by Sarah Lark
Mrs. Fence seemed unsure about whether to follow her husband and Colin in the direction of the tack room, which would have required passing by Spirit. Chloe smiled at her, and she halfheartedly returned the friendly acknowledgment. She was extraordinary-looking despite her exhaustion. She also seemed strangely familiar to Chloe, but she was sure they hadn’t met before. This delicate woman with chestnut hair and giant blue eyes wouldn’t be easily forgotten.
Chloe indicated the stallion. “You can go ahead and walk past. Don’t be afraid of Spirit. He’s putting on a show, but he’s very peaceful. He can’t get out of his stall anyway.”
The woman and the little boy looked at her with equal skepticism.
“He don’t spit?” asked the child.
Chloe laughed but again could not help wondering: Was that how the son of a stable master would react? It did not look as if the little boy had been raised in horse stables.
“Horses don’t spit. You can trust me on this,” she assured him before turning to his mother. “I’m Chloe Coltrane. And you are?”
“Violet Fence,” the young woman said, reaching awkwardly for the hand Chloe held out. “My husband is going to work here.”
Chloe nodded, hoping Violet did not see her concern. “I know. However, no one told me he was bringing his whole family right away. We need to see where we can lodge you. In any case, you don’t need to stand around the stable trying to tame spitting stallions.” Chloe smiled at them. “Come with me. We’ll unhitch your horse, and we’ll go into the house and consider where you can live.”
Violet pointed at the tack room. “I think we’re supposed to live there,” she said.
Chloe furrowed her brow, recalling the apartment for the stableboys next to the tack room and feed room. Colin could not be serious.
Chloe left Violet and the children where they were and followed the men into the living quarters. The small apartment had the essential furniture, and in the feed room was a stove. The arrangements were sufficient for a stableboy.
“It’s a bit small,” Colin said matter-of-factly. “After all, I couldn’t know you already had a family. But—”
“My wife is used to thrift,” Eric Fence said. “Her sister can also sleep in the feed room if you give us a cot to put in there. The little ones, too, certainly. It’ll work.”
Chloe cast an incredulous eye at Colin and Eric. Violet finally ventured past Spirit and now looked at her new domicile with horror. She seemed to want to say something, but a threatening look from her husband made her remain silent. The little girl seemed to have caught the meaning of his expression and hid her face in Violet’s skirts.
“At least it’ll probably keep the rain out,” Violet said resignedly.
Chloe glared at her husband. “Have you lost your mind?” she asked angrily. “Five people in this room? A whole household, children? A baby in a dusty feed room? And where are the children supposed to do schoolwork? In the tack room? Come, Violet.” Everything in Chloe bristled against calling this submissive young woman Mrs. Fence. “I’ll make us tea, and then we’ll take a closer look at the house. There must be servants’ quarters.”
Colin was annoyed. Chloe should not have spoken to him that way in front of his new employee. Besides, Eric seemed to have a handle on his own family.
Colin couldn’t let Chloe get away with her insubordination. “I don’t care,” he said sharply. “The stable master must sleep near the horses. That’s how it’s always been. Just imagine if a mare were to foal with no one here to help, or if a horse were to have colic.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Mares foal in the spring, Colin,” she replied, and resisted asking how many foals Eric might have helped birth. “And rarely as a surprise. Mr. Fence can sleep in the stall when the time comes, and then really in the stall, Mr. Fence, not in the feed room. You’ll detect colic by making a tour every night. We’ll likely run into each other. I like to check on the animals before I go to bed.”
Chloe withstood Colin’s angry gaze. The day before, they had already argued about her nightly inspection tour. Colin did not think a lady had any business in the stables at night.
“That would not be necessary if Mr. Fence were to sleep here,” Colin insisted.
Eric Fence nodded while Chloe felt the rage boiling within her. It had to be clear to the man that the lodgings in the house would be more comfortable for his family than this shack within the stables. Yet Fence seemed determined to echo his new boss. Colin and Eric Fence seemed to be taking position against Chloe as a lone warrior. This was a power game, but Chloe did not intend to play along.
“Very well,” she said with a sardonic smile. “If you insist, Colin. Then Mr. Fence will sleep right here, and I’ll house Mrs. Fence and the children in the house. We do so appreciate it, Mr. Fence, that you take your job so seriously. Please bring the gelding to the second stall, so the stallion will stop screaming. And then unharness your pony and give him a proper helping of oats. That wagon is much too heavy for him. You ought to know that as stable master. Violet, collect your children and come with me.”
Chloe observed the effect of her words. Eric and Colin clearly had not expected this solution. Certainly, Fence would not like it, but Chloe saw he looked too dumbfounded to make a counterargument. She tried not to let her triumph show, and now turned to Violet and her children to observe their reactions. Were they sorry to be separated from husband and father?
The expression Violet and the older of the girls now directed at Chloe, however, did not testify to displeasure. They looked as shocked as if Chloe had just summoned a genie from the bottle. As if they had been set free.
They still hesitated in front of the stallion’s stall. Violet gripped her son’s hand, and Chloe was startled when small, ice-cold fingers—those of the older girl—closed around her own. She might be nine or ten years old. Chloe squeezed her hand and smiled at her.
“And what’s your name?” she asked amiably.
Violet was going to answer for the child, but then she paused, shocked as Rosie spoke.
Very quietly, and tonelessly, her sister said, “I’m Rosie.”
The manor house of Coltrane Station had appropriate servants’ quarters. Chloe found two rooms next to each other that seemed meant for the butler and a maid.
“Three would be better with all the children,” she said while Violet eyed the rooms in disbelief. “But we’ll also need a maid, and perhaps a cook, so we can only offer you these two.”
In her household in Wellington, Chloe also had a lady’s maid. But in Invercargill, the duties of appearance were less demanding. It would be enough if the maid could also occasionally help her dress. The usual Maori servants—her new acquaintances recruited their help from the surrounding villages—would not suffice for that. But perhaps . . .
In a maid’s dress, Violet would make a pretty sight, and Rosie no less so. “Would you want to help around the house, Violet? Perhaps in time we could also teach the little one.” She indicated Rosie.
Violet had already been looking at her gratefully, but now she seemed close to tears. “I didn’t think,” she whispered. “I didn’t think anyone would give Rosie a chance. But if you—” Violet’s voice threatened to crack, but she collected herself and forced a businesslike tone. “If you would be content to have me as a housemaid, I believe I could meet your expectations. I worked in Greymouth as a nanny, and the Billers would surely provide a reference. I have also worked in a ladies’ boutique.”
At the mention of the boutique, Chloe flashed on her commitment for that evening. If she wanted to make it on time, she would have to hurry.
“Very well, Violet,” she said. “That you can care for children, I believe. We can speak about references later. But if you really have helped a lady dress before, then you can prove it to me this very moment.”
The children followed Violet into Chloe’s dressing room, and she breathed a sigh of relief when her new mistress did not object to her bringing Roberta along and laying
her down on a chair. After a day or two, she could have Rosie watch the children while she worked, and perhaps she could even convince Rosie to stay with them in their new rooms. But that evening, everything was still too new. They would all be frightened if Violet left them alone.
“It’s quite all right,” Chloe said, fending off her apologies about the children. She was focused on getting dressed. “Have you laced a lady’s corset before?”
Chloe moaned as Violet pulled on the laces. Then she laughed. “Oh, I see you have. Thank you, Violet. And now the dress. Careful, it’s thin silk, and the ribbons run so easily.”
Violet pulled the fine web over the crinoline and checked the decorative ribbons on the seam and below the waist. The dress was cream colored, the ribbons aquamarine. The label indicated the dress was from the Gold Mine Boutique.
“That’s where I worked, madam,” Violet said, overjoyed. “Shall I also put up your hair? I can’t do it that well, but—”
Chloe nodded and was quite thrilled when she finally looked in the mirror. “The post is yours, Violet,” she declared briefly, “as house and lady’s maid. And Rosie, you’ll help, too, won’t you?
“How was it at the Gold Mine? Oh, we’ll talk about that tomorrow. I must go now. I hope your husband made himself useful and hitched a horse in front of the chaise.”
Eric had not hitched any horse, having instead gotten lost with Colin in shoptalk about trotters. Both earned another tongue lashing from Chloe, which immediately hardened the relationships further. Colin was in a bad mood all night and argued heatedly with Chloe when she insisted on going through the stables when they got home to check on the horses. Things escalated irrevocably when Chloe discovered a small cut on the stallion’s forehead.
“He certainly didn’t get that in the last two hours. This happened during that theater over the gelding. Your fabulous stable master should have noticed,” she said angrily as she quickly rubbed a salve on the wound. “Hold the lantern for me. We need to look closely at the gelding. He didn’t beat any less hard against the walls of his stall, after all. It won’t do for your valuable racehorse to have swollen legs tomorrow.”
It was one o’clock in the morning before Colin and Chloe finally got to bed—Eric Fence had either slept through their argument in the stables or consciously ignored it. Or had he been with his wife? Chloe decided to check whether he was really sleeping in the stables. And she would not give herself to Colin that night.
That decision, however, became shaky as soon as Colin stepped behind her and undid the complicated clasps on her dress. She shuddered with pleasure as he kissed the nape of her neck. Colin was a wonderful lover, more experienced than Terrence, Chloe’s first husband. Despite her efforts to resist him that night, he brought her to the highest delights of desire, which was always the case when a fight preceded their lovemaking. Chloe almost did not recognize herself anymore in this. She had always thought tenderness and harmony determined fulfillment. Terrence had always stroked and kissed her a long time before he pushed into her. Colin, however, seemed bored during foreplay. He preferred to take her when she was still excited after an angry exchange of words. Occasionally she resisted his “attempts at assuaging her” before she let herself be convinced. When it was over, she was satisfied and pleasurably tired, but she was also frustrated with herself. After all, usually nothing was discussed. Sometimes it seemed like her honor was a contest Colin won every night.
That night, too, Chloe lay awake, wrestling with the bitter recognition that, though Colin did not leave her unsatisfied, the spiritual affinity she had hoped for in Dunedin, when he had ensnared her with plans about the stud farm and a family, would never come to be.
Chloe Coltrane’s dislike of Eric Fence mounted to sheer hatred over the next few months. She could live with the fact that his knowledge regarding horse care and training did not extend far. Fine, her husband had granted him the demanding post of stable master, which involved cleaning out the stables, feeding and cleaning the horses, and putting on their harnesses and saddles. Colin was still too much a cavalryman to leave the last duties in particular to a stableboy. Chloe checked on the feeding, even though this did not seem right to Colin. Here, Chloe would not compromise: she would not be shut out from the management of the stud farm.
Chloe quickly discovered and admonished Eric’s mistakes and negligence, though he did seem capable of improvement. Worse was the influence Eric Fence exercised on Colin Coltrane, or was it Colin on Eric? The two outdid each other even with little white lies like the matter of presenting Pride as Spirit’s son. Pride won one race after another, and people were willing to spend a lot of money to mate their mares with Spirit.
Chloe might have been able to look past this. Spirit was, after all, a strong trotter, and there was reason to hope he would pass on his aptitude. When, however, she caught her husband in a conversation with a customer on whom Eric had foisted an infertile horse as a broodmare, she became irate—and even more so as Colin remained completely calm.
“Really, my stable master told you that?” he incredulously addressed the new owner of the mare, Annabelle. “Yes, well, he hasn’t been here long; he must have gotten mixed up. I am quite sure he did not intend to cheat you. Suitability for breeding is important—it’s about distilling harness-racing horses, you know. Your mare Annabelle runs a mile in under two minutes. She’s much too good for breeding. Have her race for two years, then try again.”
The buyer tried to protest, but Colin merely shook his head condescendingly. “What do you mean? You don’t get the impression she’s that fast?” Colin lowered his voice as if sharing a well-kept secret with Annabelle’s owner. “Have you driven the horse, Mr. Morton? No? There you have your explanation. With a rider, Annabelle isn’t outstanding. I agree with you, but the future lies in harness racing with sulkies.”
Chloe snorted with rage when the man had finally gone without returning Annabelle and without repeating his accusation of being cheated.
“Colin, we agreed to give the horse up because she was neither fast nor fertile. The best would have been not to sell her. In any case, Annabelle belongs in front of a light vehicle, perhaps in town. She is a good horse and could pull a delivery wagon or even a chaise, but Mr. Morton has a racing stable. He doesn’t need a wagon horse. What got into you and Eric, fobbing this mare off on him?”
Colin laughed. “He’s never going to get anywhere with his racing stables. Not as long as he has so little sense, anyway. But you gain that with experience, and viewed in that light—”
“You’ve helped the man to grow wise from loss. He ought to be grateful,” Chloe exploded. “I don’t believe it, Colin. You’re acting like a horse swindler. Aren’t you thinking at all of our reputation? Make him an offer to take Annabelle back if she doesn’t win next Sunday.”
Chloe sighed with relief when Colin did go after Mr. Morton. She had feared a renewed struggle for power, but Colin’s acquiescence confirmed her view that Eric Fence was influencing Colin to fall back into bad habits. That this happened in horse trading did not really surprise her at all. After all, they had warned her sufficiently about Colin in Dunedin. She needed to keep a close eye on him.
Chloe left the stables calmer, but she was shaken when Annabelle won the next Sunday. In front of one of the new, light wagons with big wheels called sulkies, she trotted across the finish line first, followed by Pride and Rasty, another horse Colin had trained.
“Bad day,” Colin replied to Chloe’s suspicious question about how the mediocre Annabelle could win against fast-as-the-wind Pride and the promising Rasty.
His nonchalance stoked Chloe’s suspicions. In general, Colin was a bad loser and got angry every time one of his horses came in second or third. After all, that reduced the winnings, which in harness racing were not high, anyway. Here, one could only make good money through betting. The next day, Chloe learned from Violet that Eric had won big. Had the stable master bet on Annabelle? And not just the obligatory tenner for
himself, but more money for his boss? Had Pride and Rasty’s drivers—both stableboys and apprentices of Colin and Eric—held their horses back purposely?
Despite how skeptical Chloe was about Eric Fence, she became all the closer with his family over time. Violet proved her worth around the house and as a lady’s maid. Joe and Roberta were not difficult children. Chloe had found a soft spot in her heart for Rosie, especially after Violet had told her about her years of silence, which she had now broken for Chloe in particular. Rosie remained all but mute, but she did not leave the impression on Chloe that she was stupid or slow. Chloe was outraged when Eric presented his little sister-in-law as daft. And she was touched when after only two days at Coltrane Station, Rosie let go of Violet’s skirts and took hold of Chloe’s. No matter where she went, Rosie followed her like a little dog.
“She must be a burden,” Violet said fearfully as her sister, covered in hay, followed Chloe out of the stables. “I’m sure she’s afraid of the horses, and then she always wants to hold your hand.”
Chloe laughed and considered Rosie with a downright proud look. “Afraid of horses? She just groomed her pony. And then she rode with me in a sulky. But not fast, Rosie, just a little endurance training, right? So Jewel doesn’t get out of shape now that she’s foaling.”
Rosie nodded importantly and looked at Chloe as if she worshipped her. She was not afraid of horses whether they trotted fast or slow. What did she have to fear as long as Mrs. Coltrane was with her? Mrs. Coltrane had the power to save them. She had somehow made it so Eric Fence did not break into her nights like a monster. So he no longer beat Violet and no longer frightened Rosie and Joe. Rosie could still hardly comprehend the miracle: in the evening, Violet simply shut the door to the bedroom, and Rosie and the little ones slept the whole night undisturbed.
