Jillian Hart – Patchwork Bride (страница 9)

“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 uncomfortable.” That was true. Uncomfortable with the way Shane made her feel, with her hurt dignity and with this discussion. “You know I have plans that have nothing to do with finding a man to marry me right out of school. What would I want with an iterant horseman who is here for two months at the most and then he’ll leave, never to be seen again?”

“I wasn’t thinking of that.” Tilly shrugged, her slender shoulders sagging a notch. The hint of sadness that overcame her was heart-wrenching. “I was wistful, that is all, hoping that true love would come your way, since it is sure not to be coming to mine.”

“Don’t say that.” Meredith slipped onto her knees before her sister, gathering her slim hands in hers. “There is always hope for true love. Emmett is simply busy with his business.”

“Oh, he was never truly interested in me. I was the one. It was all me. I mistook his politeness for more, that’s all.” Although her chin came up and she pasted on a smile, there was no disguising the hint of heartbreak on Matilda’s dear face, a sorrow she kept hidden. “A girl has to have wishes, or what else does she have?”

“God. Family. Principles.” Mama thundered into the room. They had all been so engrossed they hadn’t heard her until she towered over them, glowering. “Some men are more appropriate to love than others, my girls. Now, why aren’t you studying? And, Matilda, shouldn’t you be downstairs sewing?”

“Yes, Mama,” they muttered in unison, Meredith leaping to her feet, Tilly pushing off the bed and Minnie bouncing once before hopping two-footed to the floor.

Meredith glanced over her shoulder, drawn by the lit windows gleaming in the dark evening, unable to stop a deep pinch of regret and, to be honest, a wish that Shane had not been Papa’s hired man. That they had parted ways at the driveway and he had kept riding so she would have been left with the romantic tale of their brief meeting, a moment in time when she could have forever believed in the man and his dimples, his good humor and character. She could have lived the rest of her days with the legend of their meeting and what she had believed him to be.

Now that she knew the truth, there was no legend, no sweetness, no tale of romance. Just the broken pieces of what had never been.

In the long gray shadows of dawn, Shane dragged on his boots by the back door, head pounding and eyes scratchy from what fell far short of a restful night’s sleep. He’d been fitful, unable to drift off on the top bunk of what was a comfortable feather tick, in clean muslin sheets and plenty of blankets. After a hard day’s ride he should have slept hard enough that only Braden’s rough shaking by the arm could have woken him.

“Quit dragging your feet and let’s get the morning started.” Braden growled as he jammed one arm and then the other into his riding jacket. “We’ve got work to do.”

Not that he minded work. No, he thrived on it. He loved every aspect of horse care from the shoveling to the riding. But this morning a dull ache stabbed his temples as he finished tying his boots, winced when the wind caught the door and smacked it against the wall. He grabbed his coat.