Patchwork Bride. Jillian Hart

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.”

      Of course not. However soon her father talked her mother into changing her mind, it could not come fast enough. First thing tomorrow she would have to face Shane. Dread filled her. The thought of him waiting for her alongside the buggy, reaching out his hand to help her up, being able to listen in on her conversations with Minnie from the front seat, filled her with a burning mix of confusion, hurt and rage.

      Well, she didn’t care about his hurtful words. Her pride was wounded, that was all. So what if he didn’t like her? Why would she want him to? She simply didn’t have to like him. She pulled out the chair and sat down, her spine straight, her back to the window. What she needed to do was to banish all thoughts of the man from her head.

      Pleased with her plan, she could focus on her sisters’ conversation.

      “No, Minnie, I can’t drive you tomorrow.” Tilly smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. “I wish I could, but I promised Mama I would help her finish your new dress. You are growing like a weed, little sister.”

      “I am.” Pleased, Minnie grinned, showing off her adorable dimples. “Pretty soon I ought to be tall enough to ride a wild mustang. Then I could help break next year’s new horses and Papa wouldn’t have to hire anyone to do it.”

      “I don’t think that’s likely to happen, not if Mama has anything to say about it.” Worrying the discussion would turn to the hired men, Meredith changed the subject. “What about the day after tomorrow? Can you drive me then, Tilly?”

      “I have a meeting at the church that afternoon, but I think we can work it out. Unless Mama has objections about the road conditions. After all, you can’t miss going to your weekly sewing circle.” Her older sister stared at her intently, as if trying to see at something beneath the surface, something Meredith did not want anyone to know. Tilly shook her head, as if she could not figure it out. “I understand not wanting one of the new hired men to drive you. I’m shy around strangers, too.”

      Shy? That was hardly the problem. She thought of how she’d bantered with Shane, how he’d made her blush and laugh and quip. She feared her face was heating and her emotions would show and her sisters would guess at the truth.

      You don’t like him, Meredith, she reminded herself. It’s impossible. He’s impossible.

      “Oh, Meredith wasn’t one bit shy when they met up with us on the road,” Minnie burst out. “She and Shane talked practically the whole way home.”

      “Is this true?” Tilly studied her again, her curiosity greater and her scrutiny more intent.

      Heat burned her cheeks. She could feel her skin across her face tighten. Surely she was blushing. A dead giveaway. “I was polite to him, nothing more. I assure you of that.”

      “But you’re blushing.”

      “Because I feel