Snowflake Bride

The snow whirled on a bitter night’s wind as Lorenzo guided his horse and sleigh down the drift-covered driveway. Lanterns mounted on the dashboard of the sleigh cast just enough light to see the dark yard and front step of the shanty. Poncho drew to a stop before the doorway. Ruby’s doorway.

Her adorable presence stayed with him like a melody, and a smile stretched the corners of his mouth as he climbed from beneath the robes. His boots crunched in the snow, icy flakes stung his face, but he kept going, untouched, seeing Ruby through a crack between the curtains.

She sat in a wooden chair, holding a crochet needle and thread up to a single candle’s light to make a slow, careful stitch. Her platinum hair gleamed golden-silver. Her heart-shaped face, flushed from the heat of the fire and caressed by the candlelight could have belonged to a princess in a fairy tale. Wholesome and good, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Captivated, he knocked snow off his hat as it continued to fall.

The muffled tap of footsteps tore his attention away from Ruby. Jon Ballard ambled into sight inside the house, reminding Lorenzo of his mission. He had a message for Ruby, one that would make her life easier. He took the few snowy steps to the front door and knocked. His pulse rattled against his rib cage. He was suddenly nervous, anxious with the anticipation of seeing her again.

The door swung open, and her father stood inside the threshold, surprise marking his lined face, proof of how hard the last few months had been for the family. “Young Mr. Davis, is that you again? What are you doing out on these roads this time of evening?”

“I’m on another errand. My father wanted to send one of the hired men, but I volunteered.” His gaze arrowed straight to her. Her crochet work had fallen to her lap. She stared at him with worry crinkling her forehead. Worry. He hated it. He squared his shoulders, glad he could fix that. He pulled the folded parchment from his pocket. “I have a letter for Ruby. From my mother.”

“For me?” She set aside her needle and thread, rose to her feet, and every movement she made was endearing—the pad of her stockinged feet on the floor, the rustle of her skirt, the twist of her bottom lip as she swept closer. The place she had opened within him opened more, widening his heart.

Vaguely, he was aware of Jon stepping back, disappearing from sight. Ruby remained at the center of his senses. Ruby, wringing her slender hands. Ruby, in a very old, calico work dress, the color faded from so many washings. The careful patches sewed with tiny, even stitches were too numerous to count. As she stepped into the puddle of nearby candlelight, her beauty and goodness outshone everything.

“It was nice of you to come so far in this cold.” Shy, she lowered her gaze from his. “Just to tell me I didn’t get the job.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because the interview was a disaster. The missing button, my wet shoes, I dripped all over the floor, I was completely wrong for the position.” Pink flushed her cheeks and her nose, making her twice as sweet. “I’m sorry you had to drive so far in this weather. Your mother could have posted the letter.”

“I suppose.” This was why he’d come so far in frigid temperatures. So he could see the happiness chase away the worry from her big, beautiful eyes. “Ma wants you to start working for her first thing Monday morning. Will that be a problem?”

“What?” Her jaw dropped. Disbelief pinched adorably across her sweetheart face. “I couldn’t have gotten the job. I have no experience.”

“My mother liked you, so she’s hired you.” He held out the envelope. “Here are the specifics.”

“Really? Oh, Pa, did you hear?” She took the parchment. Delight chased away the worry lines, put blue sparkles into her irises and drew a beautiful smile. “I got the job. I got it.”

“I’m mighty proud of you, Ruby-bug.” Jon Ballard’s love shone in his voice, love for his precious daughter.

Lorenzo thought she was precious, too.

“Oh, thank your mother for me. I mean, I will thank her on Monday, too, when I see her. But, oh, just thank you.” She clutched the letter tight until it crinkled.

“I will tell her. Your interview went better than you thought.”

“But how? It’s a complete and total mystery.”

“No mystery.” His reassurance held notes of humor and kindness. “You deserve this, Ruby. My mother wants you to start at six o’clock sharp.”

“I’ll be there early, just like I promised.” This was too good to be true. She’d been so sure she had failed, that it was impossible, and yet here she was, an employee. She had her first job, she would be earning a wage. A real wage. Joy bubbled through her, impossible to contain. She had a job! “I hope I don’t break anything. Or spill something. I don’t know anything about serving.”

Good going, Ruby. Point out to your employer’s son exactly how much of a mistake his mother had made. She laughed. “I’m so happy and anxious and everything.”

“I understand.” The deep shine of his dark blue gaze met hers, sincere and powerful enough to knock the beat out of her heart. Her happiness dimmed, her soul stilled as he tipped his hat, and she could not look away. She could see the shadow of day’s growth on his strong, square jaw. His masculine strength shrank the shanty and made every bit of air vanish. No man on earth could be as amazing as Lorenzo

Candlelight flickered over him, caressing the powerful angles of his face and gleaming darkly on the thick, dark fall of his hair. She lost the ability to breathe as he took a step backward into the darkness. Snow sifted over him like spun sugar.

Don’t start wishing, Ruby.

“I shouldn’t leave my horse standing in this cold. Good night, Ruby. I will see you on Monday.”

“On Monday.” The words stuttered over her tongue, her legs went weak, and she grasped the door frame before she tumbled face-first onto the snowy step. Monday. A different kind of panic clutched her, cinching tight around her middle.

She would see Lorenzo every day. She would be in his house, be in proximity with his family and washing his dishes. The warm place in her heart remembered his touch, his gallantry, his kindness. It made a girl want to dream.

Focus, Ruby. She no longer had time for schoolgirl wishes. Pa’s tired gait drummed on the floorboards behind her, coming closer. In the dying storm, Lorenzo was a shadow, then a hint of a shadow and finally nothing more. The beat of Poncho’s hooves faded until there was only the whispering hush of falling snow and the winter’s cold.

She closed the door firmly against the darkness. Discarded wishes followed her like snowflakes in the air as she headed toward the stove to make a cup of tea for her father. She had the chance to make a real difference for her family. Monday was what she ought to think about. Monday, when she started her new job.

In the predawn light, Ruby slid off of Solomon in the shelter of the Davis’s barn. Breathing in the scents of hay and warm horse, she glanced around. Stalls were filled with animals eating out of their troughs. What did she do with Solomon? Where did she take him?

Something tugged at her hat, knocking it askew on her head. Dear old Solomon’s whiskery lips nibbled the brim and the side of her face in comfortable adoration. They had been friends for a long time. She patted his neck and leaned against him, her sweet boy. “I’m sure I’m supposed to put you somewhere, but I didn’t think to ask when Lorenzo delivered the letter.”

Solomon’s nicker rumbled low in his throat, a comforting answer of sorts. Fortunately, she did not have to wonder for long as footsteps tapped her way, echoing in the dark aisle. She couldn’t see his face, but she would know those mile-wide shoulders anywhere.

“Good morning, Ruby.” Lorenzo Davis ambled out of the shadows. Two huge buckets of water sloshed at his sides as he made his way to the end stall. “You are early.”

“Only twenty minutes.” She’d meant to be earlier, but the roads had been slow going with a thick layer of ice. It had been all Solomon could do to keep his footing. “I’m surprised to see you packing water. Isn’t that the stable boy’s job?”

“Sure, but I help with the barn work.” His answer came lightly as he hefted one of the buckets over the wooden rail. Water splashed into a washtub. “Stay back, Sombrero, or you’ll get wet again.”

Inside the stall, a horse neighed his opinion. A hoof stomped as if in a protest or a demand to hurry up with the water. The man had a way with animals, she had to give him credit for that. His powerful stance, his rugged masculinity and his ease as he lifted the second ten-gallon bucket and emptied it etched a picture into her mind. That picture took on life and color, and when she blinked, it remained. Another image of the man she could not forget. Her soul sighed just a little. She couldn’t help it.

Solomon nudged her a second time, gently reminding her she was doing it again—staring off into thin air when there was work to be done. She shook her head, cleared her thoughts and gently patted her gelding’s shoulder. “Where can I put up my boy?”

“I’ll take him.” Lorenzo set down the bucket and held out a hand to Solomon. “You remember me, don’t you, old fella?”

The swaybacked animal snorted in answer. His ears pricked, he snuffled Lorenzo’s palm with his muzzle, gray with age. His low-noted nicker was clearly a horsy greeting. Did every living creature adore the man?

“Are you nervous about starting your new job?” He caught Solomon’s reins. If he noticed the leather straps were wearing thin, he didn’t comment.

“Just a tad.” That was an understatement, but she wasn’t about to admit it. All she could see was doom. So much could go wrong to cause Mrs. Davis to change her mind or for the stern-looking Lucia to fire her. Anxiety clawed behind her rib cage like a trapped rodent.

Just breathe, she told herself. No need to panic.

Lorenzo’s intensely dark blue eyes glowed softly as if he cared. While his gaze searched hers, she felt as if she were the only woman on earth. His slow smile spread wonderfully across his mouth. Like the sun dawning, his smile could light up her life if she let it.

“Everything will be just fine.” Lorenzo’s hand settled on her shoulder, a pleasantly heavy weight meant to be comforting.

It wasn’t. Why was he touching her? The panic clawing inside her chest doubled. Maybe he was trying to soothe her, but it unnerved her. Air squeezed through her too-tight throat in a little hiccup.

His hand didn’t move, his touch remained like out of a dream. Was she really smiling up at him, so close she could see the nearly black threads in his irises and the smooth-shaven texture of his square jaw? Good thing she was independent, because a woman less confident might be tempted to lay her cheek on the powerful plane of his chest.

Not her, but some other woman might let herself dream what it would be like when he folded his iron-hewn arms around her and held her tightly.

It was a good thing she had her feet firmly on the ground. Because that wasn’t what she wanted. Nope, not at all. What she wanted was to save her family’s farm. To lessen her father’s burden.