Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

A nother week passed, and Sadie was getting used to having Abraham help her around the barn and with all of the extra work that she'd been doing on her own. He was kind, quiet, and didn't question her when she gave him a list of things to do. She'd noticed him humming the hymns that they'd sung in church the Sunday before, and often would see him with his head bowed as though he were praying throughout the day. And after the time they'd been spending together, Sadie was beginning to believe that perhaps this man was the genuine article, after all. Perhaps she'd been wrong before about thinking that it could all be an act of some kind. He was leading her to believe that it was actually possible for a man—a blacksmith in particular—to be honorable.

Then he started doing things that she didn't ask him to do. When she was between riding horses, he'd take one from her and untack it while she got the next one ready. It was making her mornings and evenings more efficient, and she was able to make it to Penelope's suppers in time at sunset. That made it so that she and her aunt were getting along a little better. But maybe it was also just his presence at their supper table. Penelope still seemed to be on her best behavior in the presence of company.

But was he still considered company? He'd been taking his meals with them and living in their hayloft for coming up on two weeks. This was fine for now, but how long could it last like this? In the summer, the hayloft was a fine place to sleep, but what would happen come winter? Could they really expect him to stay warm up there under blankets? He couldn't have a stove or a fire in the place where they stored hay. She wasn't certain with the plans were for the man when the weather turned colder, but she didn't really want to think on it either. For now, she was happy to accept help from him through the month or season, or how ever long he would choose to stay.

"Hello," a deep male voice called into the barn.

Sadie had just finished the three training sessions she had that morning with the sale horses and was getting the wheelbarrow ready to start cleaning stalls. Abraham was out in the paddock fixing a board that had come down, and Penelope had walked down to the general store to get a few supplies. Unsure who it might be that would be coming in so late in the morning, she stepped out of the tack room with her pitchfork, pasted on a smile and called back, "Hello. How can I help you?"

The man lifted a brow as he pulled off his leather gloves. "Is the man that runs this livery around here somewhere? I have a lame horse that I need him to look after. Pretty sure he has a hot nail."

Funny how quickly her fake smile could turn into frown. "A hot nail?"

He man looked her up and down with disdain, likely because she was wearing her overall dungarees again. With a huff and a wave of his hand, he sneered. "The livery owner, if you please?"

Sadie's patience wore thin. "You're talking to her, mister…"

He glared at her, his brow wrinkled and sneer unchanged. "Collins. I'm Harvey Collins. And the horse I'm referring to is the gelding on the right attached to the private coach outside."

Even though she wanted to tell this man to take his sneers and disdain elsewhere, she couldn't just leave a lame horse in the man's hands. She stepped around him as she pulled off her own gloves and headed outside. The man stood where he was but turned to keep his eye on her. She could feel his glare continue to bore into her as she stepped up to the pair of dark bay geldings. The one on the right that he was referring to paw the ground with impatience.

"Easy there," Sadie said as she offered the gelding her hand to sniff. Immediately, she noticed that the horse's neck and was held in an awkward position by an overcheck rein. After running a hand down the horse's neck, she noticed that he his skin flinched at her touch, and he had obvious soreness in his back. Frowning, she ran a hand down the horse's shoulder and asked him to pick up his left front leg.

"It's his right front," the man said in his nasal voice. "He's been favoring it ever since we left Lawrence, and that Curtis fellow reset his shoes."

At the mention of Joe Curtis's name, Sadie's stomach twisted. Her frown deepening, she shook her head and checked the foot which seemed to be fine before running her hoof testers along the sole and nails and finding no issues.

"I told you, it's the other foot," the man said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nodding, she moved to the other side of the horse. When she touched the horse's neck and shoulder this time, the horse swished his tail and pinned his ears and then ground its teeth aggressively. "Is this how your horse usually behaves?"

"Of course not. It's the reason I said that he has a hot nail."

"Has he shown lameness in this leg then?"

Releasing a sigh the man asked, "Where is the farrier? I really don't want to be discussing this twice. It'd be much easier if I just told him the issue from the start."

Ignoring the man, she ran her hand down the horse's leg. After yanking up the leg in response, the horse then proceeded to attempt to slam it back down again, but she held firmly to it and growled at the horse to let it know that she would not accept bad behavior. The horse swished his tail again but relaxed through the leg, allowing her to hold it. She checked the nails with the hoof tester and found no anomalies there, either. As she put the horse's foot down and straightened, she asked, "What do you feed him?"

The man's jaw dropped a little as if he was in awe of the question. Then it snapped shut as his indignation returned. "What kind of question is that? I don't see how what I feed him has to do with a hot nail."

"Mr. Collins, your horse's problem isn't a hot nail. Although Mr. Curtis and I do not get along personally, he is a professional who does an excellent job as a blacksmith and farrier. He's not likely to hot nail your horse, and your horse didn't flinch once from the pressure of the hoof testers that I just used on the nails."

Finally, the man grew quiet, his brow furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense. What is the horse's problem then?"

"What does his diet consist of?"

"Oats and corn, just like any other carriage horse."

"What sort of grass or hay is he offered?"

"He's normally on the road from morning to evening and stays at the livery in whatever town I'm in—like Lawrence or Kansas City. Because he's exercising throughout the day, I see no need to give him additional turnout at night."

"He's stall kept then? Given hay?"

"Of course, only the finest alfalfa."

"How much?"

The man shrugged. "How would I know? Whatever the livery men give him."

Sadie frowned. If the man didn't specify how much hay to give the horse, many livery owners will either short the amount or give the smallest amount possible. Because their care of the horse is short-lived, they don't worry about whether the horse will lose weight in their care. "I believe your horse may be suffering from ulcers."

"Ulcers? What are you talking about?"

"If a horse lives in a high stress, high work environment, where they are given most of their daily ration in grain instead of hay or grass, they spend too many hours in a day with their stomach empty. If you watch how horses behave in the wild or on their own, they eat a little at the time all day. This means that their stomachs are constantly in use. If you allow their stomach to be empty too often and for too long, they will develop ulcers."

"A horse with peptic ulcers? I've never heard of such a thing."

She nodded and then worked to remove the horse's overcheck rein. "Just like with humans who have peptic ulcers, horses need to have stress alleviation. Rest would be good, if possible, but I understand that it's not for most working horses, like this one."

The man huffed a mirthless laugh. "No, I don't have another horse to spare in order to give this one a rest. What are you doing?"

"This overcheck rein is a stressor. It causes undo anxiety in many horses to have to hold their head this high and to not be allowed to lower it to keep their balance."

The moment the rein was removed, the horse relaxed along its neck and back and lowered its head by more than a foot.

"That's preposterous. How can I run a successful carriage business if my horses look as though they should be pulling a plow instead of a carriage for high-end business clients who want the privacy afforded by having a coach on their own?"

Ignoring the man again, Sadie made her way to the other horse and released the check rein. The second horse also dropped his head several inches as he relaxed.

The man growled. "You should stop what you're doing."

Turning toward the man, she growled back and stepped toward him, pointing aggressively. "You should stop what you're doing. These are live beings, animals to be sure, but they feel pain. But they will work their hardest for someone who cares for them at least an inkling and even die trying to work hard for someone who doesn't care at all. You should count it a blessing that this horse is still able to work at all in his present condition. If it continues, he will grow worse and if you continue to ignore his warnings, he will become unruly, get branded a rouge and likely be shot. But you, sir," she said, poking the man in the chest with her finger. "You, sir, have the power to stop this right now and keep him from ever getting to that point. It starts with getting rid of this stupid overcheck rein." She dropped the leather straps to the ground and stepped on them. "And then you can cut the corn out of these horses' diets. Switch to oats and wheat middlings or chopped alfalfa. This will allow you to feed greater quantities, and it's cheaper, anyway. Then you will get a couple of feed bags. Whenever you stop in a town to allow your passengers a break to stretch their legs, you will attach feedbags to your horses and let them graze. This will help them to relieve stress and to keep their bellies from being empty all of the time."

The man sneered at her, his hands fisted as he dropped them to his sides. "And just who are you to tell me what to do? You're a girl of barely twenty, if that. I want to speak to your blacksmith. Now."

To their side, a deep voice cleared his throat. Both of them snapped their heads in that direction and found Mr. Abraham Thomas standing there with his own arms crossed over his chest and his farrier's apron on. Sadie's heart skipped a beat. She'd never seen him glare at anyone so hard and with such a malevolent expression. As soft as he seemed to always be when he looked at her or while he was working with the horses or even with the bunny, she'd never thought him capable of looking like this. He almost seemed like a different person.

"About time!" Mr. Collins cried, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "Could you please take a look at my horse. He has a hot nail, and this… this woman has been trying to convince me otherwise."

Mr. Thomas didn't move a muscle, but remained where he stood, looking as immovable as a mountain. And the glare he had remained fixed on Mr. Collins as the stretch of silence grew between the two of them. Then finally, he said, "Your horse has ulcers. You need to get rid of the overcheck rein and the corn in his diet. Then you need to find a way to allow your horse to graze as much as possible, even if it's on oat and wheat middlings or chopped alfalfa. It won't be long before you see your horse improve."

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish on dry land, Mr. Collins deflated under Mr. Thomas's continued glare.

"And I'll offer you another piece of advice. Miss Sadie Cahill is the owner and proprietor of the livery here in Tonganoxie. She has been raised her entire life, and trained up by the great blacksmith, Gerald Cahill to become an amazing horseman, just like her father. If she tells you what's wrong with your horse, you'd do best to listen. And if you do as she prescribes and the horse's illness doesn't improve, then I will buy the horse from you for twice what it's worth."

Sadie's heart leapt to her throat, and she couldn't take her eyes off of the man standing in front of her. If she'd been honest with herself, she'd have realized that her affection for the man had been growing exponentially since the first day that they'd met. But in this moment, he proved that he believed her. Believed in her. And it was something that she'd been missing for far too long. A puzzle piece within her clicked into place and she could see for the first time that it was something that she hadn't been able to live without as well as she'd thought. She needed this kind of reassurance. It wasn't just that Mr. Thomas was a kind man. He was also strong, but willing to be humble for her sake. To show her respect and recognition for her knowledge and talents. In a world where everyone wanted to discredit her immediately because she wasn't a man and she wasn't older, Mr. Thomas gave her the appreciation that her post deserved.

And suddenly she felt as though she wasn't worthy of it. She'd fought so long for this sort of acknowledgment, that now that she had it, fear overtook her. "You can't do that," she said suddenly feeling as though she needed to stop him from making a mistake. What if she was wrong? What if Mr. Thomas was forced to buy the horse at twice its value?

He looked over toward her, and his face instantly softened. The malice he had in his glare a moment before had disappeared. The softest of smiles tugged at his lip, and she felt some of her fear melt away with just that look. Then he asked, "Do you think it's possible that the horse has a hot nail?"

She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat.

"How certain are you that the horse has ulcers?" he asked, his reassuring smile growing just a little wider.

After swallowing down the lump in her throat, she said, "I'm very certain. I'm positive."

"Then my offer stands," he said softly to her and then he turned again toward Mr. Collins, the hard look to his glare returning as he said in a deeper, more direct voice, "My offer stands."

The man looked back and forth between the two of them and then shook his head. "Fine. I'll be back through here next week. If the horse doesn't show improvement, I'll expect you to buy him for twice the price… and replace him with another animal of similar stature and value."

Feeling more confident, Sadie turned on the man herself. "Fine. I will replace your horse as well."

The man nodded firmly, offering a hand toward Mr. Thomas to shake on the deal. Mr. Thomas looked as though he'd rather wrestle a rattlesnake than take the man's offered hand, but he took it and shook it with gumption.

Then the man turned toward her. "I suppose that we should shake on this too, since you're the one offering me a replacement horse."

"I am," she said as she took the man's hand and squeezed it firmly. "But you need to follow my directions to the letter. No overcheck rein, no corn. Use feedbags and often. And let the horse out in a paddock overnight instead of a stall."

"You didn't say that before," he said, his brow furrowing.

"Do you have a problem with that one?" Mr. Thomas asked.

Mr. Collins' lips drew thin. "No, I suppose not."

"Also," she added. "If you'd like his stomach to settle faster, you can see the apothecary about getting him some chamomile and liquorish root crushed into a powder and put it in his feed."

Shaking his head the man picked up his overcheck reins from the ground and threw them up into the driver's seat of his carriage. "I'm going to go while the getting's good. If I stay here any longer, you'll add ten more stipulations, I'm sure."

Then he mounted his carriage and reined them away. Even though the horses picked up their heads momentarily, soon they dropped back down to a more comfortable height and they both trotted away sound. Sadie felt good about that much.

When Mr. Thomas stepped up next to her, she started feeling guilty again. "You didn't have to offer to buy the man's horse."

He shrugged. "I did. If I hadn't, the man would have continued to argue that he was right. Now he's got an incentive to see if you're wrong."

"What if he doesn't do as I said? What if he puts those overcheck reins back on those horses tomorrow?"

"Then he's a fool, and I don't think he is. He wore his pocket watch on a chain and had it in his vest pocket like a businessman or a banker. His hair was coiffed and his mustache well trimmed. He fancies himself a gentleman and wanted to shake hands on the deal. I think he'll stick to his word and try everything you prescribed to see if it works. Part of him hopes it will so that he doesn't have to replace his horse, even though it hurts his pride to admit you might be right."

Sadie let out a slow breath. "I hope you're right… I hope I'm right."

"I'm certain that you are."

Looking up at him in the late morning light, she marveled. "How can you be so certain?"

After looking down at her, with that same soft expression that she was used to returning, he said, "I watched you check over the horse, and I heard everything you said. It all made sense to me with the way that the horse was acting. Also, I don't think you would start an argument like that unless you believed what you said."

"I wouldn't."

"There you go then," he said as he returned his gaze to watching the carriage stop at the tavern down the main road.

Her heart swelled in her chest. She'd not had this kind of reassurance in her life since her father left three years ago. This man was proving to be someone she could trust and rely upon. Someone who would protect her and respect her, and even stand up for her when others disrespected her. And that had been missing from her life for such a long time. This affection that she'd been denying in her heart wouldn't be denied any longer. She had to admit to herself that the feelings that she was developing for Mr. Thomas were much stronger than she'd allowed herself to believe. How could she get so attached to the man so quickly? What would happen if the man decided to move on from here and go elsewhere? It was possible. He was an adept farrier and blacksmith, and his services would be desired in just about any livery in any town out west. What would possess him to stay here?

The smallest inkling of fear pricked at her heart. Maybe she shouldn't allow herself to become too attached. But maybe it was too late.