Saratoga Sunrise

by Christine Wenger

It was another beautiful day at Saratoga Springs and thankfully a bit cooler. The gentle breeze of the morning had become stronger, and Sara took the cap off her head to let her hair blow free. She hoped that no one would see her dressed in jockey clothes with her hair so unruly or she'd be ruined.

  "Seawind, you're going to like the grass at the edge

  of the brook. There is a bubbling spring at the bend of the

  creek. Maybe I'll try a soak this morning."

  The horse nodded as if he understood her words and she

  chatted on, telling him about her problem with Monty.

  "Aunt Trixie and I are suppose to meet with Chef Morris soon and plan the engagement party. I have to tell Daddy that I

  just can't go through with it. I don't have a lot of courage where Daddy is concerned, Seawind. I guess I don't have a lot of courage as far as some things are concerned."

  The big thoroughbred stopped walking and looked at her accusingly.

  "All right, I'll tell him. Honest I will."

  Seawind nodded again and pawed the ground.

  Sara dismounted and patted his silken neck. "You're a

  good friend." She took his saddle blanket and bridle off. "Now look over there." She pointed at the tree-lined creek below, and Seawind followed her finger. "Nice new grass and some sweet flowers for you."

  He whinnied, and trotted to the water's edge. Sara stood a moment watching the smooth motion of the powerful horse. Before he dropped his head to graze at the tall, tender grass at the side of the creek, he turned back and looked at Sara. She waved to him, indicating that she was all right.

  She walked to the edge of the sparkling water, spread out the horse's blanket, sat down and removed her boots–no, they were Toady's boots.

  "Oooo, that feels good!"

  Sara sat there for a while, just enjoying the day, wiggling her toes and watching her horse graze. She was happy to be away, to be by herself. But soon the water beckoned.

  "Do I dare try the spring?" She debated with herself, but the bubbling waters called to her. She took off her silk jacket and socks, deciding that the silk knickers and her chemise would dry fast in the breeze. "Seawind, don't go far. Stay right here." The tender green grass felt cool under her feet as she walked to the tree bridge over the spring.

  She looked around at the beautiful setting. Two white

  swans were gliding gracefully through the water as well as a family of ducks. They hurried off to a safe distance downstream when they saw her coming. Clumsily, she climbed up onto the moss-covered fallen log and stood up. Taking two tentative steps, she told herself not to look down at the swirling, effervescent water below or she would get dizzy, as she had before. Like a tightrope walker, she moved across the log until she was right over the middle of the water.

  Now what?

  She looked down, then remembered she shouldn't. The water was hypnotic. She swayed, immediately shutting her eyes. Standing there for the longest time working up the courage to get in, she finally took a deep breath and jumped.

  Splash!

  The warm water engulfed her, and when she surfaced, the

  breeze against her wet skin sent shivers right through

  to her bones. She giggled. What a wonderful feeling! She

  felt weightless, buoyant. She floated on her back, then

  turned and floated on her stomach and kicked her legs. Dunking her head, she let the bubbles tickle her face.

  "Is that a mermaid in my favorite swimming spot?"

  Startled, she turned around and saw Jack staring down at her from the bank. He looked very masculine in his beige trousers and striped shirt with his hair blowing about his face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as usual. Tanned arms were crossed in front of him, and he was feigning as if mad, but his twinkling blue eyes gave him away.

  Why did her heart race every time she looked at him?

  She remembered that she was displeased about something that

  had to do with him, but it all escaped her as she gazed into his eyes.

  "Sometimes I wish I were a mermaid. It's easier

  for me to swim than walk."

  "Yes, but if you were a mermaid, then you wouldn't be able to ride." Jack looked in the direction of her horse, now drinking at the edge of the creek. "You brought Seawind?"

  Sara nodded. "I thought he would like it here."

  "He sure does, but the swans and ducks don't seem to

  like him being here. They're making a lot of noise. By

  the way, how did you plan on getting out of there?"

  "I guess I didn't think that far ahead."

  "I'll help you out when you're ready."

  "You'll get wet."

  "I'll dry," he said, sitting down on a large rock on the bank and resting his feet on a lower rock. Bending over, he pulled out a long blade of grass and clamped it between his teeth. "Take all the time you need. I like to watch mermaids."

  Sara ducked under the water and then came back up. Pushing

  back her hair, she treaded water and decided it was a good time to apologize for last night. It was only fair, only right.

  "I'm really sorry about what happened at the ball, Jack."

  "What part of last night? The part where I punched your fiancé?"

  She giggled. "No. That was wonderful. Just wonderful," she felt even more weightless as she remembered Montague Fordice's bloody nose. She new it was terribly wrong of her to feel so happy over the fight, but Montague deserved Jack's punches.

  "Then why are you apologizing? Because your father wouldn't listen to either of us?"

  She skimmmed the frothy bubbles with her hands. "Yes." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Is he always like that?"

  "Sometimes when he makes up his mind, there's just no changing it, no matter what you say."

  "Obviously."

  "And Montague...I simply cannot tolerate that man."

  Jack looked at her incredulously. "Than why the hell did you agree to marry him?"

  “Don’t swear Mr. Summers.”

  Jack bowed. “I apologize for my language, Sara.”

  Sara nodded. "I had my reasons for agreeing to marry Mr. Fordice."

  "Any of them make any sense?"

  "They did at the time," she admitted.

  "And they don't now?" he persisted.

  "Can we please change the subject? I don't want to discuss him."

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Fine with me, mermaid." He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.

  Sara watched mesmerized. "Wh-What are you doing?"

  "I'm going to join you."

  "No. You can't! It's simply not done!"

  He slipped out of his pants and shoes. Soon he stood before her with only a red pair of ankle-length drawers on. Her gaze was drawn to the four buttons which tried to close the straining material at the front opening, then to his broad hairless chest which was sculpted with muscles. She clamped her eyes shut.

  Before she could capture her senses and protest his boldness further, she heard a splash, and soon he was surfacing beside her.

  He laughed. "That feels good!" Standing, he pushed his wet hair back from his face, but then sobered when he looked at her. His eyes darkened, like the sky before a thunderstorm.

  She followed his eyes to the object of his attention. Her bosom! Her chemise clung sinfully to her skin, its transparency providing no coverage. She crossed her arms over her breasts, to hide them from his view, and squatted further in the water until only her head was above the surface.

  "Don't hide yourself, Sara. You're the most beautiful mermaid I've ever seen."

  "Mr. Summers...please!"

  "Please what? Please kiss you?"

  Her heart skipped a beat and she shuddered in spite of the warm water. "I-I should say not!"

  "You probably should say that, but what do you really want?"

  Sara hesitated, then mustered courage from somewhere and boldly stared back. She knew without a doubt what she wanted. "I do want
you to kiss me."

  "I'm happy to oblige, mermaid."

  # # #

  He pulled her slight form against him, hugging her close. He knew he was not being a gentleman, but there was something about Sara that made him want to protect her, to keep her close, to keep her safe.

  But who would keep her safe from him?

  Groaning, he pulled back, shifting her swiftly and subtly until she sat across his lap. The bubbles swirled around them. He couldn't stop himself from tasting her lips, and this time he deepened the kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth for him with a sweet moan of surrender, and his tongue slid against hers.

  Her eyes flew open, then she closed them again, a sigh escaping her throat as her head tilted back. His lips trailed down her throat. She gasped, and he felt her tremble.

  He tasted the water on her warm skin, watched as her hair floated like silk against his arm.

  "Oh, ahhh...Jack. This is supposed to be bad, but it feels so good." Her breathing was ragged and so was his.

  He felt the gash on her leg. What a pity that such beauty had to be marred.

  Despair and sadness cut through him again like a knife through his heart, like it did the first time he saw it. What a shame that this woman had to go through life limping in pain. What a shame that no one believed his father when he said he didn't butcher Tempest Wind. What a shame that Bond Peterson believed an arrogant dandy like Montague Fordice over him.

  The pain she must have suffered tore at his insides, made him want to hold her close.

  Removing his hand from her leg, he shook his head and looked away.

  Sara looked at him sharply and studied his face. He saw the beginning of a storm in her violet eyes.

  "Does my leg disgust you so?" she said softly.

  It took him a while to realize what she meant. However, before he could tell her that he was disgusted with himself, not her, she was out of his arms and swimming toward Seawind who was grazing downstream.

  She was going to get hurt if she kept swimming.

  "Sara! Stop. There are boulders underwater. Stop!" She either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him. He dove and swam furiously toward her. He had to stop her before she hit her head or broke her hand.

  He finally reached her, and yanked her toward him by the waistband of her drawers. She shrieked and began pounding him, just as she had the other time when they both fell into this very spring.

  "Stop it, Sara. I'm only trying to help you."

  Their shouting disturbed the swans and ducks near Seawind. The swan waved its wings in the horse's face and honked.

  Seawind flung his head up in surprise, and took off at a gallop across the field.

  "Seawind!" Sara screamed.

  "Sara, let me explain. I wasn't disgusted by your scars,

  I-"

  "Please, no more. Seawind is more important than my petty concerns. Can you help me out so I can get to my horse? Please?"

  He nodded, wondering what was wrong with the Petersons that they wouldn't listen to any explanation?

  "Of course I'll help you, but may I just carry you? It'll save time."

  How it must have wounded her pride to agree when she was so mad at him, but it was either her horse or her pride. She chose her horse.

  "Yes." It was a weak effort, and he could barely hear it.

  He lifted her, and proceeded up the rocks, noticing with chagrin that she tried not to have any part of her body touch his, which was next to impossible.

  He reached the top of the bank and put her down. It was then that he noticed Seawind in the distance, limping toward them, his head hung.

  Jack knew the second Sara saw her horse.

  "Oh, no! Oh, merciful heavens, no!"

  Her arms spread wide, Sara ran toward the animal awkwardly, stumbling several times. Seawind plodded toward her in obvious pain.

  It was the saddest sight Jack had ever witnessed.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sara hurried toward Seawind, letting the tears flow freely down her face. She cried for the magnificent colt who now limped as she did, and she cried for the sharp pain shooting up her leg that hindered her from reaching her horse as quickly as she wanted.

  Sara willed her bad leg to cooperate, just for a while longer, just until she could reach her horse and see what was wrong. She couldn't bear to see him hurt or suffering. She felt his pain. She knew his pain.

  She collapsed in a heap just before she reached him. Jack called her name. He was right behind her, helping her sit up on the wild flower-covered ground, cradling her in his arms.

  "Merciful heavens, are you all right?"

  She heard concern in his voice, but she decided it was probably because he didn't want two invalids on his hands. She cared nothing for herself. It was her horse she was concerned about.

  "I have to find out what's wrong with Seawind," she said, rubbing her arms from the chill. She felt a dull ache on the bruises from her encounter with Montague the night before, and she had further aggravated one when she fell on it just now.

  She shivered again from her wet clothes and from the knowledge that something was terribly, horribly wrong with her horse.

  "I'll take a look at him. Here. He handed her his dry shirt that he must have snatched up from the bank of the spring. Put it on. You're cold."

  He helped her with the shirt. "That idiot Fordice," she heard him mutter, no doubt noticing the purple-yellow stains on her arm. She caught the scent of sunshine and spice on his shirt and felt warmer already.

  "Let's see what's wrong with this big lummox...eh, boy?" Jack stood and rubbed Seawind's nose.

  Sara watched as he gently ran his hand over the leg that Seawind was favoring. He checked the horse's knee, fetlock, pastern, coronet, then back again to the knee.

  "You seem fine, boy, other than some scratches on your fetlock. Let's look at your hoof."

  Jack skillfully bent Seawind's knee and checked his hoof. "I see one of the problems, boy. You picked up a stone." When he couldn't get the stone out, he produced a pocketknife, and dug out the offending item. "You should be all right in a little while." He rubbed the horse's sleek neck, and Seawind nudged him.

  He looked at the horse's other legs and under his belly. "Lots of scratches and some swelling. He must have ran through some burdock," he said to Sara. There's some on his tail."

  "Is he going to be all right?" Sara's heart pounded. She couldn't bear the thought of her horse becoming lame.

  "He's going to be fine. Don't worry. I'd like to get him back to the stable as soon as possible, get him cleaned up. I have a special salve for his cuts. There is a lot of swelling on the metacarpal, that's a ligament about here." He pointed half way between Seawind's knee and fetlock. "See?"

  "I know where the metacarpal is," Sara said impatiently. "But is he's going to be all right?"

  "He'll be fine after a while. He's pretty strong, but I want to get him back to the stable and start cold water treatments."

  "Will he be able to race in the Travers?" Sara held her breath for his answer. The race was only a week away.

  "He'll be fine for the Travers."

  Sara relaxed knowing that with her and Jack caring for him, Seawind would be fine. She had confidence in Jack's skill and knowledge, and she breathed a tentative sigh of relief.

  "Will you be able to walk back, Sara? I don't want to put any weight on him right now."

  "I'll be fine. Just please take care of my horse, Jack. Please?" She'd beg him if she had to.

  "Of course I will. It's my job," he replied.

  She had hoped he would do it for Seawind, and for her, because he cared, not because it was his job. A sadness gripped her heart, but then she decided that whatever motivated Jack, it would result in Seawind's recovery.

  "Sara, stay put. I'll run back and get the rest of our clothes and–"

  She looked at her feet at the same time as he did, they were bare and cut. The puckered gap where her little toe should have been was
bleeding. The gash on her leg was shiny in the late morning sun and pinker than the rest of her skin. There was a large scratch across it, and tiny beads of blood were visible.

  "Dammit, Sara, you're hurt!"

  "I'll be fine. Don't look at it."

  But he didn't looking away. He was staring at her feet with a shocked expression.

  "Don't look at me!" she cried. "I told you before that-"

  He began tearing at the leg of his long underwear, ripping it.

  "Stop it, Jack. Stop!"

  But he continued to furiously shred the material. His arm and shoulder muscles straining in the attempt. Finally, when she could tolerate no more, he pressed the still damp cloth against her scratches, her deformity.

  Tears of fury and humiliation swam in her eyes. Her face was warm and she could hear her pulse beating in her ears. She couldn't bear to watch him tend to her, but she couldn't look away either.

  "Don't be embarrassed, Sara."

  "I am."

  He pressed the cloth near the gash, and he winced.

  She saw the expression that crossed his face. It was the same shocked expression he had at the spring.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, moving away. "I'm not very good at tending people. I’d rather tend animals."

  Then he stunned her to her very core. He cupped her calf, bent his head, and tenderly kissed her scars as if his kiss could take away years of pain.

  "Don't, Jack. No. I can't bear you doing that." She didn't want him to pity her-to make it seem as though her ugliness didn't matter.

  When she knew it did.

  He abruptly stood, leaving the cloth on her leg. All Sara could think of was that it looked so very red against the whiteness of her skin and that her face had to be the same color as the cloth.

  He was so gentle, so sweet. What had possessed him to kiss her there?

  She wanted to ask him why? Was it, she dared hope, that he cared for her? Maybe even loved her?

  Jack started back toward the spring. "I'll get your boots and the rest of our clothes. I'll be right back."

  Still perplexed, she could do nothing but nod and watch him walk away. He had a masculine walk. His stride was purposeful and his back was as powerfully muscled as his chest.

  Sara cleaned her cuts as best as she could with the red cloth as Seawind grazed nearby, and thought of how Jack shredded his underdrawers for her. Her heart wept at his concern.