Patchwork Bride (2 page)

“Do you reckon they are outlaws?” Her littlest sister’s whisper was incredulous, and her big blue eyes widened with excitement.

It was hard to tell the manner of man Shane Connelly was, and even harder to guess at the older man who was hitching the two horses alongside their gray mare. But Shane must have heard Minnie’s whisper, for he
glanced over the wheel well and let his eyes twinkle at her. Humor danced in those dark blue depths and told her all she needed to know about the man.

“No, I reckon he’s a never-do-well with an appalling reputation,” Meredith answered wryly.

“True.” Shane’s gravelly tone deepened as he chuckled. “I am one sorry renegade.”

“Are you like Robin Hood?” Minnie boldly asked. “Do you help those down on their luck?”

“I have been known to aid a lovely country miss or two, if the peril is great.” When Shane rubbed a hand over his gelding’s muzzle, a softness came over him.

A kind man, then. Hard not to like that.

“You’ve got a pretty horse,” Minnie spoke up. “What’s his name?”

“This is Hobo. He’s an—”

“Appaloosa.” The single word tumbled across Meredith’s tongue. “He’s beautiful.”

“You know of the breed?”

“My father has a fondness for Western lore,” she answered, her face heating. Was she really blushing? “Perhaps I do, too.”

“Perhaps?” He questioned, his dimples deepening.

“Fine. I love everything Western, but it’s not ladylike to admit it and my mother would have an apoplexy if she heard me say it.”

“Then it’s best not to tell her.” He winked, and opened his mouth about to say something else when the other man hollered out to him.

“That’s enough, Romeo. I’ve got the horses hitched. Time to push.”

“Gotta go.” Shane waded to the buggy box and
positioned his hands on one side of the soiled fender. “You two ladies might want to hop onto the grass.”

“I told you. I intend to help.” She mimicked his stance on the other side of the buggy by bracing her feet and placing her hands. “If this happens again, I want to know what to do.”

“I really don’t think—” His argument was cut off as a “Git up!” from Braden rang from the front of the buggy.

Horse hooves clamored on sodden, wet earth. The vehicle rocked forward and then back. Another “Git up!” and the buggy rolled forward again. The mud gripped the wheels, refusing to let go.

A little help please, Lord.
She prayed and pushed with all her might, fearing there was no way the vehicle would move. She fought visions of their little driving buggy stuck here in the middle of the main road to town for the rest of the rainy season. Folks would have to somehow maneuver around it, muttering about that Worthington girl who had the poor sense to have dropped out of finishing school.

“Harder!” Braden shouted as he tromped through the mud and grabbed the bumper nearest to her. Even Minnie took a position and pushed. The buggy rocked again, almost out, before it sloshed back into the muck.

She hardly noticed because what was she watching? Shane. Out of the corner of her eye, his grimace fascinated her. All her friends, except for Fiona who was engaged, agreed no man ever had been as handsome as Lorenzo, the most gorgeous boy in their class at school. But now she begged to differ. Shane Connelly
was stunning, but something beyond his physical good looks made him captivating—some strength of spirit, she suspected, and a steadfast character, she hoped.

The buggy lunged forward, suddenly rolling up out of the muck. Mud flew off the fast-turning wheels and sprayed like slop across her face, cold and wet. Too late, she realized she was the only one standing directly behind one of the wheel wells. Ooze clung to her eyelids and dripped like thick cream frosting down her face. The earthy taste seeped between her lips. The cold weight pressed on her, penetrating her bodice and weighing down her skirt.

“Oh, Meredith,” Minnie soothed, shocked. “Your dress is ruined.”

Humiliation seeped into her, as cold as the mud. She swiped the yuck from her eyes with her sleeve and only managed to smear it.

“Whoa!” Shane and Braden shouted together from a fair distance away, stopping the horses on the uphill slope of the road. When young Mr. Connelly turned around and spotted her, a wide grin stretched his mouth and he shook his head slowly from side to side. “Something tells me you are a whole peck of trouble, Miss Meredith.”

“She is,” Minnie spoke up, sounding pleased as punch. “It’s her first time driving the buggy alone.”

“Minnie, don’t tell him that.” Really, she looked bad enough without adding “idiotic, inexperienced driver” to the list. That was what she felt like. Out of her element, when she wanted to fit in so badly. Too badly—maybe that was what the Lord was trying to tell her.

“You are a right mess.” Shane pulled out the
handkerchief again and wiped the white surface across her eyes. This close, she could see there were green threads, too, in his deep blue irises, to match the gold ones, and something noble within.

There she went, being fanciful again.

“The good news is that your horse and buggy are fine, aside from the mud.” He folded the cloth to scrub at her nose and cheeks. His nearness was a funnel cloud, pulling her helplessly toward him. “You, miss, I’m not so sure about. Maybe Braden and I had best see you home.”

“No!” That came out a mite defensive, but she could imagine Mama’s reaction. “Please, if our mother knew there was a mishap, she wouldn’t let me drive again. It’s imperative for me to become a better driver.”

“You don’t sound like a country miss to me.” His gaze narrowed, his presence and his sculpted features steeled. “Who are you?”

“Just Meredith.” That was who she wanted to be. She needed to be herself, not her father’s daughter, not her mother’s achievement, but someone real. This man, who rode where he wanted and who did as he liked, would never understand.

“All right, then, Just Meredith.” His grin returned, crooked and dimpled. “Let’s get you in the buggy and on your way home.”

J
ust Meredith was beautiful, no doubt about it. Shane glanced over his shoulder to make sure the gray mare pulling the buggy was managing all right. The spring storms had turned the roads to every kind of muck, although judging by the downpour it was hard to call this brand of cold spring.

“Stopping to help those girls made us late for our next job,” Braden commented drily as he tucked the much-folded telegram for the riding directions back into his slicker’s pocket.

“Helping them was the right thing to do.” It wasn’t something they hadn’t done before in their travels. “We couldn’t leave them there.”

“I’m not arguin’ that. Truth is, this new stint has me worried. Heard the wife is a whole peck of trouble.”

“Wife? I thought that we were working for a mister, not a missus.”

“Shows what you know about marriage.” Braden cracked a rare smile. “I say we give it a trial before we commit. I don’t want to get knee-deep into a job, figure out it’s more trouble than it’s worth and then tear myself
up trying to figure if I should run for my sanity or stay and finish the job the right way.”

“I see your point.” Shane was new at this. Not green, but not experienced either. He’d only had a year of apprenticeship under his belt since he’d hooked up with the best horseman this side of the Mississippi. He’d left everything behind in Virginia—family, reputation, duty—to learn horsemanship the real way. It had been the roughest year of his life and the best one. Finishing his apprenticeship was all that mattered. So why was he thinking about the woman and not the upcoming job?

Another glance over his shoulder told him why. There was something special about her, something extra—like a dash of both sweetness and spirit not often seen. “Just Meredith,” she’d called herself in a dulcet voice that made him think of Sunday-school hymns and Christmas carols. And pretty? She put the word to shame with those blond ringlets tumbling down from beneath her plain brown hood and eyes the color of the sea in the rain. She was a rare beauty with creamy skin, delicately cut features and a mouth made for smiling.

He liked country girls the best, he’d learned long ago, not missing the perfectly mannered and prepared debutantes who were part of his world back home. It heartened him to see honesty and goodness in a female. It was far preferable in his opinion to the veils of pretense that filled his growing-up years.

Out west, things were more likely to be what they seemed and the people, too. He liked the image of Just Meredith in her simple but elegant brown coat, pretty yellow dress and sincerity. She made quite a picture
holding the reins as the chilly weather battered and blew. With the smears of green in the nearby fields and the world of colors blurred and muted by the rain, she could have been the focus of an impressionist watercolor. A prized painting meant to be cherished.

“You’re watching me,” she called out above the twists and gusts of the wind. “You think I’m a bad driver and I’m going to get stuck in the mud again.”

“No, but I
am
keeping track of the mud holes. I don’t see a thing you can get mired down in, at least not yet.” He let Hobo fall back alongside the buggy. “You’re doing pretty good for it being your first day driving.”

“You may be fibbing.” The look she threw him from beneath her brown hood was a challenge.

He laughed. He liked the dazzle in those interesting gray-blue eyes. “I’m trying to be encouraging. Keep to the positive. Avoid the fact we nearly had to go in search of a pair of oxen to free your buggy.”

“Thanks for not mentioning it.” When she grinned, she was like a sunbeam on this dismal day.

“You still don’t figure on letting your mama know about this?” He couldn’t resist asking, not that it was his business.

“What she doesn’t ask about, I won’t have to tell her.”

“And what if she notices the mud?”

“That’s the flaw in my plan. I’m hoping Mama doesn’t notice. She could be busy and not even hear us driving up.”

“She will be watching, Meredith.” The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Nothing gets past Mama. You ought to know that by now.”

“That won’t stop me from trying.” She laughed. At heart she was not a deceitful daughter but one apparently amused by her mother. “If Mama revokes my driving privileges, then I won’t learn enough about driving to make it on my own come June.”

“Why June?” Call him curious. He couldn’t help it. Something tickled in his chest like a cough, but maybe it was interest.

“That’s when the summer school term begins.” A ringlet bounced down from beneath her hood to spring against her cheek. “I’m studying for the teachers’ exams. If I pass, I hope to get one of the smaller county schools just north of here.”

“A schoolteacher.” A fine ambition. He couldn’t say why that pleased him either. He wasn’t looking to settle down, not with his long apprenticeship hardly more than half over.

“But Mama doesn’t know,” the little girl added impishly. She was a bit of trouble, that one. “And no, Meredith, I won’t tell on you, but it’s likely to kill me.”

“I wish you had never overheard me talking with my friends. You can’t keep a secret to save your life.” Meredith wrapped an arm around her sister’s neck and hugged her close, an affectionate gesture. “I’ll never forgive you if you blurt it out and ruin my plans.”

“It won’t be easy.” The girl rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh, as if her life were truly trying indeed.

“It seems you keep a lot of secrets. The mud incident, the teacher’s exams.” He swiped rain from his eyes. “It won’t be as easy to hide an entire job when summer comes.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t want to deceive Mama. That’s not what I mean to do. I want my own life is all.”

“I’ve known that feeling.”

“How can you? You’re a
man.
”

“True enough, but why do you say it like that? Like being a man is a bad thing.”

“Not bad, exactly. I’m just exasperated.” She blew the curl out of her face, but it just sprang back. Did she dare take both hands off the reins? No. Sweetie was as gentle as a horse could be, but doom had a tendency to follow her around. She had no intention of letting anything else go wrong.

“Meredith often gets exasperated,” Minnie explained with a little girl’s seriousness. “Mama says it’s because nothing is quite to Meredith’s liking.”

“That’s not true,” she hotly denied, as she always did. “Okay, so maybe it’s true sometimes. It’s just that boys have it easier. They can do what they want.”

“That depends.” Shane’s voice dipped low, butter-smooth and warm with amusement. “My mother thought I should join my father in business and one day follow in his footsteps. Carry on the family legacy.”

“Drifting from town to town?” The quip escaped before she could stop it. What was wrong with her?

“I wasn’t always a saddle tramp.” Those crinkles around his eyes deepened, drew her closer and made her want to know more.

She shouldn’t be curious, not one bit, not one iota. The dashing, mysterious, slightly dangerous young man was not her concern. Although it was easy to imagine him lassoing wild horses, fighting to defend the innocent or performing some noble act. Beneath the
stubbled jaw and traveling coat, he might be full of honor, a real-life hero with the rain washing away the mud on his boots.

She tried to imagine what her best friends would say. Earlee, the most imaginative of the group, would pen him as an intriguing hero of a fantastic tale. Lila, ever the romantic, would compare him to the most handsome boy in their high-school class, Lorenzo. Kate and Scarlet would heartily agree and start dropping hints about the status of their hope chests, the reason they met every Saturday afternoon to sew for a few hours. A sewing circle of friendship and of hope, they tatted doilies, embroidered pillowslips and pieced patchwork blocks for the marriages they would all have one day.

Yes, this chance meeting was going to be a huge topic of conversation come Saturday.

The rain turned colder, falling like ice, striking the great expanse of prairie with strange musical notes. Beauty surrounded her, but she could not take her eyes from the handsome wanderer.

“What did you do in your former life?” Was that really her voice, all breathless and rushed sounding? Her face felt hot. Was she blushing? Would he notice?

“Back home, my father and grandfather are lawyers, although now they have many partners to manage the firm.” He let his horse fall back, to keep pace beside her. “As the oldest son, I am a great disappointment traveling around on the back of a horse.”

“I think it takes courage to follow your own path.” Courage was what she was trying to find for herself.

“Could be courage. My father called it stupidity.
My mother said it was stubbornness. She was none too happy with me when I left, since she was in the middle of planning my wedding to a young lady of their choosing.”

“You ran out on a wedding?”

“I never proposed, so I didn’t see as I had an obligation to stay for the ceremony.” Dimples belied the layer of sorrow darkening his voice.

“Your parents had your whole life mapped out for you?”

“Mapped out, stamped and all but signed and sealed.” Understanding layered the blues in his eyes and softened the rugged, wild look of him. “Something tells me your parents adore you. They want the best for you, and that’s not a bad thing, as long as it’s what you want, too.”

“Tell that to Mama.”

“Sounds like our mothers are cut from the same cloth.”

The howl of wind silenced and the veil of rain seemed to vanish as he leaned over in his saddle, close and closer still. The sense of peril returned, fluttering in her stomach, galloping in her veins and did she turn away?

Not a chance.

“No one I know has a mother like mine.” Strange they would have this similarity between them. “Is yours overbearing, impossible, full of dire warnings and yet she’d throw herself in front of a train to save you?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Does she drive you beyond all patience with her
meddling and fussing and trying to do everything so your life is easier?”

“That would be an affirmative.”

“And you love her so much you can’t bear to say no and disappoint her?”

“In the end, I did say no and it broke her heart.” No way to miss the regret. It moved through him, deep like a river, reflecting on his face, changing the air around them. “It was hard for her to let go, but I wouldn’t be the man I wanted to be unless I made my own life. She’ll come to see that in the end.”

“So she hasn’t forgiven you?”

“Nope. Not yet. But I’m confident she will come to see I was right.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.” If only following her own path would not potentially cost her her mother. “I’m praying my experience will be different from yours.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to be a teacher?”

“She doesn’t want her daughters to work.” She hadn’t corrected his misimpression of her as a simple country girl, so how did she explain her mama’s view of society and a woman’s role in it? “My only hope is that Papa will understand.”

“Then I’ll pray for that, too.” Serious, his words, and so intimate that it was as if they were the only two people on the entire expanse of the plains. Completely odd, as she’d never felt this way with anyone before. It was as if he’d reached out and taken her hand, although they did not touch. A tug of warmth curled through her, which was sweet like melting taffy and enduring in the way of a good friendship.

“Meredith!” She felt a tug on her sleeve. “Don’t forget to turn.”

She blinked, the feeling disappeared and the world surrounding her returned. Wet droplets tapped her face, the jingle of the harness and the splash of the horse’s hooves reminded her that Minnie was at her side, home was within reach and the time to say goodbye to this man had come.

“Is this your driveway?” Shane broke the silence between them, one brow arched with his question.

Did he feel this way, too? As if he did not want the moment to end?

“Yes.” The word rasped past the regret building within her. She drew Sweetie to a stop, knowing he would go his way, she would go hers and she would never see him again. Her spirit ached at the thought. “Where are you headed?”

“To a ranch somewhere in these parts.” He knocked off the rainwater gathering on the brim of his hat. “Since we’re running late, we might as well see you to your door. Braden, is that okay with you?”

“Goin’ this way anyway,” came the answer as the older, gruff man pulled his mount to the roadside and consulted the telegram in his pocket.

“Guess that means we don’t have far to go.” He shivered when the wind lifted, knifing through his wool coat. Nearly wet to the bone, he ought to be eager to get into dry clothes and thaw out in front of a fire. Gazing down at Just Meredith, he wasn’t in much of a hurry. “You ladies must be freezing. The temperature is falling. I could dig a blanket out of my saddle roll. Might keep you warmer.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you, but we’ll be fine.”

“Meredith!” Minnie protested. “I’m cold. Look. It’s starting to
snow.
”

“No wonder I’m half an icicle.” Nothing like a joke to warm a fellow. He twisted in his saddle to tug on the ties and pulled a folded length of red wool from beneath the oiled tarp protecting his things. “This ought to keep you two ladies a little more comfortable.”

“Thank you, Shane.”

He liked the way she said his name with a touch of warmth—unless he was imagining that—and a bit of respect, which he didn’t mind at all. He gave the blanket a snap, settled it over the ladies’ skirts, nearly falling out of his saddle to hand over the edge to Meredith so she could tuck it around her and Minnie. Leaning close, an odd sense of warm curled around his ribs, something tender and fine like first light on a spring morning.

Once she had the blanket settled, she gathered the reins in her slender, smooth hands. In retrospect, maybe he would have thought about that more and realized it was a sign. That a country girl’s hands wouldn’t look soft and pampered instead of callused and rough from work. But the bit of warm felt cozy in his chest, a nice and wholesome thing, so he didn’t think too much as he followed the buggy off the main road and down a narrower drive curving between a copse and tall fencing.