Jillian Hart - Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set

“I don’t know.” Mercy reached for George’s coat. “What color do you think?”

“Maybe brown?” George scrunched his face up, thinking on that for a bit. He took the garment she shook open for him and stabbed one arm into the sleeve, lost in thought. “There’s a lot of brown horses, so yeah, he’ll probably be brown. You see ’em all the time. Maybe most horses are brown.”

“What if he’s as white as the snow?” Seeing his collar was folded over onto itself, she pulled it out and smoothed it down. “What if he’s spotted?”

“Then he’d be both white and brown.” George gazed out the window, lost in his favorite game. “Unless his spots are black.”

“Or red,” she added, unhooking her coat from its peg on the wall.

“Or palomino, or roan or gray,” George continued. “Oh, I just can’t wait for my horse.”

“I know, kid. It won’t be much longer now.” She slipped into her coat, unable to resist glancing down at the street below.

Great snowdrifts ran down one side of the street like a miniature mountain range, and because it was Sunday no one was out shoveling the boardwalks. A few vehicles rolled by, pulled by horses struggling through the new accumulation as far from the miniature mountains as they could get. As she watched a bay team pull a sleigh past the storefront below, she realized she didn’t even know what kind of horse or vehicle Cole drove. In their correspondence she hadn’t thought to ask if he would provide her with a horse and vehicle. Hmm. More things to discuss later, she thought.

“Ma! Look!” George nearly shrieked, both hands splayed across the glass. “That’s the best horse I’ve ever seen. Look. He’s as white as the snow.”

“And he’s stopping in front of the store.” She leaned in, too, feeling the cool glass against her cheek. Why her heart kicked up a crazy rhythm, she couldn’t say. Something within her strained, as if longing for the first glimpse of Cole climbing down from the sleigh.

He wasn’t there. A red-capped Amelia rocked her head back to gaze up at them, grinned when she saw them and waved with a mittened hand. Mercy waved back, fighting disappointment as Eberta set down the reins and hopped from the sleigh.

“C’mon, George,” she said gently, strangely bereft. “We don’t want to keep the horse standing in that cold.”

“No, it’s not good for him,” he said, heading toward the door at a run.

All the way down the stairs and through the silent, echoing store, she tried to remember what Cole had written about his church life. Had he ever said he attended Sunday service? Funny, she realized as she caught sight of Eberta through the glass panes of the shop’s door, busily unlocking it. She couldn’t recall if he’d mentioned actually being a churchgoer himself. In his second letter to her, he’d mentioned how Amelia had commented on being the only girl in church without a mother, and Mercy had simply assumed he attended Sunday services.

Now, she could see she’d been wrong. The door opened, an icy blast of raw, wintry air whooshed in, and George bolted onto the boardwalk, eyes focused on the horse.

“Hi, Miss Eberta,” he said on his way by. “Is that your horse, or is it my new pa’s?”

“It’s Cole’s,” she answered fondly, as if completely understanding the boy’s love of horses. “Good morning, Mercy. I trust you slept well.”

“I was very comfortable.” That was the truth. She’d never slept in such a fine bed. “Thank you. I know it was you who went to the trouble.”

“Oh, pshaw, it wasn’t much.” Pleased, Eberta relocked the door with a jangling of her keys. “Amelia wanted it nice and it’s hard to say no to that girl. If you’re going to be her ma, it’s a skill you’ll have to learn.”

“I do have some practice saying no to my son,” she answered breezily, sharing a smile with the older lady. They headed down the steps together, sinking into snow midway up their calves.

“I can see it would be hard to say no to that one, too.” Eberta nodded in approval. “Someone has to take a firm hand with that girl. Not to scare you off before the wedding.”

“That would be impossible,” Mercy confessed, coming to a standstill in the deep snow, mesmerized by the sight of George gazing raptly at the majestic white horse, too afraid to approach the animal.

“He’s the prettiest one I’ve ever seen,” he breathed, wide-eyed and awestruck. “Is he really gonna be our horse to drive?”

“When you’re with your pa,” Eberta answered. “It’s his driving horse. He bought you a fine mare, gentle as can be, Mercy. So you can get around and take the children where they need to be going.”

“My, he bought a horse?” Mercy swallowed. She couldn’t say why that gesture touched her. The comfortably furnished rooms, and the knowledge they would be just as comfortable in his home, were enough. “He didn’t need to go to that trouble. Horses are expensive.”

“You’re marrying a man who can afford it.” Eberta climbed onto the front seat of the sleigh. “Heaven knows that man saves every penny he can get his hands on. He’s been needing a wife to spend his money for him for years.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to spend his money.” In fact, she clearly remembered last night and his rule about the budget. “I’m used to being careful. My job didn’t pay terribly, but it didn’t pay well.”

“And all that’s behind you. Get in. George, are you going to stare at the horse or come to church with us?”

Mercy’s attention was stolen by the shivering girl, trying to keep her teeth from chattering as she held out one end of the thick flannel-lined buffalo robe. Huddling under it, Amelia shook harder when cold air slipped beneath it.

Not wanting the girl to get any more frozen, Mercy slipped in beside her. “George, come sit beside me.”

“I can’t believe that’s gonna be our horse, too.” George clamored out of the snow, nearly stumbling because he couldn’t take his eyes off the gelding. He dropped beside her with a fulfilled, happy sigh. “No one’s ever had a horse as nice as that one.”

“You’ll have to ask Cole if you can pet him. And what his name is.” She shook the robe over her son, tucking him in snugly. Her teeth began chattering, too.

“It’s Frosty,” Amelia volunteered as the sleigh jerked to a start and Frosty was off, bounding on his long legs through the sheltered part of the street, as gleaming white as the snow.

“Wow,” George breathed as the animal gained momentum. “We’re in a real sleigh, Ma. Being pulled by a real horse.”

“Haven’t you been in a sleigh before?” Amelia asked curiously, a few strands of reddish-blond hair escaping her knit cap to curl around her adorable face.

“We owned work horses for the farm long ago,” Mercy said quietly, her chest tightening at the memory. Some of the daylight seemed to drain from the sky, and she lifted her chin, determined not to let the disappointments of the past shadow this new future. “We put runners on the wagon box in the winter. That was before my husband passed on, when George was too little to remember. Those were our last horses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Amelia seemed flustered, as if that hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting.

Leave the past where it belongs, she reminded herself. “So that’s why this is so exciting for us. To be whisked to church instead of walking through the snow. And we’ve never been in finer company.”

“I can’t wait for everyone to see you.” Amelia bumped Mercy’s elbow gently, a show of connection. “Look, we’re already turning down Second.”

“I can see the steeple!” George called out.

“Will your father be meeting us?” Mercy asked quietly as they drove along, straining to search through the crowd of tethered horses and vehicles along the street in front of the church. It looked as if men gathered there, talking amiably. Although she already knew Cole wasn’t one of them.