Dragon Warrior (Midnight Bay)

by Janet Chapman

  That did the trick. She grabbed Rose’s mane, then raised her leg for a boost. “I’m not afraid of a silly old horse, even one that’s bigger than the car I’m driving.”

  William lifted her by the waist then waited to make sure she was settled before stepping away. “Ready?” he asked, trying not to laugh when he saw her eyes had gone wide at being tossed up like a sack of feathers.

  He started walking down the path and smiled to himself, remembering the night Eve and Maddy had gotten falling-down drunk to bolster their nerves as they walked along a dark road after Maddy’s truck had ended up in the ditch. Since he’d been a dragon at the time—which they decided had to be a hairless moose—and was inadvertently the cause of their driving into the ditch, he’d gotten Kenzie to fetch them home. When Kenzie had found them and in turn carried each woman to his truck, Maddy had been drunkenly adamant that she was going to lose a few pounds before her own knight in shining armor finally showed up to sweep her off her feet.

  The next day, William had asked his dear friend Mabel what a knight was, and that’s when she’d told him the tale of King Arthur. And with twinkling eyes filled with speculation more than amusement, she’d also explained that even though Maddy might have been jesting, she was probably secretly hoping that a big, strong, handsome hero would come riding into town and rescue her and love her forever.

  “It’s true that Rose is the one who suggested we come give you a ride,” William said into the peaceful silence. “But where she was being thoughtful, I admit I have a more selfish motive, as I have a favor to ask.”

  He heard Maddy sigh. “Sure, why not, seeing how you’ve probably figured out that I’m a pushover when it comes to people asking me for favors.”

  William kept facing forward so she wouldn’t see his smile. “Ye can say no if ye want; I won’t be offended. But if ye do say no, then maybe could you give me some advice instead?”

  “What’s the favor?”

  “I’ve purchased a truck, but I’m not allowed to drive it on the roads alone with only a permit. I was wondering if you’d consider riding with me while I practice for taking the test to get my license.”

  “You don’t drive?”

  He frowned at the path ahead, wondering how to answer without revealing the fact that he’d been in this century only a few months and a man only a few weeks. And he could drive, just not very well. “I’m getting used to all the rules about things like blinkers and horns and road signs and such, and I’m still trying to figure out what all the buttons scattered throughout my truck do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Did you know there’s even a button to turn on a wire in the seat that warms a person’s bum?”

  That got him a full-blown smile. “You’re going to find yourself using that button a lot come January. So that’s the favor? You need someone to drive with you?” Her smile vanished and her eyes narrowed. “Why doesn’t Kenzie or Eve take you driving? Or Mabel? The only requirement is that they have a valid driver’s license, and Mabel still has hers.”

  William returned to watching the path in front of him. “They have gone with me, but I’m finding it difficult learning all your blasted rules, and I really don’t wish to take up that much of their time.”

  “And if I say no, then what’s the advice you want?”

  “I wondered what you’d think of my asking Elbridge or Hiram or Samuel.”

  “Omigod, not Hiram,” she said with an outright laugh. “He can’t remember where his room is most of the time! The two of you would end up in Canada.”

  William felt her laughter easing the knot in his gut. “And Elbridge?”

  “Elbridge would probably love to help you, and so would Samuel. Charlotte and Lois, too. They so need to feel needed.” Maddy sighed again. “Um . . . it was really thoughtful of you to ask their advice about building your home. Your visits mean a lot to them.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I wasn’t being thoughtful; I need their advice far more than they need my visits.”

  She gave him the strangest look—as if she didn’t quite believe him—but then her gaze strayed to his hands as he absently wove the reins through his fingers, and her breath sort of hitched, as if she’d momentarily forgotten to breathe.

  “So by suggesting that I ask Elbridge, are ye saying you don’t wish to ride with me?”

  “Huh? Oh, no . . . I could go with you once in a while.” She patted Rose’s neck, her eyes locked directly on his. “If you can get Kenzie or Eve to bring your truck to the nursing home and leave it, Elbridge or one of the others can go out with you in the morning, and I’ll go with you on some of my lunch breaks. No,” she said, suddenly shaking her head. “They wouldn’t like you leaving your truck at the home overnight if you’re not a resident, for liability reasons.” She shrugged. “I’ll have to think about how we can make this work.”

  “I have an idea,” he said, turning to walk down the path again. “Why don’t you drive my truck to work every morning, and then drive it home at night?”

  “Because that would mean I’d have to go to Eve’s house to get it every day.”

  “Or ye could give Eve her car back and drive my truck all the time.”

  “No!” she yelped so suddenly, William stopped and turned to her. “I can’t let people see me driving your truck. Everyone would get the wrong impression.”

  “And just what would that impression be?”

  “That we’re a couple.”

  He started walking again. “Forgive me; I was under the impression ye didn’t care what people thought.”

  “I don’t,” she snapped.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Okay, then. Let’s just say I don’t want to feel indebted to you.”

  He stopped walking and turned to her again. “How does your helping me learn to drive make you indebted to me? I would be the one beholden to you.”

  “If your truck’s so fancy it has heated seats, it cost more than I make in two years. I don’t want that kind of responsibility. What if I scratched it, or worse, what if I drove it into a ditch when some big hairless moose flew out in front of me?”

  William started walking again to hide his smile. “It’s only a truck, lass. Scratches won’t make it any less useful, and its feelings won’t get hurt if ye drive it into a ditch. And the good part is you won’t get hurt, either; it’s a large, safe truck, unlike that old one of yours that’s parked behind Kenzie’s barn.”

  He heard her sigh again. “You don’t understand,” she whispered.

  Deciding she’d had enough pushing for one night, William relented. “Never mind, lass,” he said. “I will figure another way.”

  He led her back to her house in silence, reminding himself that handling prickly little hedgehogs required patience, until the wee beasties were comfortable enough with a person to relax their quills. William led Rose out of the woods into the dooryard, and saw Sarah sitting on the steps of the porch, her chin in her hands, looking quite glum.

  That is until she spotted them—or more specifically Rose.

  “Mom! You’re riding a horse!” the girl cried, running down the stairs.

  But she immediately scampered back onto the porch when they drew close, when she realized Rose was so large she could run under the mare’s belly by only ducking her head.

  William reached across the stairs, picked Sarah up, and settled her onto Rose’s back in front of her mother. “And now you’re riding a horse, too,” he said with a chuckle at her surprised look. He started leading them around the yard. “And when ye go to summer rec tomorrow, you’ll have something to tell all your friends.”

  “I’m going to be sick tomorrow.”

  “Ye know, you remind me of my little sister, Gabby; she used to get bouts of illness quite often, too, whenever our father would tell her to go outside and play.”

  “She did? Would she throw up and everything?”

  “Quite often, actually. Papa would push her out the door, but she’d
cling to his leg and throw up on his boots. So he would pick her up and carry her to our mother.”

  “I bet Gabby got to stay home when she was sick,” Sarah said, turning to give Maddy a defiant glare.

  “Nay, Mama would clean her up and take her outside for a walk. This went on almost the entire summer Gabby was ten, until one day, my sister overheard our father say that the village healer would have to cut off all her hair to cure her.”

  “He wanted to cut off all her hair?” Sarah asked, grabbing her own hair as she leaned back into Maddy. “D-did your mother let him?”

  “She didn’t have to, because Gabby finally told Mama why she kept getting sick.”

  “Why?” Sarah whispered, holding on to Rose’s mane to lean toward William. “What was making her sick?”

  He turned at the end of the driveway and started back toward the house. “Well now, it turned out the village children were teasing Gabby so badly that just the thought of playing with them made her sick.”

  “It did?” Sarah tapped William on the shoulder to make him look at her. “Wh-what were they teasing her about?” she whispered.

  “Anything they could think of. And when they couldn’t think of anything, they just made things up.”

  “But why? Didn’t they like your sister? Was she mean and snotty to them?”

  “Sarah,” Maddy said, pulling the girl back against her. “Let Mr. Killkenny finish his story, and please don’t insult his sister.”

  William started walking again. “I don’t believe Gabby was at all mean and . . . snotty. She was quite shy around people, actually, as she preferred the company of animals. At least she was shy until she turned thirteen.”

  “What happened at thirteen? Did she discover boys were good for something other than throwing rocks at?”

  It was Maddy who’d asked that question, and William realized the woman would have her hands full soon enough, as Sarah grew up in her spitting image.

  “Nay, Gabby merely found her voice. And her backbone. And a vocabulary that would put yours to shame,” he added with a chuckle.

  “So why did your dad decide not to cut her hair off?” Sarah asked.

  “Gabby told our mother about the children teasing her.”

  “And did your mother make them stop?” William glanced over his shoulder in time to see Sarah frown up at Maddy. “I-I don’t want you to talk to them, because then they’ll think I’m a sissy for tattling.”

  “Our mother didn’t do anything,” William said. “Gabby did it herself.”

  Sarah blinked at him. “She did? How?”

  “Once Mama explained why the children were teasing her and suggest how she could make them stop, Gabby put a stop to it.”

  “What did your mama tell her?”

  “That the other boys and girls were jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of what?”

  “My sister was quite an accomplished young lass, and could ride a horse better than the boys could, and hit a target with her slingshot from over twenty paces away.” He smiled at both of them. “And boys being boys, they didn’t like knowing a lassie could outride them, so they tried to discourage her with their teasing.”

  “And the girls?” Sarah asked.

  “My sister was quite pretty, with long dark hair and a smile that would make even a curmudgeon break into a grin.” He nodded to her. “Just like you, Sarah. And girls being girls, they would start teasing Gabby about any little thing they could find, hoping to make her feel bad about herself so they’d feel good about themselves.

  “You think I’m pretty, just like your sister?”

  “Nay, lass, I think you’re beautiful just like your mother. Ye have your mama’s beautiful brown eyes, and when ye smile, it’s like the sun just peeked from behind a cloud and the whole world lights up.”

  Sarah turned to look up at her mother. “He said we’re beautiful,” she whispered. “And that we have beautiful eyes.”

  Maddy hugged her daughter and kissed the top of her head. “Should we believe Mr. Killkenny, or do you think he’s just shining us on?”

  “You’re beautiful,” Sarah whispered. She nodded. “So I guess we can believe him.” She looked at William. “What did Gabby do to make them stop teasing her?”

  “She practiced the art of misdirection.”

  “What’s misdirection? Is it something . . . I can learn?”

  Since he’d run out of driveway, William started leading Rose on another turn around the yard. “Misdirection is really quite simple. When a person says something ye don’t like, you ask them a question.”

  “I don’t get it. How does that stop them from teasing?”

  “If ye ask the person about something he or she might find fascinating, they will forget all about what they said to talk about what you said.” He stopped and looked at her. “Take for instance that you’re on the bus tomorrow, and one of the boys says something to you that ye don’t like. You just ask him if he’s ever ridden a warhorse. And when he says no, ye tell him that you have.”

  “But I haven’t.”

  William gestured at Rose. “Aye, but ye have, lass. You’ve been riding a warhorse for the last twenty minutes.”

  “Rose isn’t a warhorse; she’s a big old plow horse.”

  “This mare has never pulled a plow or been put in a harness. She’s descended from the great warhorses of highland warriors. In fact, she’s won prizes at the Scottish summer games down on the Maine coast six years running, before her son, Kenzie’s powerful stallion, Curaidh, stole the honor from her.”

  “But I’m not really riding her, so I’d be fibbing. I’m just sitting on Rose while you lead her around.”

  William tossed the reins over the mare’s head, then reached up, captured Maddy by the waist, and slid her to the ground—leaving Sarah sitting on the horse all by herself. “Pick up the reins,” he told the girl, taking hold of Maddy’s wrist when she started to reach for her daughter. “Sarah’s okay; she’s a big, smart, brave lass who can command a warhorse to do her bidding.”

  “I-I can?” Sarah whispered, looking skeptical even as she picked up the reins.

  Threading his fingers through Maddy’s, William started walking down the driveway again. “Gently pull on the right rein, Sarah, to tell Rose ye wish to follow us.”

  “Don’t kick her sides,” Maddy added, craning her neck to watch. She glared at William as she tried to wiggle free. “Honest to God, Killkenny, if that horse so much as burps and she falls off, I am going to kill you,” she hissed softly.

  “Rose has been letting little girls boss her around all her life,” he quietly assured her. “Sarah is safer on that horse than on one of those big yellow buses.” He stopped walking to face Sarah. “That’s good, lass. Now, turn her around and head back toward the house.”

  The girl pulled the left rein out as far as her arm would reach, and Rose obediently turned and ambled toward the house. “Look, Mom! I’m riding a warhorse! I can’t wait to tell everyone tomorrow. They’re going to be so jealous!”

  Maddy blew out a heavy sigh, and William felt her fingers relax in his. “I’m a little jealous myself,” she said, one side of her mouth lifting crookedly. “I only got to sit on Rose and be led around.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You and Sarah could come to Eve’s tomorrow when ye get off work, and the three of us could take a ride after dinner. And you could have a warhorse all to yourself.”

  She looked down at her hand in his; her breath sort of hitched like it had before, and she looked up and studied his face for the longest time. “You know, I think I would like to go for a ride tomorrow evening.”

  He let go of her hand to lift Sarah off the mare and set her on the porch step. “The sun’s set,” he told her, “so that must mean it’s your bedtime.”

  “I go to bed at nine.”

  “That gives ye seventeen minutes to climb the stairs, scrub your face clean, and put on your pajamas,” he said, holding up his watch to show her the exact time.

/>   “Oh, no, you don’t,” she countered, waggling her little finger at him. “You’re not tricking me into thinking it’s a race.” She reached out and patted the mare’s large nose. “Good night, Rose.” The girl suddenly gasped. “Wait right here!” she instructed, spinning around and running into the house. “Gram! Bring your camera! I need you to take a picture of me on a warhorse.”

  She ran back out onto the porch and held her arms out to William. “Can you lift me up on her again, please, Mr. Killkenny? I need a picture to show them on the bus tomorrow, because they’ll never believe I really rode a warhorse if I don’t have proof.”

  William looked at Maddy, and when she nodded, he picked the girl up and set her on Rose’s back. Sarah immediately picked up the reins again. “How do I make her back up, so no one will be in the picture but me and Rose?”

  “Just give a gentle tug on both reins, and make a soft clicking sound with your tongue. When ye want her to stop backing up, relax the reins.”

  “Oh, my God,” Patricia said, stepping onto the porch just as Sarah started backing up the mare. She clutched her chest, turning horrified eyes on her daughter. “Maddy, she’s just a baby.”

  “No, Mom, she’s a big, smart, brave lass,” Maddy said, holding her hand out for the camera. “And she’s going to show everyone at summer rec tomorrow that she rode a warhorse.”

  Still looking more worried than impressed, Patricia handed the camera to her daughter. Maddy stepped away, held the little box up and peered at a tiny screen on it, then pushed a button several times. The camera gave several sudden flashes of light, and William flinched every time.

  He had no idea what in hell a camera was, although he guessed that if Sarah was asking for a picture, it must capture her image somehow. He sighed to himself; he’d have to ask Mabel about it tomorrow, during their morning walk.

  And then maybe he’d ask Janice to order one for him.

  Maddy slid the camera into her pocket and helped her daughter off the mare. “Remember what Mr. Killkenny told you about the art of misdirection, Sarah. Timing is important. I’ll print out the pictures for you tonight, but you don’t show them to anyone until someone says something you don’t like. Then you ask if they’ve ever ridden a warhorse, and then you whip out the photos.” She gave Sarah a hug and nudged her toward the house with a laugh. “That will certainly misdirect the little snots.”