Flirtation Walk

by Siri Mitchell

  “You can’t tell me the army approves of this sort of thing!”

  The man grinned at me. “The army encourages this sort of thing. At least that’s what they tell me.”

  “And you’re drawing them?”

  He held up the sketchbook for the rest of us to see. “I am. That’s what I’m paid for. Mostly.” He winked. “I’m not much good at anything else.”

  I had a difficult time trying not to smile back. The man was Seth’s friend, Deacon.

  “And how do you know which ones are good?”

  “The horses or the men?”

  “Either. Both.”

  He shrugged. “They all look good to me. But if you want to know, ask this gentleman here. Mr. . . ?” He gestured toward the man who had just collected some coins from the others.

  “Mr. Angersly. At your service.”

  I beamed a smile at him.

  Deacon pushed his pencil into the hair above his ear. “Seems this lovely lady doesn’t know much about horses. Come to think on it, neither do I. Except to always bet on the Southern boys.”

  Mr. Angersly frowned. “That’s not any kind of tip. Everyone knows that.”

  Deacon sent me another surreptitious wink before he bent back over his drawing. Mr. Angersly cleared a place for me next to himself and began to tell me everything he knew about the cadets and their horses.

  48

  Seth

  I leaned close to Otter as the soldiers brought in the horses. “We got some tourists today.”

  Otter looked over his shoulder toward the railing where a knot of men had gathered.

  Lucinda was standing there in a wide, green skirt, her bonnet pushed toward the back of her head. One of the men was talking, and I could hear her reply every now and then. I hoped this worked. It had to work. My sister and I needed our money back. And Lucinda . . . she needed this too. Down at the other end of the hall, Lucinda’s father was talking to one of the instructors. I hoped his attention stayed down at that end. I didn’t want him to notice me or Dandy. But I sure as anything wanted him to remember Otter. “That’s Lucinda’s father, down there at the other end.”

  Otter was focused on his horse, but he took the time to glance down the hall. “The one what looks like he stepped out of a bandbox?”

  “That’s him.”

  “He looks nice enough.” He gave a tug on a stirrup. Checked the bridle. Otter might look like a slouch, but he was fastidious about the state of his horses.

  “So do snakes. Until you step on one.”

  “That’s true.” He scowled in the man’s direction.

  I put a hand to his arm. “Wipe that look off your face. You don’t want him to know that you know him.”

  “Anyone takes advantage of girls or orphans deserves a whole lot more than a dirty look in my opinion.”

  “Which is why we’re doing what we’re doing.”

  His lips clamped together in a thin, determined line.

  I put an arm about his shoulders and turned him around so we could have a private conversation. “You do remember what it is that you’re doing?”

  “I remember. But you remember what you promised, right?”

  Behind my back, I waved my hand at a classmate. I’d promised him an extra serving of our next hash in exchange for lengthening one of Otter’s stirrups. “Of course I do. I promised I’d keep your conscience clear. All you have to do is . . . ?”

  “Right down there, when we’re waiting on riding, I’m to say ‘They just don’t do it like this in Kentucky.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “Which is strange because you know I’m not from there.”

  “I know it. But you’ve heard that said before, haven’t you?”

  “Depends on what you’re referring to about horses. But sure I have. Everyone thinks those folks from Kentucky are the only ones who know horses. But the way they do things isn’t the only way to train a horse, ’cause training all depends on the horse. I must’ve said that a thousand times.”

  “Just say that one line, Otter. Just the one sentence. Nothing else.”

  “I will. Of course I will. It’s just that it don’t mean anything. That’s all.”

  “Eventually it will mean a whole lot to me and my sister.”

  He flashed me one of those grins of his. “And that’s why I’m helping. That’s why we all are.”

  We finished watching the others jump hurdles, and then I took the reins of Otter’s horse as well as my own and pulled them back toward the end of the riding ring. Once we came abreast of Lucinda’s father, I gave Otter the nod.

  “They just don’t do it like this in Kentucky!” Thank goodness he wasn’t hoping to take to the stage any time soon. He was more than obvious, but at least his accent had come through loud and clear.

  It was our turn for the hurdles. As Otter occupied himself with talking to his horse, out of view of Lucinda’s father, I loosened his saddle. He’d wanted to be honest about this whole thing. I was just trying to abide by his wishes.

  At the command to mount up, we all hopped on our horses.

  A confused sort of look rippled across Otter’s face, but there was no time to waste. We’d been ordered to jump the hurdles, and that’s what we had to do. And if we didn’t, or wouldn’t, we faced being awarded demerits.

  I jumped the first hurdle and then dismounted on command. I mounted again and jumped the second and third hurdles, then dismounted again on command. When I glanced back, Otter was off balance and spluttering, his saddle halfway down his horse’s girth. The way his cheeks had flushed bright red made him look every bit the country boy that I’d been hoping for.

  Lucinda’s father was looking on, a smile curving half his mouth.

  Once Otter had cleared his last hurdle, he came to a stop beside me. Those clear blue eyes of his were troubled. “Could have sworn I checked the saddle on this horse. I always do!”

  “What’s that?”

  “My saddle’s loose!”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “No, it ain’t. I make a fool of myself in every other class here. This is the one thing I’m supposed to do well.”

  “Don’t say that so loud!”

  He sent a glance down the ring toward Lucinda’s father. “Sorry.”

  49

  Lucinda

  Otter had done such a good job at losing his balance that it looked entirely natural. Maybe Seth’s scheme would work. I tried to keep Mr. Angersly talking as my father approached. “Such a lovely location, here at the Point. Do you live here?”

  “Me? No. I just came up for the day. Wanted to take a look around.”

  I cast my gaze wider. “Are you all just visiting?”

  The rest of the men nodded.

  “I’ve been here for most of the week.” Deacon flipped through the pages of his sketchbook. They were filled with drawings of cadets and their horses.

  My father extended his hand, and Deacon gave the sketchbook to him. He gestured me over and flipped through its pages. They chronicled what must have been at least a week’s worth of exercises. There were sketches of cadets jumping hurdles, slashing at the leather balls, riding at full tilt with their sabers drawn. My father turned another page and burst out laughing, angling the sketchbook so that I could see it.

  Seth’s friend Otter was drawn midair, his horse racing out from beneath him. The expression of bewilderment and surprise on his face was supremely telling.

  Deacon pushed away from the wall and came to stand beside us. Father showed him the sketch. “Oh! Him.” Deacon smiled. “I couldn’t help myself. Not fit for publication of course.” He sighed and glanced back down the hall. “During my time here I’ve come to realize that some cadets are better at this sort of thing than others.”

  My father closed up the sketchbook and offered it back. “I’ve heard he’s a Southern boy, though.”

  “Could be.” Deacon accepted it with a grave nod. “I don’t think any of them have actually killed the
mselves, but . . .” He shrugged and drew a cloth cap from a pocket. “If you’ll excuse me. I think I’ve probably drawn all the pictures I need.” He nodded and headed toward the door.

  My father leaned close as we watched Deacon leave. “That cadet is a menace.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that nearly fell off his horse. The one that newspaper fellow made the drawing of. But I overheard that cadet talking. He’s from Kentucky.”

  “Everyone’s from somewhere.”

  “Kentucky folks are supposed to be good at this sort of thing. I wonder . . .”

  So did I. I wondered if my father would follow the trail of bait Seth had so carefully laid down.

  “It’s a rare thing.”

  “What is?”

  “To find a Southern boy who isn’t good at riding.”

  I willed myself not to smile, even though my soul was leaping in elation. It really might work.

  The next morning, my father took me into the parlor directly after breakfast. “I’ve come up with a plan.”

  A plan? In my father’s terms that meant he’d come up with an idea for a swindle.

  “It’s perfect. Just like out west, it takes advantage of the transitory nature of the area, only we won’t have to do any transiting.”

  I tried not to get my hopes up. “Everyone I’ve met has lived here for years—”

  “I’m not talking about these townspeople.”

  “—and the cadets hardly ever leave the Point.”

  “I’m not talking about them either. It’s the tourists!”

  “The tourists? But . . . there aren’t that many. Not at this time of year.”

  “Which is perfect.”

  “For what?”

  “For the plan. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Two hours later, we were sitting in the parlor of the West Point Hotel. My father was looking for just the right man. He had to be very obviously wealthy. It would also help our cause if he were from the South.

  As we were sipping our tea, Dandy walked into the room. If I hadn’t already known who he was, if I hadn’t already given my heart to Seth Westcott, he might have swept my breath away. Dandy walked across the room, cigar in one hand, a cane in the other, measuring and then dismissing each of the hotel guests in turn.

  In his frock suit and winged shirt collar, with his hair combed precisely back from his brow, he looked like the young scion of a wealthy Southern planter. One of those dangerous, deadly young men who live for amusement and pleasure. In short, he looked every inch the dandy. The casual diffidence in his manner, the disdain in his eyes, and the way he slapped his gloves and hat onto the table next to ours as if he owned the place spoke of a life lived in absolute mastery of everything—and everyone—in it.

  My father nodded at him.

  Dandy returned the look but neither smiled nor nodded. He simply paused in his perusal of the room.

  “You look like a man who knows a good horse.”

  Dandy seemed to take his measure. “I know several good horses.”

  “We’re just visiting—came up the river to see the military academy. Reason I mention horses is that I’ve heard there’s a riding hall down the hill.”

  Dandy glanced up at the woman who was placing a cup of tea in front of him. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw a softening in his eyes. And if I could believe my ears, I think he even thanked her.

  My father was still trying to pique his interest. “Not a lot to do here—after you’ve seen the place, of course. We walked around a bit yesterday.”

  Dandy raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.

  “My daughter and I were thinking of taking a walk down to that riding hall this afternoon.”

  Dandy nodded at me.

  I returned the gesture.

  “Would you care to join us?”

  He sighed. Then the faintest smile lifted the corners of his mouth, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully extend it fully to his lips. “Why not?”

  We walked together into the riding hall. While my eyes accustomed themselves to the dust-filtered light, the odors of the place assaulted me. I saw no need to hide it, and once more, I pulled out my handkerchief.

  These cadets appeared to be from one of the more junior classes. Some of them were riding at full tilt toward the hurdles. Others were more intent upon putting their sabers to good use. As the soldiers called out instructions, the cadets wheeled their horses to respond. It did not take long to pick out the best of them. Father subtly placed us at a point along the rail where the cadets gathered before mounting. From there, we could overhear their conversations. Father and Dandy watched the cadets in silence for a long while.

  After a particularly impressive feat, my father whistled.

  Dandy fingered his cigar as he turned to him. “Are you a betting man?”

  “I am. And yourself?”

  “I’ve been known to place a wager a time or two.”

  My father nodded. They directed their attention to a new group of cadets who were gathering along the rail in front of them. “Want to wager on who makes it through the hurdles the fastest?” My father withdrew a pocket watch from his coat.

  Dandy shrugged. “Why not?”

  They placed several bets, all of which my father won, though not by much.

  After each one, Dandy challenged him to another. After a third loss, with an accumulated debt of one hundred dollars, Seth’s friend was wiping sweat from his brow.

  My father was smiling serenely. The group of cadets left and another came in. They were Seth’s group.

  Dandy pointed with his cigar. “Let’s make another, on that young man over there. For double my losses. I’ll wager he can do it fastest.”

  “Double? I hate to try to talk sense into you when you’ve been doing so well by me, but don’t you think you ought to quit? No sense in digging your hole any deeper.”

  “Are you saying you don’t think I can pay my debts?”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “Double.”

  “All right, then.”

  Dandy lost that bet too. He was down for two hundred dollars now. “If you’re any kind of gentleman at all, then give me another chance to recoup my losses.” Dandy made his words sound almost plaintive.

  Daddy’s boy. I could almost hear my father saying the words. Daddy’s boys were the best for a scheme like this. They didn’t know what to do when they started to fail because they’d always been rescued. Their first instinct was to double down and try harder, make more bets, wager more money. It sometimes took a while for them to realize it would only make things worse. The trick of it was in judging properly. In stopping just before that realization dawned.

  I saw Seth but could tell that he was trying to stay out of sight. Otter and Deacon were speaking, however. I hoped my father wouldn’t recognize him as the newspaperman! As they talked, Deacon edged Otter toward us while keeping his face out of view. His voice, however, carried quite well. “What did Mrs. Ames decide to do about that land she was thinking of selling?”

  Otter huffed a breath. “That land? Well . . . those Holifields said they’d pay even more for it than they offered at the first. Said they’d throw in one of those prize sow pigs of theirs and if she gave them access to the holler, they were going to let her have their rooster as well.” Otter’s accent was thicker than molasses. “But there was something about it just didn’t set right, so she did some poking around and found they had them a still right close to the crick, and . . .” He shrugged. “Don’t think they oughter been surprised when they came round one night and found it all destroyed to pieces. Mother sure can be a terror when she wants to.”

  “So she’s not going to sell, then?”

  “Well, now . . . I didn’t say that exactly.” Otter paused as the soldiers assigned them their horses. Deacon was given a bay I recognized from the day before. Otter was assigned the fearsome York, who came into the ring kicking.

  F
ather and I exchanged a glance. Thinking that Otter was the worst of horsemen, he would consider this even better luck than he had hoped for. Knowing Seth was counting on Otter to win Dandy’s bet, I considered it worse. Father pointed the pair out to Dandy. “I’ll bet that even a Southern man isn’t the equal of that horse.”

  Dandy looked at him coolly. “My belief, sir, is that blood will always win out.”

  The horse’s ears went flat as its tail swished. It let out a strident whinny. “I don’t think so, son. Not even a demon could ride that one.”

  “I would not wish to leave the honor of one of my compatriots undefended. What are you willing to wager?”

  Father put up his hands. “I’m an honest man. I don’t want to trick you. I don’t think this would be a fair bet.”

  “You refuse?” Dandy seemed bloated with injured pride. “You’ve impugned my compatriot, you’ve taken my money, and now you wish to leave me without the means to redress it?”

  “I just don’t want to see you lose more of your money on a bad bet. Why don’t we wager on one of the others? I’d feel much better about it.”

  “That one or no one.”

  “Well . . . I . . . uh . . . I suppose I can’t back down now.”

  “Then I’ll wager you double.”

  “Four hundred dollars? I don’t think—”

  “Are you no longer so certain of your opinion?” Dandy was playing my father exactly right. Exactly the way my father had played hundreds of victims in the past.

  “No, no. It’s just—”

  Dandy extended his hand.

  After hesitating for one long moment, my father extended his and they shook.

  The bet was on.

  50

  Seth

  As I stood watching, Dandy and Lucinda’s father shook hands. It made me want to whoop. But celebration could be premature. My friends had taken their positions, they were armed and ready, but the battle still had to be won. And sometimes the best way to start was to make the enemy believe he had control over the battlefield.