Now if only he could become more comfortable with the horses. He’d made excuses on the way to town, saying he didn’t want to overwork the horse by having him carry two, and so he’d walked while Celia rode. But upon leaving the livery, he figured it was high time he at least give it a try. The short distance was far less intimidating than the miles that stretched between town and the farm. Still, he’d spent the ride over here from the livery holding on to the reins so hard that his hands had begun to tingle. It had likely been ten years since he’d been on horseback, and even then, he’d only ridden just enough to get the basics. Thankfully, that knowledge hadn’t left him entirely.
He tied both horses to a post outside and then strode to the door. Inside, he found Celia and her sister sitting with empty teacups in front of the fireplace.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wendler,” Faith said stiffly. It might have bothered him, except for the fact that Celia’s sweet, shy smile commanded all his attention.
“Good afternoon. Celia, I have a surprise for you.” He grinned, hardly able to contain his anticipation.
Her eyes grew wide, and she stood. “Faith, should I—?”
“No, no,” Mrs. Thornton interrupted. “I’ll clean up. You get on back home, and I’ll see you at services on Sunday.”
Celia quickly put on her coat and hat and was already waiting by the door as Jack bid her sister a quick goodbye. Outside, Celia took two steps away from the door into the somewhat muddy main street before stopping short. “Whose horse is that? No one else came into the office while I was visiting.”
Jack stood with his hands on his hips, beaming at the mare. “She’s ours.”
Celia’s mouth fell open just a little. “But how . . .?”
“I struck a good bargain with McFarland. This old girl belonged to one of the unmarried men who perished in the blizzard. Apparently he lived in town and had a couple of horses, both of which he kept at the livery. After his passing, there was no one to pay for this surviving horse’s upkeep. McFarland was eager to get her off his hands, provided I bring him a few more bales of hay.”
Celia looked from him to the horse and back again.
“I know we don’t have much hay to spare, but I figured we had just enough to get this horse.”
Celia ran a gloved hand down the mare’s neck. “She’s beautiful.” She turned to Jack, and before he knew it, she’d wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.”
He stood there, dumbfounded. He hoped she’d be happy with his purchase, but he never expected this.
She straightened quickly, pink flooding her cheeks, and the cold air dashed into the spaces around his waist that she left behind. It almost hurt, so much that he wished he could embrace her.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I love horses. I was distraught when I learned that Liberty had died with Ned. He was such a good horse, very brave and gentle.” She scratched the mare’s nose, and the horse snuffled. “Does she have a name?”
“She’s called Tiny, but we could name her something else if you’d like.” Tiny eyed him, as if she knew he wasn’t entirely comfortable around her.
But Celia was a natural, scratching the horse in just the right places. “No, I like Tiny. She’s absolutely perfect, Jack. May I ride her home?”
Jack nodded, thankful he didn’t need to attempt to ride an entirely different horse when he’d just barely gotten used to George the gelding. He assisted Celia with mounting Tiny before getting back onto the gelding, which he managed to do without looking the fool.
They were barely a half mile outside of town when Celia finally looked up from the mare she’d been petting and talking to the entire way so far. He felt her assessing him before he turned to look at her. She watched him as if he had something out of place.
“What is it?” he asked, easing his aching hand off the reins only long enough to run it down his coat.
“You haven’t ridden much at all, have you?” she asked with a slight upturn to her lips, as if she were trying hard not to smile.
“There wasn’t much call for it in New York,” he said, feeling a bit defensive. “I walked, or I took a hansom cab.”
“You’re doing quite well with it now.”
It was a compliment, Jack realized, and it set him at ease. “I had a good talk with McFarland at the livery about how much and what to feed the animals.”
Celia nodded, although it seemed she was still subduing a smile. Likely because she already knew what he’d only just learned. He could have asked her. He knew that. It was his pride that had driven him to Last Chance to speak with the livery owner. Everything here had been so overwhelming, so new, and as ridiculous as it might have been, sometimes he felt the only thing he was holding on to was his pride.
“I also met a few other townsfolk. I helped a Mrs. Graham with her new saddle. She was very gracious and said to congratulate you on your wedding,” he said.
“She’s a good friend,” Celia replied. “Thank you for helping her. She lost her husband also.”
Jack figured as much. The woman had seemed distracted. “Might I ask about your experience? In the blizzard, I mean. Pastor Collins told me it came on from nowhere—twice—but he then droned on and on about the wrath of God coming to roost in the town. But that’s all I know.”
“I told you about most of the crops failing because of the heat this summer.” Celia rubbed Tiny’s
