Snowflake Bride. Jillian Hart

      A little strength, Lord, please. Strength to resist the man’s warmth and decency, strength to put one foot in front of the other and face the grim Lucia, strength to make it through the day without making any mistakes. It was a lot to ask for, but she thought of her father’s burdens and added, for my pa.

       Horse hooves clomped behind her, and she spun around. A roan horse flared his nostrils at her, bared his teeth and careened to a stop. On his back sat a woman she did not know, who was a few years older.

       “So you are the new girl.” Her tone was not friendly. Her green eyes squinted with a hint of disdain. “You must have been a pity hire.”

       A pity hire? Heat stained her face. Lorenzo heard that. He might have been gracious enough to disregard her patched shoes and secondhand dress, but this woman was not. Ruby lifted her chin higher. This job mattered to her. That’s why she was here. Not to compete with another maid for his attention.

       “Lorenzo.” The newcomer brightened when she spotted the boss’s son. She swung down from her horse with the air of a princess leaving her throne. Her attention riveted to the man stroking Solomon’s cheek. Her smile was breathtaking. “I didn’t know you would be in the barn this morning. This is my lucky day.”

       “Not mine, as I’ve been packing water.” His smile had vanished, but his kindness had not. “I’ll have Thacker see to your roan. Mae, this is Ruby.”

       The moment between them had broken. With the gelding’s reins in hand, he took a step backward and tipped his hat in farewell. A tiny pain clutched behind her sternum as he withdrew into the shadows. She was not smitten with the man. She was utterly in charge of her heart.

       “You won’t last the day.” Mae shook her head as if she were an experienced judge of such things. “Whatever happens, don’t think I will do any of your work.”

       “No, of course not, I—” But the woman took off, leaving her alone in the barn. A horse stretched his neck over the top of his railing and tried to catch the hem of her scarf with his teeth.

      That could have gone better, she thought as she tucked the scarf around her throat. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. At least there would be no shoe disasters today. Last night, she’d spent an hour and a half tightening and repairing all the threads holding her shoe buttons in place. Confidently, she launched out of the barn and into the snow.

       That was the key. To be confident. To visualize a good outcome instead of disaster. This would be her new attitude. She breathed the wintry air deep into her lungs until they burned and breathed out great, white clouds of fog. Her shoes crunched on the path, her skirts rustled and swirled with her gait. She had to concentrate on her work and not on Lorenzo. Forget how handsome he’d looked. Forget how kind. Make her heart stop fluttering because he’d smiled at her.

       Her family’s livelihood hung in the balance.

       The sky began to change to a lighter shade of gray. The beauty of the still plains, sleeping snow and amazing world buoyed her spirits. The enormous house rose up in front of her with bright windows and smoke curling from numerous chimneys. Far up ahead, Mae yanked open a door. A few moments later, Lucia appeared on the threshold, gesturing impatiently. “Let’s get you in a uniform. You can’t work for the mistress wearing that.”

       “Yes, ma’am.” The panic returned, clawing her with a vengeance. She hurried up the steps and the minute her wet shoes hit the floor, squeak. Creak.

      Great, Ruby. Just great. She slipped out of her coat and hung it on a nearby wall peg.

       “Definitely a pity hire,” Mae whispered from the far side of the foyer.

       Not knowing what to say, Ruby dutifully followed the head housekeeper. Squeak, creak.

       It was going to be a very long day.

       A weak sun filtered through a thin blanket of quick-moving clouds. Although at its zenith, the bright disc gave no warmth. The arctic winds dominated, burning the high Montana prairie with its bitter chill. In his warmest coat, Lorenzo’s teeth chattered as he trudged the snow-covered path to the house. He could tell himself he hurried along the path at a breakneck speed because he couldn’t wait to unthaw in front of a fire with a cup of tea and a hot meal, but that would be a lie.

       His gaze searched through the main-floor windows. His toe caught on a snow clump. His right foot skidded on a patch of ice. Did he watch where he was going? No, he didn’t lift his eyes from the house. He spotted his mother in the parlor, working at her embroidery. Lucia bustled around the dining room table, checking that everything was ready for the family’s meal. He spotted Mae at a window above the kitchen’s water pump but saw no sign of Ruby.

       He had thought of nothing else all morning. He’d finished his barn work, hauled hay and taken a pick once again to the cattle’s water supply. He’d spread out bags of feed corn and stopped to doctor a cow who had a painful run-in with a coyote, but Ruby stayed front and center in his mind, a beautiful song he could not forget.

       “Renzo!” Boots pounded on the path behind him. His cousin, Mateo, fell in stride beside him. Mateo was a few years older, a few inches shorter and a dedicated cattleman. “You spent a lot of time in the horse barn this morning.”

       “Not much more than usual.” Snow scudded across the pathway ahead of him as he debated slowing down or speeding up. His cousin had a sharp eye; he didn’t miss much. Not ready to have a member of his family aware that he was sweet on Ruby, he launched forward, faster. If Mateo wanted to give him a hard time, let him at least have to work for it.

       “Sure, you do your fair share with the horses, but did I see you tending one of the maids’ horses?” Mateo caught up, breathing hard. “Don’t tell me you have an interest in that ancient, swayback horse she was riding.”

       “Sure I do. Solomon and I are old friends.” Maybe humor would distract his cousin, because the back door loomed closer and this was not a conversation he wanted anyone in the house to overhear. “I wanted to check on his shoe. I re-shod him yesterday.”

       “Oh, so that was the errand you went on.” Mateo didn’t look fooled. “Whoever the young woman is, she’s awful pretty. She’s easy on the eyes.”

       “Maybe you should stop looking.” A furious power radiated through him as strong as iron, and he heard the growl in his words. Jealousy wasn’t his style, so it surprised him.

       “Sorry, man. I wasn’t interested, really.” Mateo’s smile flashed. “But you are.”

       Couldn’t he hide it better than that? He stomped the snow off his boots on the step and grasped the doorknob. “Let’s keep it quiet. Ruby doesn’t know.”

       “Sure. But when she rejects you, I’m next in line to beau her.” Mateo probably wasn’t serious, but his words were like an arrow to a target.

       Would Ruby reject him if she knew about his feelings? She hadn’t done one thing to confirm any affection on her part. Shy smiles, gentle humor, yes. But did she feel drawn to him? A weight settled on his chest as he turned the knob. The warmth of the kitchen pulled him in, but his knees knocked as he shrugged out of his coat. What he felt for Ruby was powerfully rare. It was gentle as a December sun dawning, as everlasting as the stars in the sky and so true it came from the deepest places in his soul.

       He still did not know if he had a chance with her. Would she want him for a beau? What would he do if she didn’t?

       He shouldered into the kitchen doorway, searching for her in the ordered chaos. Cook sliced a roast chicken, steam billowed from a potato pot while workers scurried around putting food on platters and finding a colander for the boiling potatoes. Everything faded when he spied Ruby at the farthest worktable, transferring piping hot dinner rolls into a cloth-lined basket.

       Gossamer tendrils of her platinum hair curled around her face as she bent over her work. He took in the long, lean curve of her arm, the straight line of her back and the way her every movement was graceful. She plopped the last roll