Free Patchwork Bride by Jillian Hart Page B

panic as she clamored and slipped in the icy and slick mixture.
    “That’s a good girl,” he praised, stepping fast to keep up with her. Something grabbed hold of his toe and with a sucking sound, his boot slipped right off. His stockinged foot squished in the freezing muck.
    “Whoa,” he called out, holding on, ignoring the stunning cold of his exposed toes as each step he took made his sock wetter and icier.
    Great. Just what he needed. Once he had the mare safe on firmer ground, he set the buggy’s brake and splashed back to tug his boot free. Bending over, vulnerable in the road, awareness snaked down the back of his neck. Unarmed and defenseless, he whirled in the road, sensing he was no longer alone.

Chapter Six
    “T hat almost happened to me!” A little boy who couldn’t be more than six or seven broke through the veil of white. A knit blue cap crowned his head and matching mittens covered his hands, where he held on to a small bundle wrapped against the weather—schoolbooks, Shane guessed. The family was on their way to school. The boy skidded to a stop in the mud. “What are you gonna do about your sock, mister?”
    “Probably take it off before I put my foot in my boot.” He liked kids, and this one with a single tooth missing and a dimple in his chin looked as likable as can be. “You’re mighty late for school.”
    “We all are.”
    We? Shane glanced as far as the snowfall would allow. Sweetie nickered, sensing what he could not see. A few seconds later shadows began to appear in the whiteness. A row of children stair-stepped year by year, a family of nine brothers and sisters, mostly sisters.
    “Well, gotta go.” The boy grinned up at him, wiggled a tooth with his tongue that was getting looseand plunged ahead into the mud, choosing the deepest puddle to wade through with more splashes than a rampaging buffalo could make.
    “Edward! How many times do I have to tell you?” A slightly amused voice rose above the whispering wind and tapping snowflakes. “Stay out of the mud.”
    “But I couldn’t help it, Earlee!” The little guy called over his shoulder as he splashed along, not repentant in the least. The storm closed around him until he was a shadow and then nothing at all.
    “Pardon us, please,” a young lady, tall and willowy, halted next to him. Other children said a simple country howdy as they passed. The oldest one of the bunch squinted at him carefully. Blond curls peeked out from beneath her knit cap. “That’s Meredith’s family’s horse and buggy. You must be Eli’s replacement.”
    “Lucky me.” He didn’t believe in luck, he believed in the Lord, but it was the only comeback he could think of. Eli was the fortunate one, blessed enough to be well away from Meredith Worthington.
    “I’m Earlee Mills, one of Meredith’s friends. You aren’t from around here, are you?” She knocked a thick pile of snow off her hat and curly bangs, studying him with clear gray eyes.
    “Nope.” He took a step back, boot in hand, sizing up this friend of Meredith.
    She was obviously no debutante, he decided, noticing the old wool coat fraying at the hem and the simple calico dress, unadorned by any lace or ribbon beneath the coat’s snowy hem. Although mud obscured most of her shoes, what he could see of them looked worn and aged, as if those shoes had been handed down morethan once, as did the cap and mittens she wore, the red yarn fading in places.
    “I don’t suppose it’s a good sign that you have Sweetie. Meredith’s first day of driving must not have turned out too well.” The other children had disappeared, but this young lady lingered, concern wreathing her oval face. “Oh, dear. Poor Meredith. Driving meant so much to her.”
    “So I’ve heard.” This was Meredith’s friend? Something didn’t add up. Wouldn’t Miss Hoity-Toity want a more socially prominent friend? “You must live just up the road?”
    “Quite a ways. Our farm is almost a mile beyond