and sleigh.” She settled against the cushioned seat back. “I wonder why you would venture out. Surely there isn’t much ranching work this time of year?”
“I never said it was ranch work.” He tucked the buffalo robe around her, leaning close enough to catch the scent of honeysuckle. The vulnerable places within him tugged, defenseless against her nearness. He didn’t know why his heart moved so fast, determined to pull him along. He could not stop it as he gathered the reins, sending Poncho forward.
“In my worry over my shoe and my interview, I forgot to ask you. I heard your father was injured a while back. How is he?”
“He’s still recovering.” Lorenzo did his best not to let his anger take hold at the outlaws who had taken up residence west of town last summer and stolen a hundred head of cattle in a gun battle. “My father wasn’t as fortunate as the others the outlaw gang shot. He was hit in the leg bone and the back. He’s still struggling to walk with a cane.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sympathy polished her, making her inner beauty shine. Her outer beauty became breathtaking, so compelling he could not look away. Soft platinum locks breezed against the curving slope of her cheeks and the dainty cut of her jaw. “I noticed he wasn’t coming to church, but I didn’t know he was still struggling with his injuries. I don’t get to town much.”
“It’s not something Pa wants everyone to know. He’s a private man.” He adored his father. Gerard Davis was a proud and stubborn Welshman who could have lived leisurely on his inherited wealth but chose to put his life to good use by ranching on the Montana frontier. Lorenzo hoped he took after his pa.
“I won’t mention it, but I do intend to pray for him.” Her hands clasped together within the rather lumpy mittens made of uneven stitches. They looked twisted somehow, as if they had not faired well through a washing. But her earnest concern shone in her voice. “I hope he has a full recovery. I know how difficult it is for a man used to providing for his family when he is too injured to work.”
“It is tough on a man’s pride.”
“When I was little, Pa had an accident on our farm. A hay wagon overturned on him, and he was crushed. He was working alone and no one found him until my brother came with the mid-afternoon water jug. Rupert was too young to help free him. All he could do was run to the neighbors over a mile away.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Interesting that they had this in common. He thought of the humble, quiet man who had begged him for a job. “He obviously recovered.”
“It took many years. We feared losing him at first. The doctor didn’t know how he survived. A true proof of grace,” she added, staring down at her misshapen mittens. “God was very good in letting us keep our pa. I don’t know what Rupert and I would have done if we’d lost him, too, so I understand what you might have gone through.”
“Worry, mostly. For a while we feared Pa might not walk again. Doc Frost said it was grace, too, that he’s up on his feet.”
“Grace is everywhere, when you look for it.”
“And when you need it most.” It was so easy to talk to her about what really mattered. Did she feel the same way? “How long ago was your pa injured?”
“I was five years old.” The sleigh bounced in a rut as Poncho turned onto the country road. She lifted a mittened hand to swipe snow out of her eyes. She felt closer somehow. Like they were no longer strangers.
“You were five? That must have been hard on your family.”
“Yes. Pa was laid up so long, we lost our crop. We couldn’t pay the doctor bills. Then we lost our land and our house, and we couldn’t pay any of the other bills, either. The bank took everything but Solomon. Rupert worked long days in a neighbor’s field to earn the money to keep him.”
“Did you have any other family to help?”
“My uncle and his wife finally took us in. It was a long spell until Pa was able to work again, and he was determined to pay back every cent of his debts still outstanding.”
“Most folks would have walked away. So your family was never able to get ahead?”
“It was a hardship paying off the debts, but it was the right thing.”
“Doing the right thing matters.” His dark blue eyes deepened with understanding. “It’s worth whatever the cost.”
“Exactly.” When her gaze met his, her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. It mattered that he understood honor. So many hadn’t. Probably because he had honor of his own. She blushed, because it would be so easy to like him, to really like him. Just as it would be to read more into his act of kindness in offering her this ride.
“Your family owns land now, so your father must have paid off his debts.” He broke his gaze away to rein Poncho to keep him on the hard-to-see road. Even speckled with snow, Lorenzo’s handsomeness shone through.
Not that she should be noticing.
“Yes. Pa managed to save up enough for a mortgage, although we had to pay a lot of money down.” She picked at a too-tight stitch in her right mitten to keep from looking at him again. Not looking at him was for the best. “It is good to have our own land, but it’s only a hundred acres.”
“A hundred acres of untilled land. Let me guess. Your first harvest wasn’t as good as it could have been. A first crop on new land is always a small one.”
“And on top of that, most of our crop was damaged by a summer storm.” She blushed, still picking at the stitch. She could feel the tug of his gaze, the gentle insistence of his presence, and she wanted to look at him. But she was afraid of coming to care too much.
“Next harvest will be better,” he promised. “As long as there isn’t a drought or a twister or a flash flood.”
“Or another hailstorm,” she chimed in lightly. “Farming doesn’t come with a guarantee, but it would be a great blessing to have a good harvest, if we manage to stay on. My pa and brother work so hard. It would be a comfort for them.”
“Then I’ll put it in my prayers.”
His smile drew her gaze. Unable to resist, her eyes met his, and the world faded. The jarring of the sleigh ceased. The cold vanished, and there was only his sincerity, his caring and the quiet wish in her soul.
Don’t give in to it, Ruby. Don’t start dreaming.
“Here we are.” He tugged on the reins, Poncho drew to a stop. How had three miles passed so quickly?
“Why, young Mr. Davis.” Pa’s voice came from far away, stupefied. He gripped a pitchfork in one gloved hand, emerging from the small barn. “Ruby, is that you?”
“Yes, Pa.” Reality set in. She pushed off the buffalo robe and grabbed up her reticule. Snow slapped her cheeks as she tried to scramble out of the sleigh.
“Allow me.” Lorenzo caught her hand. His warmth, his size, his presence overwhelmed her. Her breath caught. She forgot every word of the English langage. Her knees wobbled when she tried to stand on them. Little flashes of wishes filled her, but she tamped them down as he withdrew his hand.
