would always know her.
She turned toward him as if she saw him. Her sightless eyes looked at him but did not see him. He stopped in the middle of the boardwalk. “How did you know it was me?”
“I’d know your gait anywhere. Do you see my uncle? He’s at the horse sale.” She sounded hopeful.
She looked that way, too. She might not notice how easily her emotions played on her lovely face. He might not want to think about how easy it was for him to read her feelings. It always had been for him.
Aching at all the things that had changed between them, he leaned over the hitching post to peer down the alley. Robert Worthington in his fancy tailored suit stood out in the crowd of cowboys and ranchers. “He’s right ahead, but he’s looking at a half-crazed mare. Doesn’t he have any horse know-how at all?”
“My poor uncle means well, but he’s city born and bred. He’s spent his life reading books on wranglers and cowboys, so he has a lot of fictitious notions in his head.” Fondness shaped her soft face. “It’s been a lifelong dream of his to be a great horse trainer. The poor man has no notion of ranching or real experience handling horses.”
“Where does he hail from?”
“St. Louis.”
“Your parents came from here,” he remembered.
“Yes. When they passed away and I was so injured, Henrietta came straightaway. She took charge of everything until Robert could settle things enough at his work to come help. He took over Papa’s interest in the bank, started managing my investments, which I had inherited, and finally sold my family home.”
Her family home? It had been a mansion and not a home, but he didn’t comment on that. To her, it must have been jammed full of memories. “Was it too painful to live there, afterward?”
“Yes. You would know that about me.” There was no mistaking the sorrow shadowing her face. “Robert moved his whole family to Montana Territory. He didn’t want to take me away from this country where I grew up.”
“You had to have been gravely injured.”
“Yes, at first, but then I began to recover. God spared me my life, and I am thankful. I have to believe He has some purpose for my life yet.”
“I’m sure of that, Noelle.” He sounded so sincere, it was impossible not to believe him, impossible not to be touched by that. He shook his head once and cleared his throat. “Well, now, this mare looks much more suitable for a lady’s driving horse.”
“Yes, that’s Miss Bradshaw. She’s very sensible.”
“So I see.” His step drummed closer. “Miss Bradshaw?”
“Henrietta doesn’t believe in calling a horse by his or her first name. She prefers a more formal relationship.”
“Best not tell her all the nights I slept beside my horse.”
“Best not.” Noelle couldn’t think of more to say; at least more that she wanted to. She wanted to be unaffected, beyond the pain of her schoolgirl’s broken heart and above holding on to old anger. She’d healed from his betrayal and moved on, truly. But there, beneath the lid she kept on her heart was something more devastating than anger. She didn’t know how to fill the silence between them.
And what a silence it was. Five long years of silence. She didn’t know how to break it. She was fairly sure she didn’t want to. It wasn’t easy holding back the memories of how wrong she’d been about him, about love.
“McKaslin!” Robert’s bass boomed cheerfully above the noise and motion on the street. His boots drummed quickly as if he were in grand spirits. “Glad to see you’re still here. I was just telling my wife how well you handled that stallion. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It was nothing. I’ve been around horses all my life, is all.” A note of humility deepened his baritone.
Noelle knew he was being modest; Thad had a way with horses and an understanding of them she’d always thought was a divine blessing.
Not that it was her business anymore. She carefully
She turned toward him as if she saw him. Her sightless eyes looked at him but did not see him. He stopped in the middle of the boardwalk. “How did you know it was me?”
“I’d know your gait anywhere. Do you see my uncle? He’s at the horse sale.” She sounded hopeful.
She looked that way, too. She might not notice how easily her emotions played on her lovely face. He might not want to think about how easy it was for him to read her feelings. It always had been for him.
Aching at all the things that had changed between them, he leaned over the hitching post to peer down the alley. Robert Worthington in his fancy tailored suit stood out in the crowd of cowboys and ranchers. “He’s right ahead, but he’s looking at a half-crazed mare. Doesn’t he have any horse know-how at all?”
“My poor uncle means well, but he’s city born and bred. He’s spent his life reading books on wranglers and cowboys, so he has a lot of fictitious notions in his head.” Fondness shaped her soft face. “It’s been a lifelong dream of his to be a great horse trainer. The poor man has no notion of ranching or real experience handling horses.”
“Where does he hail from?”
“St. Louis.”
“Your parents came from here,” he remembered.
“Yes. When they passed away and I was so injured, Henrietta came straightaway. She took charge of everything until Robert could settle things enough at his work to come help. He took over Papa’s interest in the bank, started managing my investments, which I had inherited, and finally sold my family home.”
Her family home? It had been a mansion and not a home, but he didn’t comment on that. To her, it must have been jammed full of memories. “Was it too painful to live there, afterward?”
“Yes. You would know that about me.” There was no mistaking the sorrow shadowing her face. “Robert moved his whole family to Montana Territory. He didn’t want to take me away from this country where I grew up.”
“You had to have been gravely injured.”
“Yes, at first, but then I began to recover. God spared me my life, and I am thankful. I have to believe He has some purpose for my life yet.”
“I’m sure of that, Noelle.” He sounded so sincere, it was impossible not to believe him, impossible not to be touched by that. He shook his head once and cleared his throat. “Well, now, this mare looks much more suitable for a lady’s driving horse.”
“Yes, that’s Miss Bradshaw. She’s very sensible.”
“So I see.” His step drummed closer. “Miss Bradshaw?”
“Henrietta doesn’t believe in calling a horse by his or her first name. She prefers a more formal relationship.”
“Best not tell her all the nights I slept beside my horse.”
“Best not.” Noelle couldn’t think of more to say; at least more that she wanted to. She wanted to be unaffected, beyond the pain of her schoolgirl’s broken heart and above holding on to old anger. She’d healed from his betrayal and moved on, truly. But there, beneath the lid she kept on her heart was something more devastating than anger. She didn’t know how to fill the silence between them.
And what a silence it was. Five long years of silence. She didn’t know how to break it. She was fairly sure she didn’t want to. It wasn’t easy holding back the memories of how wrong she’d been about him, about love.
“McKaslin!” Robert’s bass boomed cheerfully above the noise and motion on the street. His boots drummed quickly as if he were in grand spirits. “Glad to see you’re still here. I was just telling my wife how well you handled that stallion. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It was nothing. I’ve been around horses all my life, is all.” A note of humility deepened his baritone.
Noelle knew he was being modest; Thad had a way with horses and an understanding of them she’d always thought was a divine blessing.
Not that it was her business anymore. She carefully
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