Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,37

not trust him to me, then.” She did not know exactly why she feared the man. Perhaps it was his small smile that didn’t look genuine, or the jovial way Da tried to wave her closer.

“Come on, lass. You’re sweet on the critters. Come take care of this gentleman’s horse so we can get started with our game.” Da nodded to her, as if everything was going to be all right. He wasn’t even angry with her for the fallen bucket or the fact that she’d been dawdling when it came to fetching water for his supper.

Warning enough that something was wrong. She could not make her feet move.

“Don’t make me come get you.” The warning came subtly and with a cold promise. “I’ll be makin’ sure you regret it if I do.”

“Yes, Da.” She left the buckets where they lay and tried to uproot her shoes from the earth. Her pulse rattled like dried leaves in a wind and she shuffled forward. She felt afraid, although she couldn’t say exactly why.

“Nice to meet you, miss.” The stranger tipped his hat to her, as a gentleman might. He looked dapper with his tailored clothes and long duster. But there was something in his cold liquid eyes, something she didn’t understand.

“Sir.” Her curtsy was shaky under her father’s watchful eye. The wind swirled against her as if to grab her away, and the departing train’s whistle mocked her with what might have been. She gripped the reins her father held out for her and turned on her heels.

It wasn’t a terrible thing—surely this would go as before. The man would stay to supper and then speak with her father. She still had time. Relieved, she clucked to the horse and he followed her obligingly. She was panicking for nothing. It wasn’t as if the minister was coming. Wedding preparations took time. She swiped the snow from her eyes with her free hand. If this really was a man wanting to marry her, she could take her money to school with her tomorrow morning and walk to the depot. Her parents would think she was at school. And chances were this man wouldn’t be interested in a wife less than half his age. What were her folks thinking? It just went to show how desperate they were.

She wrestled the barn door open and ignored the flickering anxiety in her midsection. She had to stay calm. Rational, instead of acting on fears that weren’t real. She led the horse into the aisle. Flannigan neighed out a warning, for this was his barn. Riley reached out as far as his stall would allow, straining against the groaning boards. The cow, chewing her cud, seemed unimpressed with the newcomer. By the time Mally let out a meow from the overhead rafter and reached down to try to bat at her, the knot in her stomach had eased.

See? Everything was fine. Likely as not, this evening would turn out much like Ian’s visit. The instant Da mentioned that money would be part of the bargain, the old guy would head out the door so fast he would be nothing more than a blur.

The hinges creaked, and the inside of the barn went dark. It took her a moment to realize someone had shut the door. Flannigan trumpeted in protest. The horse she held tugged at his bits. They were no longer alone.

“Hello?” She dropped the reins and felt her way to the first main pole. She groped for the match tin, bumping the lantern. It rocked on its nail with a scraping sound, like fingernails on a blackboard.

“I thought we oughta get better acquainted.” A stranger’s voice lifted out of the shadows. Footsteps padded toward her on the hard-packed earth. His voice sounded closer. “I hear you’re lookin’ for a man.”

“You heard wrong.” She found the edges of the match tin and lifted the lid. “My father is looking for money.”

“A pretty penny, too, but then you are a very pretty girl.” His shadow hulked out of the blackness, within arm’s reach.

Tiny fissures of alarm snaked through her. She struck the match, chasing away the darkness. Sure enough, the black-horse guy was within hand-shaking distance. She touched the flame to the lantern’s wick. “You aren’t really interested in me, are you? It’s the farm. Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m a lonely fellow, and lookin’ to settle down. I got my own place east of here.”

“Lonely?” She blew out the match, wishing she could extinguish her bad

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