Homespun Bride

Just had a bit of a problem is all. McKaslin gave me a hand.”
    “A problem? It looks like a wild bull got loose in this stable—”
    Noelle. Thad’s attention swung back to her and stayed there. She was petting Sunny. The mustang was no fool. He was nosing her hand affectionately, looking as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to win a smile from her. Poor fella. Thad knew how he felt. He’d once felt the same way.
    Seeing her again— Whew. He froze in place. He’d wanted to avoid her this morning so he wouldn’t cause her any pain, but now he realized he wasn’t as tough as he liked to think.
    He could resist making a mistake like her again, but what he couldn’t seem to do was to stop the pain. Why, it was impossible to forget how his love for her had once filled his spirit the way a rising sun filled the hollows of a mountain’s peak.
    Time to leave, man. He nodded in Worthington’s direction. “Good luck with that wild boy of yours.”
    Robert looked up from rechecking the bridle buckles and grinned. “You say that like you think I need good luck.”
    I think you’re gonna need more than that. Thad glanced at the big white stallion, teeth bared and ears plastered flat against his head, and was glad he didn’t have to deal with that animal. “I hope you got a good price for him.”
    “Cost me a pretty penny.”
    That’s what Thad was afraid of. “I meant a low price, sir.”
    “Well now, he’s got excellent confirmation. And his pedigree. Why, it’s about as impressive as it can be.”
    “I’m not about to argue with you, but personally I like a horse who isn’t keen on biting me when I get anywhere near him.” Thad tipped his hat. “Good day to you, ma’am.”
    “Uh, well, thank you, young man.” With the ferocity of an army general the fine lady squinted her eyes and looked him up and down. “Do you have relatives up north?”
    “I believe so. My father’s side of the family.”
    “Very well. It showed a fair amount of character to deliver our lost packages. You went out of your way when you didn’t need to.”
    “I just did what anyone would do.” He took a step away before she could invite him back into the parlor for supper or some such nonsense. He didn’t figure that she’d want much to do with him if she knew the truth about the way he’d treated Noelle. “Again, good luck, Mr. Worthington. You be careful when you’re handling that stallion.”
    “I intend to.” Robert straightened and took the mare by the bit to lead her, but seemed frozen in midstep. He glanced through the wide, open double doors to the picture Noelle made, befriending the gold-and-white mustang. “You wouldn’t know a good horseman you could recommend to me, would you? I could use some help around here.”
    “I, uh—” Me. He clamped his mouth shut before the words could escape. He needed a job, but not that bad. Besides, Noelle wouldn’t like that idea. And the notion of facing who he was every day—the man she made him remember. The man she saw as a coward. That’s what he felt like, even though he knew it wasn’t true.
    Maybe Noelle’s opinion of him meant more than he’d ever thought. He steeled his chest and took a step back, staring hard at the ground, at his scuffed boots, anywhere but where she stood, framed in silver light. “I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone.”
    He left the husband and wife to their chatter, keeping his eyes low, feeling the ache of regret tug at him. There she was. He could sense her somehow like warmth on a spring breeze. What did he do? Walk up to her and make pleasant conversation? He didn’t reckon she wanted that. He didn’t, either.
    The trick was to keep control of that spark of caring in his heart. Keep it small and eventually it would snuff right out. That was his hope anyway.
    She must have heard him coming because she turned toward him. There was no smile on her face and she stood in shadow. He’d always remembered Noelle as she’d been when he’d left her—she’d never aged or changed for him in memory, but time changed everyone.
    He saw that now. The way hard loss and sorrow had changed the shape of her mouth and eyes, no longer wide with an easy, assumed happiness. Her face was as soft as a rose blossom still, but leaner. Time and maturity had sharpened her high cheekbones. Her emerald-green eyes, still so lovely, did not twinkle and smile at him with good humor, the way they once had. The way they never would