Ridley inwardly shook his head. Oh, she was good.
Jimmy set to work — oblivious to the woman’s ploy — and had the little pony hitched to the cart in no time. The boy climbed in, reins in hand. “Are ya sure you don’t wanna go with me, Missus Aberdeen? This gonna be fun!”
“Oh, I’m quite sure.” She gave a little wave. “I want to see you first.”
With a smile, Jimmy gave the reins a slap and little Copper took off at a nice easy pace, just like they’d practiced, his stubby little legs stomping.
“Now see there.” Ridley sidled up to Olivia. “Doesn’t that look like fun? Nothing to be afraid of. Just a nice smooth ride.”
She nodded, watching Jimmy and Copper’s every move. Jimmy completed half a circuit around the meadow and headed on back, just as Ridley had instructed, when a couple of mares came galloping up from the lower pasture. Copper saw them, and his short legs started churning. The Shetland pony was no match for the mares’ speed, but he gave it his all.
“Whoa, boy!” Jimmy yelled, pulling back on the reins at first, the cart bumping and bouncing beneath him. Then the boy started laughing. “Get ‘em, Copper,” he yelled, slapping the reins. “We can catch ‘em, boy!”
Ridley watched as his brilliant idea unraveled before his eyes — even while part of him wanted to laugh.
Jimmy finally brought the cart to a standstill beside them, laughing nearly as hard as Copper was breathing. “I told you, Missus Aberdeen. It was gonna be fun!”
Olivia’s smile blossomed. “And you were right, Jimmy! It looked like fun! But I think I’ll wait on taking that ride for now. For Copper’s sake,” she added quickly. “He appears to be a tad winded at the moment.” She turned to Ridley and laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper, for thinking of me,” she said, her voice lowering. She leaned in, smiling, and whispered, “But not … on … your … life.” And with that, she turned and walked into the stable.
Ridley started to follow, to get her to reconsider. Then he decided to bide his time and give her some room. After all, he had a backup plan.
Later the following afternoon, Olivia finished her day’s work in the tack room, discovering the inventorying process much easier the second time around — and also discovering Ridley Cooper to be a kinder, more thoughtful man than she’d previously believed. A continuing theme, it seemed.
Still, after seeing how little Copper had behaved while pulling that cart yesterday, there was no way she was putting herself in that situation. But she did appreciate what Ridley, along with young Jimmy, had done for her. She’d find a way to thank them both.
She picked up the nearly empty glass of iced lemonade Ridley had brought her earlier and drank the last of it, the lemony pulp tasting both tangy and sweet. The glass still felt cool in her hand, though the ice was long melted — not unlike her harsh opinion of Ridley following their first meeting. She’d been disappointed that he hadn’t lingered after delivering the drink and that he hadn’t been back since.
Her stomach alerted her that it was nearing dinner time, so she finished reviewing the last drawer, made her notes, and closed the ledger. On her way out of the stables, she kept to the exact middle of the aisle, walking with purpose, her gaze focused straight ahead, not daring to return the looks of dark eyes following her progress. They were beautiful creatures, all of them. But their sheer strength and unpredictability literally stole her breath.
Once outside, she inhaled deeply, appreciating the fresh air and the late-day sunlight. She was growing more accustomed to being in the stables, but that didn’t mean she liked them any better.
She’d started for the house when she spotted Jimmy — at least she thought it was him — sitting cross-legged on a barrel by the stable, his face mostly hidden by his cap.
She approached, but he didn’t look up, apparently lost in the magazine in his lap. “Jimmy?” she tried softly. And then again more loudly, when he didn’t answer.
He lifted his head. “Missus Aberdeen!” His smile was immediate. “How you doin’, ma’am?”
As she had yesterday, she felt an instant liking for the boy. “I’m doing very well, thank you. How are you?”
“I’s good.” He tipped his cap to her. “Just lookin’ through this paper the general give me.” He held it up.
“American Turf Register and Sporting Magazine,” she said, smiling. And not hard to believe, it was an issue she’d already read to Elizabeth. “So that’s what you’re reading.”
No sooner had she said it, than she realized she’d likely misspoken. The flicker in the boy’s expression and his gentle half shrug confirmed it.
“Well, I ain’t ‘zactly readin’, but …” He hopped off the barrel, appearing unaware of her faux pas. “If you got a minute, please, ma’am … Maybe you could help me find somethin’ in it?”
Still a bit embarrassed over her misstep, Olivia nodded. “I’d be happy to, Jimmy.”
“The general said somethin’s in here ‘bout Jack Malone comin’ to Belle Meade, and I want to see it.” His smile brightened. “I can usually pick out the plantation’s name by them double sticks, but I just ain’t seein’ ‘em this time.”
Double sticks. It gradually registered with her what he meant, and Olivia motioned toward a nearby tree stump. “I’d be happy to help you, Jimmy. Let’s sit over here.” She sat, balancing the ledger on her lap and liking the way the boy plopped right down beside her. She guessed him to be eight or nine, though something about him seemed older.
“I happen to have read this issue before.” She flipped through the pages until she located the article. “I know exactly where it is. Here.” She held the magazine between them and read slowly, moving her finger beneath the words as she did. “And see, here’s the name of the —”
“There’s them double sticks,” he said, tapping the two Ls in the word Belle. “You read good, ma’am. And smooth too. Like my mama’s gravy.” He made a face like he was tasting it.
Olivia laughed. “Jimmy, how old are you?”
“I’s nine, ma’am. Gonna be ten soon.”
She studied him, aware of an idea pushing to the forefront of her thoughts — also pushing against propriety and everything she’d always known or been told about Negroes. But looking into this boy’s eyes, seeing an eagerness she recognized, she couldn’t help but question the validity of what she thought she knew.
Though no one else was around to hear, she still lowered her voice. “Would you like to learn how to read, Jimmy? Better, I mean. More than just … the double sticks?”
His eyes flickered with hope. “I’s s’posed to start learnin’ to read a ways back. At a free school, my mama called it. But it done closed down ‘fore I could get there.”
Olivia nodded. “A freedmen’s school, since you’re a free young man now.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. That be it.”
She knew something about these schools, though not much. Charles had always taken the newspaper with him to work, most times before she could read it. Part of his attempt to control her, she knew. Which he’d done quite well, looking back on it. But she’d read each Harper’s Weekly from cover to cover when it arrived. She’d pilfered money from the food budget over time to pay the four dollar yearly subscription in advance.
She finished reading the article on General Harding’s purchase of Jack Malone, then closed the magazine, her decision measured and made. “Why don’t you ask your mother if it’s all right with her if I teach you how to read. And if she says yes then we’ll start this week.”
Jimmy looked up at her. “Really, Missus Aberdeen?”
Olivia felt a funny tickle in her chest. “Really, Jimmy.”
His grin nearly stretched from ear to ear. Then just as quickly faded. “I’m sorry you didn’t like your cart, ma’am.”
“Oh, no, don’t think I didn’t like it. I liked it very much, Jimmy. I just … Well, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to ride yesterday, that’s all.”
“So, you
still be willin’ to try it sometime then?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Ridley had put him up to asking her that, and she glanced around just to make sure he wasn’t standing nearby somewhere, listening.
Unable to say no to this little boy, Olivia felt the word coming and was helpless to stop it. “Yes,” she said, her insides twisting just thinking about it. “I’ll try the cart … sometime.”
Then she hurried on her way before he could pin her down as to ‘zactly when.
Chapter
TWENTY-FOUR
What do you mean she’s missing, Jimmy?” Ridley strode through the stable to Seabird’s stall. Empty, sure enough. He felt the tension in him building. What else could go wrong this week? The past few days had been nothing but frustrating. First, a colt had been stillborn. Two more mares were due to foal any day but showed no signs of starting yet. Then he’d had to fire a man for stealing. If it weren’t for Olivia’s careful record keeping, he might not have found out about the man’s thieving for some time.
And on top of everything else, he’d received an invitation to dine with the Hardings on Saturday night two weeks hence, and there was no way he could refuse. Even Rachel, when he’d mentioned it to her yesterday, had said he had to go. And he found himself dreading it, for several reasons. He’d seen how the Hardings dressed, and he didn’t even own a suit. Didn’t want to waste the money on buying one either, not with saving to go west. He’d told Rachel as much, and she’d said just to wear his best. But that frustration seemed like nothing compared to his current predicament.
He sighed and, seeing the worry in Jimmy’s eyes, tried to rein in his anger. “How long has she been gone?”
“I took her to the corral this morning like you told me, sir.” Jimmy worried the outside seam of his baggy trousers. “Then I come back inside to get a bucket of water for her, and Mr. Grady asked me to —”
“Mr. Grady?” Just the name set Ridley’s teeth on edge.
“Yes, sir. He had me run something up to the general’s office for him. Important papers, he said. And when I come back —”
“Seabird was gone,” Ridley finished for him.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
Ridley retraced a path back outside, Jimmy close behind. Ridley stood and searched the meadow and the mares’ corrals, then the lower pasture as far as he could see, remembering how Seabird had cleared the corral fence a couple of weeks ago. Finally, when the mare was his, she went missing …
Yet she couldn’t have gone far. Even the day she’d jumped the fence, she’d only wandered a mile or so. He’d find her. And while he knew Grady Matthews was foolhardy, he wasn’t cruel. At least not to animals. Uncle Bob wouldn’t have kept the man around if he was.
Ridley saddled a mare and headed in the direction Seabird had run the other day. But she wasn’t in the lower pasture. He circled the meadow and came up back behind the servants’ cabins, then on around the west side of the house. But still, no sign of her.
He rode on to the stallion stable and adjoining corrals, remembering the man who had put Seabird in a stall in there on his first night. Uncle Bob always made a point of saying horses remembered things, but surely the mare wouldn’t have gone there.
Ridley dismounted and checked inside, but none of the stable hands had seen her. He walked to the back where they kept studs before they were taken to the breeding shed. He spotted Uncle Bob in a stall working with Vandal, a lead stallion. Two other men assisted him, one of them Grady Matthews.
Ridley nodded to the other hand, while watching Grady for the slightest difference in the man’s behavior. “Uncle Bob, Seabird’s missing. None of you have seen her, have you?”
Grady laughed beneath his breath. “Don’t tell us you went and lost your prize mare already, Cooper.”
“Hush up, Grady.” Uncle Bob gave the man a warning glance, then turned back to Ridley. “She ain’t in her stall?”
“No. Or the corrals or lower pasture.” Ridley explained what had happened. “It’s not Jimmy’s fault.” He cast a glance at Grady, almost certain he’d caught a glint of culpability in the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t be certain and knew better than to accuse without proof.
Uncle Bob handed the lead rope to Grady. “We be finished with Vandal in a few minutes, then we help you look for her.”
The stallion, impatient, tried to rear up as they led him away, but Grady held him steady.
Uncle Bob looked back. “We all know Miss Birdie can jump a fence, Ridley. But she ain’t no rogue mare. Ever how she got out, she ain’t goin’ far.”
Ridley nodded, agreeing. Still, something about it just didn’t sit right. Seabird had motivation to jump the fence that day. She’d wanted to get away from him then. But today …
He walked on outside and looked out over the meadow, searching for her again.
“Well, this is a nice surprise.”
He turned and felt the first bright spot in days.
Olivia frowned. “I was about to ask if you were having a good day, but I already see the answer to that question on your face.”
Ridley rubbed his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry.” He tried to smile. “It’s just been a rough week. And Seabird’s missing.”
“Your mare?”
“Jimmy put her in the corral, but when he came back a few minutes later, she was gone. It’s not his fault,” he rushed to add, having seen her and Jimmy talking and laughing together this week. He gathered she was fond of the boy. So was he.
“I’m sorry, Ridley.” Her gaze swept the meadow.
The very fact that she was looking for the mare — that she cared enough to — eased his burden a little. She was so pretty. The way her dark hair was pinned up in the back and sort of … rolled up on the sides. A few curls hung down here and there, and he wished he had the liberty of touching them. Of touching her.
“Ridley,” she said, still looking out over the pasture. Her eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that your mare?”
Turning, he spotted Seabird trotting up the meadow inside the fence, and he felt a weight lift. “Yes, it is. She must have decided just to take a little run around the —”
Then he saw another horse — Jack Malone — galloping up behind her. The stallion nipped Seabird’s withers, and she bucked at him. Unwilling to be put off so easily, Jack Malone caught Seabird by the mane and tried to edge her off to the side, pinning her in by the fence, but Seabird reared.
Recognizing the telling behavior, Ridley felt the weight that had lifted just moments earlier come crashing back down.
“You’re telling me that you knew the mare was not only capable of jumping the fence but that you saw her do it?”
Ridley met General Harding’s stare. The anger simmering in the man’s voice belied his calm expression, and the close quarters of the general’s office swiftly grew more so.
“And yet you still chose to leave her alone in the corral.”
“General, every thoroughbred at Belle Meade is capable of jumping a —”
“A simple yes or no response will suffice, Mr. Cooper. You left her alone in the corral.”
Ridley took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. I did.”
News of what had happened spread quickly, so he’d had no choice but to inform General Harding. Uncle Bob’s examination of Seabird had removed any doubt about what had happened in the pasture. Jimmy had hovered close around Seabird’s stall, watching Ridley with guilt-ridden eyes. But it wasn’t the boy’s fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, it seemed. Although Ridley still wondered about Grady Matthews.
General Harding gave a heavy sigh and crossed to his desk chair. But he didn’t sit down. “You’re certain Jack Malone covered her?”
Ridley nodded. “But what we don’t know yet is whether —”
“She’ll be with foal,” Harding finished in a clipped tone, irritation edging through. “Which we will know soon enough, Mr. Cooper. I’ll have her checked in a month, and if she is with foal, you’ll have
two choices. Either the foal will be mine upon birth — if it lives.” Ridley almost winced at the harsh reminder. But the possibility Seabird might lose another foal had already crossed his mind. If indeed the covering had taken. “Or you’ll pay me the one hundred dollar stud fee. And the fee will be payable in full upon confirmation that the covering took. Though I have a good mind to demand payment right now, like I do with everyone else.” Harding gripped the back of his chair and took a deliberate breath, then let it out slowly. “If you cannot pay the fee then, Mr. Cooper, you’ll legally assign the foal to me. Is that clear?”
Ridley knew the options were fair, under the circumstances. “Perfectly clear, sir.”
Harding studied him for a moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were intentionally trying to make a fool of me, Mr. Cooper.”
Caught off guard, Ridley faced him square on. “No, sir. That’s not the case at all. What would give you cause to think that?”
“Well …” Harding eased down into his chair, his laugh not the least humorous. “The fact that you’re here so short a time and not only have you made foreman, but you now own one of my thoroughbreds. A horse I’d ordered to be put down, mind you. But that apparently has been miraculously healed and now goes sailing across fences to mate with my champion stud that, incidentally, I have publicly advertised as having no open bookings until this fall.”
The grounds for the man’s frustration were becoming clearer. Ridley remained silent, letting the general’s words and their steam hover in the air like mist until they finally drifted downward and dissipated in the quiet. Whatever Ridley said next — and he needed to say something — he needed to tread carefully. Remaining at Belle Meade was even more important now than it had been before. And for reasons other than what had initially drawn him here.
“General Harding, I assure you, sir … None of this transpired with the intent of bringing embarrassment upon you.” Ridley worked gently to refute the general’s statements without causing further offense. “I’m grateful for the opportunity you gave me to be a foreman here at Belle Meade and also for the deal we struck together for Seabird, which again” — he saw a glimmer of what he hoped was respect in Harding’s gaze —”is something I greatly appreciate. I learned a lot from Uncle Bob through working with Seabird. And I would never have been able to afford a horse like that on my own. But the truth remains, General. What happened today was not by my design. Uncle Bob told me you’d planned on breeding Seabird again this spring. But after the accident with the carriage and seeing how skittish she was, I had already decided to wait another year to breed her, thinking that would be best. Knowing it would.”
To Whisper Her Name Page 23