Free Patchwork Bride by Jillian Hart Page A

excited?”
    “Nervous. Marriage is a big change. But I’m excited, too.” Fiona reached out, taking Meredith’s hand. “You are off in a daze again. Are you still worried about your homework?”
    “I’m always worried about my schoolwork.” At least that was true, and a good way to avoid admitting her most cherished goal had not been on the forefront of her mind. Shane had.
    Right now he was battling the road and weather conditions right along with Sweetie, his shoulders as unbowed as his spirit as he guided her on the long trip home. His work was harder because Papa would not let his girls be seen in the serviceable but plain sled with the right runners for this weather, a vehicle made for hauling hay to the animals.
    I wish I were a simple country girl, she thought, because then Shane would still like her and she would not feel as if she stuck out here, among her friends and the place she loved.
    “Meredith.” Lila, keeping her voice low, opened her bag and pulled out a comb. She began to fluff at her sleek cinnamon-brown hair. “Love your dress. Is that the one your mother just finished?”
    “No one can embroider like Mama.” She felt self-conscious of the fluffs and the flourishes and the rose embroidery in matching silk thread that adorned the bottom tier of the skirt. It was lovely, but it didn’t fit the image of the one-room schoolteacher she wished to be—the woman she wanted to be. She set her book bag on the desk, which she shared with Scarlet, and gestured toward the empty seat where the rest of their friends should be. “I guess both Kate and Earlee are having trouble making it.”
    “Kate has a long way to travel on worse roads,” Scarlet agreed. “I notice none of Earlee’s sisters and brothers are here. They have to walk all the way in.”
    “I wonder how Earlee is?” Lila asked, leaving unsaid what they were all thinking. Her lot in life was the hardest among them. If she was on the road right nowattempting to reach town, then perhaps she would be meeting Shane on the way.
    Shane. Even the thought of him weighed on her. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, she told herself, but she knew that it was a lie.
    It mattered, and much more than she could explain.
     
    Meredith Worthington was a piece of work. Shane blinked hard against the snowflakes diving at his face and eyes, swiped them away with the cuff of his coat sleeve and tightened his trip on the trace. Not even the weather of the morning’s hardship could drive her from his mind.
    The morning’s traffic to town had broken the crusted ice and churned up doughy mud that grabbed hold of his boots with every step. A mean wind sliced through his layered garments, cutting clean through to his bone marrow. A sky cold as steel and as light as snow made the world one ball of white, except for the mud tracking ahead of them.
    Sweetie nickered and stopped in her traces, her harness jingling. The mare shook her head, snow flying off her mane, as she surveyed the road ahead. She remembered the exact spot and direction she had become stuck the day before. Nervous, she didn’t want to take another step forward. He patted her neck, hoping to give her comfort.
    “You’re scared of that happening again, but I’m with you this time.” He kept confidence in his voice so the mare would hear it. “Trust me, girl.”
    The mare nickered, leaning into his touch. Herbrown eyes and curled lashes searched his, tentative and worried. She must have been frightened, held captive by the buggy she could not budge. She was trying to let him know it.
    “We’ll keep to high ground as best we can,” he promised, putting all his understanding in his voice and gentle pressure on the bridle, waiting until she was ready before he whistled and led her through the muck. Snow crunched beneath one boot as he took to the shoulder, eyed a deep ditch, and felt thick mud ooze beneath his tread. Sweetie quivered with nerves as she picked up her pace, half in a