arched with his question.
Did he feel this way, too? As if he did not want the moment to end?
“Yes.” The word rasped past the regret building within her. She drew Sweetie to a stop, knowing he would go his way, she would go hers and she would never see him again. Her spirit ached at the thought. “Where are you headed?”
“To a ranch somewhere in these parts.” He knocked off the rainwater gathering on the brim of his hat. “Since we’re running late, we might as well see you to your door. Braden, is that okay with you?”
“Goin’ this way anyway,” came the answer as the older, gruff man pulled his mount to the roadside and consulted the telegram in his pocket.
“Guess that means we don’t have far to go.” He shivered when the wind lifted, knifing through his wool coat. Nearly wet to the bone, he ought to be eager to get into dry clothes and thaw out in front of a fire. Gazing down at Just Meredith, he wasn’t in much of a hurry. “You ladies must be freezing. The temperature is falling. I could dig a blanket out of my saddle roll. Might keep you warmer.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you, but we’ll be fine.”
“Meredith!” Minnie protested. “I’m cold. Look. It’s starting to snow.”
“No wonder I’m half an icicle.” Nothing like a joke to warm a fellow. He twisted in his saddle to tug on the ties and pulled a folded length of red wool from beneath the oiled tarp protecting his things. “This ought to keep you two ladies a little more comfortable.”
“Thank you, Shane.”
He liked the way she said his name with a touch of warmth—unless he was imagining that—and a bit of respect, which he didn’t mind at all. He gave the blanket a snap, settled it over the ladies’ skirts, nearly falling out of his saddle to hand over the edge to Meredith so she could tuck it around her and Minnie. Leaning close, an odd sense of warm curled around his ribs, something tender and fine like first light on a spring morning.
Once she had the blanket settled, she gathered the reins in her slender, smooth hands. In retrospect, maybe he would have thought about that more and realized it was a sign. That a country girl’s hands wouldn’t look soft and pampered instead of callused and rough from work. But the bit of warm felt cozy in his chest, a nice and wholesome thing, so he didn’t think too much as he followed the buggy off the main road and down a narrower drive curving between a copse and tall fencing.
Braden signaled him. “I don’t want you gettin’ too friendly with any of the neighbors.”
“Are you tellin’ me you want me to be rude?” He angled his brim against the driving snow tapping against his hat and stinging like icy needles on his jaw.
“Not rude, no. But I want your mind on horse business.”
“It will be.” The chance to keep learning at Braden’s heels was all he wanted. So why did his gaze stray to the buggy? Although he couldn’t see Meredith from this angle, he wanted to, as surely as he sat in the saddle. That could not be a good thing.
“I know how it is. It’s only natural to take interest in a pretty gal. But remember, we move on. Our commission here is only two months at the most.”
“I know that.” He knew what was important and why he was here. He had learned a lot, and on this assignment he would have more responsibility and a real opportunity to use what he had been taught. “I know what you’re asking, Braden, and you can count on me. I’m not going to leave you with all the work while I chase after a pretty calico. I’m not that kind of man.”
“I’m still waiting to see the brand of man you are.” Braden, tough for his years, iron-strong and jaded, had a look that could pare like the sharpest blade. “You have potential, Shane, but you’re a blue blood. I’m waiting to see which wins out.”
“I’m not playing at this. I’m here to work.” He still had a point to prove. Right now his work was the only importance in his life. He squared his shoulders and did not flinch when arctic blew in on the wind. The curtain of snow thickened, obscuring Meredith’s driving buggy and the rest of the world from sight.
Home was nothing more than a hint of a roofline and a glint of windows through the whiteout. The weather could often be a surprise in Montana Territory and she liked that about this part of the country. Here, you could build a fence, but you couldn’t fence in the prairie. The adventurous part of her, the one Mama did her best to lecture right out of her, thrilled in the feel of the icy wind and violent snow.
“Uh-oh.” Minnie stood up, gripping the dashboard, to squint in the direction of the front porch. “That’s Mama. Do you think she will notice the mud?”
“How could she not?” Meredith drew poor snow-covered Sweetie to a stop and set the brake. Beneath the blanket, the mud thick on her coat and skirt had frozen, crackling as she moved. The good news was that snow had iced over it, so it was almost impossible to see the dried brown beneath.
Please, Lord, let Mama be understanding. She laid the reins over the snowy dash and squinted into the white haze. She saw nothing but shadows and no sign of handsome Mr. Connelly.
“Allow me.” His voice rolled through the storm. A gloved hand caught hers, and in the thick of the storm she could make out the cut of his wide shoulders and the hint of his square jaw.
When her hand settled against his broad palm and she felt the power there, awe thrilled her. He was a perilous man because he made her feel both safe and in jeopardy in the same breath. Simply allowing him to help her from the buggy was like taking a grand adventure. For a moment she floated, caught in midair as if defying gravity before she flew downward and her shoes touched solid ground. The veil of snow had thickened, obscuring him completely, and when his hand released hers she felt alone.
“Girls!” Mama’s shrill voice dwarfed the howling late-spring storm. She barreled into sight, well-wrapped against the cold, marching down the walkway like a general at battle. “I have been worried sick! Where have you been? And who are these people?”
Although it was hard to tell in the snowfall, Meredith could well imagine Mama’s curled lip. Mama did not approve of strangers, particularly strange men who were not in the same social class. Meredith winced, picking her way through the ice toward the lee of the house, where the snowfall thinned.
“We wanted to make sure your daughters arrived home safely.” Shane Connelly appeared, dappled with snow, safely seeing Minnie onto the pathway. He faced Henrietta Worthington as if he were not intimidated by four-star generals. “The storm has turned treacherous.”
“Indeed!” Mama disregarded him with a turn of her shoulder and hugged Minnie against her. “I have been half ill with worry. Where have you been?”
And today had started out so well, she thought. “We had a bit of trouble with the mud.”
“Did I not warn you? Don’t think I didn’t notice the mud caked all the way up to the dash, young lady. I knew it was a mistake to let you drive.” Mama grabbed Minnie protectively and pointed her toward the steps and the front door with a motherly push. “I suppose I owe these people some sort of thanks for seeing you home.”
How embarrassing. Meredith’s face burned. It was not respectful to correct her mother, but the argument sat on her tongue. A muscle ticked in Shane’s jaw, and
