The Pattern of Her Heart (10 page)

Paddy ran his skilled hands down the leg of one of the Houston farm’s finest Arabians. The animal was one of their best, and Paddy thought he had noticed a faint limp as one of the stable hands had led the animal to the barn a short time ago. The last thing they wanted was one of their top studs developing any problems. The horse farm prided itself upon the stellar care and the resulting excellent stock bred and raised on their premises. And even though large fees had been offered from time to time, Nolan refused to have their horses used for breeding purposes at any other farm.

“I’ll not have others diminish the value or beauty of our horses by breeding them with animals of a lesser quality. The money offered pales in comparison to the damage that would result from poor breeding,” Nolan had maintained when Paddy had asked why he would turn down such a large amount of money.

Paddy’s respect for his employer had continued to grow through the years. His childhood of hardship and suffering in Ireland seemed to diminish a little more every day. Sometimes when he talked with his sister, Kiara, he would remember bits and pieces of the past, but for the most part, he kept those thoughts tucked away where they couldn’t hurt him. Life was good here in America. Paddy knew that. He heard the stories of oppression that came with each new Irishman to Lowell. Times hadn’t changed in his homeland. The famine might have passed, but landlords were still cruel and the government was neglectful. Paddy wondered in all honesty if anything good could ever come to Ireland.

He shook off the thought. His life was in America—not Ireland. With the passing of time, Nolan had increased Paddy’s duties and drawn him into every aspect of the business. Nolan had given Paddy opportunities to observe negotiations and discussions to purchase and sell the horses, acquire ancillary land, and help plan the new facilities being constructed for the additional horses. Yes, Nolan Houston was a man of honor and intelligence, and Paddy counted himself fortunate to be in his employ.

“Is there a problem with Glory’s Pride?”

Paddy started at the sound of Nolan’s voice. “I did na hear you come in the barn, Mr. Houston. I thought I saw him limpin’ a wee bit this mornin’, but it appears my worries are unfounded.”

Nolan frowned and moved into the stall. “I’m not doubting your assessment, but let’s move him out of the stall and take a look.”

“Right ya are,” Paddy said as he led the horse out of the enclosure and walked him out the barn doors.

Nolan remained at a distance, watching the horse as Paddy led him in a wide circle. “I can saddle and mount him if ya like,” Paddy called.

“No. I believe he looks fine. Probably only a rock in his shoe that’s worked itself loose, but you might keep an eye on him. If you notice he’s having problems after we’re gone, have the blacksmith take a look at him.”

“Don’t ya be worryin’. I’ll take good care of this big boy,” Paddy said proudly as he patted the horse.

Nolan nodded. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be hard-pressed to leave the farm, but I put great faith in you and your ability, Paddy. I’m leaving you with a great deal of responsibility, but you know we’ll see that you’re properly rewarded.”

“Go on with ya, Mr. Houston. You and the missus already pay me more than a fair wage. Truth is, I should be paying
you
for the privilege of workin’ with these fine animals.”

“You’ll be required to do even more while we’re gone, Paddy, and if you have some time, I’d like to go over these contracts with you. Once we’ve discussed all of your additional duties, I doubt you’ll turn down the additional wages.”

“I’ll be with ya as soon as I get Glory’s Pride back in his stall,” Paddy said as he led the horse back into the barn.

The day was warm, and the smells of hay and silage mixed with the pungent odor of the celebrated Arabians stabled inside the barn. In early spring, the farmhands had erected a crude table from old boards and sawhorses and placed it under a large elm not far from the barn. Then on days when the weather permitted, they would join together for their noonday meal around the table, sharing stories and laughing as they ate their thick slices of soda or rye bread with cheese and drank cool water from the nearby spring.

Nolan had settled himself on one of the makeshift benches and was spreading out papers across the table as Paddy drew near.

“Ya best be hopin’ a breeze does na come whistlin’ through the trees and send those papers flyin’ about the countryside,” he said with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes.

Nolan laughed but heeded the remark, placing a smooth gray rock atop one stack of papers and his hand upon the other. “I’ve arranged the paper work into what I hope is an intelligible order. The contracts and other documents regarding the horses that are being sold to both West Point and the Virginia Institute are in this group. I’ve also included the authentication papers for each of the horses. Everything is set up exactly as I’ve handled it in the past, so there should be no problem. You will receive a bank draft from each of the institutions as set out in their individual contracts—I’ve prepared a separate sheet in the ledger for you to make the accounting, and I’ve talked with Mr. Cameron at the bank.”

Paddy ran a finger down the list of instructions and pulled the ledger book closer. “I understand. And all I need ta do is give the draft to Mr. Cameron? Will he na be givin’ me a statement of receipt for the funds?”

“Indeed he will,” Nolan said, pleased by Paddy’s astute question.

“And what do the gentlemen sign showing they’ve received their horses?”

Nolan shuffled through the papers. “This paper is what they’re to sign. And if you feel uncomfortable for any reason, you can ask the men to accompany you to the bank, and Mr. Cameron will assist you in completing the paper work. In fact, if you have any financial needs, you can rely upon Albert Cameron. However, I have great faith in you, Paddy, and don’t think you’ll have any problem at all. I’ll leave these papers in the bottom drawer of my desk, and before we depart, I’ll give you the key.”

Paddy pushed the dark mass of curls off his forehead and stared at Nolan. Had the man gone completely daft?

“Ya’re gonna give
me
the key to your desk?”

Nolan laughed and pushed away from the wobbly table. “I trust you with the horseflesh in that barn. Those Arabian Shagyas are far more valuable than anything in my desk, Paddy. There are other matters we’ll need to discuss before my departure, and you’ll likely think of additional questions for me, but I wanted you to know that I have every confidence that you can handle the business in my absence.”

“Thank ya, Mr. Houston. I’m honored to be helpin’ ya.”

Paddy swiped his hand down the leg of his breeches before shaking hands with his employer, then hastened into the barn as Nolan strode off toward the house. Grabbing a brush, he walked into a stall and began grooming Fiona’s Fancy, an exceptional sorrel Shagya that he’d always considered one of their finest animals. With a smile on his face, he ran the brush through the horse’s thick coat and began singing the old Irish lullaby Kiara had sung to him when he was a young ailing boy back in Ireland. It was the one piece of Ireland he couldn’t seem to shake.

Kiara stood with her hands on her hips in a mock display of anger. “Will ya look who’s finally able to darken me doorway? I do ya the honor of offering ya a good home-cooked meal, and ya can na even show up on time,” she scolded.

Rogan pointed a thumb at his wife while directing his attention at his brother-in-law. “I think yar sister is a wee bit upset with ya,” Rogan said with a wide grin.

“It’s been quite the day, what with the Houstons planning to depart within the week. I had to have me a chat with Mr. Houston, and then I got busy with the horses,” Paddy explained.

“Don’t be tryin’ to soften me up with yar excuses, Paddy O’Neill. Sit yarself down while I tell Nevan and Katherine to wash up for supper. We’re nearly starvin’ to death waitin’ on ya,” Kiara said as she removed her apron.

Paddy embraced his sister and laughed. “Ya do na look to me like ya’re starving to death.”

Kiara laughed and slapped his arm with the apron. “Do na forget, I’m eating for two.” She pulled loose and marched out of the room.

“Do ya think she’s truly upset that I’m late?” Paddy asked as he and Rogan sat down at the table.

Rogan shook his head back and forth. “She’s thinkin’ Bridgett will be comin’ and she won’t have the dishes washed before she arrives. I told her to quit her frettin’, that she could have little Katherine or Nevan wash the dishes. Somehow she did na think havin’ our four-year-old daughter or seven-year-old son washin’ her best dishes was a good idea.”

“Then it may be up to me since I’m the one who was late. Of course, I do na think she’ll entrust her dishes to me either,” Paddy said with a laugh.

“Oh, but I will,” Kiara said as she walked into the room. “Ya best be hopin’ Bridgett is tardy also!”

“Uncle Paddy!” the children hollered in unison.

Paddy stood to hug his niece and nephew and then quickly directed them to their chairs. “We must eat with the greatest of speed tonight,” he told them. “Perhaps we should have a contest to see who can eat the fastest.”

“Stop that nonsense or they’ll be choking down their food, thinkin’ it’s the proper thing to do,” Kiara warned. “Just remember, ya’re still my
little
brother—I’m sure I can find a proper punishment if ya’re gonna misbehave.”

Nevan and Katherine peeked at him from beneath their thick dark lashes, a smile dancing upon Nevan’s lips.

“Ya’re pleased it’s me instead of yarself that yar mother’s givin’ a tongue lashin’, aren’t ya?” Paddy asked with an exaggerated wink.

“Aye and ya best be careful or she’ll yank yar ear if ya do not mind yar manners,” Nevan replied. Although he spoke with the same Irish brogue of his ancestors, Nevan’s American birth toned the drawl down quite a bit. Paddy thought he almost sounded comical, but would never have told the boy such a thing.

Katherine bobbed her head. “And Nevan should know best about that. Ma says he has the manners of the pigs sloppin’ at the trough.”

Paddy’s and Rogan’s merry laughs and the smell of Kiara’s tantalizing meat pie filled the room. “I fixed the special butter sauce ya like on yar meat pie,” Kiara said to Paddy.

His nose tilted heavenward, and he inhaled deeply like a dog sniffing its prey. “And is that yar special sweet peas with mint?” He eyed the covered serving dish as she placed it in front of him.

“Aye—and mushrooms in cream sauce,” she added, nodding toward another bowl.

He rubbed his hands together. “I can hardly wait to begin.”

“Not until we give thanks,” Kiara warned as she sat down.

The five of them joined hands and Rogan led them in prayer—less eloquent and briefer than Kiara would probably have liked but nonetheless duly thankful for the food that God had provided and Kiara had superbly prepared. Paddy added a hasty amen to the prayer and immediately spooned a generous serving of mushrooms onto his plate.

“So when do ya think the Houstons will be returnin’?” Rogan inquired.

“Hard tellin’,” Paddy replied after swallowing a forkful of the meat pie. “This is mighty good,” he said, using his fork to point at the dish.

Kiara smiled and nodded. “So Mr. Houston’s plannin’ to leave you in charge of the horses while he’s gone?”

Paddy’s chest swelled with pride. “Aye. And he told Mr. Cameron at the bank that he’s to deal directly with me. And he gave me the key to his desk.”

“It’s proud I am of ya, Paddy,” she said. “But I’m
still
not excusin’ ya for being late to supper.”

The children giggled at their mother’s retort, and Paddy winked at them. The two of them were a delight—with dark lashes that matched their tawny brown curls and eyes the soft brown shade of a hazelnut. Katherine possessed her mother’s lovely face and kind disposition, while Nevan was brave and puckish like his father.

Katherine leaned close to Paddy, her chubby cheeks made even fuller by her wide smile. “We’re havin’ nut cake for dessert,” she whispered to her uncle with a gleam in her eyes.

“And were ya thinkin’ ya might want to have yar uncle Paddy eat yar piece?” Paddy asked in a hushed voice.