Patchwork Bride

Captivated, that was a word he might have used to describe her effect on him. That was before she’d gone from Just Meredith to a Worthington daughter, one of the richest families in the county and, according to Braden’s research, the territory. The way she’d tricked him taunted him now, reminding him of how easy it was to get the wrong impression about someone. He tugged the sugar bowl closer to his cup and stirred in a heaping spoonful. Coffee steamed and the strong rich brew tickled his nose.

“You aren’t thinking about the Worthington girl, are you?” Braden stared at him over the rim. The rising steam gave his piercing look a menacing quality.

“Don’t worry about it.” He had been, so he couldn’t lie. “It’s nothing.”

“Make sure it is. This is the first time I’ve seen you show interest in a calico since I’ve known you.” Braden took another slurping sip. “I feel beholden to warn you to stay away from her. She’s the boss man’s daughter. That’s a brand of trouble you don’t want to get tangled up in.”

“Not intending to.” The hot coffee scorched his tongue and seared his throat and shook him out of his reverie. He was here to work and to learn. Braden was one of the best trainers in the country and he wasn’t going to mess up this chance to work with him. “I suppose Meredith Worthington is eye-catching enough, but I’ve seen who she really is. Nothing she can do from this point on can make me see her differently. She’s not pretty enough to distract me from my work.”

“Good to know.” Braden nodded once, turning the conversation to tomorrow’s workday, which was scheduled to start well before dawn.

Shane didn’t hear the muffled gasp on the front step or the faint rustle of a petticoat. The gentle tap of the falling snow outside and the roar of the fire in the stove drowned out the quiet footsteps hurrying away through the storm.

Chapter Four

Meredith shook the snow from her cloak at the back door in the shelter of the lean-to before turning the handle. Clutching the covered plate, she eased into the busy kitchen, where Cook scrubbed pots at the steaming soapy basin and barked orders to their housemaid, Sadie, who scurried to comply.

Sadie never missed anything and glanced at the full plate Meredith slid onto the edge of the worktable. “They don’t like cookies?” she asked.

“Something like that.” Still smarting from the conversation she’d overheard, she numbly shrugged out of her wraps and hung them by the stove to dry. Shane’s words rang in her head, unstoppable. He wasn’t going to understand. He didn’t want to be friends. He didn’t think she was pretty.

She squeezed her eyes shut, facing the wall, glad that her back was to the other people in the room so no one could see the pain traveling through her. It hurt to know what he thought of her.

“Meredith?” The inner door swung open, shoes beat a cheerful rhythm on the hardwood and Minnie burst into sight, cheeks pink, fine shocks of dark hair escaping from her twin braids. “There you are! You are supposed to help me with my spelling. Mama said so.”

“I’ll be right up.” Her voice sounded strained as she arranged the hem of her cloak. She could not fully face her sister. Pressure built behind her ribs like a terrible storm brewing. Shane’s tone—one of disdain and dismissal—was something she could not forget. He’d said terrible things about her. So, why did pieces of their afternoon together linger? The way he’d swiped mud from her cheek, leaned close to tuck his blanket around her and the steadying strength of his hand when he’d helped her from the buggy hurt doubly now. Why it tormented her was a mystery. She didn’t know why she cared. She no longer wanted to care. A man who would say that about her was off her friend list.

“Meredith?” Minnie asked. “Are you all right?”

“Couldn’t be better.” Fine, so it wasn’t the truth, but it would be. She was an independent type of girl, she didn’t go around moaning the loss of some boy’s opinion. She was strong, self-reliant and sure of her plans in life, and those plans had nothing to do with some horseman who was too quick to judge. He undoubtedly had a whole list of flaws and personality defects.

“Good, because you looked really unhappy.” Minnie crept close and took her hand, her fingers small and timid. “Are you terribly upset at losing your driving privileges?”

“A little.” A lot, but she would deal with that when the morning came, when she had to be driven to town like a child. With Eli gone, Shane would be the logical person to take his place.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Her pulse stalled, her knees buckled, and she grabbed the wall with her free hand for support. However could she endure being close to him and, remembering what he’d said about her, pretending not to? Sitting there next to Minnie on the backseat through the silence of the drive to the schoolhouse staring at the back of his head?

“I think Papa understands.” Minnie’s grip tightened, the melody of her voice ringing with loving sympathy. “Maybe he will let you drive again after the roads firm up. The mud won’t last forever.”

“Yes, sure.” She squeezed her sister’s hand, so little and trusting within hers. She loved her sisters; she was so blessed to have each and every one of them. “Now, let’s get you upstairs and we will see how well you know your spelling lesson.”

“I studied and everything.” Minnie wiggled her hand free and skipped ahead, rattling the china in the hutch.

“Minnie!” Mama admonished as the kitchen door swung open. “No running in the house. How many times must I tell you?”

“I forget.” Minnie meekly skidded to a stop in the dining room, although her fast walk held quite a bit of a skip as she headed toward the staircase.

“Walk like a lady!” Mama peered around the edge of the sofa in the parlor, her sewing on her lap. “Do not forget you are a Worthington. We glide, we don’t gallop like barnyard animals.”

“Yes, Mama.” Minnie grabbed the banister and pounded up the steps, perhaps unaware how her footsteps thundered through the house.

“Quietly!” Mama’s demand followed them up to the second story, where Minnie popped into the first doorway on the right and jumped onto the foot of her bed. The ropes groaned in protest.

Did Minnie’s window have to have a perfect view of the new bunkhouse? Meredith stopped at the small desk, pushed up to the sill and stared beyond the greening leaves of the orchard to the glowing squares of lamplight. Behind those muslin curtains was the man who’d maligned her, who’d judged her and whose words she could not get out of her mind.

I’ve seen who she really is, he’d said. She wrapped her fingers around the back rung of the chair until her fingers turned white. The pain returned, digging as if with talons around the edges of her heart. How could he judge her like that without giving her the chance to explain?

“Meredith? The list.” Minnie bounced impatiently on the feather mattress.

The list? She shook her head, an attempt to scatter her thoughts, but they remained like hot, red, angry coals glowing in her skull. She glanced at the book lying open on the desk before her and concentrated on the words printed there, forcing all thoughts of Shane Connelly from her mind.

She chose a word randomly from Minnie’s spelling assignment. “Insularity.”

“Insularity,” Minnie repeated, taking a deep breath, pausing as she wrestled with the word. “I—n—s—”

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. Her gaze strayed to the windows of the bunkhouse, where the bracing scent of fresh coffee had filled the rooms and carried out the cracked open door.

“—i—t—y,” Minnie finished. “Insularity. It means to be narrow-or small-minded.”

Not that a certain horseman came to mind. She cleared her throat, grateful when no emotion sounded in her voice. She chose another word from the list. “Supposition.”

“S—u—p—” Minnie’s dear button face furrowed in concentration.

Meredith did her best to stare at the word on the page, checking carefully to make sure her baby sister got the spelling right. Was it her fault her eyes kept drifting upward? It was as if there was something wrong with them, as if Shane Connelly held some sort of power over her ocular muscles tugging them in his direction.

“—n.” Minnie sounded proud of herself. “It means to draw a conclusion or an assumption.”

That was exactly what had happened today. Shane had met her mother, seen the family’s rather extravagant house and assumed she was the same, a pampered young lady of privilege who was not good enough for an honest man like him. The talons of pain clutched tighter, as if wringing blood. She didn’t want to think why this mattered so much.

“Prejudice,” she squeaked out of a too-tight throat. She felt as if she did not have enough air to speak with. As if all the surprise and shock of what she’d overheard had drained away, leaving no buffer. She had not leaped to conclusions about him, although she was happy to do so now.

“P—r—” Minnie paused, scrunching up her face as she tried to visualize the spelling. “—e—j—”

What was she doing, fretting about a saddle tramp? She didn’t care what he thought of her. He was clearly not the type of person she wanted to befriend, and if a tiny voice deep within argued, then she chose to ignore it. He’d insulted her, hurt her feelings and now her dignity. Well, she was hurting, and she had better things to dwell on than a man like that.

“—i—c—e.” Minnie finished with a rush. “Whew. I almost always get that one wrong.”

“It’s tricky,” Meredith agreed, gathering the book with both hands and turning her back to the window. Forget Shane Connelly. That was certainly what she intended to do from this moment on.

A knock rapped against the open door. Her oldest sister hesitated in the threshold. “Hey, are you busy?”

“I’ve spelled three words in a row correctly!” Minnie gave a hop, beaming with pride.

“That’s what happens when you study first,” Tilly teased in her gentle way, love obvious on her oval face. Her brown curls bounced as she bounded forward with a sweep of her skirts and plopped on the free corner of Minnie’s bed. “I overheard Papa and Mama talking. I have a suspicion Papa will be able to make things right.”

“In time for school in the morning?” Meredith asked.

“Probably not that soon.”