To Whisper Her Name (29 page)

Though it occurred to him as he walked back to the cabin that he’d best be careful she didn’t end up taming him first.

W
ell, General Harding …”

The veterinarian exited Seabird’s stall, towel in hand, and Ridley tried to sense which way the man’s pronouncement would go. The warm air in the stable grew even more so as all gathered seemed to hold a collective breath, waiting to hear the news.

Word about Doc Fleming’s visit today had traveled fast. Most of the stable hands working at Belle Meade had been here when Seabird lost her first promising foal, and they felt a vested interest Ridley hadn’t predicted. He was certain the unusual circumstances surrounding Seabird’s possible pregnancy were also contributing factors to people’s curiosity.

Even Olivia stood with Elizabeth Harding at the far end of the hallway, waiting and watching, though never directly meeting his gaze. But it was the doctor’s expression Ridley tried to read.

“The mare appears to be in fullest health, sir,” the veterinarian said. “Which is a fortunate thing … because she is most definitely with foal.”

Impromptu cheers and laughter skittered through the crowd, and Ridley accepted a moment or two of congratulatory pats on the back. He couldn’t deny, this was the outcome he’d hoped for — had prayed for. Though his prayers had felt somewhat stiff, and his petitions to the Almighty uncomfortably foreign.

Hoping to see Olivia, he glanced down the corridor, eager to catch her reaction to the news. But the hallway was empty. She was gone. Since their midnight stroll over two weeks ago, things had been different between them. She was still friendly and they talked, but she was more distant with him. He sensed she’d been evading him. Only yesterday, as he left the general’s office, he’d glimpsed her coming
out the front door of the mansion only to see her duck back inside, presumably thinking he hadn’t seen her.

But that was all right. He was biding his time.

Even at fifty-six hundred acres, Belle Meade was an awfully small place for a woman who insisted on traveling everywhere by foot. He remembered what Betsy had said the night she’d shaved his beard — that she hoped the woman he’d set his sights on could get a runnin’ start. He wanted to tell Olivia Aberdeen that she could run all she wanted. It wouldn’t matter. The night they’d walked together and she’d reacted to the news of him going to Colorado like she had, she’d given him reason to hope. And that was all he needed.

Besides, it was time for August inventory, and he’d decided to exercise some of his “supervisory” rights. Just a few questions here and there about what she was doing or if she needed any assistance. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he asked. She didn’t much like being questioned. Especially by him. Which, of course, just made him want to do it all the more. And if Olivia Aberdeen thought she’d seen the last of that little horse cart he’d built for her, the lady was mistaken.

Uncle Bob, standing a few feet away, caught his attention and motioned. Ridley turned to see Doc Fleming walk back inside the stall, General Harding trailing close behind. He followed. It was his horse, after all. Harding would’ve done the same had the tables been turned, and Ridley had a question he needed to pose to the horse doctor before giving the general his decision. But before he got to the stall, Grady Matthews stepped in front of him.

“Cooper, me and some of the other men want a word with you …
sir
.” Condescension thickened his tone.

“Not now, Matthews. I’ll meet with you later.”

Ridley sidestepped him, but Grady matched his move.

“It won’t take long, Cooper. We just wanna know why we didn’t get a raise too.”

“A raise?”

Grady scoffed. “Like the darkies. We always been paid more than them.”

Seeing the seriousness in Grady’s expression, along with a wealth of pride and ignorance, Ridley wished he could lay the man flat out. Or at least have the pleasure of trying. But if he did, his days as a foreman would be finished. “Matthews, if you don’t like the way General
Harding pays his workers, either take it up with him or go work somewhere else. Maybe you could find another old war buddy of your father’s to latch onto. Until then, get back to work.”

Ridley shouldered past him, not missing what Grady murmured beneath his breath. But he ignored it, intent on being included in whatever the doctor had to say.

He entered the stall and, sure enough, upon seeing him, General Harding gave him an accepting — if somewhat annoyed — nod, then addressed the veterinarian. “Dr. Fleming, a word about the mare. You were here when Seabird lost her first foal. What are the odds of that happening again this time?”

The exact question Ridley wanted answered.

Dr. Fleming, an older man with an untamable shock of graying hair, glanced at Seabird. “It’s not quite that simple. A number of variables figure into the equation, General. I don’t know what you’ve been doing differently, but this mare’s in prime condition, sir. I was here when this little filly took her first steps, and I can tell you, she’s never been in better health.”

Ridley felt a swell of pride. But he knew better than to think it was due to his own efforts. Anything he’d done, he’d done at Uncle Bob’s direction. Yet he couldn’t deny the pride he had in Seabird. He caught the mare looking his way, and though he’d never admit it to anyone — except maybe Uncle Bob — he was pretty sure Seabird sensed his emotions in that moment. Maybe even returned them.

“But that said …” Doc Fleming packed his satchel, caution creeping into his tone. “This mare was in good health last time too, and carried to full term. My conjecture about what happened remains unchanged. The trauma of birth was simply too much for the colt. It’s rare, given the strength and stamina of these thoroughbreds.” He glanced at Ridley. “But it still happens. So while I wish I could give you firm odds, General …” He sighed, latching the ties on his bag. “I simply can’t. The missing variables won’t allow it.”

General Harding nodded and shook Fleming’s hand. Ridley did the same, and the veterinarian took his leave.

Harding’s focus turned to Ridley. “Mr. Cooper.” The general reached into his suit pocket. “I’ll give you fifty dollars right now for the foal and will waive the stud fee, of course.”

Murmurs rose from lingering stable hands.

Harding counted out the bills. “Whether the foal lives or dies, the
money is yours. I’ll also assume all expenses associated with the foaling and for Seabird until the foal is born. But the mare, of course, will remain in your ownership.”

Somewhat surprised at the offer, though not shocked, Ridley studied the man, then the cash. He’d already worked the figures backward and forward, and he’d walked in here today knowing what he wanted to do. Paying General Harding the stud fee would take close to half the funds he needed to travel west and start his ranch. But Harding was compensating him well, and Ridley knew he could count on the next several months’ salary to replenish his savings.

If anything happened to threaten that income, however, or if he lost his job … All the figuring in the world wouldn’t help him then.

Paying the stud fee — buying the unborn foal — meant taking a risk. But as he’d learned only too well, life was full of risks. The trick was knowing when to grab hold of an opportunity and when to let it pass. Everything in him told him to grab hold of this and never let go.

“No, thank you, General. The foal isn’t for sale.” Ridley reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a neatly folded wad of bills, his fingers brushing the seashell as he did. The silence from the stable hands looking on grew deafening. Young Jimmy stood at the forefront, eyes wide and watchful.

General Harding didn’t even glance at the money in Ridley’s hand before reaching back into his own pocket. “I’ll make it one hundred dollars, Mr. Cooper. So you not only keep your hundred, but you make another. You’d be up two hundred dollars for the day. Not a bad profit.”

Ridley didn’t move his hand, the wad of bills extended. “
No
, thank you, sir. I’m choosing to keep the —”

“One hundred and fifty dollars, Mr. Cooper. Along with covering the other expenses I’ve mentioned. That’s my top offer.” Harding smiled but his expression showed displeasure. “And I won’t extend it again.”

One hundred and fifty dollars
.

Ridley held back his initial response. If he accepted the offer, he’d walk out of here today with two hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket, instead of being down a hundred. That kind of money would go a long way in giving peace of mind and buying a fresh start. But if General Harding was willing to pay that kind of money for a foal unseen — especially knowing the outcome of Seabird’s first
pregnancy — the man must be counting on something pretty special. Which is exactly what Ridley was betting on. A colt or filly with Jack Malone as its sire and Seabird as its dam … The hairs on the back of Ridley’s neck stood up — the combination of power and speed, the mixture of agility and grace would be unbeatable.

Ridley’s fingers tightened on the bills in his hand. “I appreciate your offer, General Harding. It’s most generous, sir,” he added, mindful of the other employees nearby. “But I choose to keep the foal. Here’s the one hundred dollars I owe you for the stud fee. In cash, as you requested.” Feeling a subtle sense of triumph, he detected a flicker of surprise in the general’s features, as well as displeasure.

Harding took the money, put it and his own away, then leveled a stare. “Raising thoroughbreds isn’t for the faint of heart — or wallet — Mr. Cooper. I hope this isn’t a decision you end up regretting.”

Ridley was about to say he hoped it wasn’t too, but the general turned and strode away before he could respond. Ridley watched him go, then looked back at Seabird, hoping this triumph wouldn’t prove too costly for him in the end.

“Livvy, I wish you were coming with us, dear.”

Olivia tucked Elizabeth’s full skirt into the carriage, then stepped back so Jedediah could close the door. “That’s so kind of you, Aunt. But I’ve got more than enough work to do here.” Olivia glanced at Susanna sitting opposite Elizabeth in the carriage and caught Susanna’s understanding look. “I’m sure you and Susanna will have a wonderful time.”

Elizabeth’s countenance brightened. “Oh, I’m certain we will. First we’re shopping, then meeting Selene and Lizzie for lunch. Mary, too, since she’s finishing early with her tutor today. My only regret is that you’re not able to take part in the day as well.”

Olivia understood what her aunt was saying, but she didn’t feel the least bit slighted. Well, maybe the
least
bit. But her being seen in town with Mrs. William Giles Harding wouldn’t do her aunt any good, and they both knew it. They’d come to an unspoken understanding on the topic — a delicate trait Olivia had learned from her mother, one of many passed down through generations of Southern women.

After seeing the carriage off, Olivia returned to her room and retrieved her satchel, one Elizabeth had loaned her that the general
hadn’t used in years. Elizabeth said the satchel had been gathering dust on a shelf and assured her he wouldn’t mind. The previous evening, Olivia had taken care to wipe the leather clean of dust, and now she slipped her lesson notes inside, along with a lone worn copy of a McGuffey’s Reader, knowing Jimmy and Jolene would be waiting, eager to learn.

With Susanna’s assistance, she’d purchased each of the children a slate and supply of chalk, along with two pencils and a few precious sheets of paper. After gaining permission from Jimmy and Jolene’s mother, she’d also bought them each a pair of new boots. The expense of the items proved to be more than she’d anticipated, but she’d gladly paid the sum. And would again, even though it had taken most of what she’d saved. “I dickered with the owner, ma’am,” Susanna had assured her after returning from the mercantile. “And he came down some on the price. But he asked lots of questions too. Like who was gonna be usin’ these things. I told him I’s buyin’ it all for a white woman, a guest of the Hardings. He said that was all right then, that he’d let me buy it.”

When Susanna had recounted the conversation, the mercantile owner’s comment had set Olivia’s teeth on edge. Just as it did now. Olivia glanced at the clock — only twenty past nine — and she purposefully fiddled about, straightening her desk and then the top of the bureau.

For the past week, around this time every morning, Ridley accompanied Uncle Bob to the stallions’ stable. They stayed there until late afternoon, working with Jack Malone, a continuation of Ridley’s training, he’d explained. With the bureau in order, she turned to the wardrobe, saw the skirt she’d worn yesterday awaiting a good brushing and kindly obliged.

She checked the time again. Twenty-five past nine.

She wasn’t really trying to avoid him. Well, not entirely. She was simply trying to limit their time together. At least that’s how she chose to think of it. The issue wasn’t that she didn’t like Ridley. The issue was … that she
did
.

She looked out the window across the meadow to the cabin, then gradually drew her gaze back until it rested on the lattice. When he’d kissed her hand that night … She closed her eyes, remembering. He’d taken her breath away and more. How could one man’s kiss — on her
hand
, no less — stir desires within her that sharing another man’s bed never had?