by Ginny Dye
Carrie was glad it was dark, because now Abby couldn’t see the skepticism on her face. “And there is no one else who can go?” She was sure there were many people more qualified than she was to go to Kansas to fight for women’s right to vote, especially since she didn’t even have the qualification of caring. She was more certain than ever that this was a plot Abby and her father had devised.
“There is no one else I want to go with me, darling daughter,” Abby said. She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t be asking…”
Carrie tensed, struck by the vulnerability vibrating in Abby’s voice. She had never heard Abby sound that way. Suddenly she believed her. It may all be part of a plot to get her to leave the plantation, but she also realized Abby was being asked to do something she felt completely uncomfortable with. It was hard to imagine that her stepmother, the successful businesswoman who had stepped in to take over her husband’s factory, was afraid of anything, but Carrie couldn’t deny the authenticity of the tremor in her voice.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Carrie finally said.
“A deal?” Abby asked in a bemused voice.
“Yes,” Carrie answered. “A deal. I will go to Kansas with you if you will teach me all you know about running a business. Now that I’m taking over the horse operation, I realize there is much I don’t know how to do. I’m great with horses, but I’ve never been interested in business. I assume it will be a grave error if I don’t learn as much as I can before the first batch of buyers show up.”
“When are they coming?” Abby asked.
“One month from today. When do you want me to go to Kansas?”
“We leave on September tenth,” Abby replied, her voice hopeful.
Carrie was almost sure Abby had already bought round-trip tickets for two people, but she decided not to challenge her. After all Abby had done for her, it was impossible to deny the request of the woman she loved so much. “So you have time to teach me what I need to know?”
“Starting tomorrow,” Abby responded. “I will stay for a week and pour everything I can into your head, and then I will be available by letter until we leave for Kansas. I have only one condition,” she added.
“And that is?”
“I want to teach Clint, as well. He will need to know more about running operations. It is never a good idea to have only one person that can handle the business end of things.”
Carrie wondered if Abby had ulterior motives, but she certainly couldn’t debate the truth of the statement now that Robert was gone and no one knew how to do what he had done. “All right.” She took a deep breath as she reached out to take Abby’s hand. “We have a deal then,” she murmured, wondering if she looked up if she would see the stars laughing.
She was going to Kansas.
Chapter Thirty
Carrie was uncomfortable, but ready, when the first buyers arrived a month later.
Annie smiled at her when she walked into the kitchen. “You look pretty as a picture, Miss Carrie!”
Carrie scowled. “I look like I should be going to a dance, not out to the stables I own,” she complained as she looked down at the light blue dress she had selected from her closet the day before.
“I reckon you’ve gotten real used to wearing Mr. Robert’s breeches,” Annie agreed.
Carrie shot a look at her, but she could hear no reproach in her voice. “Dresses are useless in a barn,” she sniffed. “I can’t believe I used to ride around the plantation in the dresses my mother insisted on. Breeches are practical.”
“That’s so,” Annie said with a nod while she finished filling a bowl of fresh fruit to go with the plate of eggs waiting on the counter. “They’re not so practical, though, if you lose a sale or can’t negotiate effectively.”
Carrie couldn’t stop her snort of laughter. “Has Abby been training you, too?”
“I got two ears,” Annie retorted. “All a body has to do is listen around here if you want to know something.”
Carrie knew she was right. She could still hear Abby’s voice in her head. If you want a man to take you seriously in the business world, you have to be a professional. You might be more comfortable in breeches, and they might indeed be more practical in a barn, but when you are negotiating a sale you want every advantage you can get. You are a beautiful woman, Carrie. Don’t throw away that advantage.
“You still bothered about this aren’t you?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” Carrie said honestly. “It feels wrong to use being a woman.”
Annie snorted. “Girl, women got to use what we got.”
Carrie stared with disbelief. She would never have expected this to come from Annie’s lips.
“What you looking at me like that for? I may not be much to look at anymore, but I know enough to know that if I looked like you, I would use it for all it’s worth. Those men are probably planning on coming down here to do some hard-nosed negotiatin’. You gonna throw ‘em for a real loop when they find out they are negotiatin’ with you. ”She stopped and eyed Carrie. “The first thing they gonna think is that you will be a pushover ‘cause you be a woman, so they are gonna have their guard down. Then you gonna knock them over with how much you know about horses, and they gonna be even more surprised.” She cocked an eyebrow. “By the time you get around to naming a price for them beautiful babies out there, they just gonna nod dumbly and give you what you want.”
Carrie burst into laughter. Annie seldom talked for so long, but it was clear she had listened to Abby carefully, and had absorbed everything she said. “Would you like to go do the negotiating for me?” Carrie finally sobered enough to ask. She still felt uncomfortable with laughter—almost as if it dishonored Robert and Bridget’s deaths—but she suspected Robert would be doubled over with laughter right now, too. That knowledge made her own mirth easier.
Annie shook her head firmly. “I ain’t got what you got,” she said. “Girl, you know more about horses than any of them men coming here to see our stock. The advantage you have is that you also know how to use being a woman…”
Carrie grinned again as Annie drew out the word ‘woman’ as if to make it sound like something very mysterious, and also rolled her eyes dramatically.
“One of these days men are gonna realize just how powerful women are,” Annie stated. “When they do, they gonna have to give us the vote…and more.”
Carrie sobered as she realized that in only five days she would be leaving for Kansas to fight for the vote. It hadn’t truly sunk in that she was leaving the plantation, but there was no way she would go back on her word to accompany Abby. She reached for the bowl of fruit and began to eat the eggs. The buyers would be here in a few minutes. She hadn’t dared go near the barn in her dress, but she knew Amber, Clint and Miles would have the foals ready for their showing.
********
Carrie had watched the group of three men arrive in their luxurious carriages, and she had watched for a few minutes while they hung over the fence to view the foals. She waited a little while longer, giving Amber and Clint time to catch several of them, slip their halters on, and lead them around the pasture. Every one of them performed perfectly, their heads held high as if they knew they were on display. Just when she was sure the men were probably drooling, she sauntered outside, her face shaded by a hat the same shade as her dress.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She hid a grin as the three men turned to look at her. Their eyes widened, and they straightened, trying not to ogle her. Maybe Abby was right - negotiating might turn out to be fun after all. The memory flashed into her mind of the time just before the war when she had charmed the overseer from Blackwell Plantation long enough for one of the plantation’s escaped slaves to slip deeper into the Underground Railroad. She had been surprised by how much fun it had been then. This was reminding her of the sense of power she had felt.
“I see you have had time to take a look at our newest crop of foals,” Carrie said. “They are rather nice, aren’t they?” she aske
d casually.
“They are,” one of the men responded. “They are some of the finest horses I have ever seen.”
Carrie nodded pleasantly as she realized Abby had been right. These men had not received the news of Robert’s death, so they assumed they would be negotiating with him. “They are rather special,” she agreed. Amber and Miles had disappeared into the barn, but Clint had moved closer so he could hear the conversation.
“They certainly are,” another of the men said as he wiped sweat from his balding head. His face was flushed red, but Carrie wasn’t entirely sure it was because of the heat.
“Mark Jones told us about the operation down here,” the final man offered.
Carrie observed him carefully. Of the three of them, he seemed to be the one least affected by her charm. His gaze was pleasant, but he was strictly business.
“How old are the foals?” the third man asked keenly.
Carrie decided it was time to take control. She turned to the first man. “First, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with, gentlemen?”
“My name is Lester McMinnville,” the oldest said. He was thin, looked to be in his early fifties, and had the air of elegant wealth.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McMinnville,” Carrie said pleasantly, and then looked to the balding man.
“I am Tobias Smithfield.”
Carrie extended her hand graciously. “A pleasure, Mr. Smithfield.” His face reddened even more when he took her hand. Carrie wondered briefly if he spent so much time in stables that he had forgotten what a woman looked like, but she pushed it aside because she knew she was dangerously close to laughing already.
She turned to the third man, allowing her eyes to become more direct. “And you are?”
The man looked at her carefully. “Anthony Wallington.” He accepted her hand but gazed over her shoulder. “And you are?”
“I am Carrie Borden.”
Anthony met her eyes briefly before he looked at the house again. “Will your husband be out soon?”
Carrie steeled herself to answer the question without a catch in her voice. “My husband is dead,” she said steadily. “I own Cromwell Stables.” She watched all the men’s faces change as they absorbed her words and realized how enthusiastic they had been in their admiration of the foals. Their looks said they knew they had already lost negotiating power.
“I see,” Mr. Wallington murmured, amused appreciation glowing in his eyes.
Carrie smiled at him brightly. “Would you like to see the rest of the foals perform?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure they are exactly what Jones told me they are.” He glanced over at Clint, his eyes taking in Amber who had appeared at the door of the barn. “They are the ones that trained the yearlings he brought home this spring?”
“They are,” Carrie assured him. She made no mention of the fact that she had also been involved in their training. She was simply the business owner on this day. “Are each of you gentlemen interested in buying some of the foals?”
Lester McMinnville stepped forward quickly, realizing he could be at a disadvantage. “Mr. Smithfield and myself are partners,” he said haughtily as he tried to establish some kind of control of the situation.
“How nice,” Carrie murmured.
“Yes,” he continued in a firm voice. He glanced back over his shoulder, trying to project a skeptical interest.
Carrie hid another smile. She wondered if he had forgotten his earlier statement that they were some of the finest horses he had ever seen, but then decided it was more likely he thought her feeble female mind might have forgotten his words.
“I would like to know more about their bloodlines,” he said imperiously.
Carrie was quite certain he thought she would be clueless. “Certainly,” she replied, dropping all pleasantries as she allowed herself to go into full negotiating mode. “The sire is Eclipse, a son of Lexington. I’m sure you gentlemen are aware that Lexington was bred in Lexington, Kentucky. He is a racehorse who won six of his seven race starts. He is a son of Boston, another Thoroughbred legend.” She paused as she watched their faces try to absorb her rapid transformation into an equine expert. “Lexington is known as the best race horse of his day, gentlemen. Unfortunately, he had to be retired in 1855 because of bad eyesight, but it’s not genetic because he hasn’t passed it on to his progeny. He’s claimed the title of leading sire in North America many times since his retirement.”
“And the mares?” Wallington asked, his amused eyes saying he appreciated what was happening.
Carrie was suddenly certain she liked this man. “The mares come from a variety of lineages, all carefully picked to maximize the progeny they produce with Eclipse. We, of course, have papers for every one. I can assure you Cromwell Stables chose nothing but the best, and I also believe we have the best trainers in the industry for young horses.”
She swept all three men with her gaze. “Whatever you decide to do with these foals, you will not find better horses in the country,” she said. This part was easy to do because she believed it with all her heart. She saw McMinnville take a breath to talk, but she decided to maintain control. “We have fifty foals available for this season. I have four more buyers competing for the right to purchase them. I have checked to make certain all you gentlemen run viable operations because I want our horses to be well cared for. You seem to all meet that criteria, as do the other gentlemen who have inquired, so it is really just a matter of finances.” She smiled pleasantly, hardly able to believe how much she was enjoying this. It almost made having to put a dress on worth it. “Look at the foals for as long as you wish. Clint and I will be on the porch. When you are ready to make an offer, you may join me.” Not giving any of them a chance to respond, she turned slowly and sauntered up onto the porch where Annie had placed a large pitcher of tea and a plate of cookies.
Clint joined her, his eyes filled with glee. “You were sure something out there, Carrie. Those men don’t stand a chance with you.”
Carrie smiled graciously, wanting to be sure she kept up the act in case any of the men were watching her, but her words were just as gleeful. “I do believe you’re right, Clint.” She batted her eyes as Clint snorted back a laugh.
********
Mr. Smithfield and Mr. McMinnville were the first to approach the porch.
“Would you like some tea, gentlemen?” Carrie asked graciously.
They both nodded, and then McMinnville started the conversation. “We are prepared to make an offer for twenty of the foals,” he began. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “I believe you’ll find the terms agreeable,” he said smoothly.
Carrie glanced at the paper, careful to keep her face expressionless as she read it, but inside she was shouting with joy because the price was even more than Robert had gotten for the foals the year before. She examined the paper carefully, folded it, and put it in her pocket. “Thank you, gentlemen.” She saw Anthony watching her on the porch and knew he was waiting his turn. “I will meet with Mr. Wallington, and then let you know. There are chairs set up under the oak tree so you will be comfortable while you wait.”
McMinnville scowled but quickly smiled to cover it up. The overall effect was one of a twisted grimace. “We would appreciate it if you would give us an answer now,” he stated. “We believe this is a fair offer.”
Carrie nodded. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that as a businessman you would want to know all the offers before you accepted one.” She held his gaze until he nodded reluctantly. “I’m sure you won’t have to wait long, gentlemen.” She inclined her head toward the chairs positioned far enough away so that any conversation could not be overheard, and then beckoned Mr. Wallington forward. The other two men had no other choice but to leave the porch, their faces filled with frustration.
Carrie smiled up at Anthony Wallington. “You are pleased with the foals?”
Wallington grinned. “You know I am, Mrs. Borden.”
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“I know you look intelligent,” Carrie agreed, “so I imagine you are.” Even though he seemed very likeable, she was not about to let her guard down. She was a businesswoman negotiating the best deal possible for her business. Abby had drilled into her that she could not forget that for even one moment. Some men would try bullying to get their way, but just as many would try to charm her. Either would diminish her effectiveness. She sat back and waited.
The appreciation in Wallington’s eyes intensified as he leaned forward. “What did the other gentlemen offer you?”
Carrie laughed lightly. “Surely you can do better than that,” she chided him, deciding to be just as blunt as he was. “I suggest you make the best offer you can and we’ll go from there.”
Wallington settled back in his chair, holding her eyes with his direct gaze. “I recognize quality horseflesh when I see it. I represent several gentlemen who will pay well for the best.”
Carrie nodded but remained silent. Her research had already revealed what he had just told her.
Wallington smiled again. “But you already knew that.”
Carrie inclined her head in agreement and continued to watch him.
“I will increase whatever McMinnville and Smithfield offered by twenty percent.” Wallington made his offer, and then sat back in his chair as he reached for a glass of tea.
Carrie fought to maintain her composure, but the knowing glint in Wallington’s eyes said she had probably failed. “How many are you interested in?” she asked briskly.
“All of them,” Wallington answered. “I’m willing to offer a more than fair price because I don’t want to have to haggle over a few dollars with any other buyers. I would rather finalize this deal and be on my way.” He paused. “Am I right in assuming it will be the same as with Mark Jones—that Amber and Clint will train them, and then I can pick them up next spring when they are yearlings?”