by Loyd, Sandy
Libby eventually slowed to a walk to cool down the mare, honored to be sitting atop this special thoroughbred bearing the heart and the soul of a champion. The experience of riding this horse would stay with her for a lifetime.
Gus, having already dismounted, strode toward her with a big grin on his face. “Fortuna has never run that well against Hercules. What did you do to get her to run like that?” He grabbed the reins to steady the mare. “You, my boy, have a magical touch.”
Libby’s smile matched his. “It’s easy when you have such a good partner.” She then bent from the waist to nuzzle the horse and whispered, “Next time, we’ll beat that ol’ Hercules.” Fortuna bobbed her head several times, pulling out of Gus’s grasp. Her strut became more pronounced and Libby laughed in pure enjoyment.
Colin hurried up to them, his gaze trained on Jake. “Was that a record for Fortuna?”
Jake nodded. “By eight seconds and Hercules cut three seconds off his best time, Mr. Thorpe.”
“You were right, as usual.” Colin clapped Gus on the back, practically gloating. “I’m as impressed as you are.” Then he turned to Libby and said, “Can you ride like that all the time?”
Shrugging, Libby struggled to act nonchalant as warmth spread up her neck. Thankfully, he refocused on Gus, too busy talking to pay her reaction any mind. “This boy certainly has a knack for getting the best out of our mares. I’ve never seen anything like it. Next race, you let him ride Hercules against Zeus and see what happens. Then I want you to let him ride Fortuna against Asapurna. Do the same tomorrow. Mix it up a bit while I’m gone.” His disquieting gaze settled on her once more. “When I get back, I want to work with you. You have the makings of a good jockey.” He shook his head. “By God, I’ve never seen anything like that performance.”
Having never had such praise before, Libby didn’t know how to respond other than, “It’s not hard when you have such a good mount.”
“All the mounts in our stables are good—better than good.” Colin grunted. “No, you can’t dismiss your talent. You, my boy, take your mounts to the next level.” He took his watch out of his pocket and flipped the gold timepiece open. “Damn, it’s almost eight o’clock. I have to leave.” With resignation, he turned to Gus. “I’d love to stay and help, but I have to go or I’ll miss my train.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be back before you know it. The boy’ll be here when you do. He and I will start working together, then you can take over.”
Not if I complete my mission first, Libby thought, watching Colin head back the way he’d come. She needed to find the deed, and soon, so she could go home. His trip away gave her the perfect opportunity for snooping. Her time in 1874 was only temporary—the people only a means to an end. Becoming attached wasn’t an option when she had a life to return to.
Thoughts of returning home brought on a sudden twinge of sadness. This whole adventure was taking on a new dimension and made her wish for the best of both worlds. Ignoring the thrill of excitement humming through her body, she decided to stick to the basics. Work on getting the deed, then making it back to her own time without getting any more involved here in 1874 than she already was.
Without the distraction of one sexy stud farmer, Libby was able to focus more on racing.
The sun rose higher, along with the temperature.
Finally, Gus called it a day and said, “We need to check out the pregnant mares. I’m worried about two that are soon to foal.” He continued talking, telling her they were separated from the other horses and stabled when it was close to their due date. The farm had fifteen mares expecting and several were due any day. That by itself was an adventure. Gus showed her how to check out the mare, making sure the placement of the foal in the mare’s belly would present no problems for delivery. Even though she’d done this sort of thing in her own time, Libby was fascinated that other than not having the use of fancy X-ray machines, not much had changed in regard to the birthing of horses in over a hundred years.
“It’s important that the feet and head come out first, otherwise complications set in. It’s usually not a problem. But if it is, we can turn the foal if we catch it in time,” Gus said, walking into one of the pregnant mare’s stalls. Watching the nervous mare calm when Libby started stroking her, he grunted. “I think I’ll have you with me all the time on my daily checks.” Libby’s face lit in pleasure as he added, “We have a couple of foals already out in the pasture. They’re up in a matter of minutes and soon running all over the place.” After they finished with the last pregnant mare, he said, closing the stall door, “Come on, I’ll show you how we work on the young foals until they’re weaned to get them used to being handled.”
Libby followed him outside to one of the pastures.
As they neared the gate, he started speaking again. “When they’re old enough, the training becomes a little more intense. June is a busy time here on the farm. We have foals being born, foals being conceived, and yearlings being sold. The whole process can take two or three years and is ongoing. During it all, we’re always on the lookout for specific traits. Colin usually spots them. He has a good eye and knows what he wants. When we see certain traits in a foal or yearling, we pull ’em and then we work with that horse separately. If a colt or filly shows promise, he or she may join our small stable of thoroughbreds. So far we’ve averaged about one a year.”
Gus spent a couple of hours showing Libby what he did with the foals. He told her that when they finished here, they’d be working with the yearlings. Libby followed his actions. It wasn’t long before the foals were nuzzling her and following her around if she didn’t get too far away from their dam. Their playful, curious antics charmed her.
After they left the foals, they went to the house and ate lunch. It was well past one in the afternoon and Libby was starving.
When lunch was over they headed for another pasture. All of the land they’d hit during the course of the workday amazed Libby. Colin’s property went on forever and most of it was being used for one purpose or another.
Gus stopped at the gated fence, circling a vast area where the young horses grazed. “The yearlings stay out here most of the time.” He re-latched the gate once they were inside. “Most of these will be sold soon. As soon as they carry a saddle and can follow a lead, they’re ready to be sold. But rest assured, the minute they are gone, there are new yearlings to take their place.”
It didn’t take Libby long to get the knack of working with these wonderful, quick animals. With every new chore and every new horse, she began to fall a little more in love with the place. She loved all aspects of working on this farm. The work was hard and there was so much to learn, but she’d never had so much fun.
Gus came up to her just after she’d finally gotten a yearling named Jessie to take the bit into her mouth. “Time to quit.”
Surprised it was so late, she glanced up.
“You’ve earned your pay for today. Come on, Berta’ll have dinner ready soon.”
Libby stretched. Her muscles told her she’d put in a good day. Smiling, she asked, “What time is it?”
Gus chuckled. “A little past six. We’ve been at it almost twelve hours. A normal day for me. The other hands don’t work as long. Things will slow down eventually. Then I won’t be too busy to take Nathan fishing.”
Thinking of the boy, Libby remembered her promise. “You know, Gus, Nathan asked me if he could help with the horses. Have you ever thought of training him?”
“Ja. He would love it and probably be good at it. But he’s still too young. I don’t have the time to deal with his childishness.”
“What if I work with him a couple of hours every day? I’ll start with something simple—like working with the foals or yearlings. Surely he can do that?” Frisky for sure, but much easier than dealing with high-strung adult horses.
Gus thought about her offer for a long moment before nodding. “Ja, Nathan is eager to learn. Maybe it would work. But I have to warn you, he can
be a handful.”
What an understatement, Libby thought, laughing inwardly. “He can teach me to play checkers and I’ll teach him to work with yearlings.”
Grinning, Gus grunted. “It seems you know him well. He’s a natural with horses. I just haven’t found the time to spend with him.” He remained quiet for several more minutes. “You’re a godsend. You’ve been here for less than a week and already you’re making an impact.”
Libby thought about his comment, wondering if she could actually make a difference while on her quest. The idea provided a heady feeling for someone whose father and fiancé considered her an immature screw-up unable to hold a job. Since she had a few days before Colin would return, there was no reason not to spend some of that time with Nathan, passing on her skills.
As the two walked back to the caretaker’s house nestled behind the big house, she decided on a bigger issue that weighed heavily on her mind. Tonight would be a perfect time to snoop for Colin’s deed.
Chapter 9
When the westbound train pulled into the Shelbyville station, Colin boarded, having spent most of the hour-long horseback ride reflecting on his mares’ performances. After finding a seat, he stared out the window as his mind drifted once again to his new stable hand.
Unanswered questions about what he’d seen the night before still concerned him. He honest to God didn’t know what to believe. Yet because he needed someone with the boy’s gift, he was tempted to overlook the anomaly. After witnessing Libby shave seconds off his mares’ best times, he couldn’t dismiss what that meant. Weight was more important than they’d figured. The boy looked to be about a hundred pounds, maybe one hundred and ten, at least eighty pounds lighter than Gus and sixty lighter than himself.
It was difficult to gauge a real race, since most of the jockeys racing weighed less than a hundred and thirty pounds. So far he and Gus were able to train their horses on their own. Their heavier weight actually gave them a slight advantage. Up to a point. Early on, they’d decided to forgo the expense of employing a jockey on the farm until the need became more urgent.
As luck would have it, they no longer had the problem of finding a competent one. In fact, they were ahead of the game.
Colin had never seen a jockey just hop on and encourage that type of speed without working with either horse for days. Apparition or not, he would be a fool to expose the lad without knowing more. He had no doubts that when he returned, his stallions’ times will have improved under the boy’s touch. He was that good.
His thoughts then turned to his meeting later that day at the Galt House, where he’d booked a room. Besides the meeting, Colin had pressing business with his solicitor, and he’d planned on taking the time to scout out the site of the new track. He also wanted to talk to several businessmen to gain more information.
He was anxious to have the issue resolved one way or the other. After thinking about it, he realized why he was antsy. He was in a hurry to get back to his farm. Funny, he was in no hurry yesterday. But after seeing Libby on his mares, he couldn’t contain his budding excitement at the thought of working with him.
The fierce shrill of a train whistle interrupted his thoughts. Looking out the window, he was shocked to see the Louisville sign. Totally absorbed in his thoughts, he’d completely missed the other stops along the way.
The train lurched to a stop and he quickly disembarked. Avoiding horse-drawn wagons and pedestrians alike, he hurried up Main Street toward the livery stable to rent a horse for later that afternoon. The sun’s rays beat on his shoulders. Near midday, the temperature was climbing.
His mission accomplished, he started for Mr. Malcolm Webster’s office on Fourth and Main. His appointment wasn’t until the next morning, but if Malcolm could see him now, Colin would be able to tie up his business concerns and return to Shelbyville on the morning train.
Inside Malcolm’s office, he nodded to the clerk who sat at a desk near the door.
The young man immediately stood up. “Good morning, Mr. Thorpe,” he said in an anxious voice, wringing his hands. “How may I help you?”
Colin smiled to put him at ease. “Good morning, Mr. Pettibone. Is Mr. Webster in? I realize my appointment isn’t until tomorrow. I had some free time now and thought I could get my business out of the way.”
“I’m not sure,” he answered awkwardly, glancing a little nervously at his employer’s closed door. “Mr. Webster’s been in there for quite a while with his earlier appointment. He should be finished any time.” He took a deep breath as if trying to relax before saying, “Why don’t you have a seat and when he’s free, I’ll let him know you are here.”
“Thank you.” He started to sit then stood back up. “On second thought, if he comes out, let him know I’d like to change my appointment if I can. In the meantime, I’ll go check in at the hotel. That way I can drop my satchels off.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll tell him.” The clerk smiled in a more confident manner.
“I shouldn’t be too long.” Colin walked out of the office, impatient to conclude his business. Normally he relished a trip to bustling Louisville with all of the amenities—restaurants and shops were plentiful But today, he simply wanted to get going.
He swiftly walked the short distance to Second Street and the hotel’s entrance. After checking in and putting his bags in his room, he promptly made his way back to Webster’s office.
Mr. Pettibone stood at his approach. “Mr. Webster is free now.” He went to the closed door, knocked, then opened the door and stuck his head inside.
Malcolm, a stocky man a few inches shorter than Colin with reddish-brown hair and a ready smile, hurried out of the room and over to him. “Colin. Come on in.” He offered his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks for rearranging your schedule.”
He waved his thanks away. “You know I always have time for you. In fact, why don’t I take you to lunch?”
Colin shook his hand. Having used his services since moving into the area, the two had become friends. “Hello, Malcolm. Thanks for rearranging things. I would love lunch, but only if you let me buy.”
“I’d be honored.” Malcolm laughed. “Where would you like to go?”
“You know the restaurants better than I do.”
“There’s a new one I’ve been meaning to try up the street. Let’s go there, shall we?” He grabbed his jacket and led Colin out the door.
When seated, the two proceeded to order.
After being served, Malcolm started talking. “The news isn’t what we’d hoped. My audit’s confirmed that while your breeding farm is exceeding your expectations, your expenses are much higher than anticipated.” He handed him a file, going over the numbers in detail. “You’re still not making a profit.”
Colin closed the file and frowned. “I knew we had a few setbacks, but I wasn’t expecting it to be quite this bad.” Forcing himself to relax, he took a deep breath, thankful to have the boy, Libby, already working for him. This way he could circumvent the added expense of an experienced jockey. Money wasn’t an issue; Colin had been a wealthy man before he started his farm. It was a matter of personal pride. If his farm was profitable, then he could meet his father one-on-one—as an equal. If the farm didn’t pan out, his father would never know it. But Colin would know. His farm’s success was more than his livelihood. More than a dream. His measurement of being a man was gauged by that success.
Once business was out of the way, their conversation led to more personal interests.
Watching the waiter leave after serving them, Colin asked, “You’re going to the meeting later, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. The prospect of having another track in Louisville is all anyone’s talking about.” Malcolm sighed. “I only hope this one lasts.”
Colin nodded. Those backing the proposed racetrack felt the time was ripe to build, that it was exactly what the city needed. “Personally, I’m unsure of demand. Businesses are still having trouble bounci
ng back from the Panic of ’73.” The economy was sluggish, even if picking up in Louisville. Economic troubles could easily hamper their vision. In Colin’s opinion, the city’s enthusiasm for such a venue was crucial to success. “Clark’s presenting ideas to overcome the negatives at this meeting, so I’m remaining optimistic.”
As he picked up a fork to begin eating, he remembered that Malcolm had handled several of the sales when the old track went bankrupt and was sold off in lots. Though he’d made a lot of money on the sales, Malcolm had believed the social cost of losing the track seemed too high a price to pay for monetary gain. Colin felt the same way. Horse racing had been a way of life in Louisville from its early history. It was a damned shame the city had no track on which to enjoy the sport today.
“Our city needs this track,” Malcolm said. “Too much has happened in the past thirteen years to change our way of life.”
“The war all but destroyed horse racing in the South,” Colin said, thinking of all the ramifications of the War between the States. The South’s breeding centers had been raided during the war, and the taxes assessed after its end had crippled landowners who had anything left. The end of slavery also affected the economy in the Southern states. Colin’s family hadn’t owned slaves—they didn’t believe in owning another individual. With a solid industrial basis before 1861, Louisville had only a minimal dependence on slaves compared to the rest of the state, but horse racing still died out in the city. Saratoga, in New York, became the new mecca of the sport and American thoroughbred racing shifted north after the war.
“The business community from here to Lexington is interested,” Malcolm said, warming to his subject. “Breeders, shopkeepers, landowners, and the railroad owners are curious about the new proposed track. Be prepared for a packed meeting.”
By the time the check came, they’d discussed the topic thoroughly.
Colin paid and both men rose from the table. Once outside, they started back the way they’d come.
At Malcolm’s two-story office building, Malcolm turned to Colin and shook his hand. “Save a spot for me at the meeting.” He turned to go into his office, but stopped and said over his shoulder. “Oh, by the by, I’m to tell you that if I saw you that Caroline Hillier wants me to convey her best wishes. She’s back in town. You remember her? Seems her husband died recently and she’s now a widow. Better watch it, old boy. She’s heard about Abby’s death and I think she’s on the prowl. You were always in her sights.”