Page 33 of A Forgotten Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #5)

A chill slipped down Lilly Murdock’s collar.

It wouldn’t be long now until the blizzard hit.

She could feel its icy fingers already gripping the town of Calvin.

She grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow heaped with hay and pushed it along the central aisle of the stable.

Bandit, a scruffy ranch dog with a patchwork coat of brown, white, and black that some cowboy drifter had left behind, followed on her heels.

The almanac had predicted the snowstorm. Pa would’ve said he felt it coming in his bones.

She missed his dear voice.

She’d been up at dawn, hauling in bags of feed and filling the water barrels.

With eight rental horses to look after and another five boarded for the town’s residents, she was “riding with a full saddlebag.” Another thing Pa used to say.

Lilly took in a deep breath against the familiar tightness in her chest. Almost a year now since Pa passed.

It didn’t feel right that he was gone. Sometimes she would look up, expecting to find him mucking out a stall or sitting at the table repairing a bridle in their small living quarters.

As she passed by one of the middle stalls, a familiar soft nicker called to her.

There was work to be done, but she stopped anyway, letting go of the wheelbarrow’s weight outside the stall of her mare, Fancy. Unhooking the simple latch, Lilly swung open the three-plank stall door by its diagonal cross beam and slipped inside.

Fancy was getting ready to be a mama for the very first time.

“You called, Miss Fancy?” Lilly let her gaze rake the horse’s bulging belly.

The mare lifted her head for a soothing stroke between her eyes, then affectionately pressed her muzzle against Lilly’s shoulder, her warm breath tickling Lilly’s ear.

Fancy lipped and tugged at Lilly’s braid.

“Stop that,” but the words had no heat as Lilly pushed the horse’s snout away gently.

The mare had been tugging Lilly’s braid since they were both young fillies.

“You are worse than a schoolboy!” Lilly scolded.

She inspected the mare, running her hand down her neck in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

She placed a palm on the mare’s belly, her gaze flicking to the hashmarks on the stall wall opposite.

Each one represented a day in Fancy’s gestation.

Her beloved Fancy was almost a week late delivering her first foal.

A sharp rap sounded, and Lilly quickly slipped from the stall, Bandit padding behind her toward the big barn door that faced the street, already sliding open on its rail.

She met a body wrapped in a coat, hat pulled low, as the door yanked at her arm and snow sprayed into her eyes.

Danna O’Grady, Calvin’s marshal, was there with her hat pulled low to shield her face and the collar of her coat pulled up. The marshal’s chestnut mare snorted and shook her head, raining the accumulating snow across Lilly’s boots as she pulled the door closed behind them.

Danna stomped snow from her boots and brushed wet flakes from the shoulders of her long duster and the legs of her wool trousers.Lilly admired the marshal’s no-nonsense attire but couldn’t quite bring herself to wear men’s clothing.

“Mornin’!” Danna pushed her hat back a bit. “Snow’s comin’ on quick.”

“Need to board this girl?” Lilly asked. The horse lipped the pocket where Lilly kept a stash of sugar cubes. She nudged the soft nose away. “Aren’t you going home for Christmas?”

The marshal lived on a homestead out of town with her husband and two small daughters.

“With a storm like this, I may be needed in town—holiday or not. Especially after last year.”

Lilly remembered the dust-up when a local rancher had tried to take revenge on Nick McGraw, shooting at him right on the street.

Danna tied off her horse in the aisle. “Expecting a train this morning. With half the hotel closed for repairs, we’re gonna be hard pressed to find lodging for the passengers to hole up and wait out the storm. You may end up with an extra horse or two.”

Lilly’s neck flushed hot at the mention of the hotel. She set her jaw against the unhappy memories, refusing to let her expression change.

“The few boarding houses Calvin has will fill up quickly with this storm and the holiday,” Danna said, unbuttoning a few buttons of her coat and loosening her scarf.

“I reckon.” A thought struck Lilly. “It’s almost Christmas, and there’s no room in the Calvin inns.”

One side of Danna’s lips inched up. She scanned the livery, her eyes catching on a few empty stalls, then returning to her face. “You do remember where Mary and Joseph ended up?”

“I think the lesson is about making room in our hearts for the Savior.” Lilly didn’t want to think about opening her heart. It was still too raw. She would be alone this Christmas—the first one without Pa.

Danna didn’t seem in any hurry to head back out into the snow and wind.

“You gonna be all right?” Danna tipped her head toward the lean-to Lilly used as her quarters. “You set to weather this storm?”

Lilly nodded. “I’ve got plenty of water, feed, and hay.”

Danna sent her a pointed glance. “Wasn’t asking about the animals. I know you will take good care of them. I was asking about you. You got enough food stocked for a couple of days?”

Lilly pictured the barren shelves above the dry sink.

“I’ll be fine.” This time the hot prickle in her eyes surprised her. It had been a long time since someone asked after her.“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, walking to the mare and moving to take off the girl’s saddle.

“You’ve already got a couple of inches of snow on the roof.” Danna motioned to Lilly’s quarters again. “Want me to get someone to climb up there and sweep it off?”

“I’ll get to it once the storm passes.”

“If it piles up too much, you might get a leak—or worse.”

“I know.”

The list of things she’d been putting off for later just kept getting longer. At least she knew she had wood. She had bartered the use of a horse and wagon with one of the locals for cut wood for the stove. But she hadn’t filled her wood bin yet. Another thing to add to the list.

Lilly moved to the horse’s bridle and began unbuckling it. She tucked the horse into the nearest free stall and put the wooden bars in place. “I’ll bring you back some water, Chestnut.”

Danna raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t know my horse had acquired a name.”

Lilly flushed slightly. “I can’t seem to help myself from giving them a nickname if they don’t have one.”

Finally, Danna headed toward the door. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m certain.”

She’d learned independence from Pa. Or rather, living with Pa. She knew if she worked hard enough, she wouldn’t need help.

Except there was a part of her lately that felt like she was being buried alive in a snowbank.

Danna turned back before she slipped through the door. “I’ll check back when I can.”

“It’s not necessary, Marshal. I’m used to being on my own.”

Danna nodded her farewell and stepped out into the wind and snow.

Lilly settled Chestnut with feed and water. Just as she was getting back into her chores, impatient thumps pounded against the door.

She left the wheelbarrow a few feet behind her and opened the door. A wiry man wearing a wrinkled black wool suit over a white shirt and a snow-dusted bowler hat stood before her.

“Ma’am,” he drawled. He seemed to look through her, peering over her shoulder. “I’d like to speak to your man about renting a horse.”

“The livery is not renting horses today. Not with the storm coming.” She was used to strangers assuming there must be a man somewhere. She never outright lied. And tried not to let it bother her.

Bandit padded over and sat near her right boot, ears perked, eyes alert.

“The storm is why I need to get on the road immediately,” he spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. “Go fetch your husband,”he ordered.

Lilly bristled but drew in a steadying breath, mustering a professional tone.

“We’re closed for business. I suggest you find a room in town.”

He scowled, his mustache creeping up like a caterpillar. “I aim to rent a horse,” he said tightly.

“I said no.”

His expression twisted into a sneer. “A girl like you probably can’t tell a filly from a stallion. Does your man know you’re turning away good customers?”

He moved forward as if he’d pass by her to enter the livery.

Bandit surged to his feet, growling.

The man startled and stepped back over the threshold.

Lilly acted on instinct, slipping behind the wheelbarrow, grabbing the handles, and rolling it forward across the threshold to create a barrier between them.

The wind whipped around her while the smell of manure swirled up from the wheelbarrow in a pungent cloud.Lilly tipped the wheelbarrow just enough to cause several clods of manure to fall on the man’s boots.

“Oh, forgive me.” Lilly tried for a bit of her father’s north Georgian drawl. “This heavy wheelbarrow can be a bit unwieldy.”

Bandit barked but faded back into the barn.

The man’s fingers curled in tight fists, his mustache now an angry slash above his tightly pressed lips.

Unease prickled at the back of her neck. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement.

“Is there a problem, Lilly?” A deep baritone cut through the snowy silence.

Jakob Anderson.

Recognition flared, followed quickly by an involuntary wave of relief.

The man turned to Jakob even as Lilly caught sight of Jakob’s wagon and pair of horses through the falling snow. When had he arrived? The wind must have masked the sounds of horses’ hooves and jingling harnesses.

Bundled up in a tan coat and a black wool hat, covered in a layer of wet snow, he looked more like a large snowman than a successful farmer.

He’d grown a beard, and it too was white with snow.

His vivid blue eyes narrowed as they assessed the situation before edging his towering six-foot-four frame between Lilly and the angry man.

The man offered Jakob a strained smile.