Saratoga Sunrise

by Christine Wenger

  It was tempting.

  He held his hand out to her to help her up, and she took it. "I should get back, but maybe I'll just rest for a while. But only if you're sure you don't need any assistance."

  "I'm sure."

  She laid down on the blanket he spread on the sweet-smelling hay. "You'll think about our partnership?"

  "I'll think about it."

  He wasn't convincing, but it gave her hope.

  Jack took his jacket off and spread it over her. He brushed the hair back from her cheek, and Sara thought she would melt from his gesture. He cared about her, she knew, and he treated her as if she had intelligence and worth, something her father had yet to discover about her, and Monty never would.

  She drifted off to sleep with the memory of their heated encounter in the spring and the scent of horse and hay, and with the hope that Jack Summers would be her partner in the best horse farm in the country.

  # # #

  Clara leaned forward on the comfortable seat of Bond Peterson's fashionable carriage. In front of her sat Sara's Aunt Trixie and Sara's father.

  "I think I need to tell you both something," Clara said. "I don't want to, but it's for Sara's own good."

  Bea took her hand. "Tell us then, dear."

  "Yes. Absolutely," Bond echoed. "If it concerns my daughter, then it concerns us."

  "Jack Summers is not who he appears to be," Clara began. "That's not his real name."

  "What?" Bond leaned forward to hear the girl over the clip-clop of the horses. "Who is he then?"

  "His real name is Jack Wheeler. He grew up here in Saratoga Springs until he left for school. I didn't recognize him with that moustache and beard at first."

  "Wheeler? Wheeler, you say?"

  "Yes," Clara answered quietly.

  "Is he any relation to George Wheeler, the man who destroyed Tempest Wind?" Bond said, hoping against hope.

  Clara gulped. "Jack is his son."

  Bond pounded the side of the carriage with his fist. "I thought he looked familiar!" he yelled, and the two woman jumped. "I entrusted my horses to the son of the man who slashed the legs of Tempest Wind?"

  They didn't answer, but Bea put her hand on his arm. "Calm down, Bond."

  "I'm appalled. This Jack Summers is supposed to be a Cornell student."

  "He is a Cornell student, Mr. Peterson. He's studying to be a veterinarian," Clara said.

  "At least he's not studying how to kill horses," he said sarcastically, as Bea gave him a warning look. "But what on God's green earth is he doing handling my horses?"

  "I think you need to ask him that, dear," Bea said, putting her hand on his. "But he might not be up to anything. He seems to care about Sara, and he's done an excellent job with the horses. You said so yourself."

  "I can't help but think he has an ulterior motive." He turned her hand and held it grateful for the contact with her. She was always the voice of reason, a calming influence on him. With Sara, Bea had filled the emptiness that Rose's passing had left. She had filled his emptiness as well.

  Admittedly, Sara perplexed him. He could handle million dollar business deals with the likes of Morgan or Brady or Rockefeller, but he couldn't handle his only daughter. She was a puzzle to him-a delightful, challenging puzzle-but a puzzle nonetheless.

  And Montague Fordice...was he wrong about him? He had seemed to be a perfect match for Sara. He wanted Sara settled and happy.

  Would Montague Fordice make her happy?

  He hoped so. He'd like to see Sara as happy as he and Rose once were.

  Funny, how at times he had to close his eyes and concentrate to remember what she looked like. Instead, he kept seeing Bea's smile, not Rose's. He heard Bea's laugh, not Rose's.

  And he felt disloyal to his beloved wife.

  He squeezed Bea's hand and reminded himself that she would help him through this latest crisis with Sara-just as she always had.

  "Mr. Peterson, was I right in telling you about Jack Wheeler?" Clara fussed with her apron on her lap.

  "Yes, and I couldn't be more grateful to you. Now I know what I'm up against."

  The girl nodded and closed her eyes. "I just hope Sara won't be hurt. I know how much she likes him."

  Bea must have noticed his shocked expression. "She does like him, Bond. So please be careful."

  "But she's engaged to Fordice!" Bond protested.

  Bea shook her head. "For now, perhaps."

  Women! He just didn't understand them.

  Johnson guided the carriage as close as he could to the Peterson stables. Walking around to the door, he opened it, and helped the ladies out.

  "Johnson, we shouldn't be long."

  "Yassir, Mr. Peterson."

  Bond took a deep breath and offered the ladies each an arm.

  Clara stepped back. "If you don't mind, I think I'll take a walk. This is a family matter."

  Bond nodded. "Don't go far, my dear."

  "I won't."

  Bea took his arm, and they entered the stable area. Bond leaned over the half-door on Amberglow's stall, but no one was there except the horse. He did the same at Seawind's stall, and spotted Sara sleeping on the hay in the corner. Then he saw Jack Summers... er...Wheeler.. bending over the bandaged legs of Seawind.

  Bandaged legs?

  He stormed into the stall, spun Wheeler around, grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him out of the stall into the bright sunlight.

  "What the hell is going on?" Bond said, as he threw the man on the dirt in front of the barn.

  "Bond! Stop it!" he heard Bea shout in fright. She rushed over to Wheeler and stood in front of his prone body. Jack scrambled to his feet with clenched fists at the ready.

  Bond prepared himself for a fight. Wheeler was fit, younger and stronger, but Bond was angry. Quite angry.

  "Stop it immediately. Both of you!" Bea said quietly, but firmly, as she stepped between them. "I will not tolerate this. You are both making spectacles of yourself. Now, please sit down and discuss this like gentlemen."

  Jack's nose flared and he was breathing heavy. Bond rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Maybe he wouldn't fare so well against this strong younger man.

  "Sit down, Bond," Bea ordered. Her gentle, but firm, hand on was on his arm again, but he couldn't move. "Bond?"

  "All right." He sat down on a metal chair outside the barn.

  "Jack?" Bea motioned for him to take the other chair.

  Reluctantly, Jack sat down, but his fists remained clenched, and he remained alert, ready to react.

  "Bond. You go first," Bea ordered. "Tell Jack what's troubling you."

  "What did you do to my daughter?"

  Jack looked offended. "Nothing. I did nothing to Sara. She's just taking a nap. She was tired."

  "Why is she here?"

  "You'll have to ask her that, but I'm assuming that she wanted to stay with her horse."

  "Or stay with you."

  "I had nothing to do with that," Jack said quietly, evenly.

  "She's engaged to be married."

  "So I've heard," Jack snapped.

  "Montague Fordice will make her a good husband," Bond said, thinking that it appeared that he was the only one who thought so.

  "I doubt that, but I don't want to discuss Fordice with you or anyone for that matter," Jack said, staring directly into Bond's eyes. "The man's not worth talking about."

  "Fine. Then tell me what you did to Seawind."

  "I put some liniment on his legs and I'm putting cold compresses on his front metacarpals."

  "But what happened to him, Mr. Wheeler? The same thing that your father did to Tempest Wind? You cut him up so he wouldn't win the Travers?"

  "Bond! How dare you!" Bea clutched the lace at her neck, something she always did when she was upset or nervous.

  “So you know who I am?” Jack said.

  “Now I do.”

  Jack stood up, and so did Bond. It was going to be a bloody, physical fight. Bond knew that, and so did Jack. Without taking their
eyes off one another and without saying a word, Bond took off his coat as Jack began to loosen buttons on his shirt.

  "I-I don't believe this," Bea sputtered. "Two grown men..."

  "I didn't hurt Seawind. I've been trying to help him. And my father didn't do a thing to Tempest Wind. You just jumped to conclusions as you are doing right now."

  "George Wheeler was holding a broken, bloody Wheeler Mineral Water bottle in his hand in Tempest Wind's stall, as my best horse was bleeding to death."

  "Circumstantial," Jack said. "Tempest Wind was the favorite. Fordice’s horse was an underdog. Fordice would have more to gain if Tempest Wind was out of the race."

  "Wheeler Mineral Water was in trouble. Someone paid your father a lot of money to put Tempest Wind out of contention."

  “That was what your lawyers put forth in court, but it was untrue. Wheeler Mineral Water has seen it’s better days, but it’s always turned a profit," Jack stated.

  "We were always friends, George and I, and I couldn't understand it even to this day why he did it."

  "Aren't you listening to me?" Jack shouted. "He didn't do it. My father would never do such a thing! Now he's in prison for a crime he didn't commit."

  "That's not my fault," insisted Bond. “The jury convicted him.”

  "Yes, it is your fault! For heaven's sake, yes it is!" Jack punched the side of the barn, and Bond winced in sympathy. "My father didn't have a chance against your wealth and power. And I wasn't here. I didn't know. If I did, I would have proven you wrong, Mr. Almighty Peterson, and I would have embarrassed you before all of Saratoga Springs as you embarrassed my parents. Now throw the first punch, so I can hit you back."

  "Jack, no!" Bea cried, then turned to Bond. "Listen to him. Could you possibly have been wrong about George?"

  Bond took off his beaver hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “If I was, I made a horrible error.”

  This was becoming too much to handle. His head was spinning. Could he have been wrong about George after all?

  Many other people did have a lot to gain with Tempest Wind out of the Travers, including Montague Fordice, who won thousands of dollars in the purse. Fordice would also have won thousands of dollars from his betting – and Bond knew that Monty bet hard.

  But Montague Fordice was a good man, wasn't he? After all, he was going to marry his Sara.

  Suddenly, Bond knew what he was going to do. "I'll make a deal with you, Mr. Wheeler." Bond motioned to the chair. "Sit down."

  "I'll stand, thank you."

  "Fine. Stand then. Here's my deal: guilty or not, I'll get your father released from prison, but only if you immediately stop seeing my daughter. In exchange, you are to have nothing to do with her. Do you understand me?"

  Bea shook her head, "Oh, Bond. No! Don't do that."

  It disappointed him that Bea wasn't supporting his decision, but this was a business deal. Purely business.

  Wheeler didn't answer. He sat staring off into the meadow in the distance. Bond thought he'd jump at the chance to get his father out of prison. Wasn't that what all this trickery was about?

  "Am I so bad for Sara that you have to get me out of the way?"

  "Since you've been around, Sara has been acting different. She's been more outspoken, more head-strong and–"

  "And you consider those attributes as bad?" Jack shook his head. "I think that Sara is trying to find her own identity and shake off the silk cocoon you've kept her in."

  Bond thought about this. The man might be making some sense. Maybe he had been too overprotective of his daughter, especially since the accident. But she had almost died, and she was all he had left in the world, and he was going to see that she never was harmed again in any way.

  "You deceived my daughter, Mr. Wheeler. Don't you think that's going to hurt her when she finds that out? My daughter is trusting to a fault, and you have shattered her trust."

  "I cannot deny that, but I had my reasons," Jack said. "And I wasn't happy with my deceit, not for one second. Especially, when I began to know her and began to. . . "

  Wheeler's words trailed off, and Bond thought that the man was going to admit he loved Sara. Jack met his gaze, daring him to challenge him, and Bond could see that the man probably was sincere, but he still wasn't the man for his daughter.

  "What about my offer, Wheeler?"

  "I accept your offer," he finally said. "You will have my father released immediately, and I will leave Sara alone."

  "I'll start making the arrangements."

  "You have one week. Only one week to release my father. After that, I'll be asking Sara to marry me, and I have no doubt that she'll accept."

  “I will not,” Sara stepped out of the barn area. “I’d rather be alone forever than to be subjected to any more boorish men. I’d also prefer loneliness than to be with a man who lies and deceives and pretends to be nice to me only to gain information, such as yourself, Mr. Summ-I mean, Mr. Wheeler.”

  “Sara, I admit that at first, I intended to use you, but then I-I began to like you.”

  Sara stood firm. “Don’t trifle with me any more, Mr. Wheeler. I don’t know what to believe any more.”

  “But Sara-”

  She shook her head. “No more.”

  "Ahhh, yes. You are your father’s daughter.” Jack shook his head. “Well, I’ll gather my things. I’m assuming that I'm fired."

  "You assume correctly," Bond said.

  “No. That’s incorrect, father. I’d like Mr. Wheeler to continue his employment and take care of Seawind. He is an excellent groom.”

  “Sara, are you sure?” Bond asked.

  “Quite sure. Please stay on, Mr. Wheeler. I’ll keep my distance, so my father will keep his share of the bargain. Right father?”

  “Yes. Quite.” Bond stared at Sara. Was this his young daughter? "What happened to Seawind?" Bond asked.

  Jack looked at him as if he had two heads, "Now you ask that question? Now?" Shaking his head, he strode away.

  Bond watched him go. The man was right. He probably should have asked that question earlier, before assuming the worst. Bea had warned him.

  Bond made a mental note to inquire about the next train to Auburn, New York. He was going to visit George Wheeler in Auburn Prison and talk to him. Then he was going to get him out as he’d promised.

  Sara walked toward him and he offered his arm. "I caused Seawind's injury, father."

  Bond tried to absorb his daughter's words. "You were the one? How?"

  "I gave him his morning workout, then I rode him to the spring. I wanted to swim in the bubbles. Some ducks and swans frightened him, however, and he galloped off. He was limping and Jack found that he had picked up a stone."

  "Jack was with you?"

  "No. . . yes. He came later. He didn’t know I was there."

  His daughter didn't meet his gaze, and he wondered exactly what else had transpired at the spring.

  "I am furious that you've been traipsing around the Springs unladylike and not chaperoned. For heaven’s sake, Sara!"

  "But I'm having a good time, father."

  "But there's already been gossip about you and Jack."

  "I don't care."

  "Well, I do. And so does your Aunt Bea."

  "Don't bring me into this, Bond. I think you just did a great injustice to Sara, to Jack Wheeler, and perhaps his father, too." Aunt Bea, turned her back to him and walked toward the carriage.

  Bond watched her go. "I certainly made a mess out of things."

  "Yes, you did, Daddy."

  "This Jack Wheeler. . . has the man been ungentlemanly toward you?"

  "No, he hasn't. Jack has come to my rescue on several occasions. And don't blame him because I've been giving the horses their morning workouts. I know you don't like it, but I insisted on doing so."

  He rolled his eyes, then he couldn't help but smile. "You always were a stubborn girl, when you make up your mind."

  "Sounds like someone else I know, daddy." She kissed him
on the cheek and he hugged her close. "But Jack isn't bad. He was thinking of his family-his father. If the situation was reversed, I'd do the same thing."

  Bond took a deep breath. "Do you love him Sara?"

  "I think I do Daddy, but I'm so confused now. All I know is that I refuse to marry Monty. I don't like Monty in the least, and I won't be saddled with him for the rest of my days. And that's my final word on the subject of Montague Fordice. I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my days alone. I don't want him near me."

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  "You never listen to me. You never listen to Aunt Bea. You just go charging in like a bull in a china shop."

  “So I’ve been recently reminded several times.”

  "And Daddy?"

  "Yes?"

  "You were wrong to make that bargain with Jack. It was beneath you. He’s a real person with feelings, not a train you are buying and selling and building."

  He kissed her on the forehead. "I know, honey. I know, but thanks for reminding me."

  He'd like to think that he was a reasonable man, but perhaps he did jump to conclusions–occasionally.

  Bond hailed Johnson and he brought the carriage around. Bea and Clara were already inside waiting. Whatever they were talking about, they quieted when he appeared.

  He helped Sara into the carriage and Bea immediately put her arms around her and hugged her. Sara put her head on Bea's shoulder. Bond liked the fact that the two were so close.

  The carriage ride back to the United States Hotel was spent in uncomfortable silence.

  "All right. All right. I'll apologize to Jack Wheeler!"

  "That was the first smart thing you've said all day, Bond Peterson," Bea snapped.

  If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never understand women.

  # # #

  Montague Fordice was pacing up and down in front of their cottage when they arrived. He carried a bountiful bouquet of flowers, and presented them to Sara as she stepped out of the carriage.

  "For you, dear."

  "Thank you, Mr. Fordice." She tried to be polite, although he was the last person she wanted to see.

  He stared at her suspiciously and she wondered what was wrong until Clara pulled a rather long piece of hay from Sara’s hair.