Flight of a Maori Goddess

by Lark, Sarah

  “Exactly,” Michael replied, taking a big swig of beer. “I never got used to it. What makes you think she will?”

  Chapter 2

  At a brisk, even tempo, Dancing Rose’s Trotting Diamond rounded the track in Addington near Christchurch. Rosie Paisley sat in the sulky, maintaining light contact with the reins and floating on air. She had missed this feeling in all the years she had worked for Chloe and Heather—and as much as she loved Chloe, her savior and idol since kindergarten, there was simply no comparing flying down the racetrack with housekeeping. Rosie also liked her new job as a stable hand in Lord Barrington’s racing stables. Her heart leaped every morning when the horses whinnied in greeting. She loved every single one of the animals entrusted to her.

  That day, she had summoned the courage to speak to the stable master and ask for a few hours off. As a little girl, Rosie had gone mute for years after being forced to witness frightful scenes between her sister, Violet, and Violet’s husband, Eric Fence, as well as Violet’s near death from the complications of her son’s birth, and even now, she much preferred horses to people. Besides, Lord Barrington’s stable master was really quite strict. Still, he had granted Rosie’s request. After all, she was never late and always did an excellent job. Rosie knew that, as the only girl in the stables, it would take a lot for her to be recognized.

  Luckily, Rosie could do even the hardest stable work without breaking a sweat. She was powerfully built, not like her willowy sister, Violet, or her niece, Roberta. Nor was she as pretty, though. With her dark-blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and light-blue eyes, she could at most be described as cute. Most men didn’t notice her at first, and Rosie had no problem with that. She had witnessed Violet’s gruesome marriage from beginning to end. The last thing she wished for was a husband.

  Rosie looked at the large clock above the totalizer. She still had a little time, but then she would have to take Diamond back to the stables and go fetch Roberta from the train. Or should she hitch Diamond to a different carriage and surprise Robbie with a ride behind a lively racehorse? No, Robbie had always been rather afraid of horses. Though the animals had never done anything to her. Eric Fence had been dangerous—and Colin Coltrane, too, of course. But never the horses. Horses were good.

  Rosie had Diamond speed up on the long sides of the racetrack. That weekend, she would run her first race, and Rosie could hardly wait. It was risky starting Diamond in a race without her ever having trained alongside other horses while pulling a sulky, but Rosie avoided the other trainers. She was wary of raucous old Brown, and as for her nephew, well, the sight of Joe nearly made her break out in hives. He looked so much like his father, she could have sworn Eric had risen from the grave. Regardless, Joe was a far better racer. Never would he be done in by negligence like his father’s.

  Rosie took a deep breath and flicked the reins. She did not feel guilty about Eric Fence’s deadly accident. True, he had ordered her to harness the horse for him, and Rosie had not done it properly. However, a good driver should check the seat of his carriage before the start. Eric Fence had neglected doing so. After all, he’d still been half-drunk from the night before. It was his own fault.

  Nevertheless, Rosie avoided her nephew at all costs. Joe had been a witness to her actions and had later accused her of murder. No one had believed him, but whenever he looked at Rosie, she saw the old hate in his watery eyes.

  Just then, Joe appeared, steering a gorgeous black stallion that was pulling a sulky onto the racetrack. A tall, strong-looking man with red-blond hair followed. Rosie cursed under her breath. Maybe she could guide Diamond out of the racing grounds before the men made it back around . . .

  But when she brought Diamond down to a walk and stopped in front of the exit, which was blocked by a bar, Joe was there, still talking to the reddish-blond man. Just the sound of his voice sent cold shivers down her spine. It, too, was an echo of his father’s—with the inflection of Colin Coltrane.

  “Of course, he’ll win, Mr. Tibbs,” he was assuring the man. “He’ll have to if he’s going to advertise for your delivery service, now won’t he?” Laughter. “It’s really a good idea, by the way. I always tell people that a gentleman takes a stake in races. But when, as in your case, it also serves business—”

  Rosie frowned as he furtively secured an overcheck on the stallion’s bit. The checkrein was supposed to ensure the horse stayed at a trot, but it also encumbered it, and Rosie shared Chloe’s opinion that a good trotter should not need any assistance, and a good trainer did not reach for measures that caused the horse pain and fear.

  But Mr. Tibbs, clearly interested in buying the stallion, did not seem to notice Joe’s actions. He had just spied Rosie and was hurrying to open the gate for her.

  “It’s all right, boy, no need to get down.”

  He laughed when she gratefully tipped her cap, revealing her chin-length hair.

  “Well, I’ll be—you’re a girl! Beg pardon, miss.”

  The man doffed his newsboy cap as gallantly as a gentleman would his top hat. His round face reminded her a bit of a bulldog’s. A shy smile stole over Rosie’s face. But before she could get Diamond moving, Fence called out.

  “Well, lookee what we have here, little Rosie. Done, are we? And here I thought I could show my client how his future horse would trot past your pony.” He grinned.

  Rosie’s heart was pounding, but she did not take the bait. Trotting Diamond was not tall, but that had little to do with a trotter’s speed. Joe only wanted to provoke her. And the stranger had a funny look on his face. Recognition? Curiosity? Still, the man did not seem lecherous or greedy. On the contrary, he looked quite friendly.

  “Would you do us the honor, my lady?” he asked Rosie with a slight bow. “Mr. Fence here would like to sell me a horse, and it’d be nice to see it compared to another. I mean, maybe harness racers are generally well schooled, but I know how it is with my cold-bloodeds and cobs. They’re perfectly calm when they have the road to themselves, but as soon as another horse comes a-trotting—”

  “That happens with racehorses as well,” Rosie confirmed in a husky voice.

  Hardly ever to Joe Fence’s horses, though. He knew every trick in the book and did not tolerate any nonsense from his horses.

  Mr. Tibbs smiled. “Then we’re in agreement, Miss Rosie, was it?” His voice grew soft. “My favorite name, that. Will you help me test out my horse?”

  Rosie turned a burning red at once, but she steered Diamond into starting position. Meanwhile, Joe Fence climbed into the sulky behind his black stallion with a smirk. “I’ll give you a show, Mr. Tibbs,” he promised. “But first, I’ve got to warm up Spirit’s Dream. Does that bother you, Rosie?”

  Rosie did not manage an answer. In fact, it did bother her. She was going to be late to the train station. Of course, Roberta wouldn’t hold it against her. She was probably less excited to see Rosie than the lovely new veterinarian, who would also be meeting the train. Dr. Taylor’s eyes had shone when he said he knew Roberta from South Africa—even more than during his examination of Diamond, whom he adored. But really, Dr. Taylor loved all horses—and Roberta. Even for Rosie, that was plain to see. He surely wouldn’t mind if she left her niece alone with him for a bit.

  But what if Roberta minded? Rosie always considered the possibility that women were afraid of men, and she should stand by Roberta’s side, just in case. Her head spinning with all this, she almost failed to realize that Mr. Tibbs was speaking to her. He was observing Joe’s stallion as it now moved around the track at a calm, working gait.

  “A beautiful horse, fine movements. Of course, begs the question of how fast it is. Do you know it?”

  Rosie blushed again. Naturally, the man assumed she knew most of the trotters around the track. And in Invercargill, she had. But here, her work meant she rarely had a chance to watch the training sessions.

  Mr. Tibbs waited. Rosie pulled herself together. She thought about it. Spirit’s Dream.

  “I�
�no, but I think I knew its father, Spirit. A black Thoroughbred? Tall? Former racehorse?”

  Mr. Tibbs pulled a paper out of his bag and studied it slowly. “So he is, miss.” He beamed. “You’re a real horse expert. So, what do you think of the stallion? Honestly, I mean. Or are you an employee of Mr. Fence’s, is that it?”

  Rosie shook her head fervently. “No. No, never.” The thought alone drained the color from her face. “I—”

  Tibbs beamed, putting Rosie in mind of the portraits of soulful-eyed herding dogs Heather used to do before she had made her name as a serious painter. She noticed with confusion that she felt comfortable in this man’s presence.

  “Then you can speak openly,” he encouraged her.

  Rosie wrinkled her nose, a gesture that made her look childish. Again, that strange, inquisitive expression appeared on Mr. Tibbs’s face.

  “Spirit was good,” Rosie said. “He was her grandfather.” She gestured to Trotting Diamond.

  Tibbs now smiled broadly. “Well then, a family reunion. Which reminds me—”

  Now, however, Spirit’s Dream was nearly back.

  “I’d take the overcheck off,” Rosie blurted out hastily, before Fence could reach them. “The checkreins.”

  Tibbs nodded seriously. “I know what it is. That’s got to slow the horse down.”

  Rosie shook her head. “Not necessarily. Not when it’s well trained. But—but, it hurts them,” she said quietly, and felt like a fool. Most people did not care if they caused a horse pain, as long as it looked good or won races.

  “We certainly don’t want that,” Tibbs agreed. “Besides, it’d interest me to see whether the stallion would remain at a trot if your cute little mare were to overtake it. So, I’ll free him from the overcheck, and you’ll give us a good race, agreed?”

  The man stepped onto the track and waved for Fence to stop. After a short discussion, Tibbs released the snaffle rings that forced the horse to hold its head unnaturally high. Rosie looked on with incredulous admiration. How could he dare order Fence around? This Mr. Tibbs must be an influential man. And somehow, he reminded Rosie of someone.

  Joe Fence shot an accusatory look at Rosie. He kept the reins short as the stallion crossed the starting line at a light trot. Rosie maintained her gentle rein connection. Diamond kept calm even with Spirit’s Dream trotting alongside her. Rosie kept her in this position as Joe increased his speed. Spirit’s Dream was doubtlessly fast—and he held a trot, too, even without the overcheck. Joe grinned triumphantly as he passed the mare.

  Rosie rolled her eyes. Trotting Diamond loosely kept pace with Spirit’s Dream although the race was really speeding up. She strained at her reins a bit now, but Rosie calmed her. There was nothing to be gained by spending one’s strength before the final stretch. Finally, they passed the curved side, and the finish line came into view.

  “Now.”

  Rosie gave Trotting Diamond the reins, and the mare flew, effortlessly placing herself next to Spirit’s Dream. The horses jockeyed back and forth—Rosie’s heart danced with joy, and she even tossed Joe Fence an animated look. However, he wasn’t paying attention. With his face puckered, he was struggling with his stallion, which obviously didn’t want to trot. Diamond left the dead-even position and pushed ahead of the stallion. She was trotting faster and faster. Rosie could have cheered. Diamond exceeded all her expectations.

  And next to her, Spirit’s Dream pulled the reins out of Fence’s hands and galloped ahead—shooting triumphantly past Diamond, still dutifully trotting. Rosie’s sweetest smile spread across her face. Her Diamond would not let herself be goaded. Joe Fence glared at her apoplectically as his sulky rolled past hers.

  “He’s fast, to be sure,” said Mr. Tibbs with an indulgent smirk as Fence stopped in front of him. “You still need to work on his gait, though.”

  “I told you, he needs the overcheck!”

  Joe Fence launched into a list of excuses, but Rosie was not listening. To her surprise, she saw Dr. Taylor and Roberta climbing down from the stands.

  “Rosie, that was wonderful.” Roberta smiled radiantly and embraced her aunt as Rosie got out of the sulky. “Vincent picked me up, and we figured we’d find you here. And what a surprise, we got to see our very own race!”

  Vincent Taylor was downright giddy. “Rosie, that was unbelievable. I’ve never seen a horse move so effortlessly, especially against a stallion that fast. He won on the last race day, didn’t he, Mr. Fence?”

  “There you have it, Mr. Tibbs,” insisted Joe. “Allow me to introduce the track’s veterinarian. If anyone would know, it’s him. Let the horse run with the overcheck.”

  Tibbs, however, made no reply. He had eyes only for Rosie and Roberta.

  “It can’t be,” he said, visibly moved. “It’s completely impossible that you’re old enough to be Violet Paisley, but you look just like her.”

  Roberta laughed. “I’m Roberta Fence, Violet’s daughter. But my mother does still look very young.” She offered Tibbs her hand. “How do you know my mother? And Rosie?”

  The man looked at Rosie with misty eyes. “Tom Tibbs is my name,” he said, again comically doffing his cap. “But they called me ‘Bulldog’ on the ship.”

  Roberta had never seen Rosie smile so unabashedly. “You looked after us,” she said quietly. “I remember you asking my dad to scrub the cabin.”

  Bulldog boomed with laughter. “Well, I wouldn’t say I ‘asked,’ but it was clean afterward! I can’t believe I—pardon me, Miss Paisley, but I can’t believe I found you. I never forgot you, you know?”

  Rosie smiled again. “I didn’t forget you either,” she said.

  “Quite the reunion here,” Joe Fence scoffed. “Hi there, little sis. To what do I owe the honor of your visit? You’ve never bothered with me before.”

  “Joe!” Roberta blanched. She had not seen Joe since childhood and was taken aback by his resemblance to their father. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

  Though Chloe had informed Violet of her son’s whereabouts, she hadn’t yet had an opportunity to tell Roberta. She was busy helping out in the Caversham school but had yet to take a definite position. Roberta knew that if she could return Vincent’s love, he would ask for her hand. But if she married, she would no longer be able to work as a teacher. This weekend in Addington was supposed to bring her closer to a decision. And it was harmless. She was not, after all, officially visiting Vincent, but Rosie. If things went well, Roberta could see herself taking a position in Christchurch. That way, she could get to know Vincent in peace. Like Rosie, Roberta had been scarred by Violet’s disastrous marriage to Eric Fence. Though she did not shy away from men like her aunt did, she would have preferred to settle down with someone she’d known from childhood. With Kevin, she would have felt secure. Vincent had to prove himself worthy of her trust.

  Now, Vincent looked stunned at the revelation. “Seriously, Joe? Roberta’s your sister? You two must have loads to tell each other.”

  It was plain the siblings had nothing to tell each other, but Vincent had at least managed to break the tension.

  “And you emigrated from England with Roberta’s mother and Rosie, Mr.—?”

  “Tibbs,” Bulldog repeated. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I’m sure you’d like to catch up too,” Vincent surmised.

  Bulldog nodded eagerly, Rosie with a slight blush.

  “Shall we all have a cup of tea?” Vincent looked around encouragingly.

  “I can’t,” grumbled Joe. “I have to take the horse back. What do you say, Mr. Tibbs? Will you buy it?”

  “I have to take Diamond home,” Rosie said shyly.

  Bulldog smiled his puppy-dog smile, but this time, he showed his teeth a little, and Roberta saw where his nickname came from. He really did look like a friendly fighting dog, but one you had to take seriously.

  “It depends, that, with the stallion,” he now mused. “First, the price; I think we need to talk a bit about that. You
r horse doesn’t hold his trot as well as you claimed, Mr. Fence. And as for the trainer—”

  “The horse can remain in my stables, of course,” Fence declared. “I’d even insist you have it continue preparing for races with experts. To which I might add, I have the best address in Addington.”

  Bulldog furrowed his brow, doing his name further justice. “Continue training with you? So that, during the next race, whether Spirit’s Dream gets shown up by a pony depends on a piece of leather?” He winked conspiratorially at Rosie. “No, Mr. Fence, whether I buy Spirit’s Dream will depend on his future trainer, or traineress. Would you take my horse’s training into your charge, Miss Paisley?”

  Rosie flushed with happiness. “Yes—no, I have to ask Lord Barrington if—I mean, yes. Yes, well, if his lordship allows it, then yes.”

  Lord Barrington would likely have nothing against it, and Chloe would be willing to ask him. But right now, Rosie was so excited that she might even dare to address the lord herself.

  Bulldog grinned good-naturedly. “Well then, wonderful. I’ll work something out with his lordship. I know the man. I have a delivery company, you see, and whenever the Barringtons get furniture or the like from England, I drive it here or out to the plains. Just wait a moment while Mr. Fence and I reach an agreement. Then we’ll take the horses home together.”

  Chapter 3

  Vincent Taylor cursed his luck. He’d finally had Roberta all to himself, and then, the sudden reunion made him afraid she might not find time for him. And then there was the stuffed horse. He’d seen it in her handbag when he helped her out of the train. Vincent once again had the feeling of having to fight with a phantom.

  Rosie and Bulldog had left the racetrack gleefully, which could not be said of Joe Fence. Tom Tibbs had paid Roberta’s brother a good price for his stallion, but the thought of Rosie competing with him as a trainer was not to Joe’s liking. Roberta watched with concern as her brother stormed off. She knew that face from her father, and she would not want to trade places with the person Joe was now going to let out his anger on—she just hoped it was not a woman.