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Authors: Barbara Woster

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BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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With slow movements, he attached the whip to his belt and turned slowly. Keeping his eyes averted from those of the horse, he raised his flattened palm, offering the cookie.


That

s
a boy,

he praised, as the horse took the proffered treat. He gradually lifted his other hand and stroked the horse on the jaw, praise flowing softly.

You worked hard today, White Star. Maybe we can see about placing a saddle on you tomorrow. Okay, boy?

The horse neighed and nudged Matthew

s hand,

So
rry fella. Only one cookie per session. Of course, if I get that saddle on you tomorrow, then I might just make it two.

He turned and headed toward the paddock gate, pleased to hear the horse following him. His boss would be pleased
too
. He

d only had the horse in training for a
week
, and already
White Star
was responding to simple unspoken commands.
The mark of an intelligent beast.

A
stable hand appeared seemingly from nowhere as Matthew pushed through the door
. He moved
to take the horse back to the stables, but Matthew waved him away.
This exceptional animal was ready for a real test. Would he follow Matthew all the way back to the stables? Some horses were so skittish that the slightest distraction would cause them to bolt, but if Matthew read this animal correctly, it was steady.

If his assessment was incorrect, however, and the animal bolted, it could
be
lost,
hurt,
or stolen. In that case, Matthew would be looking for another job
before the sun set
. Still, he

d never been wrong before about a horse and he didn

t think he was now.

Without breaking his stride, Matthew moved at a steady pace past the house, listening intently for the sound of the horse

s hooves pounding the dirt behind him. Still there. Good.

When the barn came into view, Matthew sighed and picked up his pace a little. The horse followed unerringly.

He was glad to see the stable doors open. If he had to stop and open it, it may have distracted the animal or startled him. He made a mental note to ask Moses to see about oiling the squeaking hinges.

He went straight to the stallion

s stall, stepped inside and turned around. White Star paused outside the entrance and looked at Matthew with what he could only describe as mischie
f
. Matthew slid another grain cookie from his pocket and held it out. Obviously, White Star wasn

t
about to perform any more feats of extraordinaire without additional incentive.

The horse snorted, bobbed its
head, and
then entered the stall. Matthew allowed the horse to remove the cookie from his outstretched palm, then slipped past the massive body and slowly closed the gate.

He turned to find the stable boy standing nearby,

Make certain that he gets a good rub down, okay?


Yes, Master Matthew, sir.


Very good.

Matthew rubbed a hand along the back of his neck to try
to
relieve the tension, and left the stable.

He turned at the sound of a carriage barreling down the lane, kicking up a lot of dust. Man, he wished it would rain. He

d
eaten
enough dirt this past week to spoil most of his appetite for the next year.

As
the carriage drew closer, Matthew recognized
Adam
, the boss man

s driver, which could only mean that Stanharbor had finished his business in
New Hope
early.

The carriage slowed to a halt in front of the main house, and Matthew

s curiosity pe
a
ked. He wondered what the new Mrs. Stanharbor would look like,
be like,
and how she would feel about taking care of so many children. He

d never met any of the former Mrs. Stanharbors
,
but rumors floated around the ranch about them

all
nine
of them. Matthew had even seen the graveyard where Stanharbor buried
the women, or rather girls, as none survived beyond their teen years
. It was eerie
seeing so many gravestones clustered in one small plot
,
because not only
did
Stanharbor
appear to have
a need for a
private graveyard
,
but also
because he knew
women who
had
died of
in
expl
icable
causes
filled those graves.

Odder still, no rumors circulated about how each of Stanharbor

s
wives died, but plenty of talk circulated about how young they all had been.
One rumor abounded about a
man who
started a rumor about the
Stanharbor
women

s deaths. That rum
or was that the man was dead.

Well, young or not, doomed to die or not, he figured the new Mrs. Stanharbor was going to have to like kids a
great deal
.
As
if thinking
of the Stanharbor brood
summoned them, the front door to the
main
house opened and all
nine
of Stanharbor

s seed lined up at the head of the staircase, preparing to meet their new stepmother. They must have been anticipating their
father

s arrival with eager curiosity, since they
presented themselves at the precise
moment the carriage came within hearing range.

His own curiosity overpowered the need for a bath, and Matthew leaned against the barn, waiting, like the children, for the carriage to roll to a stop and the door to open.

Matthew noted, with a wry grin, that with so many children, the new Mrs. Stanharbor would need to have nerves of steel. Of course, if Stanharbor was true to the rumors bandied about, his new bride would probably be as young, which would
provide a playmate for his eldest daughter
, at the very least.
Personally, i
f
he ever found himself
in Stanharbor

s shoes

widowed with
nine
children

he

d find an older, more stable woman.

His
gaze
scanned the eager faces of the waiting
offspring
. When his eyes fell on the thirteen-year-old daughter, he froze. She wasn

t staring at the carriage
,
as were the other members of the Stanharbor clan
;
she was staring at him.

Damn! The look
registered
in her eyes was
one he hoped never to see again in a young
child. Well, he

d not be run out of a job this time. If she decided to pursue whatever notions had her looking at him all addlepated, he

d
set the record straight
quicker than lightning
; make it clearer than glass that he was not
some adolescent

s idea of a Prince Charming
; e
specially
as
he was anything but.
He was a man with a man

s needs and wants and no juvenile fresh out of diapers could
ever
whet his appetite.

The sound of rapping drew Matthew

s gaze back to the carriage.
Adam
alighted and moved to the door, opening it with a flourish. Stanharbor
poured his bulk from inside. With a huff, he
straightened his shoulders
,
his
cravat,
wiped the sweat from his brow,
and then
stormed up the stairs
and into the house
without
even glancing
toward
the children.

The front door slammed and all eyes drifted back in expectation toward the vehicle, yet no other person emerged.
Adam
shrugged slightly toward the children and shut the carriage door. He remounted and slapped the reins. The horses started and
ambled
toward the stables.

Matthew
was relieved to see Elizabeth disappear with the other children
. That gave him reason to stay put and wait on Adam to park the team near the barn. Had Elizabeth made a move in his direction, he

d have hightailed it down to the river and assuaged his curiosity at another time. Now though, h
is hygiene could wait long enough to pry some answers out of the
c
oachman.

CHAPTER
FIVE


S
o, what gives?

Matthew asked, helping
Adam
unbridle the horses.


You smell like
dead
horse is what gives.

Adam
waved
a hand exaggeratedly in front of his face. He
grasped the bridge of hi
s nose and
breathed
heavily through his mouth.
Matthew didn

t get the
hint
, so he turned his attention back to the horses.


I just finished working with White Star,

Matthew said.


You
smell
like
s it
. How

s that beautiful stallion
taking
with the training?


L
ike a duck to water.


S
peaking of water, why not you go on down to the river and wash the smell of manure off your skin. You reek!


T
ell me what happened with Stanharbor and I

ll
be more than happy to do just that
.


Nothing happened and that be the gosh-darned truth.


The
n why is Stanharbor back early, minus the company of the new bride he claimed he went to claim?


Claimed he went to claim, huh?


I thought it was
rather
witty. So?


Well that be the strange thing about it. See,

Adam
glanced
around
and lowered his voice to a whisper
,

he
did
went to the
Weatherman

s house and all
;
but a few minutes later he come
s
a
stormin

out of there like a bat out
ta
hell, screamin

somethin

awful

bout how the woman
had a serious mental defect and was trying to do him in, or some such nonsense.
Name
s
Marcelle, I think.
Well, anyway, when I was driving away, I seen her standing in the window, recognized her from the horse auctions. Strange thing about it, she never seemed all that mad in the head to me.


S
ounds like the lady in question
may have
heard the rumors
; o
r she simply decided that marriage to him is too scary a prospect and simply chose a creative way out of the possibility of walking down the aisle with him. Might be an interesting woman to meet.

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
7.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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