Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,80
finish school. That I need to stay home and learn how to be a wife.” She sounded wooden to her ears, but at least her emotions did not show.
“Oh, Fee. I’m sorry.” Earlee understood. “Being able to graduate meant so much to you.”
“Yes, but there are other things to consider.” Duty. What was right. What was merely being selfish. Once, she had been sure about those things. But her heart was involved now; she could not say Ian’s dreams were more important than hers. She could not say her dreams were expendable, either.
“Is it Ian?”
“It’s complicated.” Fiona caught sight of a familiar face across the street. The sheriff must be keeping an eye on her for Da. Dismayed, she turned her back to him. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Ma will be waiting for me.”
“I have to make haste, too. Where are you heading to next? I’ll meet you there, and we can hurry home together. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks. I really need a friend right now.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Those pesky emotions were troubling her again.
“I will always be here for you, Fee. You can count on me, right?”
“I know.” What would she do without her friends? She let Earlee hug her one more time. With the closing verse of “O Come All Ye Faithful” accompanying them, Earlee broke off toward the dry-goods store. With one last wave goodbye, Fiona disappeared into the bank.
His thigh bone felt as if it had been hit by dynamite. He slid from Flannigan’s broad back in the shadow of the barn, doing his level best to ignore the burning pain. Teeth gritted, he hauled the door open and led the horse inside. The day had been long, the work hard, but he was thankful for it. He had not expected to find a job so easily.
“I’m sorry it was a hard walk home, boy.” He patted Flannigan’s neck. The gelding lipped his hand, tired too. “I’ll give you a good rubdown and treat you to some of Duchess’s oats. You like warm mash?”
Horse ears flicked forward, pricked and eager. Answer enough.
“That’s a good boy.” He swiped off the snow gathered on the animal’s mane and flanks. “I will make your bed up nice and thick for a good night’s sleep. We must get up and do the same thing tomorrow.”
A meow cried out from the beam overhead. Riley poked his nose over his gate. Duchess nickered low in her throat from some comfortable place inside her stall. The cow, chewing her cud, placidly leaned against her gate to see what all was going on. A welcoming committee of sorts and fine it was, but short one important person.
“It’s late, sorry to bother you all.” He half expected to see Fiona lean down from the haymow with bits of grass in her hair, or to scowl at him for disturbing her in her secluded spot in that far stall. Aye, he knew it was late, she would most likely be abed, but that didn’t stop his hope. He wanted to speak with her.
You should bring her here. Her advice about Nana had preoccupied him the day through. From what you have told me, she could never be disappointed in you. She loves you, and she is family. That is what matters.
Aye, family was what mattered to him. He had always remained fiercely loyal to the grandparents who had raised him when his own father had refused. Now was his time to take care of them, to repay them for all the wise lessons in horses and life he had learned at his grandfather’s side and for the gentler teachings of his strong, ever kind nana. He unbuckled Flannigan’s halter, removing the bit with care.
“And how am I to do that?” He voiced his concern to the horse, who swiveled his ears as if to listen intently. “If I do not marry Fiona, then I have failed, good and truly. I cannot bring my mares out here if I have no land for them. I cannot make my grandmother happy in her last days without knowing their legacy lives on. If I make the lass marry me, then I have my chance to rebuild. I know I can do it. I am not afraid of the work it will take.”
Flannigan must have sensed his turmoil, because the big horse leaned into him, pressing his face against Ian’s chest. An intimate, comforting gesture. Touched