The Lady and the Cowboy (9 page)

“Give it time, it can take years to become truly proficient.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“I started when I was four.”

“Wow, you must be really good by now!”

“Not too bad,” she laughed.

“Maybe you could play with me sometime, you on the piano and me on the fiddle.”

“I would love to but I don’t know anywhere here that has a piano.”

Sam was silent for a few moments before asking, “Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, then smiled as she looked to the horses in their stalls. “But horses were always my main passion.”

Sam decided to make his presence known.

“You know, I would have been
happy to give you a few lessons, Ruth.”

The dancing stopped and
Ruth turned to see him leaning against the door, his arms crossed in front of him as he smirked at her.

“Thank you, Mr Wakefield, but John is doing an excellent job.”

“I think we know each other well enough for you to call me Sam now,” he said, walking towards her. Ruth felt like his prey as he approached, a feeling which both thrilled and frightened her.

“On the contrary, I’m not sure I know you at all,” she answered, stiffening her spine.

She saw his smile dim for a moment, then reappear. “Can I have this dance?” he asked, taking her into his arms before she could object.

John began to call out the time again
and Ruth felt that she had little choice but to dance with him. The dance was a mixture of closed hold and promenade position and every time they moved into a closed position, he drew her closer with the hand on her waist.

Ruth couldn’t deny that she felt a frisson of excitement as he pulled her close, similar to how she had
felt with Ivor but much stronger. Anything associated with Ivor was bad though, so she kept her head lowered, refusing to look up into his eyes in case he realised how he was making her feel.

On the turns, he pulled her even tighter against him, almost as if he
was trying to provoke a reaction.

“
Mr Wakefield-“

“Sam, please.”

“Sam, it’s hardly dignified for you to hold me so tightly.”

“Perhaps not but it sure does feel good.” He stopped dancing but kept holding her.

Ruth risked glancing up and immediately felt caught by his piercing gaze. His eyes were hungry but his expression was sweet, tender even. She realised that she wanted him to kiss her. Not like Ivor had kissed her but gently and with affection. Her eyes were drawn to his lips, which looked so soft, then to his stubble, which would surely graze her delicate cheeks but even so, she found the idea appealing.

Realising that she had been staring for some time, she looked back to his light blue eyes, which were still hungry but now filled with warmth and perhaps a little bit of triumph.

She was nobody’s conquest and she roughly pushed him away.

“We should get back,” she said turning to John. “Your mother will wonder where you are.”

“We can stay longer if you want.” John offered.

“Thank you but I think I know the basics now.” She completely ignored Sam who had come up behind her. He was standing so close that she thou
ght she could feel his body heat on her back, scorching her.

A part of her wanted to turn t
o him and lose herself in those beautiful eyes for a while, but a larger part of her dreaded such a thing, for who knew what the outcome of such recklessness might be.

“You go on,” Sam told John. “We’ll follow in a minute.”

Although she dreaded being alone with Sam, she nodded her agreement to the boy, who scampered off to the house.

“What's wrong with you?” Sam demanded when he thought the boy was out of earshot.

“Wrong with me?” Ruth said, turning to him, upset by the accusation. “There is nothing wrong with me!”

“Then why can you be civil to everyone else here but not me? What have I done?”

“Perhaps it is because the rest of your family like me and aren’t pretending to be nice to me in the hopes I’ll let them race my horse.

Sam looked shocked for a moment. “How did you know about that?”

“I overheard you and your mother speaking whilst I was in the back yard.”

“Look, I didn’t want you to find out like that, I wanted you to settle in first, to feel at home here.”

“How come you cared nothing for my feelings for the first six weeks I was here, then the very day that you realise what a good horse I have, you suddenly become concerned. Not to mention, are able to speak nicely to me for the first time since I arrived.”

Sam dashed a frustrated hand through his hair as he finally realised how she viewed his behaviour.

“Look, you’re right, that day was a turning point in our relationship but not because I wanted Angel; it was because for the first time, you weren’t the timid little mouse you had been up until then. Winning that race gave you the confidence to come out of your shell.”

“I might have come out of it a great deal sooner, had you not al
ways been so blunt in your dealings with me.”

“I know and I'm sorry, but I wanted that firebrand
that I met that first day back.”

“So you were goading me all this time, trying to provoke me?”

“No- well, only occasionally. Mostly, your simpering attitude irritated me and that made me a little short tempered with you.”

“And if I tell you that I will never let you race Angel, how will you treat me then? Will you still want to be my friend, or will you give me the cold shoulder again?”

“You’re still an asset to this ranch, Ruth and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner but… well, someone like you is completely outside of my experience. I had no idea how to treat you and I honestly didn’t think you’d be interested in horses, other than for status. I’m sorry.”

Grudgingly, Ruth had to admit that she believed him.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea how to deal with almost everyone that I’ve met in this country. Your customs are different, your manners are far more lax, everyone is so overfamiliar, and I have never heard of some of the foods you eat. In England, corn is wheat so when I ordered cornbread at one hotel, I expected something very different to what I received. I-” she realised that she sounded as if she were blaming Americans. “I don’t expect a whole country to change its ways for me but I felt so lost. Like a fish out of water; I was floundering.”

“And I didn’t make things any easier for you, did I?”

“I don’t want to assign blame, Mr Wakefield-“

“Sam,” he reminded her.

“-I just want to fit in, that’s all I’ve wanted since I got here. I finally felt useful and the thought that you were only humouring me was more than I could stand.”

“I wasn’t humouring you.” He assured her. “Believe me, if you were useless on a horse, I would have told you.”

“Would you?”

“
I was quick enough to tell you that patch you did on my shirt was too tight, wasn't I? And that your cleaning left a lot to be desired?”

He had been brutally honest about her lack of housekeeping skills. Sometimes to her face but she had also overheard his mother trying to stop him
from complaining a time or two. Oddly, she found it reassuring.

“I believe your exact words were, that I ‘couldn’t dust for toffees’.”

“And do you think that if I doubted your skill, I’d let you loose on any of my horses?”

“
No. And I appreciate that,” she smiled.

“Friends again?” he asked, holding his hand out.

“Friends,” she agreed, shaking his hand. It was unlike any handshake she’d ever known before. His skin was rough, covered in ranch related callouses, whereas she was used to men who didn’t do any manual labour. His grip was also firm, as a man might shake another man’s hand, not the delicate hold that most men used, as if the woman might break should they grip too tightly. His hand was also deliciously warm to the touch and she wondered if the rest of him was as hot. An odd thought, considering how much she disliked the Texan heat.

She pulled her hand away and coughed to hide her blush

“So…” she struggled for a change in topic. “Your mother mentioned that you would like to reinvest the profits but that Ivor was opposed.”

“Ivor needed the money, even if our profits weren’t large.”

Ruth nodded, wondering if she would sound forward with her next suggestion but determined to say it anyway.

“Well, if you wouldn't mind me staying on in your home, I would be happy not to take anything out of the business.”

“And what will you live on?”

“Well I assume room and board will be
free, or covered by the business at least and for other personal items such as clothing, I have a small legacy from my grandmother’s estate, which I am arranging to have sent to the post office in town. Plus, I’m used to living frugally. Well, in matters of personal expense, I am; I hated having to ask my brother-in-law for money.”

“Okay, we’ll do that then.”

“And I should probably familiarise myself with your accounting ledgers, just so I have an idea what our expenses are.”

“Sure,” Sam nodded. “Though I have to warn you, they’re not the neatest that you’ll ever see.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing them for you.”

“You know how to keep accounts?”

Ruth smiled. “All young English ladies are taught to keep household accounts. I don’t think this will be very much different, if perhaps a little more complex.”

Sam smiled. “Is that so?”

“It is.” She returned his smile.

“Well okay then. Now, about Angel’s potential.”

Ruth’s smile faded. “To you he may just be a horse that you can make money from but to me, he’s a friend. If you can prove to me racing isn’t dangerous, I might be persuaded to let him run.”

“There are
races all over Texas I can take you to see. If we want glory for Angel though, then we need to enter the Dallas Jockey Club meet, in November,” Sam explained.

“Can we get him ready in two months?”

“I think so.”

“So how do we enter him?”

“He has to have a proven record and we have to pay a fee to enter; it stops anyone from rigging the races by entering old nags.”

“Does it cost much?”

“Depends what you call ‘much’. It’s nothing for the blue bloods who dominate the sport but it’s usually at least fifty dollars, more for the bigger races with a larger prize. Non-refundable. It’ll hurt but it won’t put us out of business or anything. Of course if we win, the total prize fund is about $7,000, so a share of that would be very welcome.”

“So just any horse can race?”

“Good point. We’ll have to register with the American Stud Book. Do you have papers for him, to prove his pedigree?”

“Yes, I brought all his documents.”

“Then that should be easy enough”

“All right, I’
ll make you a deal,” Ruth said. “If I agree that racing is safe, we’ll train Angel up and enter him in a few smaller races. If he can win the entrance fee before November, he can race in Dallas.”

Sam
smiled at her business sense and offered her his hand. “You have a deal, Lady Adams.”

Ruth smiled and shook his hand. “Oh, now you’re getting formal?”

Sam shrugged. “If you insist on calling me Mr Wakefield, I’m going to call you Lady Adams.”

“Fine, Sam, you win.”

They began walking back towards the house.

“Hopefully it’ll be more like ‘we win’,” he amended. “And if Angel does win the Dallas race, I’ll buy you a piano with the winnings.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched,” she cautioned, but she was smiling.

It was two weeks before Sam could find a decent local horse race to take Ruth to. Many were unofficial, held on waste ground and not the safest. The race
meet in Columbus was on a purpose built track, but it was a three hour train ride south from Midridge.

“How would we get Angel here?” Ruth asked on the journey.

“I have a horse wagon to take him to Fort Worth, then we can catch the train, they have specialised horse carriages. We’d stable him at the track overnight.”

“Is that safe though?”

“I’ve never heard of a horse being harmed on a train ride but you do have to make sure they don’t get too hot. It’s already starting to cool down, so that shouldn’t be a problem with Angel, but we’ll still keep an eye out.”

When they got to
Columbus, Sam took her to another railway track and showed her a horse box, although it was empty. Ruth looked around carefully, then nodded. They took a hansom cab to the race track. They had caught the seven a.m. train and it was still early, so most of the people milling around worked here.

Sam looked around for someone he remembered from his races here, before he had to sell his stock to pay Tobias.

“Hey, Danny!” he called jogging over to man who was wheeling a barrow of hay.

Ruth followed at a more sedate pace and by
the time she got to them, they were chatting easily.

“Ruth, this is Danny, he’s one of the grooms. He’d be takin
g care of Angel if he comes here.”

Ruth shook his hand.

“Pleased ta meecha, ma’am.” Danny nodded.

“Say, is there a chance Ruth could get a look at the stalls?” Sam asked.

“Sure thing, races don’t start till two, so it’s all quiet now.” He picked up the wheelbarrow and headed into the closest building.

The horses all looked well cared for, the bedding was clean and fresh and their water buckets were full. She approached a few and patted their necks.

“Not much to see here,” Danny said. “Things will start to get busy in an hour or so, when the trainers, the owners and the jockeys turn up. Crowds will start coming about one to look at the horses.”

“How many races are there today?” Ruth asked.

“Nine. The first is a thoroughbred race over nine furlongs, then the others are quarter-horse races, in pairs, over four furlongs.”

“Do you think it’d be okay if I show Ruth around the rest of the facilities?”

“Sure thing. Mr Alfred is around here somewhere, he was asking the other day what had happened to you.”

“I had a loan called in,” Sam admitted. “Had to sell my racing stock to cover it.”

Danny nodded as if it was something that happened every day.

“Shame, that three year old filly, what was her name,
Starry?”

“Starlight.”

“Yeah, she had real potential.”

“She did,” Sam agreed. “I sold her to Tom Dillon, so maybe you’ll hear from her again.”

“Dillon’s trainer ain’t worth shit.” Danny looked shocked when he realised that he’d sworn in front of a woman. “Pardon my French, ma’am.”

Ruth looked amused rather than offended.

“Come on,” Sam offered Ruth his elbow. “Before Danny corrupts you completely,” he teased.

The stand was basic and divided into two, one area for the owners and one for the public. There were a couple of chuck waggons setting up to serve food and drink later on
and an area near the warm up paddocks, where the bookies could take bets.

Slowly the
racecourse began to get busier and Ruth found herself becoming thrilled by the excitement in the air. Watching the horses warm up was loud, with the bookmakers calling out odds and the public vying to place their bets.

“Do you want to place a bet?” Sam asked.

Ruth shook her head. “I’ll bet on Angel when he races but I’m not a gambler.”

“Me neither,” Sam smiled. “So l
et’s head back to the stand and get good seats.”

Ruth needed binoculars to see down to the starting line, although the finishing line was right in front of the
grandstand.

She watched the horses as they cantered up the side of the track to the starting point and form
ed a line; she watched as the starter raised his arm and fired his pistol, causing the horses to surge forward.

She had her eye on a chestnut stallion that Sam had spotted in the warm up area, named Big Red. He said that Big Red had the best form and although sh
e hadn’t put any money on him, her eyes followed him throughout the race, getting more and more excited as he neared the finishing line ahead of the others.

She grinned at Sam, who smiled back.

“Looks like you know how to pick them.”

“I do,” he gave her a pointed look, and she hoped he meant picking Angel as a racer. Anything else would be complicated.

They stayed for the first quarter-horse race but Ruth wasn’t really interested in these races and knowing they needed to be home by nightfall, they headed back to the railway station, stopping at a tea shop on the way for a spot of late lunch.

***

Sam pressed the button on the stop-watch as Angel passed him. For the past week they had been training hard to prepare Angel for his first race, sometimes running him alone and sometimes pitting him against other fast runners in Sam’s stable.

Raoul had been Sam’s jockey previously because he was
of a slight build and one of the most proficient at handling a horse. Unfortunately it was becoming clear that Angel only gave his best for Ruth and was easily three to five seconds slower per mile when he had Raoul in the saddle.

Raoul and Angel approached and Sam decided to call it a day.

“Take him back and rub him down,” Sam said, sounding defeated. “You should have plenty of time before lunch.”

“We can do another run, at least,” Raoul said, knowing that something was upsetting his boss.

“Not today, but you did good.” Besides, it was Sunday and Raoul deserved some time off.

Angel’s
first race was on Thursday i
n
Oklahoma City, just four days away, two of which would be spent travelling.

He mounted his horse and walked slowly back to the ranch
, as he prepared different arguments to try to convince Ruth that she should ride Angel. It had been hard enough to get her to ride astride though, so he couldn’t see her agreeing to become a jockey. That was if they would even let her ride. He would have to study the rules and make sure women weren’t forbidden under the club regulations.

B
oth Ruth and Mamma realised that something was wrong with him but he didn’t want to answer until he’d read through the rules, which he’d been sent with the entry form. After he had washed up, he headed to his office to study them before lunch.

There was nothing specifically banning women, which was good but he still had to talk Ruth into it. He headed back to the house with a heavy heart.

“So,” Mamma said as they sat down at the table for Sunday lunch. “Are you ready to tell us what’s bothering you?”

“Angel just isn’t running as fast with Raoul,” he admitted.

“Could it be the extra weight?” Ruth asked, aware that although of slight, wiry build, Raoul was heavier than she was.

“No,” he shook his head. “This morning when you rode him, I weighted the saddle to make you the same weight at Raoul; Angel still ran faster for you.”

Silence reigned for a moment as Ruth and Mamma considered their options.  Sam had already considered the options though, and Ruth was their only hope.

“You want me to ride him,” Ruth guessed as the silence became uncomfortable.

“He’s already five years old, Ruth, we have to give him every advantage possible and he runs better for you.”

Ruth frowned but didn’t reply.

“If you want, we can make you look like a boy. If we put your hair up under the cap, the silk is voluminous enough to hide your… assets.”

“You’re saying I look like a boy?” she sounded appalled.

“A pretty boy, yes, but a lot of young boys ride because they’re smaller. I don’t think you’d stand out.”

“You don’t look like a boy,”
Mamma assured Ruth.

“But maybe we could make you look like one,” Sam insisted.

Truthfully though, some people would have doubts if they presented her as a boy.

“How about if we don’t say that you’re a boy or girl,” Sam suggested. “The form doesn’t ask the sex of the jockey, just the name. Lots of jockeys have nicknames
, so we’ll enter you as ‘R. “Lucky” Adams’ or something.”

“Do y
ou really think he won’t win without me?” Ruth asked.

“I
honestly think that you’re his best chance of winning.”

“That only gives us two days to
train; we have to travel on Thursday.”

“I know, but the racing saddle is a lot like the English saddle, only smaller. You can do this, Ruth, you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Ruth nodded.

It was the first time he’d ever heard he
r use the American slang and it amused him to hear her say ‘okay’ in her crisp, English accent.

Ruth pushed her plate away. “Suddenly I’m not very hungry anymore.”

“You need to eat,” he said. “You’ve already lost a little weight since you started working on the ranch. You don’t want to pass out halfway down the racetrack.”

“Hush,” Mamma
said. “The girl doesn’t feel like eating and she doesn’t have to. Make yourself useful and go milk a couple of cups from Buttercup. That should help settle her stomach.”

Sam rose from his chair.

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine, really.”

Sam paid her words no heed and paused beside her on his way out of the room, dropping a kiss onto her hair.

“You’re my prize winning jockey,” he said. “That means we have to take care of you.”

‘
Not yet
,’ Ruth thought as he left.