Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Sam held firmly to Dusty’s bridle while the unruly colt pranced next to him. An early-morning gray mist hovered over the fields and paddocks, and the breath swirled from the colt’s flaring nostrils.

  Sam cursed under his breath. He’d had his hands full with another colt yesterday afternoon after he’d returned from Lexington, and this morning Dusty was acting up.

  “Ease up on the reins, Ollie. The more you fight him, the more he’s gonna fight back.”

  “I put him out in the pasture yesterday like you said, Sam,” the rider called to him from atop the chestnut colt’s back. He did as he was instructed and loosened the reins, but the colt continued to shake his head and fight the restraint Sam had on him.

  “Then why is he acting this way?”

  Sam gritted his teeth. The colt was feeding off his body language, but he couldn’t let him loose, not until they reached the training track up ahead. The horse had a lot of pent-up energy, and the run would do him good.

  Maybe you should join him and run a lap or two around the oval.

  Sam inhaled a deep breath to try and relax, but his tense muscles had already communicated to the young thoroughbred that something wasn’t right. Horses were extremely perceptive animals when it came to reading body language, even if it wasn’t obvious.

  Sam hadn’t been able to relax fully since his return from Lexington yesterday afternoon. No, since the moment he’d first glimpsed Miss Emmaline Waterston. She’d been a vision of beauty at the train station, but he’d easily shrugged it off. Until he’d watched the way the carriage team had responded to her, and heard her softly spoken words to the geldings.

  A haunted sadness had passed through her eyes, but she looked genuinely happy to be near the horses.

  “Lonnie told me to put him back in his stall after I turned him out. He said he didn’t want the horse to get injured from being loose.”

  Sam glared up at the rider and visions of the lovely lady from Boston vanished momentarily. Renewed tension poured into him. Lonnie Clayton, the farm’s head trainer, had given Sam the responsibility of training the young stock, but he’d been meddling more and more lately.

  “I wish he’d mind his own business and let me train these colts without constantly interfering,” Sam grumbled loud enough to be heard.

  Ollie nodded. “He said the big boss wanted this horse ready to run in Louisville in a couple of months, and not to take any chances.”

  Sam shook his head. “He’s crazy. He knows this horse isn’t ready to run a race yet. It’s too early in the season.”

  “We all know that, and I told Lonnie the same thing, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Sam grumbled.

  Not that it would do much good. Lonnie Clayton was the head trainer, and Sam had to answer to him. Although Lonnie had often told Sam that he had a real knack with the young horses, he still called the shots, and they didn’t always agree on their training methods.

  His grip on Dusty’s bridle eased for a split second and the colt took immediate advantage. He jerked his head up and struck out with one of his front hooves, catching Sam in the shoulder. Sam cursed as pain seared down his arm.

  “Are you all right?” Ollie called.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Sam gritted his teeth and renewed his hold on the bridle. He led the colt onto the training track.

  “He’s all yours,” he called to the rider. “Take him around once at an easy lope. Try and get him to settle down. Then you can open him up and let him run for another lap. Let’s see what he’s got.”

  Sam rubbed his throbbing shoulder when the horse cantered off. The colt bucked and shook his head in protest to his rider’s hold on the reins. He was eager to run. There would be no sensible training session today. The colt would have been more relaxed had he been granted some freedom yesterday, rather than being boxed up in a stall.

  Sam frowned. Lonnie Clayton wouldn’t have meddled unless David Benton had said something to him. If Benton was going to make it a habit of telling the trainers how to do their job, Sam might as well find work elsewhere. They would never see eye to eye on anything, least of all how to properly train a horse. His eyes went from the rambunctious two-year-old running down the field to the big house in the distance.

  He shook his head. His mind wasn’t on the horses this morning. It was up at that house, and on the woman he’d delivered there yesterday. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind well into the previous night, or all afternoon. The more he’d tried to wipe her from his memory, the more she took up residence there. Perhaps a good kick from the horse was what he’d needed to stop the absurd thoughts in his head. He didn’t fraternize with the elite.

  He’d only half-listened to Gus rambling on about how the salve Millie had rubbed on him had done wonders for his aches and pains. Everyone knew that Gus, even in his old age, and the estate’s curvaceous cook were sweet on each other, even if they both denied it with a vengeance.

  The two of them needed to get it out in the open and tie the knot. Why they both fought the inevitable was a mystery to Sam. Gus might claim he was too old for such foolishness, but the spark of infatuation still shone in his eyes whenever he saw Millie. The cook often found an excuse to come visit the barns and drop off special meals with the pretense that they were leftovers and would only go to waste otherwise.

  Once he’d covered the second lap around the half-mile oval, Ollie eased Dusty into a trot. The colt didn’t look nearly ready to settle down completely, but he’d worked off some of his exuberance during that run. His nostrils flared and both sides of his neck were lathered with nervous sweat. If he could be trained to control that energy, he’d be unstoppable.

  Sam rubbed at his shoulder, which throbbed more as the minutes passed. If Lonnie hadn’t interfered and had allowed the colt some freedom yesterday, this probably wouldn’t have happened.

  “Cool him out, then turn him loose in the paddock,” Sam called to the rider. Ollie shot him a quizzical look.

  “I don’t care what Lonnie says.” Sam said before Ollie could respond. “This horse needs his freedom, otherwise we’ll always have a fight on our hands, and he’ll never have his mind on running straight.”

  Ollie shook his head. “Sure thing, Sam. You’re the boss.”

  Not really, but he’d sure give the real boss a piece of his mind.

  Sam headed for the barn. At least the pain in his arm made him forget Miss Waterston for a moment, but only for a moment. He glanced toward the house again. She’d acted all haughty and stiff yesterday, turning her little nose up at him, but her demeanor had completely transformed when she stood petting the coach horses. A vulnerable side had emerged, and besides tenderness and joy, there had also been fear and uncertainty in her eyes. She had no idea what she was in for if she married David Benton.

  Gus glanced up from his work when Sam sauntered into the carriage barn. The old caretaker took great pride in keeping each piece of harness well-oiled and all the brass fittings polished until they sparkled like fine jewelery.

  “What’s got you looking like a mule with its tail caught between the fence gate?” Gus set the leather aside and leaned his palms on his knees.

  “Lonnie’s interfering with my training,” Sam grumbled, still holding his aching shoulder. Gus pointed at it.

  “You get into a fight with him?”

  “Not yet, but I might.” He sat beside Gus on the bale of straw. “Dusty got me with his hoof.”

  Gus stood and faced Sam. “Let’s take a look.” He motioned with his fingers for Sam to unbutton his shirt.

  Sam frowned, but pulled the ends of his shirt out from his britches. He didn’t need to be coddled, but it might be best to see what damage, if any, the colt had done. Most likely his shoulder would be black and blue for a few days.

  He grimaced when he had to rotate his shoulder to peel the shirt down his arm. An angry red welt graced the skin.

  “An inch over, and you’d have had a busted
collarbone,” Gus echoed Sam’s thoughts. “I’ll get some liniment and bandages”

  “How about some of Millie’s ointment?” Sam grinned when Gus scowled at him.

  “Liniment’ll work better,” he grumbled. He disappeared behind the carriage that had brought Emma Waterston to Three Elms.

  Sam’s jaw clenched. What the hell business did he have thinking about her constantly? No matter where he looked, something reminded him of her. Those tender eyes continued to haunt him.

  He removed his cap and raked his fingers through his hair. He had colts to train. He didn’t have time to waste on silly thoughts about a woman. Least of all a blueblood like Emmaline Waterston. She was so far out of his league, he might as well make starry eyes at Sally, the goat that kept Dusty company in his stall.

  Boots scuffed in the dirt behind him, and Sam shifted his haunches on the straw bale. He frowned. Lonnie Clayton stomped down the barn aisle like an angry vulture.

  “Hawley,” he roared. “What the hell is Dusty doing out in the paddock when I gave explicit instructions that he wasn’t to be turned out?”

  Sam slowly rose to his feet. He faced Lonnie squarely and waited for the older man to come to a stop.

  “That horse needs to be outside, not confined to a stall,” Sam said calmly while anger rose in him.

  Lonnie’s face reddened and he pointed in the direction from which he’d just come, as if Sam would be able to see Dusty from here.

  “That horse is worth more money than you and I combined will ever be worth in ten lifetimes. If he goes lame, we’re both out of a job.”

  “He’ll go lame if he’s cooped up. He’s a big colt, and needs the exercise.”

  “Then work him harder.” Lonnie leaned toward Sam, his hands on his hips.

  “I can’t work him harder,” Sam shot back immediately. “He’s still growing, and if you work him too hard, he’ll break down. A two-year-old his size needs to be brought along slowly.”

  Sam clenched his jaw. He didn’t need to tell the head trainer all of this. Lonnie knew how to train a horse, but he was a spineless coward, always doing David Benton’s bidding.

  “Look, Sam,” Lonnie said in a calmer voice, shifting weight from one foot to the other. “Benton came to me, and wants him to start in his first race in a couple of months. He needs to be ready.”

  “Tell Benton to shove it.” Sam gripped his cap until his knuckles turned white. “He doesn’t give a hoot about the horse.”

  “Well, if you give a hoot about your job, you’d best do what you’re told. I, for one, am not going to lose my job because you’re trying to coddle that animal. Since you answer to me, do as I tell you.”

  Sam ground his teeth. He glanced from Lonnie to Gus, who came up behind the head trainer. The old man shook his head in a warning gesture. Sam inhaled a deep breath.

  “Let me do my job, Lonnie.” His words were as calm as he could muster at the moment. “You know as well as I do that Dusty needs to be brought along slow. He’ll be a champion, but not if he breaks down before he’s even three years old.”

  Lonnie’s lips tightened. He ran a hand through his hair, then pointed a finger at Sam. “Get that horse ready to race in July, or you’re back to mucking stalls.”

  With those words, he turned and stomped from the barn. Sam tossed his cap on the ground, the swift movement sending a hot jolt of pain through his arm.

  “Best not rile him too much.” Gus walked up to him, a jar of liniment and a roll of bandages in his hands. “You know he’s only doing what David Benton tells him.”

  “Lonnie’s a coward,” Sam grumbled and bent to pick up his cap.

  He shot one more glance toward the end of the barn where the trainer had disappeared, then returned to the straw bale.

  “Yes, he is,” Gus confirmed. “But unless you’re ready to pick up and move somewhere else, you’d better lie low and do what you’re told.”

  “I’ll do what’s in the best interest of the horses. I can’t train an animal, knowing that I’ll be harming him.” Sam stared at Gus. The old caretaker knew him better than that.

  “And you’re going to find a way to do just that, without making the boss angry. It’s how I’ve done it for years.” Gus smiled and winked. “Now sit still, so I can take a look at that shoulder.”

  Chapter Six

  Emma glanced at her reflection in the mirror one final time, smoothed her hair in place, and headed out the door of her room and down the stairs. Hopefully she wasn’t late for breakfast. No one had knocked to wake her, and from the looks of it outside, it was still early.

  She descended the stairs, her skirts swishing around her legs. She wore the last of her good dresses, but it didn’t seem good enough for this grand house. Last evening, she’d worn the finer of the two to supper, hoping to make an impression, but David Benton hadn’t been there to greet her.

  Instead, his mother had told her that it would be just the two of them. David, apparently, had remained in Lexington on business, according to a messenger. Lizette had assured her that he would be home in the morning, and had sent his sincerest apologies.

  Emma had forced a smile on her face throughout supper. If David had been in Lexington, why couldn’t he have come to the train station to meet her? She’d wanted to ask, but it might have sounded too judgmental.

  Men with means acquired their wealth through hard work, and this farm was testament that the owners worked very hard to live the lifestyle they did. Unlike her father, whose laziness and irresponsibility had cost Emma her home. David seemed like a hardworking man, and if he was gone from the estate for a good portion of the time, as Lizzy had said earlier, it would suit Emma just fine.

  She’d excused herself shortly after supper, feigning fatigue from travel.

  “Of course, dear,” Lizzy had smiled at her. “You get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow David should be home and the two of you can finally meet.” She’d held Emma by the shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  Emma sighed. Hopefully this morning, she’d meet her fiancé. She turned the corner down the hall, when loud and angry voices drifted through the closed doors of the dining room. Emma hesitated. Lizette was arguing with a man.

  “I’m trying to look out for you. How many times do I have to explain that?” Lizette hissed. She certainly didn’t sound like the friendly woman Emma had met yesterday. “The reputation of this farm is at stake, and I will not have you ruin your father’s good name with your habits.”

  The man laughed. “I’m not going to be ordered around like one of your servants.”

  “Emma is a wonderful young woman,” Lizette continued, her voice louder this time. “She’s just what you need.”

  Emma stepped up to the door. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sound of her name. Hesitating, she pushed down on the handle. If they were discussing her, she wasn’t going to eavesdrop.

  Two heads turned when she walked into the large dining room. Lizette stood at the head of the long table, her eyes wide. The man, fitting the description David had sent to her about himself, sat leaning back in a chair. His feet were propped on the table, crossed carelessly at the ankles. The ends of his white shirt hung haphazardly out of his dark trousers, and his hair was a disheveled mess. Even from a distance, his eyes appeared bloodshot.

  Emma swallowed her apprehension and stepped fully into the room. The man she assumed was David slowly straightened in his chair and swung his feet down from the table. He stood, but wobbled unsteadily. Lizette rushed around the table toward Emma.

  “Emma, dear, how are you this morning?” Lizette held out her hands, but the smile on her face was strained, more so than yesterday. “I hope you had a restful night.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Emma accepted the older woman’s embrace, but she glanced at the man who stood with his hand on the table, no doubt for support.

  Their eyes connected. The man’s lips widened in an insolent grin. Lizette ushered her toward the table. “David, I’d like you to finall
y meet Emma.”

  Emma’s forehead wrinkled and she shot a confused look at David Benton’s mother. The introduction seemed backward. He should be introducing her to his mother.

  David straightened and pushed away from the table. His eyes raked over her, and Emma swallowed past the throbbing of her heart in her throat. She’d never been looked at the way this man was looking at her, as if he were mentally undressing her. The leer in his eyes grew more intense.

  “So, this is my lovely bride-to-be?” He stepped up to her, his hands behind his back. He leaned his body to the left as if appraising her backside.

  Emma’s spine stiffened. She gritted her teeth. This man was drunk. Lizette’s rigid posture next to her, and the way she gripped Emma’s arm told her that the older woman was just as apprehensive about this meeting as she.

  “Emma, dear, David has had a long night, and is probably exhausted. Perhaps this meeting should be postponed until he’s had some rest.”

  “Why, Mother?” David glared at Lizette. “You were more than eager to shove this lovely lady at me all these weeks. Why postpone our meeting any longer?”

  He turned to Emma and took her hand. In a dramatic bow, he kissed the top of her hand, his tongue running up the back of her wrist. Emma gasped and pulled her hand away.

  “I must say she’s a delectable choice.”

  Emma stared at him, speechless. A shudder raced down her spine at his insolent, brazen behavior.

  “Emma, I’ll have Judith get you some breakfast out on the veranda while I speak to my son.”

  Lizette pushed her toward the glass doors leading outside. Emma stood her ground. She glared from Lizette to David. “I can’t say that the pleasure is mine to finally meet you, Mr. Benton, but I’m getting the feeling that not all is as it seems.”

  David Benton laughed, looking triumphantly at his mother. “Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do to her, too, Mother. I think I’ll just leave you two ladies to it, then, and get some sleep.” He leered at Emma again. “It’s been a long and exhausting night.”