by Kari Bovee
Lizzy’s face fell. She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Grace. I promise.” She walked away from us and headed for Marley’s stall.
I supposed I was worrying over nothing. Lizzy was a proficient rider—better than me, if I was being honest—with a good seat. She was a natural in the saddle and completely confident in her skill. As Joe always reminded me, confidence went a long way with a horse.
“I’ll see you later.” Ned smiled warmly at me and then headed deeper into the barn.
I finished saddling Goldie and put on her bridle. She nickered at me for one of the sugar cubes I had in my pocket, and I gladly gave her a few. On my way out to the arena, I passed by Marley’s stall. “You’ll be careful out there?”
She nodded. “I always am.” Her mood had turned sullen, likely disappointed that Ned could not ride out with her. She brushed Marley’s back without looking at me.
I figured it was best to leave her alone at this point. When she’d first arrived at the ranch, she was angry, and then she’d withdrawn, suffering from melancholy. Over the last couple of weeks, she’d seemed to be coming out of it, but perhaps that had been wishful thinking on my part. Maybe riding would clear her head and improve her mood. It always did mine.
As we usually did, Goldie and I started our session with some easy walking. Today, I could see that Goldie was a bit distracted by the new horse that Daniel was still hand-walking at the other end of the arena. Instead of focusing on me, she was focused everywhere else and seemed jumpy and nervous. After trying unsuccessfully to do some minor tasks with her to get her attention, I stopped trying and looked helplessly over at Joe, who was watching us.
“You’re not being provocative enough,” he said, hopping down from the fence railing and coming over to us.
I couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. Provocative? Did I need to give her a come-hither glance?
“She’s upset by the new horse,” I said, bringing her to a halt. With Goldie craning her neck to look at the new horse, she fidgeted, unable to keep her feet still.
“You need to keep her busy,” he went on. “Be provocative. Keep her focused on what your body is telling her to do. Get her into a trot, and then do lots of circles and changing of direction. Capisce?”
Not entirely sure of myself, I nodded and clucked to her, letting her move out.
By some miracle, his advice worked. After about ten minutes of pretty tight figure eights at a trot, I felt her body relax under my own. I brought her to a walk, and she blew out loudly, not paying any attention to the horse.
Joe smiled with approval. “There you go.”
I had been so absorbed in my task that I hadn’t seen Daniel and the bay heading toward us. Both horses were now completely relaxed, and I let out a deep breath, able to enjoy the feeling of the sun on my back.
“Morning, Daniel,” I said.
“Hey, Grace.” He raised his chin in greeting. He and the horse stood a few feet away from us, and Goldie nickered at the bay.
“You want me to trim his feet?” Daniel asked Joe. Daniel was a gregarious yet troubled boy who liked to work with his hands. Bill March, our blacksmith, had taken him under his wing and was teaching him the craft.
Joe took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. The June day was speedily warming up. “Nah,” he shook his head. “Why don’t you saddle Duchess for me. I want to see how she is coming along. Maybe you can work on this guy’s feet after school.”
Daniel nodded and led the bay toward the barn.
“He seems like a nice kid,” Joe said, settling his hat back on his head. “What’s his story?”
My eyes followed Daniel as he opened the arena gate. “He was caught pickpocketing. Learned the trade from his father, who is now in prison for theft. I have no idea where his mother is. The police officer who caught Daniel let him off with a warning and told him about us.”
“And the boy came here of his own accord?”
I nodded. “I think he wants to be good, make something of himself.”
“Good for him,” Joe said. “How about we ride out today? Just for an hour or so. Are you up for it?”
“Sure,” I said. Maybe we would run into Lizzy. The thought gave me some comfort. “I’m going to trot her a little more while we wait for Duchess.”
“Good idea. You’re doing great with her.”
I smiled, pleased with his approval. I moved Goldie along, posting with her movement and enjoying the connection I felt with her. Soon, Daniel brought out Duchess. He was accompanied by Ida and Susie, our youngest charge at ten years old. She was clutching the teddy bear she always carried to her chest. She worshiped Ida and rarely left her side, even though Ida could be a bit dismissive and cruel to her.
“Are you done with your chores?” I asked the girls.
“Yes, ma’am,” Susie said. “The horses ate all their oats this morning.” Susie loved greeting the horses every morning with their favorite food.
“And the chickens, Ida? Were there many eggs?”
She put her hands on her hips. “A boatload. We’ll be eating deviled eggs for weeks.”
I laughed. The dish was one of Rose’s favorite to prepare. “You’d better get ready for school, then. Miss Meyers will be waiting for you. Joe and I are going out for a bit.”
Joe climbed atop Duchess, and I made my way out of the arena to meet him. We paired up and started to head into the fields. The sound of the kids laughing distracted me, and I turned to see Daniel holding Susie’s teddy bear above his head and the little girl dancing around him, shouting at him to give it back. He tossed the bear to Ida, who ran toward us with it and did the same, holding it above her head and then tossing it back to Daniel.
I knew this was just playing, but Susie was a little sensitive about her bear. I was about to say something to them when Daniel lobbed the bear toward Ida, who’d come closer to us. His aim was off, however, and the stuffed toy flew in our direction.
Goldie jumped to the side, almost toppling me to the ground. Instinctively, I gripped her body with my legs, trying to regain my balance, but I only succeeded in causing her to surge forward. I was jerked backward, and Goldie took off running. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground, gasping for breath while a kaleidoscope of stars flashed in my vision.
Chapter Three
“Grace, are you okay? Don’t move.” I blinked to see Ned’s face swimming before my eyes.
Then Joe came into view. “Catch your breath, cara,” he said. “Does anything hurt?”
I shook my head, still unable to speak.
“Sit her up slowly,” said Joe.
Ned took hold of my hand and, supporting my shoulders, gently helped me sit up. I caught his gaze, and his eyes were flooded with concern.
“Let’s get her into the house,” Joe said.
Before I realized what was happening, Ned swept me up into his arms as if I weighed no more than one of the feather boas I used in costuming. He hustled me through the picket fence, onto the porch, and into the house with Joe, Ida, and Susie on our heels.
“What in heaven’s—” Rose met us in the living room where Ned carefully deposited me onto the sofa as if he were placing a fallen egg into a nest.
“Grace was thrown,” Joe said, raising an assuring hand in the air. “She’s fine—just got the wind knocked out of her.” He turned to me. “You feeling better, cara?”
I forced a small smile. Joe often used this fatherly Italian endearment when speaking to me. “Yes,” I said, finally finding my voice.
Rose scurried away toward the kitchen, and Ned released a heavy breath. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, placing his hand on my knee. My gaze dropped to his hand, and he quickly retracted it and stood up.
Susie came around the sofa and held out her bear. “You can hold Teddy if you want,” she said, her brow knit with concern. “He’ll make you feel better.”
I held my hand out to her and then pulled her close to me. “Why
don’t you sit down next to me with Teddy. That will make me feel better.” She smiled and snuggled in next to me.
“We’re awful sorry, Grace,” Daniel said, his freckled face reddening with shame. “We were just playing around.”
“Yeah. We’re sorry,” said Ida, not able to make eye contact with me.
I’d had trouble connecting with the fourteen-year-old who never could sit still long enough for me to have a conversation with her about anything. An aunt had brought her to us with very little explanation except that her father had been a drug addict since he returned from the war and had died of an overdose of morphine. She couldn’t keep the girl.
“It’s all right, kids. I’m fine.” I was touched by their remorse and concern.
Rose bustled back into the living room, elbowing her way through to hand me a glass of lemonade. “Here you go. Some sugar to help with the shock.” She was a large, stern-eyed woman, all business and no sentiment, but I didn’t know what Chet and I would do without her.
I suddenly remembered Lizzy was out riding in the hills. I had hoped to connect with her while we were out there. “Has anyone seen Lizzy? Has she come back yet?”
“I’m right here,” the girl said, breezing into the room. “Marley had a stone bruise and was a little tenderfooted so I came back early. And look who I found walking up to the house . . .”
My mouth dropped open as Edward Travis stepped into the room. He’d said he wanted to come visit the ranch some time, but I hadn’t expected it would be so soon—or so unannounced. Plus, I figured he’d be busy making sure all was ready for his party tomorrow night.
“What’s going on?” Lizzy asked. “Why are you all in here?”
I struggled a bit to get up from the sofa, my legs still a little wobbly, but managed to stand. “Oh, I took a little spill riding is all. I’m fine.” I turned to the director. “Mr. Travis, what brings you here?” I was still stunned to see him standing in my living room.
“I’d like to speak with you—about the ranch. But if it’s not a good time . . .”
“No, no. It’s no problem.” I tried not to wince as gravity pulled down on my aching back. “What can I do for you?”
“Come on, everyone,” Rose said, ushering the kids, Joe, and Ned out of the room. “Let’s give Grace some privacy.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” I offered. “Lemonade?”
He shook his head. “I won’t be long. I was going to call but realized I didn’t have your telephone number. My secretary keeps all that information for me, and, well, with the long weekend and all . . .”
“Yes. Please, sit down.” I gestured to the sofa and then gingerly lowered myself into the armchair adjacent to it, my back still aching.
He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. “I know this is rather short notice . . .” A sheepish grin played on his lips. “But the most inconvenient thing has happened. We’ve had a problem with the plumbing at the mansion. Flooded part of the upstairs rooms, and we’ve had to turn off the water. There is quite a bit of damage, unfortunately, and it has rather put me in a bind for the party tomorrow night. I’d hate to cancel all together. We’ve had such a rough go with the film so far; I fear morale is taking a downturn.”
He had reason to be concerned. Things had not exactly been going smoothly.
“I’ve contacted a few of the hotels with spaces that would be appropriate,” he continued, “but they are all booked for the weekend.”
“I see.” I was starting to get the picture. “Are you thinking you’d like to have the party here?” I asked.
He held his hands up in a placating manner. “I would take care of all the expenses, of course, and pay whatever fee you deem suitable. I’ve got everything ready to go—chef, waiters, you name it. We could make use of the outdoors, as well, if you prefer. What do you say?”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say and felt a little put on the spot. While it would probably be in my best interest career-wise to oblige, it was indeed short notice, and I did have the children to consider. Would it be too disruptive for them? Probably not for the older children—I imagine they would love to have the house full of movie stars. But what about Susie? She could stay with Miss Meyers in her rooms for the night, I reasoned.
Mr. Travis must have sensed my hesitancy from the awkward silence. “How about I make a donation of some kind for the kids here, as well? What do they need? Clothes, books, jobs? I’d be happy to help.”
Now he was making it much more difficult to refuse. Miss Meyers had requested a newer set of textbooks and also wanted to build a small library off the schoolroom. She’d been slowly collecting books for it over the past year. We received some money from the state, but it was never enough.
“You are very generous,” I said. “Can I give you a call later this afternoon? I’d like to run it by my husband first.”
“Absolutely.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a calling card. “This is my telephone number at the mansion.”
I took the card as we stood up. “It shouldn’t be too long. He just ran into town for an errand.”
I showed him out, suddenly feeling very sleepy. The adrenaline from the fall had worn off and left me feeling quite tired, and I longed to rest my head on my pillow, if only for a few minutes. I climbed the stairs, my mind filled with an array of thoughts. While I wanted to help the director, and by doing so, help the kids, the idea left me feeling uncertain and I wasn’t entirely sure why.
The sun is shining bright and warm on our heads as the sheets on the double clothesline billow around us, the whiteness of them making my eyes water. Sophia’s tinkling laugh fills my ears as she runs in circles around the outside of our little fort. She breaks through the gap in the sheets and places a dandelion chain on top of my head.
Our parents stand in the driveway in front of our house and then walk into the open garage set apart from the house. The car backs out a moment later as they drive away. I can see Sophia calling after them, but I can’t hear her. She runs down the street after them, leaving me alone. I start to cry, and suddenly Sophia is right next to me, lying in the grass, her eyes open and staring. Blood trickles down the side of her face.
“No!” I yell. “No, Sophia!”
I woke with a start, my heart pounding and my palms sweating.
“Grace, are you all right? I heard you shouting.” Chet came rushing into the bedroom and sat next to me on the bed.
“I’m, I’m—” I couldn’t quite make the words come out, still reeling from the dream.
“Another nightmare?”
I nodded. Apparently they came during the day, too.
Chet pushed a stray blond wave from my eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I wanted to forget about it as soon as possible. I clasped my hands to hide the fact that they were trembling.
“Mother told me you took a spill. Are you all right?”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “I’m fine. Guess the fall made me more tired than I thought.”
“You didn’t sleep well last night,” he added.
I hadn’t, but I didn’t want to talk about that, either.
Chet took my hands in his, their warmth radiating through the iciness of my fingers. I felt myself relax at his attentiveness. He’d always been such a symbol of strength to me.
“Mr. Travis came by today.” I wanted to change the subject.
“I heard that, too. What did he want?”
I studied our entwined hands and told him about Mr. Travis’s party and his troubles at the mansion.
Chet let out a low whistle. “That’s some hard luck.”
I raised my gaze to meet Chet’s light-gray eyes. “He asked if he could host the party here.” I bit my lip, worried about his response. Chet wasn’t crazy about big parties, especially parties filled with show business types. I wasn’t crazy about them, either, preferring the quiet company of those nearest and dearest to me.
“What did you tel
l him?” he asked, skepticism in his voice.
I lifted a shoulder. “I told him I need to speak with you. He’s offered to pay us, of course, for the use of the place, and he also said he would do something to help the kids—whatever we needed.”
Chet ran a hand through his hair. “How do you feel about it?”
“To tell you the truth, conflicted. I want to help Mr. Travis, and I want to help the kids, but you know me. I don’t really like these Hollywood parties any more than you do. And I just have a weird feeling . . .”
“About what?”
I shook my head. “I can’t put my finger on it.” The image of Sophia’s dead eyes from my latest dream popped into my head, and my stomach swirled with anxiety.
Chet let out a deep breath. “We could sure use the money. There is a lot of fencing to be fixed, and we are probably going to have to do something about the roof soon. The expenses around here are never-ending. I have high hopes for this horse rehabilitation venture, but it will take some time. It would be nice to have some extra for the kids now.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“Does Mother know about this?” he asked.
“No. I haven’t discussed it with anyone but you and Mr. Travis.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You realize it won’t go over well. You know how she is about people in ‘her’ kitchen.” He raised his fingers in quotation marks.
“That’s true, but since it would help the children . . .”
Chet squeezed my hand again. “Why don’t you do it, then? It sounds like it might even be fun. But there was something I wanted to discuss with you that might impact your decision.”
“Oh?”
“Joe’s got a line on a horse in Calabasas that has some real potential for the track in Mexico—but he’s got some behavioral problems and the owners want to euthanize him. No one can handle him. But Joe thinks he can turn the horse around. I thought it would be good for Daniel and Lizzy to help him with this horse, to learn from him. They both have taken so well to the animals, but it would be really nice if they had a project. And if we can get the horse ready for the track by next season, it might be good for us financially.”