He wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but Grace Zook suddenly sent him a steely glare that he felt all the way through to the back of his head. Next second, she was marching out of the stables. Isaac had no other choice than to follow.
“Apprentice?” she said through clenched teeth as she glanced at him. Even though she looked like she was about to kill him, darn it if Grace Zook didn’t still look pretty. “Is that what my father told you I was?”
“Well, jah. He said I…that we…” Well, shoot, had he just ruined everything? They’d finally been getting along.
“My father,” she said, her voice firm, “doesn’t understand everything. He’s…very set in his ways, and I tried to show him…I mean, I show him every day that I’m good enough to—”
“Looks like we’re both about to see who’s good enough,” Isaac said, not meaning to cut her off, but while she’d been talking, a big silver truck pulling a horse trailer was driving up the path, past the front pasture. Even at that distance, he could hear snorting and kicking coming from inside the trailer.
“Mercy,” he heard Grace whisper. “What in heaven’s—” They both jumped when the truck came to a stop and whatever was inside nearly kicked the back off the trailer.
Isaac couldn’t help looking at Grace, for help, maybe? Or advice? Maybe even to share a nervous laugh? He wasn’t sure. But his confidence certainly didn’t increase when she turned to glance at him, her blue eyes wide as two dinner plates.
Chapter Seven
Grace was trying to read the expression in Isaac King’s eyes. But all she saw was a mirror of her own reflecting back. A moment later, her father came onto the porch. As he stared, slack-jawed toward the trailer, she read pure distress on his face.
“Afternoon,” a man said as he climbed out of the shiny truck. He wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. “You John Zook?”
“Jah,” her father said, walking down the porch steps, eyes still fixed on the trailer. “Mr. Carlson?”
“Yes, sir, but please, call me Travis,” the man said. Just then, another person joined him; he was quite a bit younger. Seventeen or eighteen, at most. “This is Wade, my son,” Travis added. “Good to meet ya.”
All of their attentions were pulled toward the trailer…as it began to rock. Grace had no idea what the horse was doing inside there to make the whole thing shake like that, but suddenly, she felt a chill run up her back. For the first time, she wondered, was she really ready for this?
“How many you got in there?” her daed asked.
Travis chuckled under his breath. “Just one. That’s our Cincinnati.”
“But we call him Sin.” When Wade laughed, it sounded a little…sinister. The menacing expression on the young man’s face made Grace wrap her arms around her body and stare at the trailer again.
“Named for the city?”
Grace’s heart jumped when she realized Isaac had left her and was walking toward the three men. She should’ve been first to approach! Wake up, Grace!
“Naw,” Travis said. “After Ulysses S. Grant’s horse.” He took off his sunglasses. “He was a soldier in the Civil War, but I suppose folks like you don’t know much about that.”
“He was a three-star general,” Isaac said. “Commander over the entire Union Army, then became the eighteenth president. Hi, I’m Isaac.” He put out his hand for the man to shake.
“Oh.” Travis chuckled again. “Well, now, it’s nice to meet you. My apologies.”
Isaac lifted an easy smile. It humbled her to see he was obviously more used to doing business with Englishers than she was. Something she now needed to work on.
“Travis, this is Isaac King, he’ll be training Cincinnati.” Grace couldn’t help but elbow her father. “Ack, sorry, along with my daughter. This is Grace.”
“Seriously?” Wade said, his eyes moving to Grace. Even at that distance, she felt uneasy as his gaze slid up and down her body.
“Wade,” Travis hissed under his breath as he gave him a stern stare. “Check yourself, boy. I think what my son meant,” he added to the group, “is that there will be two trainers?”
Grace held her breath, not sure what to say.
“That’s how we’ve always done it here,” her father said, making Grace exhale in relief. “At least the last five years or so. We haven’t had any issues.”
“And I’ve worked with multiple trainers before,” Isaac said. “Never a problem.” He shot a quick glance to Grace. Was he attempting to make her feel better? Or just trying to keep Travis from worrying? Grace couldn’t tell yet, didn’t know his character.
He’s a good sport, at least, she thought to herself. That disgusting glass of Sarah’s “lemonade” barely fazed him.
Travis pointed at Isaac. “You don’t work here normally?”
“I hired him for this specific job,” her father said. “You have the best of the best.”
Travis looked confused, and Grace suddenly feared that he was about to get in his truck and drive away.
“Tell me about your horse,” Isaac said, perhaps thinking the same thing as Grace.
“When was he gelded?” she broke in, stepping up, not wanting to be left out of the conversation any longer. Usually, when they received a new horse to train, both she and her father got the instructions from the owners. Even if she was slightly intimidated, this time should be no different.
“Last month.”
“Was he this…aggressive before?”
“Why do you think we call him Sin?” Wade said, his lips curled into a crooked sneer.
Travis seemed like a respectable man, but there was something off about his son. Grace was grateful she wouldn’t be having to work with him.
Travis removed his baseball cap. “He’s never had much attention—the horse, I mean. We have racers, good ones, and our show horses are champions. After he was weaned, I suppose he was a bit neglected.”
“Has he been heeded, at least?” Grace asked, making mental notes about how best to start.
“Nah,” Travis said. “He didn’t get along with the other horses, so we kept him in a stall most of the time.”
Grace felt her blood grow hot in her body. Why did people insist on having multiple gauls if they didn’t treat them right? She’d seen too many cases when it was almost too late to get a horse to trust her.
“That’s fine,” Isaac said. “I have a special method that I use with troubled horses. We’ll get him calmed down quick enough.” There was a new firmness to his voice, like he was suddenly in charge of everything, yet he was composed, as if attempting to get everyone to trust him.
“I have my own method,” Grace inserted. “It’s what we’ve always used here at Zook Farms.” For some reason, both Isaac and her father looked at her as if she’d just spouted the worst nonsense in the world.
“Like I said,” Daed added, chuckling like the situation was nothing out of the ordinary, “the best of the best.”
“You were telling us about Cincinnati,” Isaac said, using that trust-invoking tone again. “He’s a Morgan, four years old, and you’d like to see if he can compete in jumping.”
“Not see if,” Travis said. “He needs to compete. At the highest level. His pedigree goes way back; he was born to be a show horse.”
Then why have you been ignoring him all these years? Grace wanted to ask.
“Currently, we have one horse down. Sin will fill that slot this winter.”
“That’s mighty fast,” Grace couldn’t help saying.
“Well, if you’re as good as he says you are”—Travis nodded at her daed—“shouldn’t be a problem.”
“That’s right,” Isaac said.
“Exactly,” Grace chimed in. For a quick moment, she and Isaac shared a look. “I think it’s time we meet our new friend.”
The racket and snorting coming from inside th
e trailer increased the closer they got to the back. In fact, one powerful kick actually bowed the side of the trailer, exposing the galvanized steel underneath, chipping off the white paint.
Grace wasn’t worried—of course not.
Still, she couldn’t help glancing at Isaac. His expression seemed laser focused, though she did notice his motions were slow and cautious.
“Do you want him free in the pasture first, or straight to his stall?”
“Pasture!” Grace and Isaac said at the same time. At least they were in sync about that. Hadn’t the poor thing been isolated long enough?
The moment Travis released the lever of the tailgate, it turned dead silent inside the trailer, causing another chill to race up Grace’s spine.
Then, like a wild bronco ready to break loose, the snorting began. Was it possible that Grace felt the aggression and power flowing off the horse and wrapping around her? Warning her? She looked through one of the tiny holes in the trailer.
Even just standing there, snorting, he was magnificent.
At first, she noticed the basic Morgan build: tall but compact, muscular hindquarters, broad forehead, and that beautifully arched neck. Yes, he was born to show. Suddenly, he turned his backside to the gate and kicked, hitting it so hard that the lower hinge snapped off. Grace heard the metal parts skipping across the dirt. All four men leaped at the tailgate, keeping the doors closed.
For some reason, this made Grace break into a fit of laughter.
“Something…er…funny about this?” Isaac grunted, leaning a shoulder hard against the gate, his cowboy hat sliding off his head.
“Nay,” she said after containing her laugh. “He’s gorgeous.” She took another look inside the trailer. “He’s a rusty red with three white socks. Coal black mane and tail with the sweetest white patch on his nose.” Smiling almost to the point of tears, she looked at her father. “You should see him, Papa.”
“About time we all see him,” Isaac said. “Everyone to the sides, out of the way. I’m opening the doors.”
Chapter Eight
It hadn’t been what Isaac had expected. But of course, he’d seen worse.
Or had he?
“I mean it,” he said to the other men. “Cincinnati must see me, the sooner the better, and we need to get him out of there before he tears it apart.”
“Be my guest.” Wade stepped aside, raising his hands in the air. “He’s all yours.”
“You sure?” John Zook said, brows furrowed in concern, face red from effort.
“Yeah,” Isaac said, reaching down to pick up his hat. After he slid it on, he motioned for both John and Travis to move out of his way.
Right before he opened the tailgate, he felt the need to look at Grace, for something strange had come over her when she’d looked inside the trailer at the horse. It had been like she’d seen an angel in there, intriguing Isaac to no end. Honestly, now he was dying to get a look at the gaul, too.
He’d also been taken aback by how Grace had inserted herself into the discussion, asking questions he hadn’t thought to, and adding to the conversation about Cincinnati. Maybe she really was up to the task, though it was still difficult for Isaac to imagine. Even back in his own New Order congregation, a woman stepping into a man’s role like that was uncommon, despite their capability.
“He’s tied up here?” Isaac asked Travis, pointing in the direction of the door on the side of the trailer. Usually, a horse was led in via the tailgate, got situated, tied to the side hooks, then the trainer exited through the side door, not the back.
“Yeah,” Travis answered. “About halfway up.”
Isaac nodded, adjusting his hat again, sending one more glance toward Grace. Her blue eyes were fixed on him now, hands gripped in double fists, waiting to see his next move. Seeing her attention focused on him made him feel strong and able…confident. Like he could do anything.
He could do anything.
Taking in a deep breath first, he undid the lock, slid out the arm, and slowly opened the first door. It was dark inside, only streams of sunlight coming in through the tiny holes in the trailer. He heard Cincinnati before he got a good look at him. In the shadows, the animal was breathing hard and fast again, but he was not going to kick or buck—not under Isaac’s watch.
He ran his eyes over the left side of the wall, where the lead rope should have been. It was there, all right, but only a foot of it was left hanging.
My word, he must’ve broken free from it, Isaac thought. How strong is this thing?
The rest of the short rope was hanging slack from the harness at one side of the horse’s head.
“Lead broke,” he said, just loudly enough for the others to hear. “John,” he continued, speaking calmly, “do you have a rope with a hook nearby?”
“Be right back,” he heard John say. Only moments later, he was at the tailgate. “Here.”
Isaac reached back and took it, holding the hook in one hand. He would need to approach the horse now, get close enough to hook one side of his harness. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his spine. But he wasn’t afraid. He was never afraid.
At the thought, something flashed through his mind. That one time he was afraid, terribly afraid, so afraid that it made him freeze in place now.
Please, no. Not now. Lord, please help me. Not now. He would have closed his eyes to pray, but Cincinnati was looking straight at him, and Isaac was not about to break eye contact.
He took a slow breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, sending more pleading prayers heavenward. At the same time, his training kicked in. He could do this without thinking…
Isaac kept his gaze fixed on the pair of huge brown eyes, not blinking. His steps were steady as he walked straight up to the horse, reaching out and attaching the hook. Cincinnati didn’t move at first, then he shook his head in defiance, blowing puffs of air out his nose.
And that’s how it’s done. Isaac stayed at the horse’s side, standing tall and confident, though feeling the beats of his heart. A second later, the animal started to turn, trying to get his backside to face Isaac. The gaul was scared and uncomfortable, and his normal reaction to that was a finely placed kick.
“No,” Isaac said firmly, tugging at the lead, not allowing the horse to move much at all.
“Do you have him?” Isaac’s focus was momentarily pulled when he heard Grace’s voice.
“Jah—ack!” Cincinnati suddenly swung his big head, pulling the lead right out of Isaac’s hands. Isaac didn’t waste a second, he stepped up to the horse and grabbed the rope. “Shhh,” he hissed through his teeth. “You’re coming with me. You’re mine.”
He looped the rope around a hook near the back of the trailer, then stepped out. Sin wasn’t going anywhere this time. “He’s uh, mighty riled up.”
“Let me lead him out then,” Grace said, walking toward the tailgate, as brazen as any man he’d seen.
“I don’t think he’s going to let anyone lead him just yet.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s about ten yards to the gate?” he asked John, pointing toward the pasture.
A long ten yards without a lead.
“If you’re thinking of guiding him there,” Grace said, “I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” Frankly, Isaac was willing to listen to anything.
“See?” Grace gestured to the tall bales of straw stacked to the left flank. “He won’t go that way. We just have to keep him in the center. He’ll lead himself.”
“What about to the right?” Isaac said, beginning to see her plan. “There’s nothing there to divert him at all.”
“I’ll divert him,” she said. “I’ll be the noxious stimulus.”
Again, Isaac was taken aback. Where did a plain Amish woman learn a phrase like that? Before he could speak, Grace flew behind the straw stacks, then came out with two long pi
eces of wood nailed together like a T, probably something she’d pulled off a crate. “Just add this…” To his shock, she untied then tore off her black apron, hooking the neck strap to the top of the wood.
Isaac wasn’t sure where to look, and he felt warmth gush through his chest, probably coloring his ears bright red. Without the apron, Grace Zook wasn’t dressed properly—some might even say immodestly. Though…she was wearing pants underneath her dress—which wasn’t all that proper to begin with.
“It’s a scarecrow,” Wade said, sounding amazed. Isaac was pretty impressed himself.
“See, I’ll stand behind it and hold it up like this.” Grace lifted the…“noxious stimulus” so it was as tall as she was, then shook it side to side. Isaac almost laughed. The thing might be noxious enough to divert even him.
“It’s an excellent idea,” Isaac offered, “but someone else should hold it. John—”
“He certainly will not,” Grace said. “I’m as capable as anyone.” She moved into place, directly blocking the spot where Cincinnati would be tempted to make his escape. With a loud huff, she held up the scarecrow. “Do it now. I’m ready. Open the gate.”
Isaac glanced at John, who didn’t look worried in the least. Apparently, he had absolute trust in his daughter. “Would you open the pasture gate, John?”
Isaac moved to the tailgate, ready to open both doors. But first, he couldn’t help sending one more look Grace’s way.
“Oh heavenly days!” she called out to him. “I’m fine!” The exasperation in her voice made him chuckle under his breath. “You’re overthinking it.”
She was right again. Huh. This whole scene had been completely overthought and taken way too long. So he opened the doors and stepped inside. It took only two clicks of his tongue to give Cincinnati a clear signal to follow the light out the back.
And he was gone.
Isaac heard a few “woot-woots” and “this way!” But by the time he’d made his way out of the trailer, the horse was safely inside the pasture, running the fence. He looked at Grace, who was smiling brightly at him.
The Amish Cowboy's Homecoming Page 5
