Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (25 page)

Anne squared her shoulders and headed back to her work. If he never loves me, loving him will have to be enough, she decided, but who knows what another six months may bring?

* * *

Chapter 25

WHEN CORD PROPOSED TAKING MARTHA
up on her invitation for Sunday dinner, Anne kept her feelings to herself and agreed. In truth never spending another moment anywhere near any of his family again would have been fine with her. Except maybe Martha.

Still, considering what her own family was like, trying to get along with Cord’s family was the least she could do, and it was nice not to drive two hours to town, listen to Reverend Pratt go on for another couple of hours, and then drive right home again.

Also, her father had surprised everyone by giving her mother permission to visit at Ephraim’s after the Wells family’s Sunday dinner was finished, so long as Rob accompanied her. Leona didn’t even wash her own dishes, just left them soaking and rushed down the street.

As soon as Rob and Leona appeared, Cord disappeared. He took a “walk,” which Anne knew included visits with Bob Windon, Noah Reynolds, and others like the LeClercs. She envied him the escape, because her mother and brother did not want to talk about the wonders of her new life, news around town, or the world in general.

They barely listened to the stories of the new foals that were now being born, enchanting, whisker-chinned little creatures that Anne could not see enough of. Nor were they impressed with the description of Rose’s new calf, Jasmine, an equally endearing little charmer that made it hard to leave the barn after chores.

No, her mother and her brother only wanted to talk her into returning to a “decent” life. She stopped the worst of it by informing them she wouldn’t listen to anything negative about her husband the first Sunday. The second Sunday, she paused only long enough to say icily, “His parents were married,” then walked out of the room when Rob called Cord “that mongrel bastard.”

Yet the pressure was always there as her mother described “perfect” matches, weddings, and marriages, and her brother praised almost every other female in town as a “real lady.”

The Bennett family was always in the background, and in Anne’s opinion, their silence was evidence of their concurrence. Usually, Cord and Anne were halfway back to the ranch before she stopped gnashing her teeth. Cord let her know in the beginning it was her choice.

“We don’t have to go, you know.”

“You like being around your wretched family, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do, a little. Not enough for you to be unhappy over it. Seems you need to make peace with your family too. Your mother and brother anyway.”

She sighed, but agreed, “I know. Maybe they’ll calm down if I give them a while.”

So they continued the Sunday visits and found an unexpected dividend. Knowing where to find him, people began to seek Cord out at Ephraim’s to ask about horses for sale.

With Armand and Helene LeClerc cornering every listener, willing or unwilling, to sing the praises of Silvie the beautiful and Silvie the perfect, they sold two more of the little buggy horses in the next few weeks. Cord refused to sell Sweet William. They had to choose from the others.

“If I sell him, I’ll be driving something named Petunia or Rosebud.”

He sounded disgusted when he said it, but Anne knew the real reason was that he felt she liked Willie more than the others. Some Sundays they would bring two or three saddle horses in behind the buggy for people to try. Somehow buyers also seemed to be paying decent prices for the horses.

Cord was almost getting used to nervous buyers knocking on Ephraim’s door and asking for him on Sunday afternoons, but when Martha answered the door one Sunday in early May and got flustered because it was Virginia Stone come to call, he was surprised.

He knew from Anne that Mrs. Stone was another of the women in town who had been constantly held up to her as a model of what she should be like. And so far as he was concerned, like all the others, she wasn’t in Anne’s class. She was always turned out in fancy clothes that looked hard to breathe in, and her reddish hair was always so perfectly tamed Cord wondered about glue. The only reason he knew so much about Mrs. Stone and her husband John was that Mrs. Stone’s passion was her horses, and she had some enviable Thoroughbred stock.

Now he watched with amusement as the woman sat in Martha’s kitchen, fiddled with a cup of coffee and worked herself up to trying to talk him into doing something she must know he wouldn’t want to do.

“I have a Thoroughbred stallion I need help with,” she said. “I purchased him in Kentucky last year, and since he’s been here he’s become increasingly difficult. At least one horseman has labeled him a rogue, but he was wonderful when I saw him back East. He’s beautifully trained and he was exceptionally biddable for such a high bred stallion. Mr. Windon is unwilling to take him on, but he said you could help me.”

Cord wondered if the woman had ever sat in a kitchen before or ever addressed anyone who wasn’t pure white except to give an order. Then again, maybe he should give her credit for doing those things on behalf of one of her horses.

Her gloved hands were fussing at the rim of her coffee cup. She put the cup down, hid her hands under the table, and continued. “My stableman is no longer willing to deal with Firebrand, and last night my husband told me unless I can find someone to handle the horse, he’s going to have him shot. He’s so angry he won’t even discuss letting me sell him. Would you please give me an opinion. I’ll pay you for your time.”

Cord was polite but firm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone. I raise and train my own. I don’t have time to work spoiled stock for other people.”

“He isn’t spoiled,” she argued. “There was no problem with him in the East, and something was wrong from the minute he arrived here. No one has been able to do more than try to ride him a few times. We exercise him by turning him out in a large paddock for several hours, and by leading him between two saddle horses, but it’s hard to do even that when everyone’s afraid of him.”

Cord’s last experience with this kind of thing was with Lathrum’s useless yellow horse, and he wasn’t going to be drawn in. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no.”

Mrs. Stone then played what she obviously thought was her trump card. “I understand you worked a difficult horse for Alferd Lathrum last year, that you agreed because you wanted to improve your stock with some of his Eastern breeding, and that he cheated you so that you don’t have the young stallion he promised. Would an offer of breeding one of your mares to this horse change your mind? I wouldn’t cheat you.”

Cord had seen the big red horse in the distance once or twice and talked to Windon about him. He thought the horse was probably the best looking animal he had ever laid eyes on. He was tempted, but he had been burned badly last fall.

“That’s generous of you, Mrs. Stone, but the colt I got from Lathrum is doing fine. My wife did some nursing on him and brought him around. I don’t….”

Right then he made the mistake of glancing at Anne. He could see her face falling as if he were telling her no. Oh, hell, he should have known. If they were going to shoot the damn horse if nobody could do anything with it, she’d be hellbent for saving it.

When he hesitated, Mrs. Stone pressed her advantage. “Please. He’s such a beautiful animal. There just has to be something wrong no one has found. He’s been checked from head to toe - teeth, everything, but there must be something. Mr. Windon told me….” Her voice trailed away.

Good old Bob, Cord thought acidly. He’d probably filled her full of magic stories. He said, “All right, Mrs. Stone, I’ll come look at the horse, say Tuesday morning. If I can figure out something so you don’t have to destroy him, I’ll expect the breeding. If I can’t help you, you don’t owe me anything.”

Her face lifted in a genuine smile. “Thank you very much, Mr. Bennett.” She surprised him again by holding out a gloved hand, and solemnly shaking hands to seal the bargain.

Leona and Rob had come in during this discussion and were as awed by Virginia Stone’s presence as Martha. As soon as the door closed behind her, Rob said, “Now there’s a
real
lady.”

Anne just made a face at her brother. “Which mare will we take to him?”

Cord felt like laughing at her, but didn’t let it show. “Damn it, Annie, quit. Probably the horse needs to be shot.”

Luke broke in to share what he knew on the subject. “Boy, are you right. He took the last couple of bronc busters tried to ride him straight through a fence. Broke one man’s leg.”

This slowed Anne down fast enough. “Cord,” worry was written all over her, “you won’t….”

He stood up and headed for the parlor. “No, I won’t. I’ve had enough of you nursing me and pouring soup stuff down my throat for a lifetime.”

Over Anne’s shoulder, Cord saw Frank scowl. His brother and the rest of the family could take the words anyway damn way they wanted. All that mattered was allaying Anne’s fear, and her smile told him he’d succeeded at that.

* * *

Chapter 26

THE PEOPLE OF MASON REFERRED
to John and Virginia Stone’s property as an estate, and as she rode up the winding driveway beside Cord, Anne could see why. Maybe the house wasn’t quite as big as her Aunt Clara’s mansion in Chicago, but set on a hill with acres of land on all sides, it looked even more impressive.

The barn had also been built as much to impress as for utility. Everything was white with green trim. Two long rows of stalls were separated by a wide center aisle, and the hay loft above gave the barn more height than a two-story building.

Even though she had never been to the Stones’ before, Anne was struck by the familiarity of the scene. As on the day they delivered Adamson’s horses to the train, there was an unexpected crowd of curious townsfolk already leaning against most of the pretty white fence surrounding the riding areas. When they were close, she could see Ephraim and Martha, Frank, Pete, and Luke in the crowd.

Following Cord’s lead, she ignored them all, and they rode right to the barn and tied Keeper and Lady outside. John and Virginia Stone and her stableman, introduced only as Lennie, were waiting.

John Stone was as elegant as his wife, a slim man of moderate height with dark hair frosted with silver on the sides and a sharply trimmed short beard. He and Lennie seemed to be having a contest to see who could look more bored by having to put up with this hopeless, last ditch effort.

Virginia Stone was upset and more than slightly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mention this to anyone, but it seems my husband has.”

John Stone was not apologetic. He just leaned against the barn wall and crossed his arms.

Cord ignored them all and walked over to look at the horse through the barred top of the stall. Beside him, Anne caught her breath. The horse was a glowing deep red without a single marking. Quality showed in the shapely ears, the broad, flat forehead, small muzzle and tracing of veins visible under the satiny coat. Everything about the animal seemed to flow smoothly together. He looked powerful, yet refined.

Restlessly pacing the stall, Firebrand gave evidence of the quality and athletic ability that had lured Virginia Stone to buy him, and also of the foul, dangerous attitude that made John Stone want to see him shot.

Anne was ready to leave right then, but Cord moved to the Dutch door to the stall and opened the top half. The stallion immediately charged at him, not just with teeth bared, but with his whole mouth gaping wide enough to seize a man’s shoulder and crush it.

Cord evaded the charge easily, then left the top door open and leaned against the opposite wall of the aisleway. “Tell me about what he was like back East in a stall and what he was like when he first got here.”

Nervously, Mrs. Stone said the horse was docile and good natured in the stall when she first saw him. The breeder claimed he had an unusually fine nature and it had seemed so. When he had first arrived in Colorado last November, the horse was restless and nervous, as might be expected, but he only started biting and kicking weeks later. His stall manners degenerated parallel to the difficulties under saddle. At first he was uncooperative, then totally unwilling, and finally he began to fight a rider violently and aggressively.

“Mm. Till he took two men through your fence.”

Mrs. Stone had the grace to look ashamed.

Cord again walked to the open stall door, and the horse charged again. He hit the horse with a hard fist right in the soft skin over the teeth at the side of the muzzle with such force the horse rocked back. The stallion retreated to the back of the stall and stood working his lips and thinking it over.

Anne felt sick with fear. If Cord were hurt by this monster, it would be all her fault. “Cord? Maybe….” He just looked at her, and she stopped.

At a jerk of his head she followed him down the barn aisleway out of hearing of the others. “If you’re going to fuss, we’ll walk out right now.”

“I don’t want you hurt is all.”

“Annie, I’m not going to get hurt over a damn horse. If you can’t believe that, let’s go.”