To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  “It doesn’t matter, Olivia. People talk. And when the wrong people find out —”

  “You’re the one who encouraged me to do it.”

  His eyes darkened. “I would never have encouraged you to do something like this. Teaching Jimmy and Jolene in the back room of a stable is one thing. But this? This smacks of foolishness, Olivia.”

  The air in her lungs went flat and she drew in another breath, determined not to show how much his words hurt. In the back room of a stable … He made it sound like what she’d been doing was so insignificant. And only fools were foolish.

  She knelt down and blew out the last lamp. Darkness crowded close again, and she stood. “I’m sorry you don’t agree with my decision, Ridley. But it’s mine to make. And I’ve made it. And … I prefer to see it as noble rather than foolish.”

  She brushed past him, but he caught hold of her arm and drew her back. His grip was tight but not enough to hurt.

  “I know you’re doing this because you care. And yes, it’s noble. But please, Olivia” — his deep whisper bulleted past her defenses — “think about what you’re doing. About what this could cost you. Think about the Hardings and how this would reflect on them. I believe we both know how the general would react. And what about your aunt? This is too much, Olivia.” His grip tightened briefly, possessively. “It’s too much.”

  Maybe it was the tender thread of appeal underlying his voice. Or maybe it was being this close to him again. Or maybe it was how he was deliberately touching her, something he hadn’t done in far too long. But she began to wonder if he wasn’t so much angry with her as he was genuinely worried about her.

  A creak at the door begged their attention.

  Big Ike dwarfed the entry. “Y’all ready to be gettin’ home? It’s awful late.”

  The walk back to the plantation was the longest Olivia could remember. Big Ike led the way, and Ridley followed behind her. Twice she looked back to make sure Ridley was still there. He moved through the woods with scarcely a sound.

  Regardless of what he’d said or how well intentioned he was, she wasn’t going to stop teaching. Yes, there was risk involved. But he, of all people, should understand risk. They were nearly back to the mansion when he caught up with her and touched her arm. She paused.

  “Big Ike,” Ridley said softly, then offered his hand when Ike turned. “Thank you for not snapping my neck clean in two earlier.”

  Accepting, Big Ike smiled. “Sorry I gave you a fright, sir. Didn’t know it was you.”

  Ridley shook his head. “Under the circumstances, you were doing what you needed to.”

  Even in the moonlight, Olivia caught the brief but pointed look Ridley gave her. But that made her even more determined to hold her ground.

  “We workin’ hard to take good care of Missus Aberdeen, sir. And of all our folks. Best we can.”

  “I know that.” Ridley nodded. “You made that clear tonight.”

  Smiling again, Big Ike tipped an imaginary hat and walked on.

  “Good night, Ike,” Olivia whispered. “And thank you.”

  For a moment, neither she nor Ridley spoke. Then he sighed, fatigued or frustrated — or both — she couldn’t tell.

  “Olivia, some of what I said earlier might not have come out as I’d intended. Your desire to teach and help others is the furthest thing from foolish.”

  Seeing his attempt to make amends, Olivia softened. “Thank you, Ridley. I appreciate —”

  “But that doesn’t change my opinion on the issue.” He held up a hand. “Because I’m right about this. It’s too dangerous. Not only for you, but for those around you.”

  She stared at him. “Too dangerous? You, who leave for the Colorado Territory in two weeks, are telling me something is too dangerous? Have you read about this place where you’re going, Ridley?” She exhaled. “Every time you’ve talked about the Colorado Territory in the past, you were encouraging me to do this. Whether you realized it or not.” He opened his mouth as if to respond, but she beat him to it. “Along with every time I’ve seen you work with one of the thoroughbreds. When you first started training Seabird, she was so skittish. She about pummeled you in the face. I saw it myself. Numerous times!”

  “That’s different. Training a —”

  “And,” she went on, her turn to hold up a hand, “when you were working with Jack Malone … I’ll never forget watching you that day he reared up on you. My heart all but stopped. So please, don’t speak to me about not doing something because it’s too dangerous.” She took a quick breath, grateful for an opportunity to say one more thing to him while she could — even though she was using it against him, in a way. “You’re the reason I’m teaching, Ridley. You’re the reason why I first believed I even could. Or have you forgotten?” She felt the touch of a smile. “That I’m stronger than I look?”

  For the longest time, he said nothing, only stared. “Are you finished?” he said finally.

  Wishing his voice held even a hint of playfulness, she nodded.

  He glanced toward the house. “Then may I walk you the rest of the way?”

  She accepted the offer of his arm and they strolled side-by-side. But even with him right beside her, she missed him. Missed him maybe even more than she would once he’d left Belle Meade for good. Then again, no … She didn’t believe that for a minute.

  He walked with her around to the front of the house and paused by the staircase leading to the second-story porch. “You are a strong woman. It’s something I admire in you — most of the time.” Finally, a hint of the humor she loved. “But just because you can do something, Olivia, doesn’t mean you always should. After all, a door may open … but it doesn’t mean you were meant to fall through it.”

  It took her a moment, but she remembered the night of their first walk. And as long as she lived, she would never forget that carriage door. But that he remembered …

  He looked away briefly, then back. “What if I were to tell you that I don’t want to see you get hurt. And that I wish you would reconsider. Would you at least think about it?”

  She looked up at him, half wishing she could simply nod and agree like she would have done a year ago. Just to avoid seeming quarrelsome. But ironically — thanks in large part to him — she couldn’t.

  “I appreciate what you’re saying, Ridley, and I’m grateful for your concern. But when I made this decision, I felt a certainty inside me I haven’t felt but a handful of times in my —”

  “Mr. Cooper! Hurry, sir! Come quick!”

  They both turned to see Big Ike running full out and turned to meet him in the yard.

  “It’s Seabird, sir.” Big Ike huffed. “She’s foalin’!”

  Chapter

  FIFTY-ONE

  Olivia peered into the stall, not at all certain she should be watching. But Ridley had asked if she wanted to, and seeing his excitement, her curiosity got the best of her. The closest she’d ever come to seeing a birth was when she was seven years old and found a cat about to have its kittens beneath their front porch. Her mother had quickly whisked her away before anything really happened. That’s not something a young lady should watch, Olivia!

  But Olivia couldn’t stop watching this.

  Big Ike had run to get Susanna, and the couple returned and joined her, Ridley, and Uncle Bob outside the stall. Susanna, so tiny, stood on tiptoe to see over the slats.

  Seabird lay on her side, bedded down in fresh hay, her swollen belly contracting, then relaxing. Every minute or so, the mare whinnied and rose up and would rock back and forth as though she were about to get to her feet. But instead, she’d lie back down, only to repeat the entire process.

  Olivia leaned over to Ridley and whispered, as Uncle Bob had instructed. “Shouldn’t you do something? Try to help her along?”

  Ridley shook his head. “Not unless something goes wrong. And so far she’s progressing well.”

  “Everythin’s goin’ just right,” Uncle Bob said beneath his breath. “Come o
n, Miss Birdie. You’s a mite early, girl, but not by much.”

  Over the next few minutes, more servants arrived to stand quietly behind them and watch. Apparently, word had spread. Everybody at Belle Meade knew Miss Birdie had lost her first foal two years earlier. No doubt that was at the forefront of everyone’s mind. Especially Ridley’s.

  Olivia sneaked a look beside her, watching him. The man cared for her, she knew it. He’d never said it outright, yet he said it every day in the way he treated her. Like earlier tonight. So why hadn’t he verbalized those feelings? Especially since he’d soon be leaving? Then again, that was probably why he hadn’t. What could come of those feelings? But Olivia knew he could have a life here at Belle Meade — if he wanted it.

  Ridley had to be aware of General Harding’s desire to see her wed to General Meeks. Everyone was. That aspect of her private life felt a little like the published racing odds in American Turf Register and Sporting Magazine. But surely Ridley knew her better than to think she would ever choose a man like Percival Meeks over him. Didn’t he?

  Her year of mourning had officially ended two weeks ago on the anniversary of Charles’s death. But after speaking with Aunt Elizabeth, they’d decided the yearling auction would be the best time for her to make the public segue. So she still hadn’t put away the widow’s garb, and — looking down on the familiar dark gray — in many ways, it seemed like she should continue wearing it. Because with Ridley leaving and General Meeks on the horizon, it felt like a part of her was dying inside all over again.

  Susanna’s soft gasp yanked her attention back to the floor of the stall. And seeing the progression, Olivia pressed a hand to her mid-section. “Oh, my goodness …”

  “It’s all right,” Ridley whispered, leaning closer. “That’s just the foal’s forelegs.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  He laughed softly. “Nothing’s wrong. The foal’s still in the birthing sack, that’s all. As long as the shoulders clear the birthing canal, we’re all but home free.”

  Olivia nodded, trying to act as though speaking of birthing canals was routine conversation. Seabird raised her head again, whinnied and rocked, then went back down on her side. Olivia kept her eyes on the protruding forelegs, about to ask Ridley what to expect next, when something else began to —

  She looked closer … then grabbed Ridley’s arm. “It’s a head!” she whispered.

  He said nothing but briefly covered her hand on his arm, which she much preferred. Having reached a milestone, the foal began to wriggle.

  Ridley pointed. “See how one leg is advancing a little before the other?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  “That’s what we want to see,” he continued. “It allows the shoulders to pass through one at a time.”

  The foal squirmed, its face covered in the milky white sack. Its writhing movements conveyed an eagerness to have this over with.

  “You’s almost there, girl,” Uncle Bob said low. “Another few good pushes and you be done.”

  The shoulders came next, and Olivia could hardly contain herself. “Come on, Miss Birdie,” she whispered, willing the foal fully into this world.

  Seconds passed. Feeling someone’s attention, she looked over to find Ridley smiling at her, the emotion in his eyes confirmed her thoughts of minutes earlier. Now if she could only get the man to say the words.

  With a loud whinny and two snorts, Seabird finally pushed the foal free, and Ridley’s breath left him.

  Uncle Bob clapped him on the back. “A colt, Ridley! You got yourself a colt from Jack Malone hisself, sir!”

  A chorus of congratulations went up as mother and colt inspected each other nose to nose. Seabird nuzzled the foal, licking it, gently nudging, her affection tangible. Ridley grabbed some towels, and he and Uncle Bob moved into the stall. Seabird gained her feet, and Ridley whispered something to her, then gave her neck a good rub — as did Uncle Bob — then they both set to work drying off the colt.

  Suddenly, Ridley stilled. “Uncle Bob,” he said, his tone sober.

  Uncle Bob looked over at him, then down at the colt. “Well, I’ll be …”

  Olivia tried to figure out what they were looking at. “What is it? Is he all right?”

  Then the colt directed its attention at her. Directly at her, its black eyes huge, almost … discerning.

  Uncle Bob knelt down. “I ain’t never seen a newborn able to key onto people so fast in all my life.”

  The colt looked, one by one, at each of the faces closest to him, focusing finally on Ridley’s again.

  “Look at the courage in those eyes, Uncle Bob. The determination. He looks … dauntless.”

  “If you mean stubborn …” Uncle Bob grinned. “Then we’s seein’ the same thing.”

  Olivia laughed, and Ridley looked up at her. “Come around and meet him.”

  Before she could say she preferred to meet the colt later, a path cleared for her to the door of the stall. Everyone was watching, smiling, and Olivia couldn’t find the courage to refuse. But as she walked to the door, what she realized was that she didn’t want the courage to refuse. She wanted the courage to step inside.

  She did so and heard the door close with finality behind her. Seabird turned, saw her, and plodded straight for her. For an instant, Olivia was back in that blasted carriage window — stuck fast — with this same horse coming at her, and she was tempted to turn and run. But remembering what she’d witnessed moments earlier, Olivia found herself less concerned with leaving the stall, and far more intent on not being afraid of this magnificent animal anymore. Trying not to wince too much, she held out her hand as Ridley had taught her, and Seabird nuzzled her palm.

  Gradually, Olivia relaxed. Seabird lowered her head as though wanting to make it easier for Olivia to reach her, so Olivia obliged and scratched her behind the ears. Seabird blew out a breath that said satisfaction if Olivia had ever heard it.

  “Good girl,” Ridley said, a smile in his voice.

  And even though everyone else probably thought he was talking to the horse, Olivia knew better. His words were meant for her.

  Chapter

  FIFTY-TWO

  Olivia knocked gently on the bedroom door, knowing Aunt Elizabeth was expecting her.

  “Come in.”

  Obliging, Olivia pushed open the door and caught Elizabeth’s eye in the mirror.

  “Oh, Livvy, how lovely.” From the dressing table, Aunt Elizabeth motioned her closer.

  Olivia came alongside Susanna, who was putting the finishing touches on Elizabeth’s hair. Susanna gave an approving wink.

  “Oh.” Elizabeth ran a hand across the full skirt of Olivia’s dress. “It’s even more beautiful on, dear. I can remember, so very well, your mother wearing this. You’re right, Rachel outdid herself this time.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Elizabeth. And, yes, she did.”

  “And those gloves. They’re lovely too.”

  Olivia fingered the delicate black lace gloves that covered the scar, though only just. At her request, Rachel had picked them up in town for her. “You look lovely this evening, Aunt.”

  “Thank you, Livvy. But between you and the girls, and the general’s handsome crop of yearlings …” Elizabeth laughed. “No one will be looking at me at dinner tonight or at the auction tomorrow. Thank goodness!”

  Smiling, Olivia placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder, trying her best to mask the sense of dread building inside her. The Hardings’ twenty-six guests for the pre-auction dinner would be arriving at any time — General Percival Meeks among them. She hadn’t seen him since the dinner last fall but they’d exchanged several letters in recent months. And she had to admit that, at least on paper, Percival Meeks actually seemed to be a thoughtful, compassionate, well-read, and intelligent man. In truth, she might have liked him … if she didn’t have to marry him.

  But what had a vice-grip on her hope was the fact that Ridley was only a few days away from leaving. She’d overhear
d him tell Jimmy in the stable two days ago that he’d stay a few days following the auction, no more than a week, and then he’d be gone. The boy had been shadowing his steps ever since.

  The image of the handsome chestnut colt came to mind, the spitting image of Jack Malone. Dauntless, Ridley had named it. And the name fit. Both the colt and its owner.

  Susanna stepped back. “There you go, Missus Harding. All done up right, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth reached for Susanna’s hand. “Thank you, Susanna. I know you had plenty else to do downstairs without seeing to this mess.”

  Susanna eyed her. “I been fixin’ your hair for parties since I’s twelve, ma’am. I ain’t ‘bout to stop now. But I do need to get myself on downstairs.” She looked at Elizabeth in the mirror. “You need any more help, ma’am? ‘Fore I go?” she asked, her voice taking on an unaccustomed tenderness.

  “Not at all.” Elizabeth made a playful shooing gesture. “Now go see to your kitchen and that wonderful dinner you’re preparing.”

  Susanna left, and Elizabeth dabbed a spot of perfume behind each ear. “You’re nervous, Livvy.”

  Olivia held her aunt’s gaze, wishing she could talk to her more openly about what was going on inside of her. About Ridley. But Aunt Elizabeth was firmly entrenched in General Meeks’s camp. Understandably so. So Olivia simply nodded, then turned her attention out the window to where the wrecked carriage once sat, the fragments of chopped wood and bent metal long gone. But nervous didn’t adequately describe the falling-forward feeling inside that caused her stomach to ache even now.

  “If it helps, Livvy, I don’t think General Meeks will propose tonight, dear. Tonight and tomorrow are about the auction. My husband confided in me that Percival will be in town for several days. He’s indicated he desires to spend more time with you before moving forward.”

  Again, Olivia nodded, not comforted by the news. Because whether it be tonight or days from now, the question was coming. And though she knew the answer she wanted to give, the answer she should — no, must — give pressed hard.