Patchwork Bride. Jillian Hart

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