Snowflake Bride

“And your father never remarried, even with young children?” Concern, not censure, pinched in the corners of the lovely woman’s dark eyes.

“No. He said his love for Ma was too great. I don’t think he’s ever stopped loving her.” Ruby shrugged. Did she turn the conversation back to her kitchen skills? She wasn’t sure exactly what a kitchen maid was required to do.

“The same thing happened to my father when I was born.” Mrs. Davis looked sad for a moment. She was striking and exotic, with her olive complexion and dark brown, almost-black eyes. Ruby thought she’d never seen anyone more beautiful. The older woman set her cup on her saucer with a tiny clink. “He raised me the best he could. In our home there were maids to do the work and a nanny to help, but nothing can replace the hole left behind when someone is lost. You prepare meals, then?”

“Yes.” Her anxiety ebbed. She’d seen the great lady in town and, of course, at church, and Mrs. Davis had always seemed so regal and distant. Ruby hadn’t expected to feel welcome in her presence. Hopeful, she found herself smiling. “I’m not sure what you are looking for, but I know how to clean, I know how to do what I’m told, and I follow directions very well.”

“That’s exactly what Scarlet told me.” Mrs. Davis smiled. “Whomever I hire will be expected to assist the cook, to help do all the cleaning of the pots and pans and the entire kitchen. Do you know how to serve?”

“No.” She wilted. “I’ve never done anything as fancy as that.”

“I see.” Mrs. Davis paused a moment, studying her carefully from head to toe. It was an assessing look and not an unkind one, but Ruby felt every inch of the inspection.

What did the lady see? The gap in her shoe buttons? The made-over, handed-down dress?

“What about your schooling?” The older lady broke the silence.

Ruby hung her head. She tried not to, but her chin bobbed downward of its own accord. “I am still attending this year. I had hoped to catch up and be able to graduate in the spring, but my home circumstances have changed.”

“And you need to work,” Mrs. Davis said with understanding.

“Yes.” She was not the best candidate for the job. She was probably not the type of young woman right for the position. It hurt, and she tried not to let it show. A blur of color caught the corner of her eye. She turned just an inch to see beyond the wide windows. Outside, a man made his way through the thick curtains of snow, a familiar man.

Lorenzo.

Don’t look, Ruby. But did her eyes obey?

Not a chance.

He lifted a leather-gloved hand in a brief wave, and the snap of connection roared through her like the crackling and cozy heat from the fireplace. Hard not to remember his kind advice to her.

“I am very reliable, Mrs. Davis.” She was content with who she was, and she let the fine lady see it. “I have good values, I know the importance of keeping promises, and I will do my best never to let you down. If you hire me, I will arrive early, I will stay late, and I will work harder than anyone else. I would never leave you in a lurch by not showing up when expected.”

“That’s nice to hear, dear.” Mrs. Davis smiled fully, and it was Lorenzo’s smile she saw, honest and good-hearted and kind. “Now, tell me a little more about your background.”

He’d timed it perfectly, he thought, grateful as he seized Poncho’s reins, thanked the horse for standing so long in his traces and gave the leather lines a snap. His heart twisted hard at the sight of Ruby slipping out of the front door and into the snow. Was he in love with her? He feared love was too small a word.

He loved a woman who hardly knew he existed. He’d pined after her whenever he’d seen her in town and long before that, during their final year of school together. Not once had she ever looked his way. Until today. She’d accepted a ride from him, she’d smiled at him, she’d given him the faintest ghost of a hope.

Time to put his heart on the line and see if the lady rejected him or if he had a chance with her.

That was one chance he wanted more than anything on this earth. The marrow of his bones ached with it, the depth of his soul longed for it. He snapped the reins, sending Poncho out of the shelter of the barn and into the fierce beat of snow and wind. But did he feel the cold? Not a bit. Not when he kept Ruby in sight, slim, petite, as sweet as those snowflakes falling.

“C’mon, Poncho,” he urged. “Don’t lose her.”

She walked at a good clip, bent into the wind. Her blue dress flashed beneath the hem of her coat and twisted around her ankles, trying to hamper her. But she kept on going without looking back. He saw nothing more of her as the gusts shifted, stealing her from his sight. The storm couldn’t stop the longing in his soul to see her again.

This was his chance to be with her. To try to get past her shyness and see if she could like him. His stomach knotted up with nerves as he snapped Poncho’s reins, urging him to hurry, although he could barely see his horse’s rump in the whiteout conditions. Surely Ruby couldn’t have gotten far.

Poncho seemed to understand the importance of the mission, for the mighty gelding pushed into the storm, parting the thickly falling snow. He walked right up to Ruby and stopped of his own accord. Lorenzo grinned. It was nice having his horse’s support.

“Poncho? Is that you?” Ruby’s whimsical alto drifted to him through the storm. He could see the faint outline of her, already flocked white. “It is you. So that means…” She hesitated. “Lorenzo? What are you doing out in this weather again?”

Her words may be muffled from the wind and snow, but they carried a note of surprise. As if she truly had no idea what he was up to.

“I have an errand, which will take me by your place.” He pulled aside the buffalo robe he’d taken from the tack room. “Would you like a ride?”

“Well…” She wavered, considering.

“It will be an awfully difficult walk with this drifting snow.” He’d tried over and over to stop his feelings for Ruby. An impossible endeavor. He braced himself for her refusal and tried one more time. “You may as well let Poncho do the hard work.”

She edged closer, debating, her bottom lip caught beneath her front teeth.

“I appreciate Poncho’s offer.” The hint of a smile tucked in the corners of her mouth deepened. “I suppose his feelings would be hurt if I turned him down?”

“Very. He’s the one who insisted on stopping. Apparently he’s taken a shine to you.”

“Well, I think he’s a very nice horse. He’s as gentlemanly as my Solomon.” She disappeared, perhaps believing it was the horse who cared for her and not the driver. Although he could no longer see her, the faint murmur of her voice as she spoke with the gelding carried on the wind. Just a syllable and a scrap of a sentence, and then she reappeared at his side. “Poncho talked me into accepting.”

“He can be persuasive.” Lorenzo held out his hand to help her settle onto the seat beside him. Her hand felt small against his own, and the bolt of awareness that rushed through him went straight to his soul. He wasn’t used to feeling anything this strongly. “Besides, a storm like this can turn into a blizzard, something you don’t want to be out walking in.”

“It would be no less dangerous to a horse and sleigh.” She settled against the cushioned seat back. “I wonder why you would venture out. Surely there isn’t much ranching work this time of year?”

“I never said it was ranch work.” He tucked the buffalo robe around her, leaning close enough to catch the scent of honeysuckle. The vulnerable places within him tugged, defenseless against her nearness. He didn’t know why his heart moved so fast, determined to pull him along. He could not stop it as he gathered the reins, sending Poncho forward.

“In my worry over my shoe and my interview, I forgot to ask you. I heard your father was injured a while back. How is he?”

“He’s still recovering.” Lorenzo did his best not to let his anger take hold at the outlaws who had taken up residence west of town last summer and stolen a hundred head of cattle in a gun battle. “My father wasn’t as fortunate as the others the outlaw gang shot. He was hit in the leg bone and the back. He’s still struggling to walk with a cane.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sympathy polished her, making her inner beauty shine. Her outer beauty became breathtaking, so compelling he could not look away. Soft platinum locks breezed against the curving slope of her cheeks and the dainty cut of her jaw. “I noticed he wasn’t coming to church, but I didn’t know he was still struggling with his injuries. I don’t get to town much.”

“It’s not something Pa wants everyone to know. He’s a private man.” He adored his father. Gerard Davis was a proud and stubborn Welshman who could have lived leisurely on his inherited wealth but chose to put his life to good use by ranching on the Montana frontier. Lorenzo hoped he took after his pa.

“I won’t mention it, but I do intend to pray for him.” Her hands clasped together within the rather lumpy mittens made of uneven stitches. They looked twisted somehow, as if they had not faired well through a washing. But her earnest concern shone in her voice. “I hope he has a full recovery. I know how difficult it is for a man used to providing for his family when he is too injured to work.”

“It is tough on a man’s pride.”

“When I was little, Pa had an accident on our farm. A hay wagon overturned on him, and he was crushed. He was working alone and no one found him until my brother came with the mid-afternoon water jug. Rupert was too young to help free him. All he could do was run to the neighbors over a mile away.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Interesting that they had this in common. He thought of the humble, quiet man who had begged him for a job. “He obviously recovered.”

“It took many years. We feared losing him at first. The doctor didn’t know how he survived. A true proof of grace,” she added, staring down at her misshapen mittens. “God was very good in letting us keep our pa. I don’t know what Rupert and I would have done if we’d lost him, too, so I understand what you might have gone through.”

“Worry, mostly. For a while we feared Pa might not walk again. Doc Frost said it was grace, too, that he’s up on his feet.”

“Grace is everywhere, when you look for it.”

“And when you need it most.” It was so easy to talk to her about what really mattered. Did she feel the same way? “How long ago was your pa injured?”