“Worry. His only child was far away, fighting in a war no one here really understood. Every time we’d get a letter from you, I’d see him relax for a few days. But then dread would creep up his spine and settle on his face, troubling him until the next letter arrived.”
He should have written more often. But there’d been little to write home about until he saw combat, and then there’d been too much to tell his parents.
“Now that you’re home,” his mother continued, “I expect he’ll recover a bit of his old self.”
Gabriel carried his empty cup to the sink and dropped it into the soapy water. He’d assumed he’d spend his days helping his father with farm work. Now that there was no farm to tend, how would he keep busy? “I need to go into town sometime today and pick up my duffel bag. I left it at the train station.”
“Dad will take you to town when he comes home for lunch. I still can’t believe you walked all the way home in the dark instead of calling us. You know we would’ve come for you, no matter the hour.”
“The walk did me good.” Gabriel leaned against the window frame and gazed at the Davis’s house. Now that it was day, he could see the house was built of native white limestone with black shutters and black trim. “I see Henry Davis built himself a mansion while I was gone.”
Sara joined him. “I’ve got some bad news about our neighbors. Catherine Davis died last week.”
Gabriel studied his mother’s face. There was sorrow there, but not defeat. “Sorry to hear that. She was a good friend to all of us.”
A sparkle lit his mother’s eyes. “Catherine and I met in first grade. I always thought we’d grow old together. She used to tease me about which one of us would become a grandmother first.”
“How did she die?”
“The Spanish influenza hit several church members. We went to help the Marsh family. All three of the children had it and one died. I suppose that’s where Catherine picked it up.”
Such a cruel irony. Just when the killing on the battlefield had ended, an invisible enemy had struck the home front. “What about you, Mom? Did you get sick?”
“Not even a sniffle. But that’s not the end of the bad news. The day after Catherine’s funeral, Henry had a stroke.”
Two tragedies in one week. The Davis family had been hit hard. “Is he all right?”
“Henry survived the stroke, but his full recovery is doubtful. Poor Henrietta has her hands full.”
It took a few seconds for the name to register in Gabriel’s memory. Henry Davis had named his only child after himself. “Is someone coming to take care of his little girl?”
Catherine shook her head. “Henrietta Davis is twenty-five years old, Gabriel. She’s no child.”
“She can’t be that old. She was away at school when I left.”
“She was away at college. She graduated and came back to work in her father’s bank.”
An image of the woman by the creek formed in Gabriel’s mind. “How tall is she?”
“About my height. Why do you ask?”
“I may have seen her last night. I took the shortcut, and I saw a young woman on the Davis side of Hamilton Creek.”
Anxiety crept into his mother’s voice. “What time was this? Was she all right?”
“It was late, but she was all right.”
“Thank goodness. I’m so worried about Etta. She’s got so much on her shoulders.”
No wonder Henrietta had been praying by the stream. Dealing with her father’s illness on top of her mother’s death was no small burden. “Who’s in charge of the bank now that Mr. Davis can’t work?”
“Etta, of course. She’s been working at the bank ever since she returned from college.”
“She works? A rich girl like her?”
“Etta’s no society girl. Catherine wanted her daughter to have opportunities she never had, so she sent Etta to an aunt who lives in Philadelphia. Etta attended a girls’ academy and then went on to college. Miss Henrietta Davis is an intelligent girl with a loving heart and a head for business.” Gabriel’s mother walked to the kitchen counter and removed the lid of a cake tin. “How about a slice of lemon cake?”
Gabriel’s eyebrows lifted. “Since when do you offer cake for breakfast?”
A mischievous lilt entered his mother’s voice. “I’m trying to soften you up.”
“What are you up to, Mom?”
“Do you remember Henry Davis’s horses?”
“The Arabians? He’s won every trophy and blue ribbon in the state with those horses.”
“Well…Etta needs someone to take care of them until her father recovers.”
“Don’t tell me the banker doesn’t have a trainer and at least a dozen stable boys.”
“Not a one. Henry’s always insisted on doing everything for those horses.”
“I bet he doesn’t muck stalls.”
“You’d lose that bet. But I’m sure Etta would hire someone to do it now. I volunteered you to make sure the horses are being taken care of properly.”
He hadn’t been around a non-working horse in years. The Army took good care of its animals, but they were expected to do their duty as well as any other solider. “I don’t know much about training show horses.”
“That’s not Etta’s main concern. She just needs someone to feed them and clean the stalls until Henry’s up to the task. Plus, you could ride all you want. You still like to ride, don’t you?”
The feel of a fast horse, the sound of its heaving breath as it raced through unfenced land, the smell of sweat and leather. Gabriel smiled as the memories floated through his mind. The Arabians would be a welcome diversion from the awkwardness of returning home.
“Tell you what, Mom. Let me get a bath, a shave, and some clean civilian clothes, and I’ll pay a visit to Mr. Davis’s Arabians later today.”
Gabriel’s mother patted his shoulder. “I knew you’d be willing. I’ll call Etta and tell her to expect you. And when you finish your bath, I’ll trim your hair.”
****
Irritation nipped at Gabriel’s heels as he left his parents’ house and headed to Henry Davis’s stables. He’d been glad to see his parents, but after a few hours, his mother’s soft humming had pricked his nerves. By the time his father came home for lunch, Gabriel had jumped at the chance to ride into town. But he’d fisted his hands on his knees and ground his teeth as his father crept along potholed dirt roads. He longed to drive fast, to feel the wind in his hair, and to outrun his ghosts.
Gabriel crossed the footbridge connecting his family’s farm to the Davis’s acreage. Ahead of his steps, startled meadowlarks rushed into the cloudless sky, their disapproving calls warning him of nearby nests. Maybe tonight, in a land where nothing threatened him except birds, he’d be able to overcome the persistent irritability that plagued him. If he could sleep, if he could get just one night of deep, uninterrupted sleep, he might be able to ease his nerves.
Gabriel bypassed the house and went directly to the stables. The wood siding was painted white with black trim around the windows and doors. A copper cupola capped the slightly peaked roof and a horse-shaped wind vane topped it all. Five horses browsed contentedly in the spacious pasture behind the stables. The stallion was a dark bay and the mares ranged in color from roan to dun.
Gabriel pushed one of the wide doors. A hidden wheel slid sideways along a track, making the heavy door easy to move. The windows were open, and a cool breeze passed from one side of the stable to the other. Each stall bore the name of a star--Antares, Mira, Vega, Chara, Gemma. A tack room, a feed room, and a small office were at the other end. Gabriel walked slowly through the stable, noting the saddle trunks at each stall. In the office, a glass-fronted case displayed numerous trophies and ribbons.
The door to the feed room was closed. Although the knob turned freely, the door stuck in its frame. Gabriel leaned his shoulder against the door and shoved. As he stumbled into the room, a loud screech pierced his ears and a black blur sped across
his boots. He crouched into a defensive posture, his breath reduced to frantic pants, and reached for his absent pistol. How had he been caught unaware, after vowing to never allow himself to be so vulnerable? His body tensed in anticipation of an attack as his gaze darted around the small room.
The screech sounded again from outside the feed room. Two tabby cats chased each other out of the adjoining office and through the open stable door.
Gabriel mumbled under his breath. He was in Burnet, Texas, not France. He’d been ready to attack, to take on the enemy with his bare hands. But there was no enemy here. He was home, where no one wanted to kill him or his comrades. He wiped a line of sweat from his upper lip. Would he never be able to put the war behind him? His skin still prickled at every unexpected noise and his normally even temper had dissolved into a morass of irritability.
He took another deep breath and pushed away from the wall. He’d come here to do a job. Might as well get on with it. He filled a bucket with feed and moved to the first stall. Someone had already cleaned it and put in fresh straw and water. All he had to do was distribute the food and lead the horses in. Hopefully, the animals would show him which stall was theirs. He had no way of knowing their names.
Once the feed was allocated, Gabriel picked out a lead rope and headed to the pasture. A dun colored mare was closest and she walked slowly toward him. Gabriel held out his hand, and she placed her forehead against his palm.
“Hey there, beautiful,” Gabriel said in a gentle voice. “Ready to turn in for the night?”
The horse nickered, flicked her ears forward, and took half a step toward him. “I’ve got your dinner all ready for you.” He hooked the lead rope to her halter and turned toward the stable. The mare followed compliantly, her head bobbing in time to her easy pace. When Gabriel turned to close the gate, he realized the other horses knew the routine well. They were already gathering for their turns.
He led the mare into the stable and watched her enter the stall labeled Mira. That was easy enough. He unhooked the lead rope and slid the stall door closed. He stepped outside to retrieve the next horse.
A woman leaned against the fence, her gaze fixed on the animals. She reached out her hand and the stallion walked toward her. “How are you?” she asked the horse. “Did you have a good day?” The horse sniffed her hand and then moved toward the fence. She stroked his shoulder. “Is Benito doing a good job?” The horse took one step back and the woman petted his jaw. “Where’s Mira? Is she investigating the far side of the pasture?”
It was the same woman who’d been at the creek. Her hair was pinned up, and she wore a blue skirt and matching jacket, but the voice was the same.
Gabriel moved out of the stable. “I’ve already put Mira into her stall.”
The woman whirled in obvious surprise. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She placed her palm on her chest, blew out a breath, and walked slowly toward Gabriel. “I’m Henrietta Davis.”
Gabriel shook the small hand she offered and gazed into her eyes. They were the color of the Atlantic at sunset, blue with a hint of gray. This was definitely the woman he’d seen praying by the stream, but he would’ve never recognized the Davis’s grown-up daughter. “I’m Gabriel Benson.”
She smoothed her hair and stepped into the stable. “Thank you so much for coming, Gabriel. I haven’t seen you since I went away to college. That’s been at least six years. Welcome home.”
How had he missed knowing this lovely young woman? Despite being neighbors, he’d rarely seen her through the years. An occasional glimpse of her at church or while their mothers visited was all he could remember. She’d simply been Catherine Davis’s little girl. Until now.
“Sorry to hear about your parents,” Gabriel said.
Etta rubbed her hands on her skirt. “Thank you. Did you find everything you needed in the stable? Our housekeeper’s nephew comes in the mornings to clean the stalls and put the horses out for the day, but they need more than that.” Her features were as delicate as a sparrow’s wing, and her fair complexion a contrast to her dark hair.
“I’ll enjoy giving your horses some exercise. Has Mr. Davis entered them in any events?”
“We always participate in the Austin show, but I don’t see how my father can participate this summer. I’ll need to cancel our entry.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’m not familiar with the special training they need for participating in show events. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure his Arabians get a good workout.”
A wide smile lit her pretty face, and her shoulders dropped. “That’s such a relief. I can’t thank you enough.” Etta stepped into the stable, retrieved a lead rope from a nearby peg, and walked outside. “I’ll get Antares.”
Gabriel nodded and followed her through the gate. She turned to make sure he’d closed it and then walked to the stallion.
“Why are the horses named after stars?” Gabriel asked.
She hooked the lead rope to the stallion. “You know the stars?”
“A bit.”
“My father loves astronomy. When I was little girl, he taught me all the constellations and showed me how they move through the northern hemisphere.”
Gabriel retrieved a nearby mare and walked beside Etta toward the stable. “Do you still stargaze?”
“Almost never. Not lately, anyway.” Etta opened the gate, waited for Gabriel to pass through, and closed it.
Once inside the stable, Gabriel unhooked the mare and watched her enter the stall labeled Gemma. Then he returned to where Etta had fastened the stallion to a grooming post. She held a currycomb in her hand.
A tight band of irritation encircled Gabriel’s chest. What was Henrietta doing? Hadn’t he just told her he’d take care of the horses? “I’ll groom him,” Gabriel said in a harsh tone.
Etta stepped away from the horse. “Oh…sorry. I usually help my father in the evenings. It was just force of habit.” She replaced the comb on a nearby shelf. “I’ll get out of your way.” She wiped her palms on her skirt again and headed toward the stable doors.
Gabriel let out a sigh of self-disgust. Why did he snap at people who didn’t deserve it? “Henrietta?”
She stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
“If you want to groom the horses…I didn’t mean…”
Etta turned to face Gabriel. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, took a deep breath, and walked toward him. “I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, Gabriel. I can ask Benito to groom the horses as well as clean their stalls.” She rested a hand on the stallion’s hip and the horse nickered softly. “The truth is, I’m not going to have as much free time as I did before. Any help you can give us is greatly appreciated.”
Gabriel took a step toward her. “Tell you what. I’ll come by in the morning and talk to Benito. Between the two of us, we’ll make sure your father’s horses are happy and healthy.”
“Thank you.” Etta’s gaze was fixed on the pasture until the silence between them became uneasy. Then, the two remaining mares in the pasture neighed loudly. Etta’s lovely smile reappeared. “Chara and Vega are feeling neglected. They’re getting impatient for their dinner.”
Gabriel made sure his reply was lighthearted. “It’s not smart to keep a lady waiting, especially when she outweighs me.”
Etta’s gaze flicked to Gabriel, back to the floor, and then the open doorway. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my father’s settled for the evening.”
She turned on her heel and strode through the doorway, leaving Gabriel to wonder about the banker’s daughter. His mother had described her as an intelligent businesswoman, but she’d seemed nervous while talking to him.
He headed back outside to retrieve the remaining horses. Etta’s slight figure disappeared over the rise of a hill and a blessed tranquility filled Gabriel’s irritable soul. There was something about Henrietta Davis that soothed his prickly nature. He could do with more of that in his life.
3
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Etta took a deep breath before opening the heavy doors of Davis Bank and Trust, but her stomach refused to relax. The granite floors and brass lamps gleamed in the morning sunlight, and a hum of activity vibrated through the dignified building. Both of the teller cages were manned, Etta noticed with approval, and several clients sat with account managers in the smaller offices. Business had carried on in her father’s absence.
Etta smoothed her charcoal gray jacket over the matching skirt. When she’d first started working at the bank, her father had advised conservative dress, but that hadn’t stopped her from wearing lace blouses beneath the drab jackets or from pinning silk flowers to her hats.
“Good morning, Miss Davis.”
As she climbed the stairs to her father’s office, Etta smiled at James Walters, the young teller Uncle Carl had hired last month. James was getting married soon. Without her mother to take care of social obligations, it was up to Etta to send a suitable gift to the bride.
“Good to have you back, Miss Davis,” Arthur Lewis said.
Etta nodded to the recently hired manager of the loan department. He’d been with the bank for almost two months, but her father had spoken well of Arthur’s good judgment and business acumen.
Etta walked into her father’s outer office and set her briefcase on her desk. Through the frosted glass door that led to her father’s private office, a dark shape moved from one side of the room to the other. No one had the key except her father, herself, and Carolina Swanson, the head teller.
Before Etta could make it to the office door, Carolina walked into the room with a handful of mail. “Glad to see you’re back. How’s your father doing?”
Etta put a note of optimism in her voice. “He’ll be back before you know it.” She removed her hat and gloves and took the letters. “Do you know who’s in his office?”
“Your uncle.” Carolina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s been in there almost every day since you and your father left.”
A Thousand Little Blessings Page 4