Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 2: 5 Romantic Sporting Novellas

by Cynthia Hickey

  “No, sir.”

  “Let’s finish this job and head to the main house.”

  Two hours later, sweating and in desperate need of a bath, Brad led an exhausted Kevin to the supply room. “Pick out two sets of knickers, vests, shirts, whatever you need. We have a launder on site, so just leave what needs cleaning and pick up the next day.” He crossed his arms and sat back in a chair.

  “Are you staying?” Kevin paled.

  “Modest?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll be in the kitchen filling the hole in my stomach. Come when you’re ready.” He heard the lock click as soon as he closed the door.

  “Where’s the boy?” Mrs. Oglesby sliced a loaf of bread.

  “Picking out some clothes. I fear he has little to his name.” Brad sat at the small table in the kitchen.

  “There’s something a bit…off about the dear lad.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” He leaned back until the chair balanced on only two legs. “Make sure he takes advantage of Roy’s buggy for a ride home. The boy is looking a bit peaked.”

  “I’m right here.” Kevin grabbed a glass of lemonade and downed it in almost three gulps. “I will take the offer of a ride home, but I’ll be making my own way to work each morning.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “Unless it’s raining. I don’t fancy mussing my…getting wet.”

  “That wouldn’t do at all.” Mrs. Oglesby handed him a plate of stew. “Eat before it gets cold. You need some meat on those bones.”

  “Not too much,” Kevin mumbled. “What’s next?” He glanced at Brad.

  “I want to show you the course.”

  His eyes lit up. “Can I hit a few?”

  Brad laughed. “I think we can manage that.” He set the chair back on all four legs and dug into his own meal.

  “You should remove your hat at the table.” Mrs. Oglesby moved her hand to remove the cap.

  Kevin clapped a hand to his head. “No, ma’am. Please. I…need to wear it. It’s personal.”

  Brad motioned for her to leave him be. Who were they to teach him manners? If he were to be in the dining room, he’d insist. But, for now, he wanted Kevin to trust him. Something wasn’t right with him, whether small or large, and Brad intended to find out what and help.

  3

  Kat woke the next morning more pleased with herself than she had been in a very long time. After hitting a few golf balls on one of the best golf courses she’d had the privilege to step foot on, she had proudly identified every club in Mr. Woodward’s bag. The admiration on his face had warmed her to her toes. Unfortunately, that expression was for an under-sized boy named Kevin, not a woman named Katherine, who could easily fall in love with her handsome boss.

  The man’s kindness and patience toward her and the other employees was commendable. He seemed to go above what was expected from an employer. Not to mention the daily pay without her even asking. The tears in Mam’s and Da’s eyes when she’d given them a dollar’s worth of coins the night before was worth the sore muscles and charade.

  She got up from her pallet and stretched, popping kinks from her back. Already, Mam stood at the stove preparing an early breakfast for Kat. She turned. “Good morning, love.”

  “Mam.” Kat moved closer and rested her head on Mam’s shoulder. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. No work on the Lord’s day, and I am tired.”

  “You do too much. Sit. Let me serve you.” Mam patted her cheek, then waved her away.

  After a hearty breakfast of eggs, courtesy of last night’s funds, Kat set off at a brisk pace to work. Clean clothes, a full belly, and rested feet from being driven home the night before, filled her with confidence. Everything would be just fine.

  When it started to rain, she had second thoughts. With her clothes plastered to her body, it would be harder to keep in disguise. She dashed up the long drive to the clubhouse and raced through the kitchen to the storage room. She could change into dry clothes and leave the wet ones in exchange.

  “Good—” was all she heard of the cook’s greeting before slamming the door.

  She leaned against the polished wood to catch her breath, then stripped and dried the puddle of water from where she had stood. When that was finished, she donned clean clothes, her still wet cap, and stepped back into the kitchen.

  “You might as well tell me,” Mrs. Oglesby said. “No one is around. Why are you dressed as a boy?”

  Kat froze. “How did you know?”

  “I caught a glimpse of a definite female in a white shirt dashing through my kitchen. Raven-colored curls falling from her cap. I’m not blind. A man might not have taken much notice of a sopping wet boy running through his kitchen, but a woman does. Sit.” She motioned her head toward the table.

  Kat sighed and did as instructed. “Please don’t tell on me. I need this job and they weren’t hiring women. Only caddies.”

  She handed Kat a cup of coffee. “Let me get some milk and sugar. I got the impression you don’t care for my coffee.”

  “Nothing personal, ma’am.”

  “What’s your proper name?”

  “Katherine O’Connor. I go by Kat. My da was injured a month ago and can’t work for a while. Mam’s expecting another child. Times are hard.”

  “I understand.” She smiled. “I’ll keep your secret.” She poured in enough milk to make the coffee more milk than coffee, then added Kat a thick slice of buttered bread. “How you’re doing the work required is beyond me. You’re a little thing.”

  “I’m strong. I’ll do what it takes.” She stared into the cup of milky liquid. No matter what it took, she’d work so Da could recover and Mam wouldn’t cry herself to sleep at night. “My mam is with child again. Her fifth. I’m the only one that survived. I’ll do what it takes to make her life easier.”

  “You’re a good girl, Kat O’Connor.” She smiled and turned as the back door opened. “Good morning Mr. Woodward and the other Mr. Woodward.”

  “Which is which, you lovely thing?” Bobby Woodward grabbed the woman around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

  Kat laughed, then clamped her mouth shut at the look on her boss’s face. She might have a low voice, but her laugh was anything but. She shoved the last bite of bread into her mouth. “What’s next, Mr. Woodward?”

  “Call me Brad, and him Bobby. It’s too confusing as to whom you’re talking to.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, taking it black. “I thought you might help me take a look at some new boys today. We’ve a few coming to apply for caddies. With your knowledge, you’ll be a true asset.”

  “You want my opinion?” Pride swelled in her, only to be squelched. Pride was an awful thing that could ruin a person.

  “Other than myself, you’re the most knowledgeable person here.” He cast a glance at his brother.

  Did he regret his brother’s hiring of her? All she’d said when asked was that she knew golf. He’d taken her at her word and hired her on the spot. “Are you disappointed in my services?”

  “Not at all.” He set his mug on the counter. “At first, I wondered what my brother had been thinking,” he grinned, “but you’ve proven yourself on the course. After the interview, I thought we could play a few holes to test the green. What do you say?”

  “Oh, sir.” She clasped her hands to her chin, then realizing how feminine that might look, shoved them in her trouser pockets. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. I’ve some clubs to sort, inventory to count, and grass length to check. After that, we’ll play, if the sun has dried the area enough. Ready?”

  She took the last gulp of her coffee and nodded, rushing out the door. She was going to play for the first time in over a year! Not counting the little bit the day before. Her joy was overflowing. It was all she could do not to skip around like a girl.

  ~

  Brad laughed at Kevin’s enthusiasm and met Mrs. Oglesby’s amused glance. “He’s quite the character.”

  She ope
ned her mouth to say something, then nodded. “I’ll see you for the midday meal.”

  What had she been going to say? He shrugged and stepped outside, breathing deep of the fresh air. He loved the smell right after a rain. For a short time, the earth was fresh and new. It helped to be on the outskirts of the city, away from the odors of the crowds of people.

  He located Kevin in a small supply shed. The boy perched on a crate, a notepad in his lap, and pointed with a sharpened pencil at stacks of golf towels.

  “I count fifty.”

  “You would be correct.” Brad pulled down a bucket of balls. “Count these next. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  “It won’t take me that long.” He sorted the balls into ten ball piles. “You have a hundred. I don’t think that is enough.”

  “Explain.” Brad knew it wasn’t, but he wanted to know the boy’s logic.

  “You have a driving range. Those who are practicing their drives won’t want to wait while balls are gathered. You should have enough for the people to have a bucket full. Charge by the bucket, not the amount of balls hit.”

  “Have you worked on a course before?”

  “No, sir. I played.” He grinned and swept the balls back into the bucket. “I’m telling you how I think it should be done. But, you’re the boss. Do it how you like.”

  “Cheeky lad.” Brad returned his smile. He liked the boy more with each day and looked forward to the hours they worked together. While smart, the boy was an enigma. He was easily the strangest young man Brad had ever met. He looked forward to finding out what his secret was.

  “We’re opening the course next Saturday with a tournament. Will you be my caddy?”

  “Is there an age limit as to who can enter?”

  Brad shook his head.

  “Then, no, sir.” Kevin squared his shoulders and met Brad’s gaze with a serious one. “I’m going to enter.”

  Brad clapped him on the shoulder. “Then, I look forward to playing against you.”

  “I’ll need to borrow some clubs.”

  “Take your pick.” Brad grinned. “Finish that inventory. I’ll meet you here after the midday meal.” He sauntered away, looking more forward to the tournament than before. It would be fun to see how the boy did against men. His opinion was…he’d make a fair showing. Perhaps, the club could use the boy’s entering as a promotional tool.

  He headed to the main building to find Bobby. He was relaxing in the lounge, a glass of whiskey in front of him. Brad frowned. “A bit early, isn’t it?”

  “Lighten up. I couldn’t go see Ma. She’s taken down with a cold. What else am I supposed to do?”

  Brad swung the chair opposite him around and straddled the seat. “Kevin wants to join the tournament. I thought we could use it to advertise the club.”

  “Is he any good?” He upended his glass, draining it of the drink.

  “Better than fair.”

  “I’ll put out a notice in the paper. Men will come in droves to prove themselves against a boy genius. At least, that’s how I’ll put it.” He stood. “I’ll reschedule with Ma for after the tournament. She’ll want to know how it went.”

  Brad watched him go, his heart aching over his brother burying his grief in drink. After Pa’s death and Ma’s mental decline, he’d never been the same, leaving behind all the moral teachings they’d received as children.

  Planting his hands flat on the table, he pushed to his feet and righted the chair before heading to the kitchen. Kevin and Mrs. Oglesby seemed to be in an animated conversation, but halted when he entered the room. “Secrets?” he asked.

  “Always,” the cook said, giving Kevin a wink. “Just wishing the boy good luck in the tournament. I told him I was pretty certain you’d allow him free access to practice any time he wanted.”

  Brad chuckled, recognizing a warning from a mother hen. “No question. His doing well benefits all of us.”

  “So your support is a financial one.” Mrs. Oglesby frowned.

  Brad crossed his arms. “Mostly, but I am looking forward to beating him.” He winked at Kevin. The boy’s cheeks reddened.

  “We’ll see, sir.” Kevin dug into the bowl of soup in front of him.

  Brad laughed again and began eating his own meal. He’d give the boy some pointers, but not enough for him to beat him. “How old are you, Kevin?”

  “Old enough to beat you.” He gave a wink of his own.

  Brad sputtered his soup. “Shall we put money on it?”

  “I don’t bet. The prize money will be enough for me.” He transferred his attention back to his food, effectively dismissing Brad.

  Good boy. Brad would have lost a measure of respect for him if he’d accepted the bet. He would have no worries over the boy losing money to Bobby, who, unfortunately, wouldn’t take Kevin’s age into consideration when gambling.

  “I’ve chosen my clubs,” Kevin said. “The ones in the barn-red bag.”

  “Excellent choice. Those are the same brand I use. It will be quite the competition. Are they short enough for you?”

  “I’ll manage.” He flashed a grin and stood. “See you on the course.”

  4

  The day of the tournament dawned sunny and crisp. Kat’s legs trembled, threatening to buckle as she took her place on the fairway. With each arriving participant, her heart pounded.

  A breeze blew, adding to the day’s fear. If a sudden gust swept away her cap, her ruse would be discovered before she had a chance to prove her worth. She cast a glance heavenward. Please, God, just a little more time.

  Then, she’d be forthright. She’d promised Mam and Da. While Da’s health improved each day, he said he’d be back to work in no time and his daughter could stop dressing like a boy. Kat agreed. The more time she spent with Brad, the more she wished he’d look on her as a woman.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants leg and took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this.”

  “Nervous?” Brad smiled down at her. “Afraid I’ll beat you?”

  She glanced up from under the brim of her cap. “If I have to lose to anyone, I’d rather it be you. But,” she grinned, “I don’t plan on losing.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  She cringed. Today was definitely the last day she’d spend as a boy.

  Her name was called. She hefted her golf bag to her shoulder and headed to the three other men assigned to her group. They laughed as she made her way to them.

  “They’re letting the youngsters have a go,” a man with a handlebar mustache said. “Good thing it’s a promotional tournament, and only nine holes. The club would be a laughing stock. What next? Women?” He thrust out his hand. “I’ll play along. I’m Sherman Wood.”

  “Kevin O’Connor.” She gave his hand a quick shake.

  “Irish?” He frowned.

  “Scot.” Kat turned her back and pretended to study her clubs.

  “Uh-oh, boys, this little man came from where our game started.” He laughed loud enough to send birds erupting from the trees. “We’d best watch our backs.”

  “Choose your clubs wisely, gentlemen.” Kat gripped her driving iron and stepped up to the tee. Her first shot sailed through the blue sky, landing halfway down the fairway. No one was laughing now. She smiled and stepped back for the next man to go.

  By hole four, quite a crowd had gathered around their foursome, having heard of the young man quickly overtaking first place. Brad strolled by and tipped his hat, a grin splitting his face. He winked and continued.

  Kat’s face flushed. She was glad he wasn’t in her group. If he had been assigned to the same group, she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. Mr. Wood’s ridicule at the first hole only served to strengthen her and set her on a path to succeed. Brad’s presence would have clouded her mind.

  With Kat having the fewest strokes, all joking had ceased. Mr. Wood stepped up to the tee and swiped a monogrammed handkerchief across his forehead before gripping his putter. He swung, sending the ball past
the hole.

  “Tough luck,” Kat said, stepping up to take her turn. She turned sideways, lined up her shot, and gave the ball a gentle tap. It went within inches of the hole. An easy under par shot.

  “Son, who taught you to play this way?”

  “My da.”

  “I’d like to see him in the next tournament.”

  Da would give his big toe to play again. Perhaps, Kat could help that happen for him.

  They finished the hole and moved down the course. She didn’t know her ranking, but Kat’s spirits rose with each swing of her club. She was doing what she loved, and making a good show of it.

  After the ninth hole, they congregated in the shade of the trees and enjoyed a variety of drinks, both alcoholic and non, while waiting for the others. Kat leaned against the trunk of an oak tree and sighed. What a glorious day. She’d beaten the men in her group and could only pray she’d beaten most of the others. What happened when the winners were announced could affect women’s future playing golf in America.

  She stepped forward when Robert Woodward stepped onto the ninth green. “I have here the winners,” he said. “I give my word as a gentleman, that there has been no tampering with the outcome. The best man won. In third place…” he unfolded a sheet of parchment. “Is Sherman Wood. He is the recipient of fifty dollars. Second place is our very own young Kevin O’Connor who wins seventy-five dollars. First place goes to…Bradford Woodward.”

  Kat barely felt the congratulatory claps on the back or saw the look of pride on Brad’s face. She stepped forward to take her place as the second winner. She took a deep breath and whipped off her hat, revealing her shoulder-length curls as her gaze clashed with Brad’s. The look of betrayal on his face brought tears to her eyes.

  ~

  Brad’s grin faded. Kevin was a girl? And a very pretty one at that. How could Brad have been so blind?

  Heat rose up his neck.

  Cries of outrage filled the air.

  Bobby laughed. “Well done, Kevin. While you cannot stay in second place, since women were forbidden to enter the tournament, I won’t begrudge you the prize money. You earned every cent. Mr. Wood, you are now in second place.”

  Brad didn’t hear who moved into third. With shoulders rigid, he stared straight ahead, hurt and confused. What he wanted to do was march away and never see the little imposter again. She’d made fools of them all.