“You’re building it up in your mind, possibly bigger than reality.”
Two of the stable’s best horses had been lost in a single year—one of them actually dying—and he was thinking about quitting the horse business. Was that blowing things out of proportion? No. “I think my reaction has been fairly proportional.”
Freya went on like he hadn’t retorted. “The worry of it is only going to grow bigger, the longer you avoid it. Yeah, the first time back around them after a hiatus is going to be bad. But I’m not telling you to go back to Whitmore Stables and immerse yourself in horse world again. All you’ll be doing is dispensing some of your lifetime-of-experience-earned wisdom—being there for—the most attractive, exciting woman you’ve met in a decade. Or maybe ever.”
Great. She was throwing his own words back at him. Using them against him. Why had he let her come along on this escape again? “And if I get some kind of panic attack?”
“You’ll tell her it’s food poisoning.”
Lies. Yeah. That was the right way to handle things. “She does need some of my wisdom. That’s for sure.”
“And you’re going to withhold it? Because you’re …”
She didn’t need to say the word scared. It pinged around the whole room like a pachinko ball.
“Bing?”
“What?”
“You’re on vacation. You’re not working with horses. It’s going to be fine.”
Yeah.
“Plus, you promised to help her.”
Gah. She didn’t need to remind him. But that lip-quiver popped into his imagination again on instant replay. Ellery really didn’t have anyone else, or time to dig up anyone else she could trust. Horse sales were notoriously iffy. If Ellery Hart was working on a thin financial margin, like she said, and if he let her lose her investment just because he wasn’t feeling like getting out there and keeping his word, then that really did make him the jerk he feared he might be becoming due to this so-called hang-up.
“You can get back to shrinking other people’s heads now, Freya.” He pushed away from his corner by the TV and walked out into the center of the room. “Mine’s sufficiently decreased in size.”
Freya muttered something that sounded like a dissent, but Bing was already out the door and heading down the stairs.
∞∞∞
“Ready to head out?” he asked when he found Ellery in the kitchen area discussing tea-brewing tips with her mom. “Wow. You look really nice.”
And she did. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in luscious deep-brown waves—shiny as a chestnut’s shell. She wore a close-fitting royal blue sweater that brought out the color in her cheeks. A light danced in her eye when it landed on him.
At the sight of me? Wow.
“Thanks,” she said, and her eyes dipped for a moment, making her thick eyelashes contrast with the cream of her skin. Cue the Hallelujah Chorus—she was gorgeous. “We’re leaving now, Mom. Bing’s helping me select the horse team. So we have to talk about your darjeeling and Earl Grey selection some other time.”
Mrs. Hart got a sneaky look on her face. “He’s a keeper, Ellery. Don’t let this one get away. Not like the last one.”
“Mom!” If looks could kill and if Truvie Hart were a cat, she’d be dead all nine times over. “Let’s go, Bing. Before I do something the Romans would have rhymed with mattress side.” She grabbed his arm, resting her hand in the crook, and they left through the back of the restaurant.
“Matricide, mattress side? Is that a quote from something?” He hadn’t heard that one before. “No points for me.”
“It’s my own quote. And don’t listen to her. Pretend she’s mute.”
Huh. So Ellery Hart had a fuse as well, eh? He wasn’t the only one. He replayed the conversation and landed on her mom’s final quip. Don’t let him get away, not like the last one.
Clearly, Ellery had a secret in her dating past. Was now the time to ask? And if she were to tell him about it, would he be obligated to tell her about Rose Red and Snow White—his personal equivalent of an unfortunate relationship history?
She’d think he was ridiculous.
He didn’t ask about any ex-boyfriends of Ellery Hart.
“I’ll drive.” He led her to the passenger side of his truck and helped her inside. It was kind of a leap for a girl her size. Freya barely needed the running board, but Ellery fairly had to jump once she stood on it. “Need a hand up?” He helped her aboard, at which she smiled down at him.
“Thank you. I could get a nosebleed at this altitude.”
He needed a truck this big to pull the horse trailers. It wasn’t just a symbol of his male ego. “It has to be tall to make room for the suspension—for taming all the bumpy back roads.”
“I don’t believe for a hot minute you’d take a truck this nice off-roading.”
No, he wouldn’t. “You got me.” This was the Whitmore Stables truck. “For that, I’ve got a piece of junk I take in the hills. It’s nothing like this truck, other than the color.”
“I like black trucks,” she said.
And I’m liking Ellery Hart more and more. Her sitting up beside him on the drive felt like they’d done it a hundred times before.
With the help of online maps, they found the farm where the first team of the day was advertised.
The farmer led them through the stables to see the team.
Bing stutter-stepped, but then crossed the threshold into the dim of the barn. He approached the team, and they nodded their greeting to him. Their eyes weren’t bright, like the healthy horses back at Whitmore Stables. And they were much larger. Draft horses had a certain majesty in their height and breadth and strength that racehorses would never match.
Even less-than-impressive draft horses displayed that grandeur.
Bing admired the pair, despite their flaws.
“They’re so pretty!” Ellery enthused at the pair of snowy horses with gray markings around their mouths. “I’m in love.”
Ah, exactly. That was exactly how Bing felt every time he met a new horse, although probably not these horses, exactly.
Bing looked them over, asking a few questions. The farmer extolled their virtues, avoiding specifics.
“Bing? Can I buy them?” She looked up at him with anticipation dancing in not just her eyes but her whole body. “Can I?”
“Let the lady get the horses, brother,” the farmer said. “I’ll even knock off a couple hundred bucks, since I can see the lady will take care of them with love. Means a lot to a guy.”
Bing didn’t let his gaze graze the ceiling of the barn. “I don’t think so, Ellery.”
“Oh, but—”
He placed a hand lightly around her waist and whispered, “You did say you’d trust me, right?”
She nodded and turned to the farmer. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you for letting us meet Blizzard and Frosty. They’re beautiful.”
“Oh, Bing.” She looked so dejected. But she kissed the horses goodbye, and then Bing helped her back into the truck and drove down the gravel drive before she huffed out her complaint. “Seriously? They were perfect, and he was going to give me a discount. Can’t you imagine how pretty my carriage would look when pulled by a team of snow white horses, one of which is more like milk?”
Ah, an Oklahoma reference. Knowing the surrey with the fringe reference probably earned him some points, but he didn’t feel like he’d won anything. Not until she understood his reasons for yanking her out of there. “They were indeed beautiful. While Rogers and Hammerstein would’ve wisht that ride to go on forever, with those two, there was no way.”
“Why not? They definitely looked big enough to pull my carriage.”
“Draft horses might not be my first area of expertise, but I know a sway back when I see one.” The spine could have hosted a thrilling roller coaster. “Plus, the owner refused to provide any veterinary records.”
“But we could get those from the vet, surely.”
“When I asked,
the owner said he didn’t have a consistent caregiver for the horses, which was a big red flag.”
“But he was so happy I was taking them to a good home. Surely, he loved them. They were lovable horses.”
Faked. Pretend love. Bing had loved horses, and he knew what that emotion looked like. “But the kicker? The guy wasn’t going to let you take a test run with the team in harness. That was the third strike.”
He almost said nail in the coffin, but then an image of Snow White, down on her side, flashed behind his eyes. The truck swerved, but he got control of it again. “Sorry.”
“You protected me, then”—she said as if slowly realizing he’d been motivated by good, not evil—“from my enthusiasm and lack of information. Thank you.”
A deadly combo. “It was no big deal.”
“To you, maybe, but it’s a big deal to me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, Bing. I didn’t want to ask for help from anyone. I don’t want to borrow, or to owe, and I am really determined to keep Grandpa Bell’s dream off life-support—without dragging anyone else down in the process. But I could have sunk everything in a hot minute without your advice. So, thank you.”
“That’s the reason I’m here.” Was it limited to that reason, though? Not entirely. He was here for a lot of reasons. More growing every hour he spent with this fiery, energetic, driven but sweet woman. “Should we check out the next team?”
They did, and a third and a fourth. Problems with all of them.
Problems, yes. But something about them … Bing’s soul chased a will o’ the wisp of a hope flitting off into some darkened part of his soul and lighting it up. Something about the draft horses he was viewing felt different.
Ellery bent over and put her head in her hands. “I’m starting to think we’re never going to find something. Maybe I’ll need to cancel the bookings for next weekend.” She tipped her face toward him, and that chin looked like it could start to tremble again any second.
“Don’t do that just yet.” He couldn’t let that happen—the cancellation or the chin trembling. “Let’s at least check out this last team. The dealer said he’s offering Clydesdales.”
“Let’s hope these are my pair.”
Bing parked the truck and helped Ellery down. They met the owner who took them to the team in question.
“What are they called?” Ellery asked. “They’re gorgeous.”
There she went again, enthusing. But this time she might be right. Depending.
Tall, with sleek black coats and a long fringe of white around their hooves, Donner and Blitzen were a fine match.
“How old?” Bing asked the dealer. Both horses’ ears lifted and pointed in Bing’s direction, as though they’d heard his voice before and recognized it.
“Nine, the both of them.”
A good age.
Bing inspected further. Sleek coats. Good teeth.
“They’re enormous,” Ellery gushed. “They look like they could pull an army tank, not just a romantic carriage.”
Bing wasn’t so immediate with his praise, at least not vocally. He walked around both horses, inspecting their teeth, their legs, their hindquarters. He looked in each of their eyes.
These were the horses Ellery needed.
Bing patted Donner’s neck. Blitzen wuffled and gave a deep nod, as if he’d read Bing’s mind. Donner wuffled next, and then placed his huge head beside Bing’s, as if to whisper in his ear—as if to say, “We’re the horses you need, Bing Whitmore.”
Bing took a quick step backward. I’m done with horses.
But was he? Draft horses and thoroughbred racing horses existed in wholly separate spheres. Grandpa had loved racing life. It energized him. All it did for Bing was translate to soul-crushing stress, especially when something as dramatic as broken legs were such a frequent occurrence. Especially when Bing was so personally invested and connected to the individual horses.
Could he love a horseman’s life in some other way?
I’m not ready to decide.
That didn’t change the fact that Ellery needed advice on her team.
The dealer stood back, arms folded across his chest, poker face.
“How much?” Bing asked at last. The dealer named a price. “We’ll discuss.”
Bing took Ellery on a walk around the dealer’s parking lot.
“It’s a good buy,” he said when they were out of the dealer’s earshot. “I checked these sellers out, and they have a good reputation.”
“But …” she said, a hitch in her breathing.
“But what?”
She bit her lower lip. That stopped the sudden tremor. “Bing, it’s more than I had been planning to spend.”
Oh. That was a consideration. He had no interest in breaking her bank account. “Maybe, but when someone buys a horse or a team, it can be an investment. This team will be gentle, easy to train with your carriage—since they’ve been yoked to one another many times in the past. They’re a good age, and I can tell from several inspection points that they’ve been treated right.” Not to mention, their veterinary records were impeccable, and the dealer demonstrated them in harness together. It was a no-brainer.
Except the money. He shouldn’t pressure her. “The other option is to find a team and rent for a while. What are your bookings like? How often are they going to be used?”
“Daily. Multiple times a day. At least from what I can tell so far. At least through March when the snow starts to melt. Then, there should be springtime trips around the lake for viewing the wildflowers.”
Then renting didn’t make as much sense. He looked up at the snow-laden clouds. “You’ll have to make the decision.”
“If you say they’re right for me”—she took both his hands—“and for the Sleigh Bells Chalet, I’m going to trust you.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
The kiss soaked into him, past the layer of pain he’d assumed was impenetrable, and infused his inner workings. It burned, but only for a second before transforming to a warm blanket on a subzero night.
The dealer walked up. Ellery let go of Bing’s hands and turned to the guy.
“My friend says I should take them.”
She called him her friend! Not her hotel guest. Plus, she was taking his advice? He wouldn’t let her regret it.
“Your boyfriend knows his business.” The dealer gave a head-nod.
“Oh—he’s not my—”
The dealer interrupted her protest. “I recognize you from somewhere, don’t I?”
No. Not here. He wasn’t ready to talk shop about racing or thoroughbreds or anything of that nature. Not now, while inspecting horses on Ellery’s behalf.
“Har. I get that all the time. I’ve got one of those faces.”
The dealer laid off the topic and went to work finalizing the sale—and even offered to deliver the horses to Wilder River in the morning, once Ellery had made arrangements for how and where to stable them. They shook on the deal, and then signed on the line for Donner and Blitzen, the sleekest ebony team Bing had seen in a month of Sundays.
And the key to your healing, something whispered. He batted it away.
“This makes me a horse owner, I guess.”
That made two of them. Not that he’d told her so. Maybe he should. Shouldn’t he? It might get weird if he didn’t tell her anything real about himself soon.
Ellery
Whew, I’m glad that’s over. Ellery climbed up into the truck with Bing’s help, his fingers’ warmth leaving a residue on her skin. “Donner and Blitzen, huh? Thunder and Lightning, translated. Let’s hope that’s not the case. I doubt hotel guests are looking for a stormy ride in a romantic carriage.”
“Either way, much preferred to Prancer and Vixen, if you ask me.” He turned the key. It clicked a few times before he fired up the diesel engine.
“It’s a lot of money, but since you’re so confident, I actually feel good about it.” She settled back against the seat
of the truck and hugged her legs to her chest. Too bad this truck didn’t have a bench seat. Shopping for the team had chilled her to her bones, and she could have used a body heat transfusion from a big, warm-hearted guy right about now.
“No buyer’s remorse?”
“Surprisingly, no.” She let out a long sigh.
“What’s wrong?” He was asking, but did he really want to know?
“Oh, nothing. Except that I don’t know how to work horses, and barely how to feed them, let alone care for them. Now that I own Donner and Blitzen, I will have to hire someone for real to drive the team with the carriage. I don’t exactly trust myself with that task. Plus, I kind of need to run the hotel.”
“Can’t be out gallivanting in the snow all day with the horse team and carriage.” His voice grew tight, as if he didn’t want to be doing it either. Which—it didn’t make sense. A guy with as much know-how about horses as Bing shouldn’t have been avoiding them. It didn’t add up.
“Have you had any responses to your oh-so-modern ad in the classifieds?”
“Believe it or not, I have.”
“No way. Unbelievable. Completely.”
She chuckled and slapped his upper arm with the back of her hand. “Geez. What do you think? Of course the Wilder River Rover also has an online platform—where they list their classifieds.”
“Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Otherwise, the main readership responding to the ads would be out of the age range for the job you need to fill.”
“Are you saying only old people read the newspaper?”
“I’m saying only old people look for jobs in the newsprint. Everyone else looks online.”
True enough.
“So, there was more than one response?”
“About fifteen, believe it or not. I chose seven to interview. They’ll be coming in tomorrow afternoon.” Where she would have to go on a gut feeling about whom to hire to take care of her insanely pricey investment. How on earth would she know whom to trust?
“What kinds of questions are you going to ask the candidates?”
The Sleigh Bells Chalet: A Small Town Romance (Christmas House Romances Book 2) Page 6
