Homespun Bride

and as steady as granite. Every fear within her stilled. It seemed impossible to be afraid as his other hand gripped her elbow.
    Stunned, she could feel the faint wind shadow as he towered over her. She knew he was tall, wide-shouldered and built like steel. She knew, somehow, without seeing him. It was as if she was familiar with his touch. How could that possibly be?
    “Careful, now.” His calm baritone boomed. “Step up a little, that’s right.”
    She could feel his strength as he lifted her out of the tipped sleigh. For an instant, she felt weightless as if there was no gravity that could hold her to the ground. As if there were only wind and sky. She breathed in the winter air, the faint scent of soap and leather and wool. Her shoes touched the snow and the impact jarred through her, although he’d set her gently to the ground.
    Who was this man? The last time she’d felt like this, suspended between earth and sky, between safety and the unknown was so long ago, she dared not let her mind dig up those buried dreams.
    With a whisper of movement he released her. “Stay here while I fetch your mother.”
    She stood wobbling on her shaky legs, feeling the kick of fear still racing through her veins. Riveted, unable to think of anything else, even her aunt’s safety, she listened to the crunch of the snow beneath his boots as he moved again. The wind and snow lashed against her nose and eyes like tears. She tucked the muffler more snuggly around her face, shivering not from fear or cold but from something else.
    She heard Henrietta’s sob of fear, she heard the jingle of their rescuer’s horse’s bridle and that low reassuring baritone, although the howling wind stole his words.
    Never had she so sorely missed her sight. Every fiber of her being longed to be able to see him. Then she heard the squeak of the sleigh’s runner as it moved against the snow and she realized the rush she heard was the swift-running river and roar of the falls—the highest waterfall in all of Montana Territory.
    A prayer flew to her lips, but before she could give it voice, she heard the crunch of her aunt’s sturdy gait. “Let me take a look at you. I have to see with my own eyes. This is like an awful nightmare.” Henrietta grabbed her and turned her around, like a mother hen checking on one of her chicks.
    Love for her aunt filled her—she’d learned that love made everyone perfect. What were flaws? They hardly mattered when she could have lost Henrietta as she had her parents. Emotion burned in her throat, emotion she dared not speak of, since Henrietta did not approve of outbursts of any kind.
    “I’m fine,” she told her aunt to reassure her. “But are you all right?”
    “Worse for the ordeal but right enough. I saw you hit the dashboard. Are you bleeding?”
    “I’m fine, I told you. It’s blizzarding, and—”
    “You ladies need to get safely home.” He spoke up. “The storm is likely to get worse before it gets better.”
    “Young man, you saved our lives.”
    “I was at the right place at the right time is all.” He took a step, which made it easier to keep his eye on that high-strung horse. “Are you sure you’re both all right? A ride like that could shake anyone up.”
    “I have nerves of steel.” The woman’s chin firmed as she tugged at the daughter’s scarf, which obscured her nearly completely. “My niece, however, is quite fragile as she’s blind.”
    “Niece?” Not daughter. And blind at that. Wasn’t that too bad? Thad thought. Sympathy filled him as he watched the aunt fuss.
    “My dear, let me see. I have to make sure you’ve not broken anything.”
    “As long as you two ladies are safe enough, I’ll just see to the horse then.” He stepped back. His mind should be working out how to get that vehicle out of the bushes, but he couldn’t concentrate on it.
    There was something about the young woman—the niece—something he couldn’t put his finger on. He’d hardly glanced at her when he’d hauled her from the family sleigh, but now he took a longer look through the veil of falling snow.
    For a moment, her silhouette, the size of her, and the way she moved reminded him of Noelle. How about that; Noelle, his frozen heart reminded him with a painful squeeze, had been his first—and only—love.
    It couldn’t be her, he reasoned, since she was married and probably a mother by now. She’d be safe in town, living snug in one of the finest houses in the county instead