Saratoga Sunrise

by Christine Wenger

  "You look horrid, my dear," Monty said. "Is something wrong?"

  "Why thank you for the compliment, Mr. Fordice. And yes, something's wrong. It's you." She thrust the bouquet back at him and enjoyed the expression on his pink, perspiring face. "And I won't be marrying you. Not now. Not ever."

  There. It was over and it was quite easy after all. Exhilarating, in fact.

  Clara followed her into the cottage. "I'm sorry, Sara. I had to tell your father about Jack-about his real identity."

  "But why didn't you tell me?" She felt a surge of disappointment at her friend. "You should have told me."

  "Jack asked me not to. He said that he needed more time."

  "For what?"

  "He wanted to clear his father's name."

  "I think he succeeded. My father is going to have his father released from prison."

  Clara clapped her hands. "How wonderful!"

  "Yes. Isn't it? Jack will get exactly what he wanted after all,” Sara said quietly.

  # # #

  Early the next morning, her father left for the train station. He was going to take a train to Auburn Prison and see what he could do about George Wheeler.

  Even though she still stung from Jack’s betrayal, she at least wanted to tell him that she understood why he did what he did, now that she had a chance to think about it.

  And she wanted to see him one last time.

  For it would be that memory, and the memory of their time together at Saratoga Springs, that would see her through the rest of her years.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jack scraped off his beard and moustache. If only he could erase all of Sara's hurt, just as easily.

  He knew he had hurt her.

  He had lost Sara, and the pain cut deep.

  She had never left his mind. He missed her company. He missed her spirit. He missed talking to her and watching her face light up when she was excited. He missed watching her ride like the wind on her horses, and how she fretted over Seawind. He missed the violet of her eyes and how they would get dark with passion when he kissed her.

  He loved her.

  It crept up on him quietly. He supposed it had started when he saved her from getting trampled at the train station and saw how she handled her handicap. Sara Peterson was no coward. She had been through a lot of pain in her years.

  He had added to that pain.

  He'd made a mess out of things, and he wanted to properly apologize to Sara, to set things straight, but he could not. Not yet. He had made an agreement with her father.

  But that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on Montague Fordice. Jack hadn't liked him from the start, and his opinion of the man had deteriorated to the point where he despised him.

  After a few words with Porky and Mike, he found that Fordice had more than doubled his debt since a year ago. To his amusement, they bragged that they had been the ones who had been placing bets for Sara throughout the years and that she indeed had accumulated tidy nest egg.

  As he splashed water on his face, Jack chuckled. How clever she was.

  Then worry intruded. Porky said that she was going to let everything ride on Seawind today at the Travers – everything. They were concerned, that wasn't like Sara at all, but she insisted in spite of the fact that they tried to talk her out of it.

  And Jack knew the reason why: her dream of a horse farm.

  But he had a dream, too. He'd like to finish his degree, ask Sara to marry him, then work on developing that horse farm with her. They'd raise the fastest horses in the country, just like she wanted. And they'd raise the most beautiful children, all girls, who would all look like their mother with big violet eyes and her smile-and...well...maybe a couple of boys, too.

  He wondered what odds the bookies would give him for that dream ever coming true.

  Jack decided that he'd better head down to the stables and watch for anything suspicious. If Montague Fordice, or anyone else, was going to make a move to hurt Seawind, it would be this morning.

  He reached for the towel and stared at himself in the mirror. His beard and mustache were gone and he looked like the same old Jack Wheeler, but he knew that he wasn't the same.

  And he would never be the same again because Sara Peterson had touched his heart.

  # # #

  Bond Peterson extended his hand. "I hope you can forgive me in time, George." After a long hesitation, George Wheeler shook it.

  "I'm just grateful to be out of that hell hole and to see my family. It's been a year today...the day of the Travers." George looked around at the hustle and bustle of the train station at Saratoga Springs, smiled, and took a deep breath of air.

  Bond nodded. "A year ago-so much has happened in a year."

  Johnson was waiting for them at the train station, and the men walked to the carriage. "If you don't mind, Johnson will drop me off at the stables. I'd like to check on Seawind. Then he can take you home to Agatha."

  George shrugged his shoulders. "I just might go with you. If history is going to repeat itself like we both suspect, I want to be there to tar and feather the one who really cut up Tempest Wind. I can wait to surprise Aggie for a little longer, and if I know my Jack, he'll be waiting and watching along with the two of us."

  Bond didn’t doubt it. He was beginning to understand Jack Wheeler, and he was beginning to like him.

  It took only a brief visit with his friend, a Supreme Court Judge, to get George out of prison and they left on the next train out of Auburn. When George finally overcame his anger, they had a long talk on the train-a talk they should have had a long time ago.

  Bea was right. He had jumped to conclusions, and his mistake had put an innocent man in jail. He was sure of that now. But who was the real culprit? Bond and George both felt that only one individual had the most to gain if Tempest Wind was out of the race last year. It was the same man who had he most to gain if Seawind was out of the race this year.

  How had he been so blind?

  In thinking back, little bits and clues came to mind. Nothing concrete. Nothing whereby charges could be filed.

  # # #

  Sara met Porky and Mike at the designated spot on the piazza of the United States Hotel.

  "Now remember," she said, "let it all ride on Seawind."

  Porky shook his head, "Sweetie, you're taking an awful chance."

  Mike tapped on the wicker table. "Porky and I are as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs placing that big bet for you."

  "Seawind is ready. I just know he's going to win."

  "Heard tell he got pretty banged up," Porky said, lighting up a cigar. The smoke was so thick, she couldn't see his face for a while. Then it emerged. His sincere blue eyes were sympathetic. "Have you seen him this morning, sweetie? Are you sure he's going to do it?"

  "We've never placed that large a bet, Sara. Shouldn't you discuss it with your father?"

  "No! This is my money, Mike, you know that. I've been accumulating it for years. And I'm finally going to buy my horse farm."

  "Sweetie, Old Pork agrees with Mike. We'd both feel better if you'd give Seawind a look-over this morning. If you're still convinced he's going to win, then we'll place the bet for you. We respect your opinion. You got the gift of talkin' to horses."

  Sara paused and thought. They had a point. She hadn't been to see Seawind in a couple of days and a lot of money was at stake.

  "Gentlemen, if it'll make you feel better, I'll go to the barn right now and have a talk with Seawind. Look for me there or at the track and I'll let you know for sure if I want the bet placed."

  Porky nodded as he blew a stream of smoke into the air.

  # # #

  He would have the ultimate revenge against Sara and Bond Peterson.

  It was quite easy to bash the skinny jockey on the back of the head with a shovel, drag him to the haystack in the corner of Seawind's stall, and cover him with hay. There'd be no chance that he'd be riding in the Travers this morning.

  He pic
ked up a green bottle of Wheeler Mineral Water and let the contents pour out on the floor. Then he struck it on the windowsill. Perfect razor-sharp edges remained, just like before.

  At the far end of the stall, Seawind whinnied. The horse must have sensed that something was wrong. "Too bad, Seawind. It's nothing personal. It's just about money," he mumbled.

  Holding the jagged bottle, he walked toward the horse, creeping slowly, trying not to laugh.

  Everyone would think that history is repeating itself – like father, like son.

  How perfect that Jack Summers was really Jack Wheeler. How absolutely perfect!

  He'd be the first to start the talk that Jack was out for revenge on Bond Peterson because Bond sent Jack's father to jail.

  He’d also be sure to tell everyone that Jack cut Seawind because Bond had forbidden him to see Sara anymore due to the fact that Jack had compromised her. Now she was sullied, and Bond was trying to hide the scandal.

  Then he’d step in, “forgive” Sara, and would still be willing to marry her-for a price. Bond Peterson would pay heartily.

  It didn't matter that it was all lies. It would be the perfect story, and everyone who matters in Saratoga Springs would blame Jack Wheeler for everything.

  He bent down by Seawind's legs and held the bottle in position so as not to cut himself. He was ready to do it... ready...

  "Get your hands up, Fordice, you sack of horse manure."

  He felt the prongs of a pitchfork on his back.

  "Do it, Fordice, or I'll skewer you!"

  "Well, if it isn't the masquerading groom."

  The prongs dug in harder. Monty decided that he could either give up like a gentlemen or go down fighting and maybe cut up some of Jack Wheeler's face in the process.

  He decided on the latter.

  # # #

  Sara wasn't prepared to find two men fighting in Seawind's stall. She identified Montague right away, but it took her longer to realize that Jack, minus his beard and moustache, was the other combatant.

  Jack might be in trouble. She had to help.

  With a running leap, she hopped onto Monty's back and hung on for dear life with her arms around his neck.

  Jack grabbed for Monty's wrist. "Sara, get out of the way!" he yelled. "Get away!"

  Monty circled fast in an attempt to throw her off, but she dug her heels into his legs. She had one arm under his neck, choking him. The other, clenched in a fist, pounded him on his head and ear.

  Seawind whinnied and moved around the stall, disturbed over the commotion. If the horse should rear, Jack would be in danger.

  Monty swung the broken bottle in an attempt to slash Jack. Then, moving in a quick circle, he threw Sara off and she landed with a grunt on the hay.

  "Sara?" Jack yelled.

  She could hear the panic in his voice, and she didn't want him to worry about her.

  "I'm fine. Get him, Jack. Get him!"

  Jack was finally able to land a couple of hard punches to Monty's stomach. He doubled over, fell to the ground, and curled up like a boiled shrimp.

  Stepping on the man's wrist, Jack ordered, "Drop the bottle, Monty, or I'll muck the stall with you."

  The broken bottle didn't move from his hand, so Jack applied more weight, and Monty released it. Jack picked it up.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Bond Peterson's voice boomed across the stable. "Sara are you okay?"

  "I'm fine, Daddy. Everything's fine. Thanks to Jack."

  # # #

  Jack turned around and was shocked to see his father standing next to Bond Peterson. "Dad!"

  "Jack!"

  He started to walk toward his father, to touch him, to embrace him, to make sure he was real.

  I'm proud of you, son." George Wheeler had tears in his eyes.

  Jack smiled, looked down, realizing that he still held the jagged bottle. He met Bond Peterson's gaze. "I didn't...no... It's not what you think..."

  Bond glanced from Seawind, to Jack, to Sara, to George and then to Montague Fordice lying on the ground. He smiled. "How do you know what I'm thinking? Dammit, boy! Do you think I always jump to conclusions?"

  "Yes," George, Jack and Sara all in perfect unison.

  Bond's laughter rang out and he slapped Jack on the back. "Thank you, son. I appreciate all that you did, and I appreciate how you've looked after my daughter. Now give me that bottle and go and welcome your father. Then I'll find someone to take Fordice to jail. He's cluttering up Seawind's stall."

  For the first time, Jack was happy to follow Bond Peterson's direction, and carefully laid the green glass onto his outstretched hand.

  # # #

  Sara was glad when everyone had left. She was happy to see the police haul away Montague Fordice and happy that Jack saved the day.

  Before he left, she remembered her father's parting words and smiled with a happy heart:

  "Jack, I'm calling off your part of our bargain. That was wrong of me. I don't admit that I'm wrong very often, so enjoy: I was wrong. I was wrong about your father and I was wrong about you. Now go help my daughter up and see that she doesn't get into any more trouble, will you?"

  He winked at Jack, and Sara knew that her father had given his blessing to them seeing each other again. "And there will be no less than a year's courtship. Understand?"

  "Daddy!" Sara was astonished. She didn't even know if Jack had any intention of courting her.

  Her father took her hand. "My dear daughter, any fool can see that you two are in love. Right, George?"

  George Wheeler smiled. "I'd have to say that you're right, Bond. And I can’t tell you how much it hurts me to say that you're right about anything."

  "Mr. Peterson, do I understand correctly that I have your permission to marry your daughter?" Jack said.

  Sara found it impossible to be any happier. Jack wanted to marry her! And she wanted to marry him. He put his hand around her waist, and she noticed that his breathing was as uneven as hers. Why Jack Wheeler was nervous!

  But it didn't matter to her if her father refused to give her hand. She was going to marry Jack, no matter what. Maybe they would even elope! How daring that would be.

  Bond Peterson tried to look threatening, but merriment glittered in his eyes, and Sara knew he was going to say yes.

  "You assume correctly. Yes, I do give my blessing, but you’d be better off asking Sara. That girl has a will of her own. It took me a while, but I know that now. And call me Bond, for heaven's sake, if we're going to be related."

  As her father bent over to hug her, she kissed him, then whispered in his ear, "Thanks, Daddy. I love him."

  "I know you do," he whispered back. "And I love you, too, my darling daughter."

  "I love you, too. And Aunt Trixie loves you."

  “Bea?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  She stepped away, noticing that her father was mulling that last bit of information.

  Eventually, he smiled and pumped Jack's hand. "I know you'll take good care of my daughter."

  "I will, sir."

  George Wheeler shook Jack's hand, hugged him, and slapped him on the back. "You have my congratulations, son. I can't wait to get to know Sara better." He turned to Sara and held her hands in his. "I've never seen Jack so happy. As soon as possible, I'd like you to met Aggie. We'll all get acquainted soon."

  Sara saw the tears welling in the man's eyes, and liked him immediately. "I'd like that very much." She kissed him on the cheek, and he kissed her forehead.

  The two men left the stable, but Sara heard her father say, "How about being my guest at the Travers? My box is still at the finish line."

  "Thank you, but no. I can't wait to get home and surprise Aggie. We have a lot of time to make up. And I have a lot to tell her."

  "George, I'll make it known that I wronged you horribly and that Montague Fordice was the one, on both occasions."

  "Thank you. I don't care, but it'll make Aggie happy."

  "I'll make it up to you all," B
ond promised.

  When they were alone, Jack tentatively kissed the back of Sara's hand. He touched it tenderly and Sara could see that it was pink and swollen from her fight with Monty. "My brave and reckless and wonderful Sara. I've missed you."

  "I've missed you, too, Jack."

  "Forgive me for lying to you, for being so deceitful. I didn't know what else to do."

  Bravely, she met his gaze. "And that time in the water in the spring? Did you love me then or was that all part of your plan?"

  "I've loved you from the second I saw you at the train station. Please believe me."

  He kissed her and she was shocked at her own eager response.

  He sighed. "I have no excuse, other than to say that I did it for my father and mother, and –"

  She put her finger over his lips. "I know. I know everything and I understand."

  "Will you marry me, Sara?"

  Sara felt warm all over and she knew her face was a bright pink, then a cloud drifted over her heart. "But doesn't my leg disgust you?"

  Jack shook his head. "What ever gave you that idea?"

  "In the spring and in the meadow. You saw it and-"

  "Sara, I admire you for being so strong. I wish you didn't have to endure the loss of your mother and have pain, but it's a part of you, like your scars are. Your leg doesn't disgust me in the least."

  She knew he was sincere, and relief washed over her like a tidal wave. That's what she wanted to hear.

  "I'd be proud to marry you, Jack."

  Jack pulled her toward him and kissed her again. It was light at first as if he were afraid she'd break, then it deepened. She felt her knees weaken, but he held her tight.

  "Ahhhh...Jack...it feels divine when you kiss me. More."

  He obliged. And she heard a moan, only it wasn't hers this time.

  "Did you hear that?" Sara asked. As she saw the hay move, she reached for the pitchfork, but Jack beat her to it.

  She pushed it away as she saw the colors of the Peterson silks. "It's Toady."

  Toady groaned as Jack pushed the hay from around him.

  "He's hurt. Fordice must have knocked him out."

  Sara knelt down. "Toady? Toady, are you all right?"

  She pulled out a handkerchief, dipped it in a nearby bucket of water, and pressed it to the bloody gash on his head.