The Curse of the Golden Touch

by G M Mckay

  “Would it be all right if I went in to see him?”

  “I don’t suppose it would hurt,” Jacob said grudgingly. “I have to do some things in the feed room. I’ll be around to keep half an eye on you to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

  I didn’t bother to answer that. I slid back the bolt and pushed opened the heavy door, glad to see that the little horse stepped boldly toward me, not pushy, but curious and calm. I held out my hand and smiled as his little whiskers brushed across my fingers before nuzzling up my arm and gently touching my cheek. His breath was warm and sweet, and his big eyes stared curiously into mine.

  He reached down to sniff my pockets carefully and then, realizing that I didn’t have any treats, he turned back to his lunch. He didn’t object when I offered to scratch the spot just near his shoulder blades that most horses like, or when I combed out his short, silky mane with my fingers.

  “Your stall needs to be cleaned, little one,” I said, frowning. Unlike Bally’s stall, this one clearly hadn’t been picked out in days. It didn’t smell very nice, either. The stone surrounding us looked damp and crumbling and like the whole thing needed a good scrub.

  “All right,” Jacob said gruffly, appearing suddenly again, “time to go. I have other things to do. I don’t know what it is with you girls fawning all over horses. You spoil them.”

  His sharp words were softened when he sent me the barest of smiles. I had the feeling that, very deep behind his crusty exterior, Jacob was a bit of a softy. I followed him outside, wishing I could have stayed in the barn longer.

  “How many barn workers do you have here, Jacob?” I asked as we shut the big front door behind us.

  I was just trying to make polite conversation but my innocent question set him off again. He lowered his bushy eyebrows at me suspiciously and jerked his chin down like a bull lowering its horns and getting ready to charge.

  “None of your beeswax,” he said roughly, “come on, back to the house with you. I have better things to do than entertain nosy, meddling women all day.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said in bewilderment. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He glared over his shoulder at me and then his face softened just a little.

  “Well, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re harmless and maybe you’re not. I can’t tell just by looking at you.”

  “Why would you think I’m harmful?” I asked in astonishment, hurrying to catch up with him.

  “No reason!” he snapped. “Stop asking me so many questions. You’re getting me all muddled up. Estelle said that I wasn’t to say anything to nobody.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, my mind working overtime to try and sort out everything he’d said. “Well, you certainly haven’t told me anything private, Jacob. I don’t think you’ll get in trouble. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

  “Oh, it’s not just you. Everything’s been all topsy-turvey lately. I’m exhausted taking care of all those horses, and now that Estelle is injured, I’m going to have to look after them all myself. I’m too old for this, I tell you.”

  “You just have two people to take care of all those horses?” I asked gently. “Where are all the farm hands?”

  “Gone,” he said sharply. “She sent them all away because we didn’t know who to trust. So now it’s just me and Estelle who do all the work.”

  “Who sent them away, Jacob?” I asked patiently, but it was one question too many.

  He suddenly stepped back, raising his cane up defensively between us as if he were blocking himself from an attack. His face turned a florid shade of red, and he worked his mouth up and down a few times as if at a loss to find the right words to convey his ire.

  “You mind your own business, Miss Troublemaker,” he finally spit out. “You come here prying with all your fancy questions trying to get me to tell you things. Well, you’ll get nothing from me. Nothing. You get back where you came from.”

  My jaw dropped and I stared at him in complete shock. What on earth had brought on this outburst? It wasn’t like we’d tried to rob the place or anything. It wasn’t our fault that Estelle was hurt, after all. We’d been the ones to rescue her.

  But before I could say any of that, the colour drained from his face and he clutched at his chest. Dropping his cane he reached a gnarled hand toward me, his fingers digging into my sleeve, clutching my coat like a lifeline.

  “Jacob.” I reached out to steady him. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  “Pills,” he wheezed, “in the house.”

  “Come on,” I said quickly, “hold onto my arm, I’ll help you get into the house and we’ll find your medication.”

  Together, we hobbled the rest of the way to the manor. I wrenched open the heavy front door and helped Jacob to sit on an antiquated, carved wooden bench just inside.

  “Help,” I called, my voice echoing loudly around the wide entry hall. “Someone help.”

  A door slammed deep inside the house, and then another one closer by. Aimee came running down the stairs, her blonde hair in disarray. She froze on the bottom step, looking at Jacob in horror. From a room nearby, Xan appeared, supporting a thin, dark-haired woman who I instantly recognized as the girl from the woods, Estelle. She had a livid bruise over one cheekbone, an air-cast on one leg, and dark circles under her eyes.

  She’s also the woman from my dream last night, I thought in alarm, I didn’t recognize her until just now.

  I looked at her uneasily, remembering again the horrible role she’d played in my dream; it was hard to erase the image of her about to bludgeon my aunt to death.

  Xan was clean-shaven and freshly dressed, and I could smell his cologne from halfway down the hall. He had an arm hovering behind the girl’s back and there was a starry look in his eye that I’d never seen him wear before.

  “Oh, Jacob,” Estelle said, putting a hand over her mouth when she saw the state Jacob was in, “Aimee, don’t just stand there. Run upstairs and get his pills. Quickly.”

  A look of what might have been irritation passed over Aimee’s face.

  “Yes, Estelle,” she said tightly, “whatever you say.” But then she glanced over at Jacob whose face had turned an ominous shade of grey and she quickly turned and ran up the stairs as fast as she could.

  “Just breathe, Jacob, nice and easy like the doctor showed you,” Estelle, said gently, leaning on Xan as she came to sit next to the old man. “Aimee will be back in a flash with your medication.”

  “I didn’t say a word, Estelle,” he wheezed, “I didn’t tell her nothing. These city folk think they can just walk in here…”

  He broke off in series of violent wheezing coughs that shook his whole body.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Estelle soothed, shooting an anxious glance at me, “you’ve done everything just right, just like Ruthie would want. You just rest now. Aimee should be back any second.”

  She looked up the staircase, frowning, probably wondering what was taking Aimee so long.

  “Here they are,” the young maid called as she rushed down the stairs. “I couldn’t find them at first. Here, Jacob, take this.”

  He opened his mouth and she expertly popped both pills inside. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to get water. Just get them down as best you can.”

  Jacob swallowed hard and then leaned his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, the colour in his face returned and he started to look much better.

  “Why don’t you let Aimee take you upstairs so you can have a good rest?” Estelle said gently.

  “All right, I’ll go see Ruthie. She always makes me feel better.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “You know Ruth is away,” Aimee said sharply, rolling her eyes. “You’ll see her when she gets back from vacation, just like the rest of us.”

  “Of course he knows that,” Estelle said kindly, patting the old man’s hand, “he just forgot. Go up to bed, Jacob. I’ll be up to check on you soon.”

&n
bsp; She watched anxiously as Aimee led the old man, not overly gently, up the stairs.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot. “He’s a wonderful man and he’s been with Ruth for years, but I’m afraid that his mind may be slipping. It’s the stress.”

  “What sort of stress?” I asked, curious.

  “Oh, well,” she flushed and looked down at the floor. “It’s not really my place to say. Ruth has her own reasons for the things she does and it’s not up to me to question them.” She paused and bit her lip. “It’s just, well, she sent away most of the house and stable help two months ago and it left everyone a little overwhelmed with all the chores to do. It wasn’t so bad in the summer when the horses were mostly turned out on grass but now, with winter coming, I’m not sure what we’ll do. It’s a big estate and I’m afraid we can’t keep up with it. It’s getting run-down and the repairs that need to be done keep piling up. Jacob has been here all his life and I know it upsets him to see things so untidy, but he’s too old to take care of it himself.”

  “But why would she do that?” I asked in astonishment. I knew firsthand how many people it took to run a massive estate. We had dozens of housekeepers, gardeners, and stable-help to make Greystone run like clockwork; it practically took an army.

  Estelle took a deep breath. “I really can’t say. I’m sorry, but Ruth is my boss and my friend, and I can’t talk about her behind her back. I expect she’ll fill you in on everything when she … er, gets back from vacation.”

  “But then, this is perfect timing,” Xan said excitedly. “Its fate, really; we came exactly when you needed us. We’ll just stay on and help you until Aunt Ruth gets back.”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Estelle drew away from him, all the colour fading from her already-pale cheeks. “That will not be necessary at all. Thank you but you must go home tomorrow, as planned.”

  “Nonsense,” Xan said, oblivious to look of rising panic on her face. “We’d planned to be away for two weeks. That will give us enough time to spruce the place up. Jilly and I can help with the horses and our manservant can help Jacob with all the mowing and landscaping.”

  I choked at the word manservant and looked around quickly to make sure Gilbert was nowhere in earshot.

  “Absolutely not,” Estelle said, “I can’t let you do it, in fact, I forbid it. Ruthie would hate …”

  “… to have imposed on us. I know, but that’s what family does for one another. We help out when times are tough. Don’t we, Jilly?”

  “Er, yes,” I said uncertainly, watching Estelle with concern. Her face had gone several shades of pale in succession and now a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

  “Xan, I think you’d better get Estelle a glass of water, she looks—”

  But it was too late, she toppled over in front of us and Xan caught her just in the nick of time before she hit the floor.

  Chapter 5

  After that, it was impossible to change Xan’s mind about staying. Despite reasoning, pleading and threats, nothing Estelle, Aimee, or Jacob said could budge him from his new purpose. And when Xan set his mind to something there was no point in arguing.

  “You need us,” was all he’d say, “and we’re not leaving until this place is spruced up. You can tell Aunt Ruth to blame me when she gets back.”

  Finally, grudgingly, they didn’t have much choice but to give in.

  “Two weeks,” Estelle said firmly, “that’s all you have. And then you must promise to go back to where you came from.”

  “It’s a deal,” Xan said happily, although knowing him he probably had his fingers and toes crossed. The way he was hovering protectively over Estelle, like he wanted to bask in her presence forever, made me think that he never planned to leave.

  Even though I didn’t feel comfortable being somewhere where I wasn’t exactly wanted, I was determined to help out as much as I could. Gilbert, however, did not feel quite so gracious about it.

  “He called me a manservant, Jilly.”

  “I know he did, Gil. And I apologize for him. He sometimes says stupid things without thinking. But couldn’t you find it in your heart to help Jacob? Just for a few days. It would make him so happy.”

  Gil had stomped away without answering, but later I saw him lugging the ancient push-mower out to the front lawn with Jacob hobbling along beside him giving loud, imperious directions.

  Poor Gil, I thought guiltily, I always get him caught up in these messes.

  But since he was occupied, my first order of business was to get that barn clean.

  “Oh, I’d better come and show you where everything is,” Estelle had said impatiently when I told her of my plan. She hadn’t completely resigned herself to the fact that we were staying and she shot Xan an irritated glance when he reached out to steady her.

  Aimee had dug up an old pair of crutches somewhere, and Estelle limped slowly beside us across the lawn, Xan hovering about an inch away with his hand out, ready to catch her if she so much as stumbled.

  “It was awful timing for me to get hurt,” Estelle said, blushing a little when we reached the barn, “it’s probably a bit of a mess in there.”

  “Accidents happen,’ I assured her. “Why don’t we start by turning everyone out on pasture and then we can start cleaning?” I was itching to get those stalls spotless; horses to me were a gift and should never have to stand around in dirty stalls.

  We rolled open the big front barn doors and I smiled automatically as I stepped inside. There was something about facing a barn full of horses that made my heart go pitter-patter. I went to see Bally first and scratched his neck affectionately.

  “Which horses are yours to ride?” I asked Estelle when she limped up to Bally’s stall door.

  “Well, right now I guess I’m responsible for all of them. We had two more riders before Ruthie let them go, and in the summer, we had extra grooms who could warm them up and cool them out for me between rides. But, for the last couple of months it’s been just Jacob, Ruthie, and me trying to keep up.”

  There’s that nickname again, I thought. Ruth must be a much kinder person at home than she ever was visiting Greystone.

  “We sold quite a few of the young stock already so we’re down to only twenty horses, many of those are broodmares, though, and they don’t get ridden. I pretty much decided to lay off most of the show horses for the winter and only keep five or six of the best sales horses in work. That’s all I can handle. Or could handle, now, I guess,” Estelle added, looking down at sadly at her air-cast.

  She showed me the chart on the wall that listed which pastures everyone went in, and one by one Xan and I led them out. They were mostly well-mannered and pleasant and didn’t give much trouble. Even Rigel behaved himself, although I noticed that Xan didn’t let his guard down for a single second while he was leading him.

  “Oh, this one is my favourite,” I said, reaching my fuzzy little yearling friend from the morning. “What is his name?”

  “His registered name is DL Damascus. We haven’t gotten around to giving him a barn name yet, but Jacob calls him The Ugly Duckling. He’s a bit of a disappointment, actually; he’s from our own breeding program and we had high hopes for him, but he’s turned out quite plain and undersized. Ruth was too embarrassed to send him to the sale with the other young stock; we would have been laughed out of the building.”

  “Oh, but he’s just a baby,” I protested, “lots of them take a long time to mature; I bet he’ll turn out to be really nice.”

  “Don’t mind her,” Xan said jokingly, coming up behind us, “Jilly always has a thing for the underdogs. She likes taking care of mangy strays.”

  I blushed furiously, knowing that he was including Gil in that statement.

  “I guess there’s always a chance he’ll surprise us,” Estelle said dryly, “watch him, though, he’s liable to trip and fall on you.”

  It turned out that Damascus was a bit of a mess; his long legs weren’t very c
oordinated and he stumbled into me every few seconds. He swung his head around to look at everything, eyes wide as if he hadn’t left his stall in months, although Estelle had said they’d all been out two days ago. He tried to prance beside me but ended up tripping over his own feet. He pretended to nip and then hung his head with his ears drooping gloomily to the side when I gently reprimanded him. He was indeed a sensitive soul.

  I turned him out with some of the older broodmares and watched him carefully as he skipped away to join them.

  I bet I’m right, I thought as he cantered clumsily toward them, someday he’s going to grow into those legs and turn into a fantastic horse.

  “I’m sorry,” Estelle said when I got back, “but that’s all we have for pasture. I don’t have room for your horse to go out.”

  “Would you mind if I just let him loose around the yard?” I asked hopefully, “he’s very well-behaved. He’ll just eat and not cause any trouble.”

  “I guess so,” she said, looking surprised, “as long as you’re sure he won’t injure himself. He looks expensive.”

  “He won’t get hurt. Bally is the most sensible horse I’ve ever met.”

  Just then, impatient at being left until last, Bally reached his nose out of his stall and gently slid back the bolt to his door, letting himself politely into the aisle.

  “Oh goodness, he’s loose,” Estelle said in alarm, sounding like it was a tiger prowling toward her rather than kind, gentle Bally.

  “He does it all the time at home.” I laughed and gently tugged on his mane, encouraging him to follow me down the aisle into the sunshine outside. “I’m just surprised he waited this long to let himself out.”

  True to form, as soon as he saw grass Bally dropped his head and immediately began grazing when I parked him in the middle of a lush patch in front of the barn. I was sure he could happily spend the whole day eating in the same spot.

  “Wow, I would never trust any of my horses to do that,” Estelle said, looking at Bally enviously. “They’d take off for the hills and never come back.”