Homespun Bride (13 page)

He hated that she'd known hardship. His leaving hadn't spared her from that. The loss of her parents, her broken engagement, an accident that had almost taken her life. It made a man wonder about fate—about God's design for a single life. Was it His intention for Thad to have left the way he did? Or had God meant for them to be together?

If Mr. Kramer hadn't interfered, would they have found happiness? Would he be married to Noelle right now? Would she have been saved from her losses and blindness?

It was a funny thing—a single decision in a man's life could irrevocably change everything else that followed it. He'd lost more than his heart on that September night long ago when he'd been forced out of town. He'd lost his belief in the goodness in people. He'd lost his belief in love and that a simple man could be honest, work hard, do the right thing and it would turn out all right for him.

He was no longer that naive young man but a man full grown who knew how the world worked and the people in it. But being near Noelle, seeing how she was still so good and bright at heart, made him wish he could be the young man he'd once been.

“I'd best get back to the stable.” It wasn't the easiest decision to walk away, but it was the right one. “I'd best keep an eye on the mare.”

“Yes. You'll keep me informed?”

“Count on it.” He left while he could still hold on to his heart. Noelle started playing and her music followed him out into the hall.

It sounded suspiciously, impossibly, like hope.

 

Noelle hesitated outside her uncle's bedroom and listened. If Robert were napping, she didn't want to wake him. But she heard the creak of the leather chair, so she counted her steps into the room. “Henrietta said you were sitting up.”

“And glad to be, too.” His voice was stronger. “I didn't know a horse's hooves could pack such a wallop. It's one thing to read about being injured like that. Another entirely to experience it.”

“I'm just thankful you are here to tell the tale.” Noelle smiled, knowing that comment would please her uncle. “You must be careful not to overtax yourself right now. Do you need me to call for the maid? We can get you lying down again.”

“I've done enough of that. Sitting up like this is doing me good.”

“All right, then. Henrietta would only take a nap if I promised on my very soul to sit with you every moment and not let you take up your cane and wobble down to the stables.”

Robert's chuckle was warm with love. “That wife of mine knows me too well.”

“That wife of yours refused to leave your side night and day until she knew you were going to be all right.”
That
was love. The right kind of love. The rare kind of love. The kind she'd once dreamed of. She'd seen a glimpse of that dream today.

Don't think of Thad. She cut off her thoughts like a piece of thread.

“I'm a very blessed man, and I know it.” Robert paused and the breath he took sounded strained. “I've always known how much, but never more than in the instant when I saw that mare's rear hooves kicking out and I knew I couldn't get away in time. I was in big trouble. That one minute stretched longer than my lifetime, or so it felt, and my last thought was what a fool I'd been, chasing dreams when all I truly wanted was to be with my wife and daughters.”

Noelle's heart cinched up tight. He sounded ashamed and regretful. She knew something about those experiences. “Do you mean as the practical bank president who had unerring good sense?”

“That's the man.” Robert's voice sounded glad and sad at the same time. He fell silent as the fire in the grate roared and crackled.

Tiny pings against the window glass announced that it was snowing again. Henrietta's words drifted through Noelle's mind.
The greatest gift is to be loved as I have been loved. As I love.

It was a while before he broke the silence between them. “There's nothing wrong with dreams and trying to make them come true, Noelle. I might not know what I'm doing when it comes to horses, and I always might make a better banker than a horseman, but at least I got to try. I would be wise to go back to the bank, I suppose.”

“Didn't you just say that you decided that it was foolish to chase dreams?”

“That I did. But I just went about it the wrong way. That's all. I wouldn't listen, and that wouldn't be the first time.” Robert fell silent. “Thad is the young man your father wrote us about, isn't he? The one you meant to elope with.”

“I didn't know Father had contacted you.”

“He and Henrietta kept in close touch. Letters every week without fail.”

“I remember.” There was the lump again, back in the middle of her throat, blocking off every word and every feeling. Noelle groped for the hard-backed chair she knew was nearby and once she'd found it, she collapsed into it. “My father would never have approved of Thad.”

“He is not a wealthy man.”

“No. And my father thought wealth was important.” She thought of Thad working hard to send wages home. “I suppose Henrietta remembers, too?”

“I don't think she's realized that Thad was the man your father disapproved of so strongly. I can still remember the letter he sent us after he'd found out that a poor immigrant's son was beauing his only daughter.”

Noelle froze. “Found out? You mean after I told him.”

“I only know that Robert was ready to send a posse after him to drive him from the county.” Robert sounded sad.

“Drive him from the county?” That made no sense at all. Father didn't know about Thad until that night when she'd been sobbing in her room, jilted. Unless her father had lied to her.

No, not Papa, she thought. But the Thad she'd known had never been a traveler or a wandering spirit, but a steadfast, stay-put brand of man.

He hadn't been chasing dreams, she realized. He'd lost his dreams as surely as she'd lost hers.

“I don't think you should give up wanting a horse ranch.” She was surprised how resolute her words were. The lump in her throat had vanished. “You should simply hire someone very good to learn from.”

“You wouldn't happen to have someone in mind?”

Was she that obvious? She hadn't realized it until now, but she was starting to get used to having Thad McKaslin underfoot. “He's been doing the work anyhow, and he
is
a gifted horseman.”

“As I hear things, he isn't interested in a job or in getting paid for his time here. Something tells me it's because of you.”

The cool from the window swirled around her like fog and she shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. She had never seen Thad so clearly.

“I
'll see you next week, Nellie.” Noelle trailed her final student for the day to the front door. “If you stick to practicing your scales for a whole thirty minutes every day, then next week I'll give you something fun to learn to play. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes!” Nellie Littleton's rush to escape slowed down a bit. “I've been wanting to learn a new hymn.”

“Yes, I know.” Noelle adored her youngest student. “Now you be sure and practice your scales. I can tell the difference in your playing, so I'll know if you didn't.”

“Oh, all-riiiight.” The little girl was a doll, even if she did try to get by without practicing the way she should.

Noelle well remembered what it was like to be that age and have piano lessons which were entirely your parents' idea. “I'll see you next week, Nellie.”

“Okay. Bye, Miss Kramer!” Her shoes beat a fast rhythm to the front door. Icy wind gusted and then with a quick slam, she was gone. The faint squeak of a wagon wheel told her that Nellie's parents were outside waiting for her.

Noelle listened to the stillness of the quiet house. Sadie was out on errands. Henrietta was in town to fetch the girls home from school. Matilda was keeping an eye on her father. The only sounds in the house were from the crackling fire and the faint clatter as Cook went about her work in the kitchen. Robert had been drowsing in his library the last time she'd checked. Perhaps it was time to check on him again.

The quick tap of Thad's step descending the stairs caught her in midstride. She turned toward the archway, listening to the confident pad of Thad's gait.

She wasn't going to examine too closely why she was glad he'd entered her domain. “Hi, stranger.”

“Hi there, pretty lady.”

With the smile in his voice and the rustle of clothing, she imagined him standing on the landing, hat in hand, looking storm swept from the conditions outside.

She could not explain why that made her heart pitter-patter. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“I reckon it was hard to hear me over the sounds of all those wrong piano notes. Even a cowboy like me could tell someone was playing that wrong.”

“Nellie is my most promising student
and
my student least likely to practice. I have hopes her attitude will change in time. Are you on your way home?”

“Not quite yet. I'll wait for your aunt to return from town so I can put up her horse. Then I'll go.” The boards creaked slightly as his boots knelled closer. “The mare's foal arrived safe and sound.”

“Solitude had her baby?” Pleasure warmed her. “Is it a little filly or a colt?”

“A filly. She's deep sorrel like her mother, as shiny as a copper penny in the sunshine.”

“She sounds beautiful.”

“She surely is. She's a dainty little thing, all long legs and knobby knees. Would you like to visit her?”

“In the stable?”

“I don't think your aunt would want me to bring a horse, baby or not, into the parlor.”

“No, you're right about that.” She stood, and she looked like a touch of spring in the light pink dress she wore. “As a general rule I keep out of the stable for a few very practical reasons.”

“Ah, I think I understand. I promise to look
before
you step.”

“I surely appreciate that.” Her eyes twinkled.

When she smiled like that, he felt hope trickle into him.

Crystal lamps clattered in his wake, and he felt sort of out of place, like a colt in a glass shop, but she didn't seem to notice, or, he figured, was too nice to comment.

She'd snagged her coat from the wooden tree by the time he reached her and was already shrugging into it.

“You're still so independent, I see.” He caught the woolen garment by the back of the collar, as he would help any lady. “Let me help a little.”

“I suppose.”

He didn't miss her playful smile. This close, he could smell the lilac soap she used and see the stray strands that had escaped her braid to curl like tiny gossamers around her face. For the first time in years, it wasn't the past he longed for.

She took a step back, tying her coat around her middle. “It sounds like thunder out there.”

“Yep. It's turning out to be some winter storm.” He reached for the door. “You want to reconsider coming out with me?”

“Not a chance.”

He turned the knob and cold gusted in. The crisp
tap-tap
of snow faded into the howl of the wind. “You used to love storms.”

“I still do.” She slipped past him onto the covered porch and faced the wind. “I might not be able to watch the force of the storm, but I can hear the symphony of it.”

Snow bulleted under the porch roof, striking them both. He closed the door against the resisting wind, hardly aware of the boards beneath his feet. All he could see—he feared all he would ever see—was her.

“This is wonderful.” She held out her hands, palms up, to feel the strike of the blowing snow. “Bitterly cold, but wonderful.”

“I get my fair share of weather working outside. It doesn't hold the same wonder for me. Careful now, you keep inching forward like that and you're gonna hit a patch of ice and then where will you be?”

“On my backside?”

“Exactly. You'd best let me help you.” His hand engulfed hers.

You will feel nothing, she vowed. Not the past and certainly not an ember of affection.

It took all her strength to keep her heart as if blanketed by a layer of snow. “It works best if I can lay my hand on your arm.”

“Sure.” He released his grip on her and she slid her gloved hand along the strong plane of his forearm. Even with the thick layer of jacket and sheepskin, she could feel his strength.

That made her wonder more about his life. About all the pieces he hadn't told her. She took a hesitant step forward and he moved with her, nudging her gently to the left and safely down the slick board steps. She felt the softer snow, which meant they were moving over the walking path between the house and the stables.

She found herself asking a question before she had time to think about it first. “Did you like herding cattle?”

“I didn't dislike it. I got to spend time in the saddle. You know how I don't like to be cooped up indoors all the livelong day.”

“Yes.” That she did remember. She saw the image of Thad in a white shirt and denims working in amber fields beneath an endless, brilliant blue sky. “I suppose you've seen a lot of the West like in those dime western novels you used to read.”

“Yep. I've been all over. I've seen the Grand Canyon. The Badlands. The American desert. The prairies so flat and vast you ride for weeks and you think you'll never come to the end of it.”

“There's happiness in your voice. You liked traveling.”

“I didn't mind it.” Thad cleared his throat, trying to bury the truth more deeply. The last thing he wanted was for Noelle to guess it. He made sure to keep between her and the brunt of the gusting wind. “It was an amiable enough lifestyle. I got to sleep under the stars at night. Saw just about everything there is to see in this wide country. Bear and mountain lions and wolves. Flash floods and twisters and blizzard winds so powerful they can freeze a bull's head to the ground.”

“Angel Falls must seem very uninspiring by comparison.”

“Not at all.” It was the only place he wanted to be. Had ever wanted to be. Gazing down at her lovely face, seeing the snowfall clinging to her velvet hat's brim did funny things to his chest. To his heart. To impossible dreams long buried that had come to life again. “It was tough being gone from my family.”

“You missed them.” She could see that now. “You and your older brother used to be so close.”

“Still are. Another good part about being home is that I'm not always having to write a letter. It's better just to walk up to the main house—I'm staying in the old shanty on our place—walk into the kitchen, pull up a chair and share the day's news over a hot pot of tea. I reckon not much in this lifetime has made me happier than coming back to the homestead.”

There was the Thad she'd known—had always known. The man Thad had always been. “Then it's a blessing that you're here.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

Her shoes sank in the deep snowdrifts, and Thad guided her up the slight slope to the stable's double doors. The sweet scent of hay and the warm earthy scent of horse greeted her. The wind-driven snow moved off her face and echoed in the open rafters overhead. She drank in the sounds of the stable, sounds she missed. The movement of the horses shuffling in the stalls. The low-throated nickers of greeting. The rustle of stray bits of straw beneath her shoes.

The steady footsteps at her side were the sweetest sound of all. She could no longer deny it. Not even Solitude's single, gentle whinny could be more welcome.

“The foal is still wobbly on her feet.” Thad drew her to his side of the aisle and to a stop. “She's in the corner right now, all folded up in the straw next to her ma.”

“I can hear Solitude breathing, but that's all. She's so quiet.” She tried to picture it, the beautiful red horse standing over her newborn foal. Noelle gripped the top rail of the gate. “Hi, girl. I came to say hello to your baby.”

The mare exhaled in an expressive whoosh.

“It's hard to say what Solitude meant by that,” Thad interpreted over the rustling sounds in the straw and the solid clink of the mare's hooves. “But my best guess is she's saying it's about time. She's torn between coming to see you and staying with her baby.”

The storm chose that moment to surge against the northwest side of the stable. The far-off boom of thunder startled the few other horses in the stables, sending them into loud neighs of protest. Robert's unmanageable stallion took to racing around his stall, sounding like a half-dozen stampeding buffalo all by himself.

Suddenly, she felt the mare's hot breath on her face. She put one hand out and Solitude pressed her nose into it, nibbling affectionately.

Thad's arm brushed hers as he reached to stroke the mare. “She knows you pretty well, I see.”

“Solitude was my mother's favorite mare. I gave her to Uncle Robert, since I had no need for a horse. Mama understood Robert's horse dreams.”

Thad was silent a moment. “What happened to your horse dreams?”

“Life has a way of taking them away.” She traced her fingertips along Solitude's velvety nose.

“True, but life also has a way of giving new dreams.” Thad's hand covered hers and nudged her hand higher. “Are you looking for the star? It's right here.”

She felt the swirl of fine hair, where Solitude's perfect white star was. How had he known? she wondered. She tried to imagine the beautiful red horse in her mind. “Dreams. I don't burden myself with make-believe anymore. Just the things that are here and real, and that matter.”

“Like this horse. She's the mare your mother once loved.”

“Yes.” No one had ever seen her so clearly. She'd missed that, too. The straw rustled and four small hooves beat an ungainly rhythm in her direction. “It's the baby.”

“Her mane is just like a bristle broom stickin' straight up. Her tail is a red mop. She has her mother's long, long legs.” His baritone dipped low as he chuckled warmly. “Whoa, little filly. Those legs keep tangling you up. Slow down.”

“I can hear her. Oh, she fell again. Be careful, little girl.”

“She's got her front legs crossed, and her hind end is splayed, but she's getting up. She's wobbling, but don't worry. She's going to figure it out.”

Noelle listened to the uneven thumps of the foal's ungainly steps. She was aware of Thad moving closer to lean his forearms against the rail. His arm brushed her shoulder. The only thing louder than the cadence of the storm against the roof was her heart. “Has my uncle named her yet?”

“Nope. Not when I was up chatting with him. He's sure looking better day by day. Well, now she's got her front legs straightened out. Here she comes.”

“Oh, her whiskers tickle.” Noelle's laughter was soft and full of heart. “She's as soft as warm butter. She's lowered her head. I can feel her ear.”

“She's got her neck outstretched, giving your skirt ruffle a look. She can see it beneath the hem of your coat.”

“She's going to be a sweetheart like her mother.”

“Chances are.” Although he was no longer looking at the foal, but at the woman Noelle had become, still full of wonder and tenderness.

Now he saw something more. She had a strength that was so subtle he'd almost missed it. He had to look past her beauty and beyond her loveliness to what lay quietly beneath. Now that he saw it, he could not look away.