***
The Paris Auction was packed. Typically the only thing that came through were herds of young cattle. Early in the morning the iron-bared trailers would arrive. Half of them were empty because the cattlemen were looking to buy and the second half were full because they held cattle brought to sell. The cattle, mostly Black Angus and milk cows, would be unloaded into the stalls to wait for their turn to be put out in the auction pen.
Most of the time you wouldn't find fancy boots from the Super Farm Store walking around the Paris Stockyards. You found mostly just the rough, worn kind that had seen a lot of work time. The cattlemen worked hard to make a living on farms and didn't have time to prance about dressed in their best jeans and boots just to get them dirtied up by a bunch of cattle.
Today the auction was filled with a lot of new people. Those unusuals were dressed far better than the rough edged farmers who didn't have the time or inclination to look good for anybody. They came to see Patrick's horse and perhaps make a bid.
Inside the Stockyards kitchen Linda served the best burgers in town. The cowboys were piling in while they waited for their cattle to come up. As usual, Mary Jane and Michael, neighbors that lived half the time in Napa, California and brought the best wine back to Kentucky for their summer stay, were sitting in a booth chatting with Linda.
Mary Jane waived him over to their booth. "Patrick, we saw you trying to get that big gray horse out of the trailer."
Mary Jane was a retired nurse with eyes the color of the Irish Sea in summertime. Most mornings you found her compact, trim frame filled with energy darting around her vast vegetable gardens with her husband Michael or playing with her collie-dog Sarah.
Patrick arrived at the table and smiled at Mary Jane. "Yes, he did prance, squeal, kick and bite…sometimes all at once." Patrick reached out to shake Michael's hand. Michael was a bearded quiet cabinet maker who had retired from a successful business in Napa, California. Michael's calm watchful eyes were often busy keeping track of Mary Jane.
Linda, a slender woman with short blonde hair and a ready smile who ran the Stockyards' kitchen, stood up when Patrick approached. "Let me go get you a burger."
"Right nice of you Linda, but I won't leave without paying you for it."
She laughed, dismissed his statement with a wave and hurried off.
Michael tipped his mouth with his napkin and said, "Why did you bring a horse like him to the stockyards?"
Patrick slid in the seat next to Mary Jane. "Hell if I know... some stupid reason like trying to locate a girl I don't even know. I think it was once her horse and I want to find her."
Mary Jane laughed. "Patrick, the girls around here are dying to meet you all the time. I can't imagine why you have to go to so much trouble to meet one. What are you going to do with her once you find her?"
Linda arrived with Patrick's burger in time to pick up on the conversation. "The young girl that owned that horse has red hair. She was about 15 or 16 when she survived the storm that killed her parents and went to live with crack-head-Paula in that terrible house down the road from me.
Mary Jane leaned forward with a worried frown. You mean that woman that lives in that old white house that is near falling apart and surrounded by trash and old cars?"
"One and the same."
Patrick ate on his burger thinking about this new bit of information. "Well, we will soon find out."
"You could just go to her house now that you know where she lives," Michael offered leaning back and putting his arm along the back of the vinyl seat.
Patrick pushed his empty plate away. "Better to draw her out to hear the story."
Mary Jane looked grim. "What exactly is this about?"
Patrick filled them in on the details and left a few minutes later because the horse would soon be coming up for auction so he had to take him out of the line for bidding before then. "The burger was fantastic as usual, thank you Linda."
His friends gave him a parting friendly farewell that included invitations to dinner later that week.
"I have brought back some good wine from California," Michael offered by way of temptation.
Patrick waved just as he got to the door. "You know I can't say no to that."
He hurried out, anxious to find out if the girl was going to show up even though he felt an idiot in the attempt. Patrick was missing a whole day's work with trainers, office work and a multitude of other issues he needed to take care of in an attempt to chase down some little minnow of a girl who shouldn't mean anything to him anyway.
Worse, his father had called and there were some matters to take care of dealing with his family and the estate back home. Yet, here he was, the Earl of Meath, in Paris, Kentucky at a stockyards filled with cattle and locals…hoping some stray cat of a girl might show up to fight for a horse.
It was absurd. But he just couldn't get her out of his head. It amazed Patrick the way she handled that horse…the way that damned mean horse walked up to her gentle as a lamb when all he ever did was snarl at everyone else in his life. If he was ever going to do anything with that horse he could use her help.
Clearly she also needed his help.
He knew the colt had lost his mother just a month or two before Patrick bought the farm, so he was willing to give the stallion some space to deal with the loss. Horses were intelligent and sensitive animals…perhaps because the colt had just been born it had been a trauma he didn't forget.
Patrick had done his best when he came in to buy the place. The owner' sister had sold the farm right away for next to nothing just for a quick sale. The real estate broker that contacted him in Ireland explained about the horse surviving while his mother died in a collapsed barn along with all the other horses and the owners. Patrick immediately sent his people in to take over the farm and take care of the horse. He had a new barn constructed as quickly as possible. From there he had moved in some horses he had been keeping on a smaller piece of land that he planned to expand into a plant to manufacture specialized organic feed for livestock. All of it was a long way from his home in the shadow of Sugar Loaf Mountain in Ireland.
His father hadn't understood his need to go to America and work the horses when he had his legacy and inheritance at home. His father took care of the massive investments of the family wealth with just a bit of Patrick's help and Patrick had gone to school to obtain a PhD in chemistry. Being an Earl was going to be a very large job when the moment arrived, but Patrick wanted more. He loved the animals, especially the horses. And he wanted to get away from memories of Marta.
He had been looking for a horse farm to purchase of the size that would meet his goals for the future. When he got the call, he acted swiftly. He bought the farm sight unseen and had someone immediately take charge of cleanup and the one remaining horse.
But the horse simply could not be tamed in any fashion at all. Not by him, nor anyone else.
Patrick was almost at his wit's end of what to do with the fine horse until that morning he saw the young woman feeding him an apple. Was Linda right that the girl did have a connection with the farm? Or had she just an affinity for animals? He had heard there was a storm and the family was killed. No one told him anything about a young woman. Perhaps she was just an interested neighbor who knew the horse. No matter who she was, she was a very young girl living in poverty.
Extreme poverty.
Which is something he could have lived with except when she showed up as an escort to the Derby.
So perhaps they could help each other.
Patrick had his own "dates"…. women he was friends with that were waiting for him to get romantic with one of them. He knew he was pleasing to the eye of most women. That, coupled with money and perhaps his title…though it meant nothing to most people here…some even laughed when they found out. But all of it together meant he had a steady stream and a full share of the women, both locally and at home. He could easily bring several guests to the Derby who wanted to be with him and occupy an exclusi
ve box to say that she had done so.
He had brought three of his "friends" who were in that category to the Derby. When he saw Jolene entering into the box like a filly on new legs he simply could not fathom that it was the same girl from the pasture. She had been a pretty thing that morning he first saw her. She was proud and graceful despite her jeans with holes and her plaid shirt that came near to her knees. That morning she had materialized from the mist with rosy cheeks, big green eyes that reminded him of the Irish countryside, and hair of fire.
But in that candy-apple-red dress, she was hints of the woman that she most certainly was not. Painted lips and lined eyes….with a few pounds on her she would have been downright sexy. As it was, she leaned and slumped in her red dress only enough to attract those interested in someone very young.
Which was extremely horrific in his mind.
What sort of a twisted mind could be drawn to a girl who might be a grown woman in the physical sense, but just barely, and all knobby legged and skinny like that? Oh, yes, she was a pretty one to be sure, but not quite ready.
When he first saw her in the Derby box Patrick thought that he must have been fooled by her wide eyed innocence that first day…for how else could she have gained access to such an exclusive box, with the wealthiest in Kentucky and beyond unless she had done this before?
But it was painfully obvious in the first few minutes she had been sent in by someone else and was astonishingly unaware of her role. He doubted anyone would take her seriously and was appalled beyond comprehension when Chad, that ass…whose father owned a green energy plant that got lots of dollars from the government on things that were never likely to work…. and Mel, the tobacco king in his time, would take a serious interest in the little shaky-legged filly. It was the personal greed of men to use someone when they were too young and innocent.
Pure selfishness.
To take innocence for one's own selfish pleasure.
How could any man not let her grow into her own? How could they touch her when they knew for certain she was not here of her own accord, but rather because she was desperate, either for herself or someone else, or both.
Bernie and Jose pulled the horse out of the holding stall prancing, neighing and with rolling eyes.
"Come'on now then, t'is just for a bit," Patrick said softly, which calmed the horse by some fraction.
They managed to get the angry snorting horse into one of the final action stalls, where he battered around looking for an escape and neighing his discontent.
It was near time for him to take the horse off of the list even though they had signed up for last.
She hadn't shown up and the time for the horse to come up for auction was quickly arriving. Probably she had simply not seen the signs and the postings in the free newspaper in Paris The Advertiser.
Mary Jane and Michael came outside to stand near Patrick and watch the action.
Just as he went to take the horse off the list she emerged from the woods that lined the stockyards. "Don't sell him please!" She rushed forward crashing into him and jerking on his arm. Gone was the half-grown woman all made up in the red dress. Her hair was in a ponytail that didn't hold the strands of silky fire in its confining band. Her big green eyes were filled with utter fear that consumed her face.
"Hum, so who is this?" He smiled gently so as not to frighten her away.
"That is the young girl that lives in the white house." Mary Jane confirmed.
The girl didn't even look at Mary Jane. "Don't sell Storm, please, I'll take care of him…I'll do anything. I know how to work as a groom." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sorry I ran away from you outside the Derby, but I was just scared you see. I'll do what you want now, just don't sell Storm."
Shame of what he had done filled Patrick. He had figured she would come for the horse, but he had not comprehended the extent of her attachment to the beast. The intense love was clearly etched in her pain-filled face. "Now little lady, there is no need to cry."
A single fat tear skipped down her cheek and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Nobody will understand Storm…only me."
Patrick's voice dropped low and he leaned down. "I understand Little Red, just stop crying and we can talk about you taking care of him."
"My name isn't Red, it is Jolene."
"Well Jolene…I don't want to see yer crying anymore, so we will take Storm back to the pasture and work on what to do about you."
Another tear welled up in her eye and tossed itself to the ground. "Really, you mean it? What do I gotta do?"
Patrick patted her arm. "Nothing bad, I promise you that. Nothing like over at the Derby. How old are you? Where are you living now?"
"With my Aunt Paula." She sniffed. "Oh and I am 18. But she would be really mad. She is already mad that I was applying to colleges. I take my finals to get out of high school next week, you see."
Patrick felt a fierce burning in his heart. "Is she mad about college? Is she the one who sent you to the Derby?"
Jolene was immediately fearful. "Don't tell her…I gave her some of the money you gave me…I am sorry I took it and didn't go with you…I was just…." She shrugged helplessly.
He smiled gently. "Don't worry. I gave it to you to keep. But go on."
Jolene started talking faster. She always did that when she got nervous. "I told her you gave it to me and that I left with you. I didn't tell her I ran away from you though 'cause she told me I better do a good job with the men or she would sell Finnegan and Oliver." Her lips quivered. "Those are my dogs."
His thoughts made him severe. "Oh yes, the two collies that came with you that day when you visited Storm."
"Yes that is them. They are mine, but she always says she is going to sell them."
His eyes turned so dark they were purple with his outrage. "She told you to do a good job with the men or she would sell your dogs?"
Jolene gulped and slowly nodded her head. "But please don't tell her…it would be awful."
He shook his head. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph together…What does your Aunt do for a living?"
Jolene's little red brows came together in a delicate frown. "I don't much know…she advertises on the internet. She has lots of parties with everybody drinking moonshine that her boyfriend Travis brings. But sometimes she has other boyfriends come around when Travis is working. She says it is to give her that bit of extra money. They do nasty-girl things in the bedroom." Jolene looked away, shading pink. "You know…"
Mary Jane tsked and Patrick swore. "I understand completely. Could I guess you would not live with your Aunt Paula if you and your dogs had anywhere else to go?"
Jolene's eyes shot back to him. "Oh I do so hate living with Aunt Paula though it isn't Christian to say such a thing after she took me in and all."
"Well, if you want to take care of Storm then you will have to come live at my place."
Hope flashed in her eyes but was quickly replaced with suspicion and fear. "I can't, I got no way to pay you for a place to live. And I don't want you think'in I gotta do stuff like….like Aunt Paula does with men to get money. You know …the nasty-girl stuff."
Mary Jane stepped forward and touched Jolene's shoulder. "He would not do anything like that dear. He is a nice man."
Patrick's eyes shaded sad and he shook his head. "I'd not do that to you child."
Still not convinced Jolene pressed on. "And no trying to trap me in the bathroom or peeking through the window curtain slit and stuff like that, or pressing yourself against me all weird like Travis does trying to get a feel."
Patrick groaned. "He does that to you? Did you tell your Aunt Paula?"
"Oh for goodness sakes!" Mary Jane said with heat. "We should turn him in."
Jolene's eyes rounded. "No! She would be very mad about that."
Patrick cleared his throat and lifted his chin arrogantly. "Well you can be assured that the Earl of Meath will never resort to trapping a young woman in a corner or spying on her in a bathroom. The
very idea of such a thing is beyond the pale."
Jolene looked skeptical. "Travis says that sort of stuff when Aunt Paula gets suspicious."
Michael shook his head. "Somebody should give him the good beating that he deserves."
"Oh no, he has a lot of really mean friends." Jolene looked even more frightened. "I just wish to get away from him. I am just not sure about going and living with a stranger."
Patrick smiled kindly. "Very well, then if you are worried so much, you can take care of Storm and have another job. You don't have to live in my house. How about if you help with the other horses? I need an extra hand at the barn, feed'in them and riding them if you know how to ride, and if yur don't, I'll teach you."
Excitement busted through Jolene's heart. "Of course I know how to ride horses! I can take care of them! I learned when I was just a little girl from my daddy."
He looked just like Angel Gabriel for certain. "Well it is settled then."
Jolene's heart stopped over the idea of being at home again, even if she only got to sleep in the barn.
Patrick smiled a fatherly smile. "Would you like to live in the little white house I have on my property?"
"Really? Oh my gosh, I would love that!" She hesitated. "Nobody else lives there do they? You know … somebody like Travis."
Patrick cursed. "Forget Travis. Of course I do not have anyone living there of that caliber. The house sits there empty. I didn't have the heart to take the place down and figured that someone who worked for me could live there someday."
Jolene felt emotions driving through her in a fast cantor. "Can I grow a garden..there…I mean when I am not working?"
"Of course, and maybe you'll want to share some with me."
"Yes, yes I will!"
Michael took Mary Jane's hand. "They have this wrapped up so let's go home so I can work on the cabinets for the kitchen."
After they left, Patrick turned back to Jolene with a warm smile.
"Then we have a deal do we Jolene? How about if I pay you a wage and maybe you can go to school…maybe a private school somewhere for girls, where you can learn lots of things that are not in books as well as your regular studies?"
Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill Page 4
