Luckily, there was a snow shovel on the porch. Conner pulled on his boots, coat, and gloves over the long underwear he slept in, and managed to clear the steps and a spot for Bucket to do his business. Then he called the dog inside, lit a fire in the stove, and got dressed again, in warm layers. He would need to shovel a path to the barn so the horses could be fed and cared for. Rush would be along later, but with Travis gone, the early-morning chores were Conner’s job.

Forty minutes later, with the path shoveled and the horses taken care of, he was back in the house. He was warming himself by the potbellied stove when he heard his cell phone, which he’d left in the bedroom.

He raced down the hall to answer it, hoping it was Megan calling. But no, the name on the caller ID was Travis’s.

“Have you got the TV on?” Travis sounded agitated.

“I haven’t tried it yet,” Conner said. “You know how the snow messes with the satellite dish. Why? Has something happened?”

Travis sighed. “Maggie’s beside herself. The snow drifted onto a low section of the church roof. The roof caved in from the weight. Now we don’t have a place for the wedding.”

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Megan saw video shots of the ruined church that morning, after her father turned on the TV. Her first thought was Oh no! Poor Maggie! First the accident, and now this!

The wedding invitation had been waiting when Megan returned from Nashville. Maggie and Travis were set to be married five days from now in the church—the only church in town, the church that was now unusable. The entire building had been cordoned off, Christmas decorations and all, with yards of ugly yellow crime-scene tape. TV cameras showed the beautiful old chapel, with its hand-carved pews and pulpit, buried in snow and debris. It wasn’t just Maggie’s wedding that had been spoiled. Branding Iron had lost a treasure, a place for services, weddings, funerals, and community support.

Maggie and Travis could still get married—at home, in the courthouse, or somewhere in Cottonwood Springs. But there was no place that would accommodate the guests they’d invited to the wedding, and no place where Maggie, a vision in her white gown and floating veil, could make that long-dreamed-of walk down the aisle to marry the man she loved.

The thought of it made Megan want to cry. She weighed the idea of calling Maggie, but she had nothing to offer except sympathy, and the last thing her friend would want now was a ringing phone.

She could call Conner . . . but that was out of the question. She and Conner were history. He had played her for a fool, and she had too much pride to beg for his attention, like poor Ronda May.