Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,2

catch him?

“Flannigan!”

The horse hesitated, his tail up and his black mane fluttering in the wind. Proud and free, the gelding tossed his head as if troubled, torn between galloping over to her and his own freedom.

She knew just how he felt, exactly how attractive the notion of fleeing could be. Please don’t do it, she begged with all her might, but it made no difference. The gelding rocked back on his hooves and pivoted, running like a racehorse on the last stretch. She took off after him, wishing she could do the same, her skirts fluttering in the winter wind.

Ian McPherson sat up straighter on the hard wooden edge of the homemade sled’s seat, trying to get a better look at the young woman in the fields. Flecks of white stung his eyes and cheeks and the storm closed in, turning serious, as if to hide her from his sight. He caught flashes of red skirt ruffles beneath the modest dove-gray coat and a mane of thick black curls flying behind her. “Who is that running through the snow?”

“If I tell you the truth, you will have a mind to get back on that train.” O’Rourke was a somber man and his hard face turned grim. “We couldn’t beat common sense into that girl. Don’t think we didn’t try.”

Ian gulped, knowing his shock had to show on his face. He could find no civil response as he turned his attention back to the young lady who hiked her skirts up to her knees, showing a flash of flannel long johns before the storm and the rolling prairie stole her from view. “She’s got some speed. Can’t say I have seen a woman run that fast before.”

“Likely her neglect is the reason the gelding got out. That girl hasn’t got a lick of sense, but she is a good worker. My wife and I made sure of it. That’s what a man needs in a helpmate. She will be useful. No need to worry about that.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Useful. Not what he wanted in a wife. He didn’t want a wife. He had more than enough responsibility resting on his shoulders.

Aye, coming here was not the wisest decision he had ever made. But what other choice did he have? Creditors had taken his grandparents’ house and land, and he still felt sick in his gut at being unable to stop it. Gaining a wife when he was near to penniless was not a good solution, even if his nana thought so. A better solution would be to find his own wife sometime in the future, even though, being a shy man, courting did not come easily to him.

“Don’t make up your mind on her just yet.” O’Rourke hit the gelding’s flank fairly hard with his hand whip. The animal leaped forward, lathering with fear. “You come sit down to eat with us and look her over real good.”

Look her over? The father spoke as if they were headed to a horse sale. Ian strained to catch another glimpse of her, but saw only gray prairie and white snow. What would the girl look like up close and face-to-face? Probably homely and pocked, considering her parents were desperate to marry her off.

“Remember, you gave us your word.” O’Rourke spit tobacco juice into the snow on his side of the sled. “I don’t cotton to men who go back on their word.”

“I only said I would come meet the girl. I made no promises.” Although he did have hopes of his own. He couldn’t explain why his eyes hungrily searched for her. Maybe it was because of the pretty picture she made, like a piece from a poem, an untamed horse and the curly haired innocent chasing him. It was his imagination at work again, for he was happier in his thoughts than anywhere. Hers was an image he would pen down later tonight when he was alone with his notebook.

“Your grandfather promised.” O’Rourke was like a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t relent. “I knew this would happen first time you caught sight of her. Fiona is no beauty, that’s for sure, but I’m strapped. Times are hard for me and my wife. We can’t keep feedin’ and clothin’ her and we don’t want to. It’s high time she was married and your family and me, we had this arranged before you both was born.”

He had heard it all before. Nearly the same words his grandmother had told him over and over