Homespun Bride

up the reins with plenty of shuffling. “Good day to you, Mr. McKaslin.”
    “Good day to you both.” Kindness enriched his voice.
    She imagined he was tipping his hat’s brim once, the way he always used to do. She tried to picture more of him, tried to imagine the young man she’d known, in his prime now. It was hard to do, for he had surely changed as much as she had. Maybe more.
    “Goodbye, Noelle.”
    His words sounded so final. “Goodbye, Thad.”
    As the cold wind scorched her face, she listened to his boots strike crisp and steady on the boardwalk as he walked away. She could not allow herself to imagine how his wide shoulders would have broadened, how his lean frame would have filled out with muscle and a cowboy’s strength. Something cold struck her cheek as she tried not to see—and yet could not help drawing up the image of how he would look seasoned by experience and a rugged, active life.
    “It’s snowing yet again.” Henrietta’s voice carved into Noelle’s thoughts. “When will winter end? I shall never become accustomed to these Montana storms.”
    “Yes, sadly we are all likely to be snowed over until Armageddon if this continues.” Noelle knew that dire prediction would make her aunt happy, who huffed decidedly, pleased to have such problems to discuss.
    Determined to leave Thad McKaslin out of her thoughts, Noelle set her chin and swiped at the cold wetness on her cheek—tears, and not snow after all. “Then your letter shall never reach the territorial governor.”
    “Exactly my brand of luck. Listen to that! That contraption! How blessed we are to have a sensible mare who will not bolt at the clamor and dank coal smoke.” Only then did Noelle hear the clatter of the incoming train and smell its choking coal smoke. She did not notice much else, not the harmony of the traffic noise or the melody of the town’s people going about their busy ways. Her heart was too heavy to hear any music. Snow began falling in earnest with sharp, needlelike hits that had no rhythm or song as they fell, driven on a bleak wind.

Chapter Five
    A s Thad circled a dappled gray mare at the sale—he’d let Robert Worthington talk him into giving his opinion on a few animals he was considering—not even the steadily falling snow could clean away the grit of emotion that clung to him.
    This wasn’t how he’d reckoned things would be. Seeing Noelle again was going to happen—he knew that when he’d made the decision to come back to Angel Falls. But he figured she’d be a wife and a mother, busy with the fanciful tasks that kept privileged women occupied, like book clubs and church fundraisers and whatnot. What he didn’t figure on was having to realize how complete her father’s plan had been. Mr. Kramer, rest his soul, must have known that Noelle would never understand or forgive, even with her generous heart. He’d hurt her then, and he was hurting her now. He hated it. He wished—well, he didn’t know what he wanted, but he would do anything, or be anything, to keep her from hurting.
    Impossible, he realized. His nearness made her sad. It was as plain as day.
    “McKaslin, what’s your opinion?”
    “Wh-what?” He blinked, realizing he must have been staring at the horse’s withers for a rather long time. The sights and sounds of the busy horse sale chased away most of his trail of thoughts, but not all of them.
    “She’s too old but, McKaslin, you seem to like her better than the gelding.”
    Thad knocked back his hat and the snow accumulating on the brim slid off, giving him time to think of the best way to answer. “You’d do well to go with an older horse. This mare is a little long in the tooth, but she’s steady and gentle.”
    “I suppose I like the brash younger ones. More of a challenge.”
    Yep, Worthington had even less horse sense than he’d figured on. “Well, sir, you might not want to gamble your womenfolk’s well-being like that. This old mare has a lot of good years in her, she’ll be suited to pulling a light sleigh or buggy. Besides, look at the kindness you’d be doing. If no one buys her, she might be sent to the stockyards. That is one sad end for a nice horse.”
    Robert gulped at that. “I hadn’t considered that before. I’m glad I asked your opinion. You have sound reasoning and a lot of knowledge. You know I’m looking to hire a good horseman to teach me what I haven’t learned in books. If it’s stable work you mind, I’ll find someone to