thought his eyes were dark, but today she could see that a gold rim circled each iris. And what eyes! They were unsettling. Not unsettling in the way Percy had made her feel yesterday. This man didn’t make her skin crawl, but his eyes did make her feel sensitive . . . alert . . . because he was so alert.
His eyes ate everything.
What did he mean by “few secrets”? Had he talked with Colonel Dotson? Did he know why she was making this journey?
Abigail forced herself to meet Hoke’s eyes. It wasn’t easy to hold a steady gaze with him. “Do you think I’m making a mistake with horses?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“’Cause horses sweat. They’ll dehydrate before you get to Nebraska.”
Abigail looked away. She’d just been thinking he smelled like horse sweat. Had he yanked that thought from her head?
Horses were loyal. That was what she loved about them. Abigail had thought they would be the better investment for the long term.
“What do you recommend instead?”
“For you, mules.”
“Why for me?”
“They’re the most like horses, but stubborn. I’ve got a feeling you can handle stubborn.”
She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it.
Hoke turned to Charlie. “You ever work mules?”
“Yes, sir. A couple times at my granddad’s plantation.”
Hoke looked back at Abigail with his eyebrows raised. “Plantation?”
“I grew up on a plantation,” explained Abigail, feeling defeated because of his “show horse” comment the day before, “and our help used mules to plant corn and tobacco.”
“Your ‘help’?”
“Our slaves. My mother always called them our help. Listen, are you going to be upset with me if I change my mind and decide to use mules instead?”
“No.”
“You’re sure? Because I told you I’d buy twelve horses. If I get mules from someone else, I’ll only be able to afford a couple of your horses. I hate to have misled you on a sale if you were counting on it.”
“I’ve got mules for you.”
“You do?”
“Um-hum. I had a feeling you’d come around, so I went ahead and traded for some mules. Heard you changed your mind on the wagons—and even had some smart ideas on how to prepare your wagons—so I was betting on you wising up to this.”
“But you said you put the twelve best horses in a separate corral for us!”
Hoke grinned and took the hickory stick out of his mouth. “I never said they were horses.”
CHAPTER 6
Twenty-dollar gold pieces
Hoke led Abigail and Charlie around the side of a barn to another corral. Two harnessed teams of mules stood at one end and two horses at the other. All of them were big, strong beauties. Neither Abigail nor Charlie was going to argue about the selection.
Reaching for the muzzle of a large gray dun, Abigail ran her hand over it, then looked at his teeth. He was young and healthy.
Stooping down, she eased herself through the fence railing so she could feel his back flank and lift his foot. His hooves were filed and clean, his coat brushed and gleaming. These animals showed every sign of being cared for—excellently cared for. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out for the dun.
Hoke leaned on the railing. “I see you came prepared to make friends with my horses.”
“Just the ones that are soon to be my horses.” Abigail smiled broadly, then scowled. “But now I wonder if I can afford them.”
“How much were you expectin’ to pay?”
Abigail leaned her back to the railing so she could look at what she was buying. These mules put Arlon’s Bess to shame. Their long ears flicked at gnats and the sound of Hoke’s voice—a voice they apparently found comforting, given the way they kept watching him and gravitating toward him. Her brother Seth used to have that effect on animals . . . Seth used to smell like horse sweat, too.
“During the war, the price of a good horse rose to over a hundred dollars. But they’re only about half that now, right? I
His eyes ate everything.
What did he mean by “few secrets”? Had he talked with Colonel Dotson? Did he know why she was making this journey?
Abigail forced herself to meet Hoke’s eyes. It wasn’t easy to hold a steady gaze with him. “Do you think I’m making a mistake with horses?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“’Cause horses sweat. They’ll dehydrate before you get to Nebraska.”
Abigail looked away. She’d just been thinking he smelled like horse sweat. Had he yanked that thought from her head?
Horses were loyal. That was what she loved about them. Abigail had thought they would be the better investment for the long term.
“What do you recommend instead?”
“For you, mules.”
“Why for me?”
“They’re the most like horses, but stubborn. I’ve got a feeling you can handle stubborn.”
She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it.
Hoke turned to Charlie. “You ever work mules?”
“Yes, sir. A couple times at my granddad’s plantation.”
Hoke looked back at Abigail with his eyebrows raised. “Plantation?”
“I grew up on a plantation,” explained Abigail, feeling defeated because of his “show horse” comment the day before, “and our help used mules to plant corn and tobacco.”
“Your ‘help’?”
“Our slaves. My mother always called them our help. Listen, are you going to be upset with me if I change my mind and decide to use mules instead?”
“No.”
“You’re sure? Because I told you I’d buy twelve horses. If I get mules from someone else, I’ll only be able to afford a couple of your horses. I hate to have misled you on a sale if you were counting on it.”
“I’ve got mules for you.”
“You do?”
“Um-hum. I had a feeling you’d come around, so I went ahead and traded for some mules. Heard you changed your mind on the wagons—and even had some smart ideas on how to prepare your wagons—so I was betting on you wising up to this.”
“But you said you put the twelve best horses in a separate corral for us!”
Hoke grinned and took the hickory stick out of his mouth. “I never said they were horses.”
CHAPTER 6
Twenty-dollar gold pieces
Hoke led Abigail and Charlie around the side of a barn to another corral. Two harnessed teams of mules stood at one end and two horses at the other. All of them were big, strong beauties. Neither Abigail nor Charlie was going to argue about the selection.
Reaching for the muzzle of a large gray dun, Abigail ran her hand over it, then looked at his teeth. He was young and healthy.
Stooping down, she eased herself through the fence railing so she could feel his back flank and lift his foot. His hooves were filed and clean, his coat brushed and gleaming. These animals showed every sign of being cared for—excellently cared for. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out for the dun.
Hoke leaned on the railing. “I see you came prepared to make friends with my horses.”
“Just the ones that are soon to be my horses.” Abigail smiled broadly, then scowled. “But now I wonder if I can afford them.”
“How much were you expectin’ to pay?”
Abigail leaned her back to the railing so she could look at what she was buying. These mules put Arlon’s Bess to shame. Their long ears flicked at gnats and the sound of Hoke’s voice—a voice they apparently found comforting, given the way they kept watching him and gravitating toward him. Her brother Seth used to have that effect on animals . . . Seth used to smell like horse sweat, too.
“During the war, the price of a good horse rose to over a hundred dollars. But they’re only about half that now, right? I
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