can do.” Her parents said that an appropriate match was the most important thing a girl could accomplish, and sadly, her mother was bent on finding her a suitable husband.
Forget suitable and appropriate. She wanted true love in her life, the kind that surpassed reason, a riot in the heart and soul, an eternal flame of regard and feeling that outshone all else. That would not be easy to find.
The cool wind gusted, reminding her she was about as far away from her dream as a girl could get. She swiped the curl out of her eyes again. Those rain clouds definitely appeared foreboding. She may as well concentrate on the goals she could attain.
She braced her hands on the buggy’s muddy wheel well, ignored the muck that squished between her fingers and called out for Sweetie to get up.
“We are never going to budge it. Our horse isn’t strong enough. We ought to unhitch Sweetie and ride her home. We can get Papa and Eli, and they can come pull out the buggy.” Minnie grinned, proud of herself for solving their problem.
“Do you want to give Mama heart failure?” The girl, she feared, was a lost cause. “Our mother would never recover if her very proper daughters rode the countryside perched on the back of a horse for all to see.”
The old gray mare gave another valiant try. The wheels rocked just enough to give a girl hope, but they could not escape the bonds of mud. Exasperated, she blew the lock of hair out of her eyes again. “Minnie! Why aren’t you helping? Do you want to stand here all afternoon?”
“Look, I made a smiling face.” The girl grinned ear to ear, pleased with the imprint of eyes, nose and a curving mouth her shoes had made. “I don’t recognize those horses. Do you reckon that’s the new deputy? He looks in charge.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The two horse and riders.” Minnie pointed down the road.
Riders? Meredith peered over her shoulder, squinting through the weak shafts of disappearing sunlight. Sure enough, two riders ambled close on horseback, but her gaze found and stayed on only one of them. He wore a black Stetson, a black coat, denims and boots. Dark hair tumbled over his high forehead to frame blue eyes. Awareness crashed through her hard enough to wobble her knees. It was like she knew the man, as if she had known him somewhere before.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He tipped his hat, amusement curling up the corners of his mouth. “Looks like you have a problem.”
A problem. Meredith opened her mouth, but nothing happened. No words, not a sound, not even air. Her entire head had gone blank, as if she had forgotten every word in the entire English language. She straightened, the mud sucking at her shoes and clinging to her skirts, and swiped at that curl with one hand.
“Yeah, we’re stuck!” Minnie spoke up.
“So I see,” he drawled, just short of mocking, as he dismounted, his boots landing with a splatter in the shallow end of the mud hole. “April is going out like a lion. We’ve been battling hard rains all over the territory.”
“Where you are from?” They weren’t locals. Angel Falls was a small enough town that she would have seen him before. His was a face she would never forget. Was he passing through or had he come to work on the new railroad grade up north?
“I’m from Virginia.” Blue eyes twinkled handsomely as he plunged closer, disregarding the mud sticking to his boots. He gestured to the much older man still mounted behind him. “Braden is from Texas.”
“You’re both far from home.” A strange skitter of sensation traveled down her nape. One of warning, or of something else? It didn’t feel comfortable and she took a step back. Something felt out of place. Should she refuse his help?
He stalked closer, impressively strong. Even wearing a coat, he gave an impression of power and confidence. There was no mistaking he was a man who worked hard for his living. He had an edge to him. It was in the day’s growth shadowing his granite jaw and the sense of worldliness he carried easily on his wide shoulders.
“I’m Shane Connelly.” He tipped his black hat, revealing more of his face. What struck her most was the chiseled high cheekbones that gave him character. With his dark blue eyes, straight no-nonsense nose and hard slash of a mouth, he could have been a dime-book hero come to life. A down-on-his-luck man of principle who was capable of defeating any bad guy.
There she went, being far too fanciful again. The trouble was that she read too much. Was it her fault that men were better in books than in real life? He was obviously trouble on two feet, and she could well imagine what Mama would say if she were to learn she was accepting such a man’s help.
“I’m Minnie.” Her little sister spoke up, clearly interested by this turn of events. “Can you get our buggy out?”
“I plan to try.” He swaggered over to inspect the front wheels and as he bent, his coat shifted, revealing an inlaid silver belt buckle and a gun.
She gulped. He was armed, a rarity for those riding these peaceful country roads. Proof the man was not as civilized as seemed.
“You managed to get the wheels wedged in good.” He straightened, shooting her a breezy grin bracketed by dimples. “It might take some muscle to get this out. Good thing for you Braden and I came along.”
“I suppose so.” She took a step back, her pulse thudding in her ears as he approached. My, he was certainly tall and imposing. She bumped into the buggy’s fender. She wasn’t entirely sure she should let them stay. “Thank you for going to the trouble.”
“Oh, we don’t mind.” He went toward her like a predator scenting prey, his Stetson slanted at a jaunty angle, his chiseled jaw rock-solid. He didn’t blink. It didn’t seem as if he breathed.
“But I do.” If she was going to be a woman of independence, then she ought to solve the problem herself. After all, she intended to be driving her own buggy working for the Upriver School District this summer, God willing. She could not depend on a rider happening along to help her then, could she? No. Besides, she didn’t like the look of these two strangers. With their trail dust and unshaven jaws, they could be anyone—drifters, thieves, escaped convicts from the territorial prison.
Fine, they did not look that disreputable, but there was something amiss about Shane Connelly. “I’m not used to being beholden to strangers.”
“Then you might want to keep the buggy wheels up on the grass and out of the mud hole next time.”
“And risk turning over in the ditch?” As if she hadn’t thought of that for herself. She didn’t remember asking for his advice or for the way he bent to inspect the rigging. “I know how to drive.”
“I see that.” A friendly smile flirted along with his dimples. A hint of kindness, not meant to make her feel chastised or defensive.
She wanted to be defensive for some peculiar reason. “For your information, my cousin was blinded and her parents killed when their buggy overturned. I was trying to be prudent.”
“Then the mud was the right decision.” Good humor beamed across his granite face, softening the lean planes and hard angles and turning his eyes an arresting midnight blue.
“You have a smear on your face.”
“I do?”
