wake up, boy. It’s time to start the day.”
• • •
Ellie opened her eyes, saw Hugh, and pulled the horse blanket over her head. Where am I? Why did he call me “boy”? Where’s Mama? As the fog of sleep cleared, she lowered the blanket and peeked over its edge.
“Good morning,” said Hugh, smiling. “Sorry, we Davenports are early risers.”
“I can see that,” Ellie said.
Suddenly realizing where she was and why she was there, she corrected herself. “Ummm, ay. I see,” she added, in her best imitation of a country lad.
She kicked off the blankets and rose stiffly. Her bum gave her a good deal of pain. She wished Hugh weren’t there so she could give it a rub. “You can leave Manifesto’s grain. I’ll feed him.”
“That’s all right,” Hugh said. “The horse has got to get used to me someday.”
“Ay, but day one is perhaps a bit too soon. He needs a chance to settle.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. You want to tame a horse at the same time it’s settling. That way it understands its circumstances.”
“Manifesto’s a bit more high-strung than the Davenport breed.”
“Blast it all, a man pays five thousand pounds for an animal, he ought to jolly-well give it a bit of grain. Clear aside, lad.”
With the greatest reluctance, Ellie stepped out of the way.
The stallion dashed to the far side of his stall and turned a threatening rump toward Hugh as he walked in the half door.
Ellie grabbed his arm to pull him back. “I wouldn’t … ”
“You’re just fine, Manifesto,” Hugh said. “I’m not going to … ” A hind hoof lashed out. Hugh leaped back and bolted from the stall. “Gad,” he said, looking down at himself. The horse had shredded his jacket and shirt, missing his chest by a fraction.
“Look what you’ve done now,” said Ellie. “You’ve upset the horse. It’s no use, you and your grain. He needs time to figure out where he is.”
Hugh grunted and thrust the bucket into her hands. “Very well then. It’s a busy day. I hope you’re prepared.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Anything you want.”
No sooner had Ellie fed and watered Manifesto than Hugh shoved a pitchfork into her hands. “I’d like you to muck out a few of these stalls. We’re short of grooms today.”
“Ay, I don’t mind. Which ones?”
Hugh swept his arm in a gesture that encompassed the entire barn.
“Beggin’ your pardon,” Ellie exclaimed, “but I came on as a trainer, not a dung raker.”
“That may be so, but at the Davenport stables we expect everyone to pitch in when there’s a need.”
“At the Albright stables, we never lost so many hands the trainer had to clean the barn.”
“Then you couldn’t be sure your trainers could care for your horses, could you?”
“Perhaps not, Lord Davenport but we sure knew they could ride ’em.”
Hugh coughed and glared.
“Be that as it may, laddie , I like my men to know everything about their mounts, including how to care for them. Get going with that pitchfork. After that, you’ll need to unload enough hay for the night and move a few bags from the granary. And finish by eleven A.M. sharp. I’ve got some business with Manifesto and obviously I’ll need your assistance.”
Itching to toss a dagger-loaded response, Ellie clenched her teeth, and appraised the fifteen stalls waiting to be cleaned. Her gaze circled back to Hugh. An unpleasant curl dressed the corners of his lips. Suppressing an urge to belt him, she saluted. “Got it, captain.” She hoisted the pitchfork.
“At the Davenport stables, I’m used to my stable boys saying, ‘Yes, my lord,’” replied Hugh.
That smile, that smug smile. Ready to spit fire, Ellie replied, “Yes, my lord.” She made a long, low bow and held it until he sauntered by.
Hugh harrumphed as he walked through the opened barn door.
“Blackguard, rogue,” she muttered. “I’d like to plant him a facer … Clean fifteen stalls? In a trice.”
Ellie put the
• • •
Ellie opened her eyes, saw Hugh, and pulled the horse blanket over her head. Where am I? Why did he call me “boy”? Where’s Mama? As the fog of sleep cleared, she lowered the blanket and peeked over its edge.
“Good morning,” said Hugh, smiling. “Sorry, we Davenports are early risers.”
“I can see that,” Ellie said.
Suddenly realizing where she was and why she was there, she corrected herself. “Ummm, ay. I see,” she added, in her best imitation of a country lad.
She kicked off the blankets and rose stiffly. Her bum gave her a good deal of pain. She wished Hugh weren’t there so she could give it a rub. “You can leave Manifesto’s grain. I’ll feed him.”
“That’s all right,” Hugh said. “The horse has got to get used to me someday.”
“Ay, but day one is perhaps a bit too soon. He needs a chance to settle.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. You want to tame a horse at the same time it’s settling. That way it understands its circumstances.”
“Manifesto’s a bit more high-strung than the Davenport breed.”
“Blast it all, a man pays five thousand pounds for an animal, he ought to jolly-well give it a bit of grain. Clear aside, lad.”
With the greatest reluctance, Ellie stepped out of the way.
The stallion dashed to the far side of his stall and turned a threatening rump toward Hugh as he walked in the half door.
Ellie grabbed his arm to pull him back. “I wouldn’t … ”
“You’re just fine, Manifesto,” Hugh said. “I’m not going to … ” A hind hoof lashed out. Hugh leaped back and bolted from the stall. “Gad,” he said, looking down at himself. The horse had shredded his jacket and shirt, missing his chest by a fraction.
“Look what you’ve done now,” said Ellie. “You’ve upset the horse. It’s no use, you and your grain. He needs time to figure out where he is.”
Hugh grunted and thrust the bucket into her hands. “Very well then. It’s a busy day. I hope you’re prepared.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Anything you want.”
No sooner had Ellie fed and watered Manifesto than Hugh shoved a pitchfork into her hands. “I’d like you to muck out a few of these stalls. We’re short of grooms today.”
“Ay, I don’t mind. Which ones?”
Hugh swept his arm in a gesture that encompassed the entire barn.
“Beggin’ your pardon,” Ellie exclaimed, “but I came on as a trainer, not a dung raker.”
“That may be so, but at the Davenport stables we expect everyone to pitch in when there’s a need.”
“At the Albright stables, we never lost so many hands the trainer had to clean the barn.”
“Then you couldn’t be sure your trainers could care for your horses, could you?”
“Perhaps not, Lord Davenport but we sure knew they could ride ’em.”
Hugh coughed and glared.
“Be that as it may, laddie , I like my men to know everything about their mounts, including how to care for them. Get going with that pitchfork. After that, you’ll need to unload enough hay for the night and move a few bags from the granary. And finish by eleven A.M. sharp. I’ve got some business with Manifesto and obviously I’ll need your assistance.”
Itching to toss a dagger-loaded response, Ellie clenched her teeth, and appraised the fifteen stalls waiting to be cleaned. Her gaze circled back to Hugh. An unpleasant curl dressed the corners of his lips. Suppressing an urge to belt him, she saluted. “Got it, captain.” She hoisted the pitchfork.
“At the Davenport stables, I’m used to my stable boys saying, ‘Yes, my lord,’” replied Hugh.
That smile, that smug smile. Ready to spit fire, Ellie replied, “Yes, my lord.” She made a long, low bow and held it until he sauntered by.
Hugh harrumphed as he walked through the opened barn door.
“Blackguard, rogue,” she muttered. “I’d like to plant him a facer … Clean fifteen stalls? In a trice.”
Ellie put the
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