“Really,” Jake said, butting into the conversation. Better than the garbage Dumpsters in downtown Memphis. Better than the crowds and noise that never seemed to stop, even at four in the morning when he walked to escape the nightmares. When he saw all those faces. Even after the colonel took charge and rented him a room in a halfway house, he’d stayed only long enough for meals before he began those lone walks again.
Most of the men who hung out on the street and under the overpasses in the downtown badlands had problems with alcohol or drugs. Once they discovered he hardly carried any money, they didn’t hassle him. Everyone left him alone. He was sober and clean, and he didn’t beg.
In any case, even if he’d had the money to dull the pain, he wouldn’t have been able to choose between all the various substances. Since the very, very bad early days after leaving the military, he hadn’t been able to make a decision about anything.
His rational mind knew that wearing mismatched socks would not cause a meteor to fall on Tennessee. But the voice in his head whispered, But if it did, it would be your fault.
You give yourself too much power, the colonel had said in one of their sessions.
Okay, so I choose the wrong pair of socks and get some poor old lady hit by a truck because she’s staring at my ankles. Same difference.
He knew it wasn’t. Why did he keep feeling it was?
He might get better if he could go back in time and change some of the disastrous decisions he’d made. As it was, his safest course was not to make any more. How did he atone for disasters everyone else told him weren’t his fault?
Sean dropped back a stride. “Keep up, Jake.”
“Hey, look at the size of those suckers,” Hank said and pointed toward the pasture, where a half-dozen giant horses lifted their heads and watched the newcomers before continuing to graze. “When do we get to drive ’em?”
“Soon enough,” the colonel said. “Orientation and house rules first. Come on, everybody.” He opened a door into the stable and waited while the group walked inside. “This is the common room. It’s where you’ll meet and eat while you’re here. Mickey, will your chair fit through the entrance?”
“Yeah, if I aim right. Boy, this is some kind of plush for a stable.”
“The living quarters are for visiting clinicians and people interested in the horses,” the colonel said. “The bedrooms are through there.”
“The nearest motel is ten miles away,” Charlie added. “You would not want to stay there. This way, you’re with the horses twenty-four/seven.”
“We’ve got a room and bath set up on the first floor for you, Mickey,” the colonel said, heading in that direction. The others took a quick look and drifted back to the common room, but Charlie stayed with her father and Mickey.
The pocket door to Mickey’s room was extra wide to accommodate his wheelchair. Once inside, the colonel waved around the room. “Lift for the bed, shower and john set up for you. Dr. Steadman vetted it before he signed off to let you come out here. You and Mary Anne will be on the main floor. Sean, Jake and Hank all have rooms upstairs.”
“May need some help with the lifts and stuff,” Mickey said with a grimace. “Call me Tin Man. My braces don’t take to showers real well.” Charlie sensed how much he hated asking for assistance. He cocked an eyebrow at her and leered, “Want to help me?”
She laughed. “Good try. The colonel swears you can manage fine on your own.”
“Oh, well, if I have to. Just keep Li’l Buckaroo Hank away from me. He thinks because he was an officer he’s too good to help an enlisted man.”
“He’s not in the army any longer,” Charlie said. “I’m the only one with rank in this organization.”
“I thought the colonel was in charge here.”
“I’m officially retired,” her father said, “although this program is my idea.” He leaned a hip against the corner of the wheelchair-height dresser and folded his arms. “Charlie is actually responsible for training you guys.” He walked back into the hall. “When you’ve finished exploring, join us in the common room.”
“Excellent,” Mickey said, spinning his chair and rolling over to Charlie. “I can plug my battery in beside the bed. I don’t really need the hoist. I can make it from my chair to the bed and back without hydraulics. This should work.”
“How often do you wear your braces?”
“Not often enough right now, but I’m getting stronger. I’m supposed to walk every day.”
“Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “The braces are a pain to put on and a pain to wear. Sometimes I let it slide, you know? You do have Wi-Fi, right?”
“Yes, Mickey, even here in the outer reaches of space we have Wi-Fi. See you in the common room in fifteen minutes.” She shut his door behind her.
The other trainee room on the first floor had been given to Mary Anne Howell, since she was the only female. Charlie knocked on her door, which stood ajar.
“Settling in all right?” she asked.
Mary Ann turned away and pulled down the sleeve of her shirt to cover the edge of her glove. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“It’s Charlie, not ma’am, okay?” Charlie wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to cover up, that nobody cared about her scars. Not quite true. Mary Anne cared. Charlie didn’t know the extent of her disfigurement. The others might not, either.
Upstairs, Sean and Hank had rooms across the hall from one another. Charlie reminded them both about the meeting in the common room. “Short orientation, then lunch.”
O’Riley followed her down the hall, caught her arm and said, “Ma’am, better let me bring the major.”
By that time she’d reached Jake’s room. The door stood wide open, and she could see him sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands loose in his lap, while he stared out the window. What was he seeing? The trees and fields, or something else?
“Hey, Jake, buddy, we’ve got to go downstairs for a meeting,” O’Riley said. “You gotta be hungry.”
Without a word, Jake stood. As he passed Charlie in the doorway, he flashed her a smile so sweet it took her breath away. Watching him walk down the hall and start down the steps, she noticed the limp. She pointed to Sean’s room, followed him in and shut the door.
“Okay, what’s with Major Thompson?”
“He’s a good man.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“He took shrapnel in his knee. Knees don’t ever heal right, so he’ll always limp.”
“Sean, that’s not all. I need to know, if I’m going to train him to drive a horse-drawn carriage and take care of draft horses.”
Sean sank onto his bed. Charlie leaned against the wall.
“All I know, he was wounded in an ambush in Iraq. He got out with a bum knee. Nobody else did. Since then he can’t make decisions.” O’Riley shrugged. “Hard to hold a job.”
“I’ll bet.”
“He was my roommate at our halfway house, so I’ve been kind of looking after him since I went there to learn to use my hand.”
Great. So far, the kid in the wheelchair showed the most potential of the lot.
Sean could crush a carriage shaft with his prosthetic hand. Mary Ann wouldn’t look straight ahead, take off her glove or wear a short-sleeved shirt in Memphis heat because of what must be burn scars on her arm. The handsome rodeo rider with one foot gave every impression of being both bad-tempered and bitter.
And finally, Jake Thompson wouldn’t be able to take the reins on a carriage because he couldn’t make a decision about which way to go.
Lovely.
If she could train these people to drive well enough to land them jobs with carriage outfits after they finished the course, she deserved a medal—she just hoped it wouldn’t be a Purple Heart.
CHAPTER
TWO
THE COLONEL LEANED one arm along the rough wood mantel in the big common room while he waited for the others to find places to sit. He was always relaxed with patients and strangers. Not so much with his family. When he noticed them.
“Where’s the major?” Charlie asked. “He came down just before us.”
“I’ll go find him,” Sean said, and started for the door to the stable.
Charlie touched his arm. “You need to listen to this. I’ll find him.”
“But...”
She was already out the door. Maybe Major Thompson had decided he couldn’t endure being so close to other people. Had he walked to the road to hitchhike back to Memphis?
According to Sean, he didn’t have that much gumption.
Several of the horses that weren’t out in pasture were taking midmorning naps in their stalls. A couple snored. Over their snuffles she heard a soft male voice. As she stood listening, her cell phone rang. She snatched it out of her jeans and answered quietly.
“Charlie, it’s DeMarcus. They there yet?”
“Half an hour ago,” she told the farmhand.
“You know I’m not happy the colonel gave me and Maurice two weeks’ vacation, even if he is paying us. You gonna be able to do it all with just those folks to help?”
“I have to try.”
DeMarcus snorted. “Huh. He’s got no kinda idea how much work goes into keeping the pastures cut and the barn clean. You want us to come back? Give you a hand?”
“Give me a couple of days to see if I can manage. I may call you screaming for help.”
“You know you got shavings coming first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve also got three trace mineral blocks and a dozen fifty-pound bags of oats in the back of the truck.”
“Don’t you unload ’em by yourself!”
“I promise I won’t. Bye, DeMarcus. Have fun on your vacation.” She sighed as she stuck her cell phone back into her jeans. Hank, Jake and Sean all looked capable of stacking bags of oats and shoveling shavings. She had argued and argued with her father about giving the regular grooms time off, but he wanted the students to learn to do everything themselves.
“They’ll have to know the basics if they’re going to work with horses,” he had said.
Actually, it wasn’t that big an operation. The new arrivals should be able to handle things with her to straw boss them. Jake was still talking. Sounded as though he was down by the double stall where the stallion Picard held court.
The nineteen-hand black shire was usually a good guy unless you tried to get between him and a mare in heat, but he was still a stallion, given to mood swings from loving to irascible. Always arrogant. For safety’s sake, the rule was that nobody messed with him without backup.
Jake hadn’t gotten the word. She found him inside the stall running a dandy brush over Picard’s shining black pelt, while the big horse leaned into him and sighed in ecstasy. “Who’s a good boy, then?” Jake crooned. “You’re a fine old boy, aren’t you?” His gentle voice warmed something deep inside her.
She held her breath so that she wouldn’t spook either man or horse and waited for Jake to notice her. It was like watching your child play in the gorilla cage at the zoo.
“Uh, Major? Jake?” Charlie whispered.
Jake’s shoulders stiffened, and he dug the brush into Picard’s shoulder so hard the stallion gave an annoyed “harrumph.”
“We’re late for the orientation meeting,” she said, emphasizing the we. “I came to get you.” She held her hand out to him. He opened the stall door and laid the brush on her outstretched palm.
“I broke the rules?” he asked.
Working alone with Picard was definitely against the rules, but nothing had happened. “We don’t generally go into his stall without someone outside in case there’s a mare in season he wants to get to. He can be a handful, but he obviously appreciates what you’re doing.”
“I like the big guys,” Jake said. “I’d forgotten how good clean horse and fresh hay smell.” He grinned. “Yeah, even manure. I’m sorry if I worried you.” Picard leaned his head over his stall door and bopped Jake on the shoulder. Jake reached up and scratched between the stallion’s eyes, then gave that angelic smile again. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a mix of joy and loss in one expression.
“Picard was obviously pleased, so don’t worry about it.” She walked beside him back toward the common room. “The colonel mentioned you grew up on a farm. Did you drive draft horses?”
He looked away, the smile replaced by a rictus of pain. “I plowed my first furrow behind a Percheron when I was seven. By the time I left home, I could plow all day with a six-across team of Belgians.”
Charlie blinked. The idea of driving six draft horses across a single line was mind-boggling. She laughed. “Maybe you should be teaching this course.” She knew the minute the words left her mouth she’d said the wrong thing.
He froze. “No,” he said, and walked ahead of her into the den.
Ms. Big Mouth, Charlie thought. He might not have driven any kind of equine for years, but driving draft horses was like riding a bicycle. Hadn’t taken Charlie long to get her skills back after she and Sarah moved in.
He was probably a better driver than she was, and a better horseman, as well, considering Picard’s reaction. He’d be a great second in command if she could convince him to come out of his shell.
How could she get through to him? She’d do anything to see that smile again and hear the gentle voice he used with Picard. She intended to know the officer he must have been, even if she had to drag him kicking out of the shadows.
* * *
SEAN SETTLED JAKE in an empty seat on the banquette under the windows.
“Okay,” the colonel said, “here’s the deal. You five signed up to be test cases in a pilot program.” He held up a hand. “Sounds better than guinea pigs, doesn’t it? A similar program to train veterans to drive carriages has been a success in northern Virginia, and I think it can work down here. If you succeed, we already have jobs lined up for you.”
“What kind of jobs?” Hank asked.
Mary Ann’s hand went up. “How can we make a living driving horses? Who even does that anymore?”
“Can you say weddings, girl?” Mickey said. “Don’t see how you can fit a wheelchair on one of those Cinderella carriages, though.” He grinned at her. “Can’t you just see me hauling the bride’s train up to the church? Get that net stuff wound around my wheels and she’d wind up on her butt.”
“Shut up, Mickey,” Sean said without heat.
“We’ll talk about the opportunities over the next few weeks as we figure out your particular skill set,” the colonel continued. “Take the rest of the day to unpack, settle in and learn your way around. This wing of the stable contains your living, dining and cooking area.”
Mickey raised a hand. “How come you have a dormitory in your barn?”
The colonel smiled. “My father ran training courses where people could learn to farm with draft horses. This is our first course since his death some years ago.”
“We’ll set up a roster of chores both for the living areas and the stable,” Charlie said. “Or you can make your own. You’re not simply going to be driving. You’ll be mucking stalls, cleaning tack—maybe even a little farriery. Learning everything it takes to become a horseman. For the first few weeks, you will be the only people working with the horses. After that, our regular grooms come back.”
“How about food?” Mickey asked. He had that perpetually famished teenage look. Charlie guessed that no matter how much he ate, he’d always be hungry and skinny.
“There’ll be breakfast makings sent over from the main house every morning,” the colonel said. “Cereal, juices, bagels, rolls. If you want to cook,
there are eggs and bacon in the refrigerator.” He gestured to the doublewide steel refrigerator in the small but well-equipped kitchen area open to the main room. “Make your own coffee. Clean up after yourselves. There’s a dishwasher. The lunch and dinner dishes will be sent over from the kitchen in my house on a trolley. They’ll either be picked up after dinner, or one of you can take the trolley back. There’s a bigger dishwasher at the house. Anything special you want, there’s a whiteboard beside the refrigerator you can write on. We’ll try to accommodate you as much as possible.”
“Beer?” Hank asked.
“Within reason,” the colonel said. “I don’t recommend wine or liquor. And don’t overdo it. Working in the hot sun long-lining a seventeen-hand Percheron while nursing a hangover will be plenty of punishment for getting drunk.”
“So how do we get it?” Hank asked. “We’re prisoners out here working our rear ends off to run your operation and all we get is room and board.”
“Plus a small weekly stipend,” the colonel said. “You all knew the rules going in. It’s not much, but it’ll give you spending money in town.”
“Do we have to hitchhike?” Hank seemed intent on being belligerent, and Charlie wondered where his anger came from.
“There’s a couple of pickup trucks for farm use,” Charlie said. “I see no reason why we can’t have a weekly pizza run. Maybe Chinese or sushi.”
“Our cook, Vittorio, will provide lunch and dinner over here six nights a week,” the colonel added. “Saturday night you’re on your own. I’ll join you for the occasional meal, but this is Charlie’s baby, not mine. It is imperative that you all have lunch and dinner together. That’s when you’ll discuss the day’s instruction, get assignments and handle problems. Now, there should be sandwiches for lunch today already in the refrigerator.”
“We can set stuff out on the counter,” Charlie said. “I’m starved.” She turned to ask Mary Anne to help, then realized she had chosen her because she was a woman. “Hank, give me a hand, will you?”
“Sure.” He flashed her a smile. Huh. So he argued with male authority figures and charmed the females. She could use that.
Taking the Reins Page 2
