be. “Tell Sunny good-night from me and to keep warm tonight.”

“I surely will. I know he'll be glad to know you wish him well.”

Something in Thad's voice made her believe he knew she was speaking not only of the horse. She could feel her heart unraveling string by string. She took another step, careful to skirt the edge of the end table next to Henrietta's favorite sofa. “He's rather a good man for helping out tonight.”

“I'll tell him. I know that means a lot to him, that you think he's a great man.”

“Good, not great,” she was quick to correct.

“Right, I'll let him know that he's got some proving up to do.” His voice had a hint of a smile again, warm and wonderful and so substantial it was hard to believe he'd ever let her down.

“Definite proving up.” She took one step and realized she was lost.

She'd forgotten to count her steps.

“Good night, Thad.” She set her chin, hoping she looked rather as if she meant to stand somewhere in the parlor like a statue.

His steps moved away and the hinges of the front door whispered open. “Good night.”

The way he said it sounded more like goodbye. She waited until she heard the knob click shut before she groped her way in the dark. Once she'd found the end post to the staircase she lowered herself onto the bottom stair, feeling alone in the dark. So very lost and alone.

Her heart ached, her spirit ached, her very soul felt cracked apart. She sat a long time in the dark, until the clock struck one, before she went upstairs to check on her aunt.

F
rom her uncle's bedside, Noelle heard the faint chime of the downstairs parlor clock marking the early hour—five chimes. She'd been up all night. She thought Henrietta had fallen asleep in the chair on the other side of the bed, but she wasn't sure.

It was hard not to let all the worries in. She had personal ones for her dear uncle, for it had been a blow to her head that had stolen her sight. She prayed harder than she ever had before for him to awaken and be fine.

Exhaustion pulsed through her, and she fought another yawn. She would stay with Henrietta as long as she was needed. The embers popped in the bedroom's hearth, and she thought of Thad. How had he fared in the stable? She wasn't exactly sure why he'd stayed, but she was deeply grateful to him.

Grateful. The hard nugget of emotion—of the thing she hadn't forgiven—hurt like a blister. And it made it easier for her to remember past the hurt of Thad's abandonment to the time before, when she'd been so happy. Happy, because his love had made her that way.

She was no longer the kind of woman who believed that love was strong enough to build anything on, for it was only a dream. But the girl she'd been, who had believed, remembered and mourned.

“Why, I must have drifted off for a moment there.” Henrietta broke the long-standing silence. “Oh, my heart stopped. He's still breathing. I vowed I'd not take my eyes from him, and here I am, drowsing in this chair.”

Noelle could feel her aunt's anguish. “It's been a long night for you.”

“You would know, as you sat up every moment with me. Unnecessary, dear one, but terribly appreciated.” Henrietta's voice broke and she cleared it, but perhaps failing to clear away all the emotion, went on to say nothing at all.

How hard it had to be for a loving wife to fear every ticktock of the clock that passed. The doctor had warned that Robert's head wound was not the most serious of all his injuries. The kick he'd sustained to his ribs had damaged him deep inside. There was no telling if he could heal from that.

“I've been reciting what I can remember from Ecclesiastes.” Noelle searched with her fingertips along the bedside table, where she'd put the family Bible for safekeeping, and handed it in her aunt's direction. “Perhaps you ought to resume where I left off.”

“Your voice likely needs a rest.” The chair creaked as Henrietta took the treasured book. “Relax, dear. I'll read until our reverend arrives. He promised to stop by first thing.”

Noelle squirmed in the uncomfortable wooden chair. Her spine burned as if someone had set it afire. She couldn't find a more comfortable position, gave it up as hopeless and set her mind on ignoring her discomfort.

The pages flipped softly. “His color looks to be improving. I'm most certain of it. The doctor said his making it through the night would be telling, and I am sure beyond all doubt that my Rob is going to be fine.”

If will alone was strong enough, Noelle knew that her aunt's would be. “His breathing sounds steadier.”

“His pulse strengthens, too.” The pages stopped ruffling. “For once I am thankful for newfangled ways. The doctor is newly out of medical school back East. Do you suppose he is married?”

Noelle bit her lip, taking comfort in Henrietta's irrepressible concerns. “Don't you think it would be more appropriate to wait until Robert can give his permission before you go marrying off one of your daughters?”

“It's a woman's duty to marry. Would you like me to start quoting passages and verses?”

“You can't fool me, my dear aunt. I know down deep you are a true romantic. That's what's behind all your hopes for your daughters. You want them to know happiness the way you have.”

“I'll not admit to such weakness as soft feelings. True love.” Henrietta tsked. “Well, perhaps you've caught me at a rare moment of weakness. The greatest gift
is
to be loved as I have been loved. As I love.” Her voice trembled and she fell silent.

Noelle fell silent, too. Love was the last thing she wanted to think about. She was glad when Henrietta began reading, in a quiet steady voice. “‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.'”

She felt Thad's approach like a touch to her spirit, just as she'd used to. Her heart was aware of him long before his familiar gait tapped quietly through the house. He hesitated outside the open doorway, waiting for a break in Henrietta's reading to speak, and her soul leaned toward him, the way a blooming rose faced the sun.

It took Henrietta a moment to notice him, for she was absorbed in her reading. When she did, it was with a gasp. “Oh! Mr. McKaslin. I did not see you standing there.”

“Good morning, Noelle. Ma'am. Want me to build up your fire?”

“That will be fine, young man. I take it you've started the fires downstairs?”

“That I have.”

The confident, lighthearted jauntiness to his baritone had changed, Noelle realized. This Thad sounded like a seasoned man sure of his worth and capabilities, and through it all he still had his positive humor.

Not that she ought to be noticing so much about him. She sat straighter in the chair and smoothed her skirts with her hands, straightening imaginary wrinkles, since she couldn't see them. It did give her something to do other than to listen to the easy pad of his step and the rustle and whisper of his movements as he knelt down to stir the ashes.

Thad. Why did it feel as if her heart could see him? She wondered if he'd been warm enough or too uncomfortable to sleep; if he had shaved or if a day's growth whiskered his jaw. She could not allow herself to ask.

“Mr. McKaslin?” Henrietta broke the silence. “Might I prevail on you for another favor?”

“Sure, ma'am. What do you need?” His voice lifted higher, and Noelle could feel him towering behind her, his breadth and height and strength undeniable.

“After the house is awake, you come back,” Henrietta instructed. “I'm going to need a more comfortable chair if I'm to continue to stay by my husband's side. My back is paining me something terrible, and I must keep up my strength for him.”

“That'll be no trouble at all. I'll be back.”

When he walked away, he left behind the sweet scent of hay and an impossible longing within Noelle's heart. If only he had been the kind of man she could have counted on.

Henrietta returned to her reading. Noelle struggled to sit straight in her chair and let the Bible's beautiful words comfort her.

 

As Thad went around the Worthington place doing chores in the stable and later in the house, he couldn't get Noelle out of his thoughts. Seeing her sitting quietly in the hard-backed wooden chair with her hands clasped in her lap, listening patiently while her aunt read from the Bible gave him a new view of her.

It was an image that subdued him as he considered which chair would fit into the space between the Worthington's bulky bed and the bedroom wall. While he considered his options in the parlor, solemn and subdued voices drifted in from the nearby dining room. The Worthington girls were up and taking breakfast, but it was Noelle's quiet alto that he picked out like a melody from the other voices. Her dulcet voice was his most favorite sound in the world.

Once he'd chosen a chair and hefted it up the stairs, his ears strained to keep hearing her. She grew fainter with every step he took and by the time he'd managed to reach the Worthington's bedroom door, he could no longer hear her. Every bit of him seemed to strain, searching for her.

Henrietta looked up from her Bible and squinted at him appraisingly. She looked exhausted and sick from worry.

His heart softened toward her. “Where would you like this?”

“Where my chair is now. You'll have to take the wooden one back down to the dining room.”

“Be glad to.” He eyed the doorway and angled the chair to wedge it through in one try. The missus seemed to watch him carefully, perhaps she was concerned about him scuffing her fancy woodwork, but she needn't have worried. He set the heavy chair down with as much care as he could and took away the wooden one. “Will that do, ma'am?”

“I'm grateful, Mr. McKaslin.”

“No trouble at all, ma'am.” He stopped to take a glance at Robert, who lay ashen and motionless against the stark white sheets. “He's been stirring?”

“No.” The strong woman who looked as if she could have commanded the army now looked frail.

“I'm sure he'll be rousing soon, ma'am.” It was the only kindness he could offer her. “I've seen it before.” He backtracked to the door. “You need anything at all, you send word.”

“Of that you can be sure.”

As he hooked the ladder-back chair over his shoulder and headed down the narrow hallway, he had to admit the Worthington's marriage was clearly based on a deep love. The kind he'd forgotten could exist in this world. The kind he didn't want to admit did exist, because it would make him see how empty his life was.

What did a man do when he'd lost his only chance at a deep, true bond? He knew that whenever he eventually married, it would not be to Noelle. He'd lost his dream. The best he could hope for now was someone sensible and compatible.

The expensive rug at his feet led him to the staircase, where once again he heard Noelle's voice as soft and sweet as lark song. He tried to harden his heart so he didn't have to feel a thing. It was better that way.

He did his best not to look her way the moment he stepped into the fancy dining room. Knickknacks and breakables were just about everywhere, so he moved the ladder-back chair with purpose. He didn't want to lower Henrietta's opinion of him by breaking some of the expensive whatnots. The Worthington girls fell silent. The silence felt painful as he kept his eyes down and slid the chair into place at the foot of the table.

He didn't dawdle, but headed straight for the kitchen door. He had intended to check with the maid to see if any errands needed to be done in town, but he went straight toward the back door. The pressure building so strong in his chest was likely to choke him. He had his hand on the door handle when he heard Noelle padding quietly behind him.

“Thad?”

She looked shadowed and forlorn, and the pressure in his chest detonated like a keg of dynamite in a mountain tunnel. His willpower crumbled along with every bit of his steely self-discipline.

“What can I do for you, darlin'?” He feared she could hear it in his voice.

She took a small step back. “I need someone to tell my piano students I won't be teaching t-today. Most likely for the whole next week.”

“You mean you teach piano? But how can you…?”

“Easily.” She shrugged simply, unconsciously, gentle as always. “I don't have to see to hear a bad chord or a wrong note. The keys are always the same whether I can see them or not.”

“You've got some lucky students, learning from you.”

Her chin dipped. “I'm immune to your compliments, Mr. McKaslin. I'm the lucky one, as I need to make what difference I can in some way and I can't think of a better purpose for me.”

“Whoa, there. You need to make a living?”

“Why do you sound so confused about that?” She tensed up some again, as if he'd hit a sore spot with his words. “It doesn't seem to be in God's plan for me to marry, and it's not right I rely too much on my aunt and uncle's generosity. I support myself and I contribute to the household.”

“But—” He shook his head and gripped the edge of the counter. “I heard news of your engagement. I'm sorry you lost him, too. In the buggy accident?”

“No, he's alive and well living in town with his wife and newborn son.” She let the notes fade to silence, holding her hands still as her heart. “He followed in your footsteps. After my accident, he broke our engagement. He didn't want to marry a blind woman. Or, damaged goods, to use his words.”

“
What?
You're not damaged. I—I can't imagine it. I am sorry.”

“It wasn't in God's plan for me.” She fought the punch of sorrow that would always seize her—not at Shelton's loss but because she'd so wished for a family of her own—something else that could never be. “What about for you?”

“Me? Marriage?” His note of panic was revealing. “Now I'm not sure there is any plan—divine or otherwise—but I'm hoping for a wife one day. Someone who sees life the way I do. You work hard, try to do what's right and at the end of the day rest up for another hard day on the ranch.”

“I see.” Maybe more than she ever had. “Excuse me, I must get back to my aunt—”

Footsteps thundered down the stairway like cannon fire. Noelle fell silent, icy fear spilling into her veins as she heard the girls at the dining room table cry out in alarm. Henrietta's racking sobs rose above the other noises in the house. The door swung open; Noelle could hear the hinges and feel the breeze the door made against the side of her face.

“Mr. McKaslin! There you are.” Sadie was out of breath and panicked sounding. “Quick! Ride for the doctor. Mr. Worthington is awake.”