Time After Time (243 page)

“We both have fine steeds. This will be a good race.”

William tightened his grip on his horse’s reins as he swirled in a circle. “And after you lose to me, Miss Ginger Fitzpatrick will be lost to you as well. She will realize her loyalty is misplaced and I am the better man to claim her hand.”

“I thought the race was to prove which was the better horse, not which of us is the better man.”

William’s lip curled in disdain. “I grow weary of you, pretending not to realize what’s going on here. I will win this race, and I will win Ginger’s hand and heart as well, before this season comes to an end.”

Joseph extended a hand to the man, as Nathaniel Curran mounted the steps of the estate house to signal the start of the race. “Best of luck to you then, on all counts.”

William ignored the hand stretched out to him. “I will not soil my hand by touching yours, you filthy Frenchie. I cannot wait until I have bested you and can celebrate with a bottle of the finest cold champagne and Ginger’s warm body.”

Joseph pulled his hand back and straightened in the saddle. “So be it.”

Mr. Curran fired a gun into the air, and both horses took off at a gallop.

The first obstacle on the long course was the barrier separating the Curran estate from the neighboring property. It was constructed of stone and about four feet high — a good test of both horse and rider. William and Joseph pounded toward it side by side. As the stone barrier approached, William cut in front of Joseph and sailed over it with a victorious yell, his fist raised to the sky.

Joseph had to pull his horse sharply to the right in order to avoid a collision with William, yet Midnight cleared the barrier with room to spare. Joseph shook his head at the impetuous young man whose actions placed both horses in jeopardy. Joseph raced along in the other’s wake, content for the time being to avoid further peril to his horse by letting William take the lead.

The horses’ hooves pounded over the soft ground of the neighboring estate. As the rolling hills gave way to the woods, both riders had to slow their mounts. Footing became more treacherous, and low-lying branches threatened to unseat the two riders. The rain, which had held off all morning, began again. The horses easily leaped over a downed tree and continued their pace along a narrow path through the woods. William’s horse momentarily lost his footing on some wet leaves, allowing Joseph to slip into the lead. He marked the way for William as he sped through the last of the wooded area.

As Joseph cleared the forest, he kicked Midnight into a gallop. He had only a few minutes before he came to the next obstacle — the creek, which by now was swollen with last night’s downpour. Yesterday, during their inspection of the course, it had been an easy matter to run the horses through the creek, which had been no higher than the horses’ fetlocks, but today it was a swirling torrent of brown water. Joseph spied the best opening at the bank for him to cross, and looked over his shoulder. No sign of William yet, but he should be clearing the woods at any second.

Joseph rode downstream to the slight opening on the bank and quickly plunged Midnight into the rapidly running current. As he cleared the water on the other side, he caught a glimpse of William attempting to take his horse into the creek at the same point he had yesterday. The horse whinnied and backed away from the crushing water. Joseph did not wait to see the outcome of this standoff between horse and rider, but instead urged his horse toward the next hurdle in his quest to be first to the steeple.

Midnight’s muscles bunched as he jumped the waterlogged ravine, gaining a foothold on the other side in a long easy stride. The cries of the crowd gathered at this obstacle, yelling out encouragement from both sides of the ravine, reached Joseph’s ears in a blur of noise as he sailed past. He looked back to see if he could spy William and caught sight of him coming up quickly behind him. He spurred Midnight on to the last obstacle. A wooden fence was the only obstacle left before the horses would race across open fields to the steeple in Roslyn Harbor.

Midnight cleared the fence as Joseph sensed the pounding hooves of William’s horse behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw William’s horse clear the fence with no problem. The ride across the field was on.

Joseph steered Midnight away from the most direct path, losing some ground to William as he did so.

William narrowed his eyes against the rain and yelled to Joseph, “Hey, French slug. The finish is this way.” He pointed across the field.

However, Joseph had taken his time yesterday at this point of the course, and let Midnight choose the best route through the field, which was riddled with woodchuck holes. He knew his horse could make up any lost ground with a burst of speed at the end. As Joseph and Midnight galloped along their chosen route, Joseph watched William and his horse go down. He sped on and, within a few minutes, reached the finish line and acknowledged the roar of the crowd as he crossed the line alone. He turned in his saddle, but William was nowhere in sight.

Joseph accepted the congratulations of the well-wishers, many of whom had put money on the outcome of the race. He scanned the crowd, looking for Ginger, but she was not in the group, which troubled him. He knew she would be here to support him unless something happened to prevent her from doing so. He turned his attention back to the crowd hovering around him and Midnight, yelling questions to him and making offers to buy the horse.

A shot rang out from the vicinity of the field where Joseph had last seen William. The crowd fell silent, and Joseph spurred Midnight back the way they had just come. Several men from the crowd jumped on their horses and galloped in the same direction, eager to see what had caused the shot.

Joseph carefully picked his way back over the muddy field. He came upon William, standing beside his horse. William turned to him, revealing his barely controlled anger.

“This is all your fault! I had to shoot the best horse I’ve ever had, and it’s all because of you!” His eyes blazed as he stared at his foe, the smoking gun still in his hand.

“If you had taken your time to examine the course yesterday, you would have noticed all these woodchuck holes and steered your mount clear of them,” Joseph replied. “I consider this unfortunate waste of a good horse your fault, not mine.”

“We will see if the race officials agree when I tell them that while I was at dinner last night, you were out here digging holes to endanger my horse. You will be disqualified.”

“Any fool can see this is the work of a woodchuck, not of man.”

“Are you back to calling me a fool? We will see about that. I’m going to lodge a complaint against you.”

“May I offer you a ride back to the estate, then?” Joseph stared down at the other man, who was soaked to the skin. William looked bedraggled in his now sodden military uniform.

“I will find my own way. I do not want to hazard a ride back with you. Lord knows what cutthroat idea you have up your sleeve to prevent me from seeing justice done.”

“As you wish, then.” Joseph saluted the officer and turned Midnight in the direction of the warm stables.

Chapter Nineteen

The rain, which had started off gently, had become a classic summer deluge before the racers were halfway through the course. By the time Joseph got back to the Curran property, hard, driving torrents slammed to the ground, obliterating the tracks of the many horses and creating fields of mud where only the morning before lovely grasses had glistened in cultivated splendor.

Although during the walk back to the stables Midnight had sufficiently cooled off from his grueling race, Joseph took his time wiping down the horse completely and checking him over for any signs of cuts or bruises from the rigorous steeplechase. Other than blowing hard, the horse appeared to be in good shape, and ready to take on another challenger.

Joseph took a peppermint candy from his pocket and fed it to the horse before he filled the trough with fresh hay and a cup full of oats. He patted Midnight’s neck and spoke softly to him in a mixture of French, Ojibwa, and English.

“
Migwetch, merci
, thank you, my gallant one. You have proven to everyone here that your heart, your
odayin
, is as big as the rest of you. My only regret is that the horse of a foolish man had to be put down.” He rested his face against the black’s neck, inhaling the familiar odor of horse sweat and hay. He sighed. “Now we are free to leave New York and return home.”

His heart lurched at the thought of never seeing Ginger again after tonight. Even though he knew it was for the best if he left and allowed her to marry one of her own kind, he also knew he would never find another woman like her, even if he searched for the remainder of his life.

He remembered she had not been at the finish line, nor had he seen her on the ride back from the harbor. She had not been among the flurry of riders that befell the stables as people returned their soggy mounts to the stable boys and made their way into the estate house to dry themselves and to get a hot cup of tea or buttered rum. Feeling a sudden sense of urgency, he left the stables and started across the lawn to the Currans’ house in hopes of finding Basil.

He spied a stable boy in the yard gathering up the reins of a riderless horse. Ginger’s horse!

He grabbed the boy’s arm. “Where did this horse come from?”

“I don’t know, sir. I found him out here just now, with no rider.”

Joseph dropped the boy’s arm and hurried to the house with a feeling of foreboding. He followed the sound of male voices into the library. Basil was there with several of the other men. They had changed into dry, casual clothing, and were smoking fat cigars, drinking brandy, and reliving the race from their various perspectives. Joseph’s muddy boots left wet stains on the floorboards, but he didn’t notice, as his troubled mind accelerated from worried to frantic. He waved off the shouts of congratulations from the men and rushed to Basil’s side.

He spoke quietly, for only Basil to hear. “Do you know where Ginger is? No one has seen her, and her horse just came back to the stables without her.”

“Excuse us, gentlemen,” said Basil, and he and Joseph left the library.

They dashed to the parlor where the ladies had gathered after changing their clothing and drying their hair. Basil’s eyes scanned the room, until he located his sister’s best friend.

“Elizabeth, you were with Ginger when the race began. Do you have any idea where she is now?”

Elizabeth blushed, then said, “She parted from Cedric and me a few minutes after we left the yard. She said she wanted to get to the finish line before Joseph did, not after, and we were moving much too slowly for her. I haven’t seen her since we got back. She hasn’t been in the room, either, to change clothes.”

Basil then explained to Mrs. Curran that his sister hadn’t returned from the race and asked her to organize a detailed search of the house. Staff and guests searched every room and outbuilding for Ginger. But their search came up empty.

“We’ll have to search the race route, then,” Basil insisted. “There are twelve of us men, so let’s split up and each take a part of the course to look for her. Joseph, you’re the most accomplished tracker among us, why don’t you try to follow her trail?”

William snorted at this suggestion. “There is no trail, Basil. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been raining since the middle of the race, and all signs of a trail have been washed away. Not that anyone could distinguish one set of hoof prints from another, anyway.”

“I can,” Joseph replied, as he hurried from the room and ran to saddle Midnight for yet another ride.

Chapter Twenty

Joseph slowly picked his way through the forest, following Ginger’s tracks, which were rapidly fading under the relentless rain. Her horse’s hoof prints led into the woods, and he was certain he would find her there. But what had happened? She was a superb rider, and quite comfortable with horses. His sense of dread heightened with each passing minute, but he still moved slowly, all of his senses on high alert.

He plucked a small piece of cloth from a branch near the path and knew instantly it was from her riding outfit. The scent of lilacs still clung to the scrap of fabric. He inhaled the smell as he closed his eyes, relying on his senses, feeling her close to him. He tucked the scrap of cloth into his shirt, and bent over his horse to follow the trail. A few minutes later, he found what he was looking for. A bit of white against the dark needles of the forest floor.

Joseph rapidly dismounted. Ginger was trapped underneath a large branch, which must have fallen suddenly as she rode under it. Her white blouse was like a beacon, allowing him to see her body in the forest’s gloomy shadows. Joseph’s years of tracking game in the woods to provide food for his family worked to his advantage now. A person less skilled in reading the forest would have ridden right past her, unaware there was anyone trapped underneath the huge pine.

“Ginger,” he yelled at the top of his lungs, as the rain continued to pound the earth. “Ginger, are you hurt?”

No sound came from the crumpled form under the branch. She was either unconscious — or dead.

Joseph assessed the situation and plotted the best course of action to remove the branch, which must have weighed hundreds of pounds. Fortunately, the bulk of it had missed Ginger, but it was too heavy for him to pluck off her. With the rain still pounding relentlessly, he unfurled his rope from the saddle. He quickly tied one end around the branch and the other end around the saddle horn. Speaking quietly to Midnight, he slowly began backing up the horse, until the branch was pulled out of the way. Joseph let the line go slack as he dismounted and rushed toward Ginger again, using all his strength to tear the remaining branches away.

His hands slid over her body, checking for broken bones. He took a deep breath when he could find no outward signs of injury, although she was burning up with fever. His heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She was unconscious, but he could detect no skeletal damage. He untied his rope, and then carefully picked Ginger up off the soggy ground. He cradled her in one arm as he swung himself back into his saddle and rewound the rope.