they finished the course, she deserved a medal—she just hoped it wouldn’t be a Purple Heart.
CHAPTER TWO
THE COLONEL LEANED one arm along the rough wood mantel in the big common room while he waited for the others to find places to sit. He was always relaxed with patients and strangers. Not so much with his family. When he noticed them.
“Where’s the major?” Charlie asked. “He came down just before us.”
“I’ll go find him,” Sean said, and started for the door to the stable.
Charlie touched his arm. “You need to listen to this. I’ll find him.”
“But...”
She was already out the door. Maybe Major Thompson had decided he couldn’t endure being so close to other people. Had he walked to the road to hitchhike back to Memphis?
According to Sean, he didn’t have that much gumption.
Several of the horses that weren’t out in pasture were taking midmorning naps in their stalls. A couple snored. Over their snuffles she heard a soft male voice. As she stood listening, her cell phone rang. She snatched it out of her jeans and answered quietly.
“Charlie, it’s DeMarcus. They there yet?”
“Half an hour ago,” she told the farmhand.
“You know I’m not happy the colonel gave me and Maurice two weeks’ vacation, even if he is paying us. You gonna be able to do it all with just those folks to help?”
“I have to try.”
DeMarcus snorted. “Huh. He’s got no kinda idea how much work goes into keeping the pastures cut and the barn clean. You want us to come back? Give you a hand?”
“Give me a couple of days to see if I can manage. I may call you screaming for help.”
“You know you got shavings coming first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve also got three trace mineral blocks and a dozen fifty-pound bags of oats in the back of the truck.”
“Don’t you unload ’em by yourself!”
“I promise I won’t. Bye, DeMarcus. Have fun on your vacation.” She sighed as she stuck her cell phone back into her jeans. Hank, Jake and Sean all looked capable of stacking bags of oats and shoveling shavings. She had argued and argued with her father about giving the regular grooms time off, but he wanted the students to learn to do everything themselves.
“They’ll have to know the basics if they’re going to work with horses,” he had said.
Actually, it wasn’t that big an operation. The new arrivals should be able to handle things with her to straw boss them. Jake was still talking. Sounded as though he was down by the double stall where the stallion Picard held court.
The nineteen-hand black shire was usually a good guy unless you tried to get between him and a mare in heat, but he was still a stallion, given to mood swings from loving to irascible. Always arrogant. For safety’s sake, the rule was that nobody messed with him without backup.
Jake hadn’t gotten the word. She found him inside the stall running a dandy brush over Picard’s shining black pelt, while the big horse leaned into him and sighed in ecstasy. “Who’s a good boy, then?” Jake crooned. “You’re a fine old boy, aren’t you?” His gentle voice warmed something deep inside her.
She held her breath so that she wouldn’t spook either man or horse and waited for Jake to notice her. It was like watching your child play in the gorilla cage at the zoo.
“Uh, Major? Jake?” Charlie whispered.
Jake’s shoulders stiffened, and he dug the brush into Picard’s shoulder so hard the stallion gave an annoyed “harrumph.”
“We’re late for the orientation meeting,” she said, emphasizing the we. “I came to get you.” She held her hand out to him. He opened the stall door and laid the brush on her outstretched palm.
“I broke the rules?” he asked.
Working alone with Picard was definitely against the rules, but nothing had happened. “We don’t generally go into his stall without someone outside in case there’s a mare in season he wants to get to. He can be a handful, but he obviously appreciates what you’re doing.”
“I like the big guys,” Jake said. “I’d forgotten how good clean horse and fresh hay smell.” He grinned. “Yeah, even manure. I’m sorry if I worried you.” Picard leaned his head over his stall door and bopped Jake on the shoulder. Jake reached up and scratched between the stallion’s eyes, then gave that angelic smile again. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a mix of joy and loss in one expression.
“Picard was obviously pleased, so don’t worry about it.” She walked beside him back toward the common room. “The colonel mentioned you grew up on a farm. Did you drive draft horses?”
He looked away, the smile replaced by a rictus of pain. “I plowed my first furrow behind a Percheron when I was seven. By the time I left home, I could plow all day with a six-across team of Belgians.”
Charlie blinked. The idea of driving six draft horses across a single line was mind-boggling. She laughed. “Maybe you should be teaching this course.” She knew the minute the words left her mouth she’d said the wrong thing.
He froze. “No,” he said, and walked ahead of her into the den.
Ms. Big Mouth, Charlie thought. He might not have driven any kind of equine for years, but driving draft horses was like riding a bicycle. Hadn’t taken Charlie long to get her skills back after she and Sarah moved in.
He was probably a better driver than she was, and a better horseman, as well, considering Picard’s reaction. He’d be a great second in command if she could convince him to come out of his shell.
How could she get through to him? She’d do anything to see that smile again and hear the gentle voice he used with Picard. She intended to know the officer he must have been, even if she had to drag him kicking out of the shadows.
* * *
SEAN SETTLED JAKE in an empty seat on the banquette under the windows.
“Okay,” the colonel said, “here’s the deal. You five signed up to be test cases in a pilot program.” He held up a hand. “Sounds better than guinea pigs, doesn’t it? A similar program to train veterans to drive carriages has been a success in northern Virginia, and I think it can work down here. If you succeed, we already have jobs lined up for you.”
“What kind of jobs?” Hank asked.
Mary Ann’s hand went up. “How can we make a living driving horses? Who even does that anymore?”
“Can you say weddings, girl?” Mickey said. “Don’t see how you can fit a wheelchair on one of those Cinderella carriages, though.” He grinned at her. “Can’t you just see me hauling the bride’s train up to the church? Get that net stuff wound around my wheels
