Homespun Bride

gosmers around her face. For the first time in years, it wasn’t the past he longed for.
    She took a step back, tying her coat around her middle. “It sounds like thunder out there.”
    “Yep. It’s turning out to be some winter storm.” He reached for the door. “You want to reconsider coming out with me?”
    “Not a chance.”
    He turned the knob and cold gusted in. The crisp tap-tap of snow faded into the howl of the wind. “You used to love storms.”
    “I still do.” She slipped past him onto the covered porch and faced the wind. “I might not be able to watch the force of the storm, but I can hear the symphony of it.” Snow bulleted under the porch roof, striking them both. He closed the door against the resisting wind, hardly aware of the boards beneath his feet. All he could see—he feared all he would ever see—was her. “This is wonderful.” She held out her hands, palms up, to feel the strike of the blowing snow. “Bitterly cold, but wonderful.”
    “I get my fair share of weather working outside. It doesn’t hold the same wonder for me. Careful now, you keep inching forward like that and you’re gonna hit a patch of ice and then where will you be?”
    “On my backside?”
    “Exactly. You’d best let me help you.” His hand engulfed hers.
    You will feel nothing, she vowed. Not the past and certainly not an ember of affection.
    It took all her strength to keep her heart as if blanketed by a layer of snow. “It works best if I can lay my hand on your arm.”
    “Sure.” He released his grip on her and she slid her gloved hand along the strong plane of his forearm. Even with the thick layer of jacket and sheepskin, she could feel his strength.
    That made her wonder more about his life. About all the pieces he hadn’t told her. She took a hesitant step forward and he moved with her, nudging her gently to the left and safely down the slick board steps. She felt the softer snow, which meant they were moving over the walking path between the house and the stables.
    She found herself asking a question before she had time to think about it first. “Did you like herding cattle?”
    “I didn’t dislike it. I got to spend time in the saddle. You know how I don’t like to be cooped up indoors all the livelong day.”
    “Yes.” That she did remember. She saw the image of Thad in a white shirt and denims working in amber fields beneath an endless, brilliant blue sky. “I suppose you’ve seen a lot of the West like in those dime western novels you used to read.”
    “Yep. I’ve been all over. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon. The Badlands. The American desert. The prairies so flat and vast you ride for weeks and you think you’ll never come to the end of it.”
    “There’s happiness in your voice.You liked traveling.”
    “I didn’t mind it.” Thad cleared his throat, trying to bury the truth more deeply. The last thing he wanted was for Noelle to guess it. He made sure to keep between her and the brunt of the gusting wind. “It was an amiable enough lifestyle. I got to sleep under the stars at night. Saw just about everything there is to see in this wide country. Bear and mountain lions and wolves. Flash floods and twisters and blizzard winds so powerful they can freeze a bull’s head to the ground.”
    “Angel Falls must seem very uninspiring by comparison.”
    “Not at all.” It was the only place he wanted to be. Had ever wanted to be. Gazing down at her lovely face, seeing the snowfall clinging to her velvet hat’s brim did funny things to his chest. To his heart. To impossible dreams long buried that had come to life again. “It was tough being gone from my family.”
    “You missed them.” She could see that now. “You and your older brother used to be so close.”
    “Still are. Another good part about being home is that I’m not always having to write a letter. It’s better just to walk up to the main house—I’m staying in the old shanty on our place—walk into the kitchen, pull up a chair and share the day’s news over a hot pot of tea. I reckon not much in this lifetime has made me happier than coming back to the homestead.”
    There was the Thad she’d known—had always known. The man Thad had always been. “Then it’s a blessing that you’re here.”
    “I’m glad you think so.”
    Her shoes sank in the deep snowdrifts, and Thad guided her up the slight slope to the stable’s double doors. The sweet scent of hay and the warm earthy scent of horse