After Christmas, when winter held Maple Notch in its grasp, most people stayed at home if they had a choice, but not Clara. Too much had happened since the raid on St. Albans for her to take the time off. The robbers had been taken to Hyde Park to await trial. Lewis remained free, although he would stand trial with the others. His lawyer held hopes that he would receive a reduced sentence for his role in capturing the gang and returning the money. Lewis wasn’t asking for any special treatment. He said he had disobeyed the law of God and the law of the land and deserved punishment. Those words alone made Clara want to weep. Aside from those tears, she was happier than she had been for a long time.
Between Lewis’s problems and Christmas festivities, Clara had to rush to prepare the Bailey Mansion for the first class of the Maple Notch Seminary for Females. Two of the older girls from the local school would join two boarders sent her way by her mentor, Miss Featherton, on the first of February. Daniel had proved easy to work with. His suggestions for her plans proved sensible in most cases; she’d had to argue her point on a few others.
Daniel. He was the main reason she couldn’t stop smiling and didn’t feel the cold, even when snow fell like it did today. Since the confrontation at Whitson’s farm, he had spent every spare minute with her. She told herself it was only because they had to conclude the business about the house, nothing more.
Her traitorous heart didn’t always agree, however, reminding her of the time he had kissed the top of her head, or the tender way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice as they explored his grandparents’ house.
“You’re looking fine.”
At the sound of Lewis’s deep voice, Clara whirled around, causing her skirt to swish in a wide circle. She had fashioned two new dresses with wider skirts, still avoiding the ridiculous hoops. They swirled in unexpected directions when she turned abruptly, but oh, they made her feel so feminine.
“Don’t forget these.” He reached for the ermine muff he had given her for Christmas. “They’re perfect with your coat.” He removed the red cloak from the coat tree and draped it over her shoulders. “Have fun today.”
Someone knocked, and Lewis opened the door to Daniel. Fashionable ladies might make him wait, but not Clara. She saw the sleigh on the road in front of her house, and she giggled like a schoolgirl. What could be better than a sleigh ride in the twilight of a winter snowfall with a man—especially this man?
“I take it you are ready.” Daniel bowed deeply. The dark-blue overcoat looked magnificent on his manly figure. He went bareheaded, and his ears looked red.
“Your head,” Clara said. “You’ll catch cold.”
“I have a hat on the sleigh. But I don’t care for knitted caps.” He shook his head, and some of his hair fell over his ears. “That’s why God gave us hair, after all.”
They said good-bye to Lewis. Clara slipped as she minced her way across the icy expanse of her yard, but Daniel held her tight, a solid, sturdy man. No one he cared for would ever come to harm.
He helped her into her seat and tucked a blanket around her. “And here’s a warming brick for your feet.” He put something warm underneath her boots. A moment later, he joined her on the sleigh.
A matched pair of white horses, almost as white as the falling snow, pulled the sleigh, and the bells on their harness jingled as they trotted down the road. The runners glided over the icy surface that had proved so hazardous to her feet. They skimmed down the road as easily as a duck swimming in water. The snow lent an air of newness to everything around them.
They reached the town green in a matter of minutes. Pastor Beaton came out of the church. “Beautiful day for a sleigh ride, isn’t it?”
Daniel saluted him without answering. His ears had turned so red Clara feared they might suffer frostbite. She wiggled her left hand out of her muff and reached for the nearest ear, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger.
Daniel jerked. “Watch out! That tickles!”
She laughed. “Then wear your hat.” Without waiting for his answer, she took the knitted cap she found on the seat and pulled it over the crown of his head until it covered his ears.
He took them around the common twice, each turn of the sleigh causing her to slide a little closer to him. The third time around, he headed the horses down Bridge Road. “I helped Hiram roll snow across the bridge yesterday.” He wiggled his eyebrows, which snow crystals had turned to a hoary white. “I’m warning you, I’ll take off my hat as soon as we stop.”
She laughed. “Why are we stopping on the bridge?” It is called The Courting Bridge. Did she dare hope?
He turned his gaze on her, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’ll see.”
A few minutes later, the bridge came into view. The falling snow had turned it into a winter fairytale, a place wondrous enough for the Eskimos she’d read about in faraway Alaska. She wished she could capture the bright red walls, the white snow mounded on the roof like a European castle, in paint.
Daniel slowed the horses, and they plodded onto the bridge. They call them kissing bridges, because if you drive the team slow enough, a fellow can kiss a girl twice before you get across. That bit of folklore jumped into Clara’s mind, and she felt her cheeks heat, probably turning as red as Daniel’s ears.
But Daniel made no move to kiss her and, in fact, let the horses come to a complete standstill in the middle of the bridge. “Remember where we are?” White teeth showed between his dark mustache and beard, grown over the winter months. He tugged the hat off his head.
She resisted the obvious—Tuttle Bridge—and looked around her. To her left, a few feet from where Daniel held the reins to the horses, she saw a scarred wooden plank. Her heartbeat sped.
He seemed to sense the moment she recognized the spot, jumping down before helping her out of the sleigh. He clasped one of her hands in his and walked with her to the plank. Once there, he let go of her hand to pull a knife from his pocket. “I think it’s time we add our own bit to Maple Notch history.” He nodded at the plank. “If you’re willing?”
One look in his eyes told her that her traitorous heart had guessed right, after all. “As long as we do it together.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing it any other way. How about—right there?” He found a blank spot to the right of his parents’ initials.
She placed her right hand over his larger one and felt him draw the knife down in a solid stroke, the left side of the D. A T soon followed, then the plus sign. He lifted his hand away and placed the knife in her palm. “Do you want to finish?”
Now his hand covered hers as her fingers drew the uncertain curve of the C and then an F into the wood. She closed the knife but didn’t move. Instead she leaned back into the breadth of Daniel’s chest.
“Clara.” His voice caressed her name. “After the war, I never thought God would have a woman for me.”
She shifted, wanting to turn, to look him in the face, but he held her firmly in place.
“But then I met you again. I ran into you everywhere I turned, it seemed. It didn’t take long for this stubborn fool to realize I loved you more than anything in life, except for my Lord and Savior.” His shoulders shook, but his voice held firm. “I’m not much of a catch. I’m missing half an arm, and I don’t know if I want to be constable of Maple Notch for all my life or where else God might lead me. But there is no one who will love you more. Tell me, Clara, are you willing to join your life with mine as we have joined our initials?”
This time when she turned in his arms, he didn’t stop her. She brought her hand to where it rested on the stump of Daniel’s left elbow. “This”—she increased the pressure ever so slightly—”makes no difference to me. You are more of a man than anyone else I know. As long as you don’t mind an old maid who wears glasses.”
“I hope her students—and her daughters—grow up to be just like her.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Is that a yes?”
She looked into his hazel eyes, fiery now with need and desire. Daniel freed her hair from its hairnet, running his fingers through the long tresses. “I love you, Clara Farley.” He shouted it at the top of his lungs.
“Oh, Daniel.” She traced her finger over his beard. “I love you, too.”
Their lips joined in a kiss sweet enough to last a lifetime.