“Mercy on us; that sounds like colic,” the hand replied. “I’ll be over immediately.” Stable hand Stinson was as good as his word, running up to the porch with a loose rein in his hand. “Let’s see if I can walk him back to the barn, and you can come along and bring your phone if you want to.” Gently and with much coaxing, he managed to lead Courier back to a clean, empty stall.
“Colic can be caused by all kinds of things,” Stinson explained once they got to the stable, feeling the colt’s torso. “It can be anything from indigestion to impacted bowel and worse. Why don’t you call Mr. Farris up in Lexington? I know he’ll be concerned, and he can be back here in half an hour or so.”
Clarice punched in the number with nervous fingers; Courier was almost a member of her family. She was crying uncontrollably while she talked to Farris. Meanwhile, Stinson was using his own telephone to call the vet.
Dr. Franklin was alternately using his stethoscope on Courier’s belly and listening to Stinson’s description the foal’s feeding and worming routine when Farris ran into the stall, his eyes wild. “Little buddy,” he whispered, going down on one knee beside the animal’s head. – This was hardly the reaction of a man with a six figure investment in danger, the vet noted.
Finally, Dr. Franklin stood up. “I don’t think this is too bad,” he declared. “I’m going to give him a shot and some mineral oil, and I have some IV bags on the truck. You folks know how to administer those?”
Farris also rose. “Yes, doctor, we’ve done the routine before. – Get the IV setup, Stinson.” He turned to Clarice. “You want to stay? This business may take several hours for us to get Courier settled again. An extra phone would be helpful.” Clarice nodded mutely, unable to trust her voice.
Soon the little stall was quiet, the humans sitting quietly side by side on the straw against one wall, watching the little horse sleep. Presently, Courier broke wind, producing a horrible odor. “That’s good.” Farris relaxed slightly. “He’s gotten into something he shouldn’t and gotten a little case of constipation.” He turned and clasped Clarice’s arm. “Dad always used to wonder where the phrase ‘healthy as a horse’ came from. Every horse breeder knows the critters are subject to every sort of disease, even when you treat them right.”
“I suppose that’s one reason they used to lose so many of them in a war,” Clarice said dreamily. Anything to keep her mind off the here and now! “That’s why Mother’s land is so fertile; men and horses defecated and threw up on it. – Most of them got buried somewhere else, of course.”
“We had a few little skirmishes up our way, too,” Farris admitted, “although Kentucky never left the Union. – I think Courier’s about half awake. Would you like to go stroke his head and talk to him? I think he’d appreciate it.”
Clarice crawled over to the foal on hands and knees, giving Farris a singular view of her charms. Even though more worried than he pretended, Farris could not help noticing her neat, beautifully ample rear. That was part of the glory of loving a person, he reflected; he could lust after her body and still rejoice in the soul within it.
Clarice began stroking Courier’s forehead and mane. “He’s not sweating anymore,” she reported, “and he doesn’t feel feverish.” Then she leaned over and stared into the foal’s partially open eye. “You want to be talked to and comforted? Well, I only memorized one long poem in college, so it will have to do.” She began in a soothing sing-song. ‘The curfew tolls the knell of parting day/the lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lee/the cowman homeward plods his weary way/and leaves the world to darkness and to me.’
Farris sat up sharply. He didn’t even know anybody memorized that old chestnut any more. Perhaps it was because Sewanee was a small, private college noted for the arts. Anyway, he hadn’t heard ‘Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard’ since he was in high school. Relaxing after his long drive, Farris succumbed to sleep until Stinson came in to change the IV packet.
“Doing better, sir,” Stinson reported. “He’s sitting up nuzzling the lady, and his bowels have just moved. – I’ll get a sample down to Dr. Franklin’s office.”
“Thanks, Stinson.” Farris sat up. “Take a sample of Bolivia’s milk, too, if the doctor didn’t get one earlier.” He looked over at Clarice, who was looking angelically beautiful in the dim light with Courier’s muzzle resting on her breast. “I’m sorry to conk out on you like that. – I didn’t know you liked poetry.”
Clarice smiled at his frowsy black hair and the little suggestion of five-o’clock shadow. “It’s great for comforting animals – but that’s the only poem I know. I always have to fall back on song lyrics. All you need is a soft, soothing sound to help them psychologically.”
“Yes, even animals heal better when they know they’re cared about.” Farris looked up, startled. “You know, I never thought I’d meet a woman who realized that.” By now, Stinson had left on his errand, and his employer was ready for confidences. “Do you know how our family came to own this breeding operation?”
“No, is there a story behind it?” Clarice asked. Family stories were the currency of gossip in her area, and she had rather missed them.
“Well, it’s an old tale,” Farris replied with feigned off-handedness, “which is rather fortunate, considering all the trouble it caused. – You see, it was like this. My Grandpa was originally the business manager of this farm; my Dad was raised in that little house over beside my private hangar. Two Flags was owned by the Bonner family back then. They were good folks, but Damian Bonner took a city wife.”
“She didn’t like living out here on a large estate,” Clarice guessed. “Transportation was kind of clunky in those days.”
“Oh, Miss Lauren always had the latest model Packard to drive,” Farris continued. “It just turned out that she didn’t like Mr. Damian to spend money on anything except her. She was always carrying on at my Grandpa to find her a little more money for this or that.”
Clarice didn’t like the way this story was heading; her mother had always been like that. “What a damned headache,” she muttered sympathetically. “What finally happened?”
“I said she interfered in Grandpa’s management,” Farris’ voice was grim, “but that wasn’t the worst of the problem. Once when Mr. Damien was out of town, Hubert’s Fortune got sick; he was one of their prize stallions, still drawing hefty covering fees. Miss Lauren was in the business office when the stable hand reported to Grandpa. She grabbed the scissors off his desk and cut the phone cord then she ran to the house and cut her own. Those were the only two phone lines within 20 miles in those days. Of course, Grandpa got his own old Ford and drove to the vet, but by that time it was too late. Veterinary medicine has advanced a heap in the last 40 years.”
“What happened when they finally contacted Mr. Bonner?” Clarice was horrified. If Farris had grown up with this story floating around in his head, no wonder he’d always been skittish around women.
“Grandpa made the call from the vet’s phone,” Farris explained. “The Bonner account was good for it. Anyway, Grandpa broke the news, and Mr. Damien was all quiet and cool about it. He thanked Grandpa and said he’d be home in a couple of days; he was in Washington DC at the time. The vet iced the body for burial in the animal graveyard; you’ve seen the place. Most people thought that was the end of the matter – until Mr. Damien got home.” Now Farris looked down at his town shoes he’d gotten all dusty in the stable. “When Miss Lauren opened the front door, Mr. Damien shot her until he’d emptied his pistol. Then he sat down on the porch swing and reloaded. Then he killed himself.”
Clarice winced. “So how did your grandpa wind up with the estate?”
“Mr. Damian hadn’t wasted his time in Washington.” Farris looked up with weary, grey eyes. “He’d made an ironclad will, witnessed by a couple of Senators. He left the entire estate – including all the money – to Grandpa to use as he willed.”
“Your grandpa had the dead reverently buried and pulled down the old Big House,” C
larice finished. “The house you’ve got now doesn’t have a front porch or a swing.”
“I knew you’d understand.” Farris held out his arms, and Clarice ran into them. Then the couple engaged in ‘heavy petting’ until Stinson made a great deal of noise to announce his entrance with the vet’s verdict.
Chapter 5
During the next few days, Clarice almost got to the point of wishing for Mr. Damien Bonner’s pistol. She had agreed to return home at the end of next month, but that had not appeased Marion Saxe. Mother was demanding arrival date and flight number, plus nosy details about Clarice’s finances. Meanwhile, Farris, as good a man as she would ever meet, was doing his best not to cling to her. Lauren Bonner’s revenge, Clarice thought grimly.
Though she was still finishing a few paintings, Clarice spent most of her time making long-distance calls of her own and rejoicing that the cell phone was in her own name. She was calling her former professors at Sewanee, trying to find studio quarters for herself in that mountainous city. – Clarice realized she had to make a clean break with her mother; this would mean leaving the pleasant garage apartment. Also, she was trying to line up counseling and a good legal service.
Farris, meanwhile, moped around being very busy with horse breeding chores. He updated all his breeding records on his desktop. Then he checked all his veterinary records and personally rode every inch of electrified fence to check its safety. He was trying to break himself of the ‘Clarice habit’, and it was the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do in his life.
Meanwhile, John Pirtle had activated his own banking network after the latest call from his volatile former mistress. If his daughter was trying to break free of her domineering mother, he was damn well going to help her.
It was a bank in Sewanee that gave Pirtle his first link. Bank Manager Edward Barton had gotten word of Pirtle’s discreet inquiries through the grapevine and was glad of a chance to get help from Nashville for his own reasons.
“I hear you’re looking for current information on the whereabouts and banking status of Miss Clarice Saxe,” Barton began. “I am, of course, familiar with Mrs. Marion Saxe through the County Chamber of Commerce, and I’ve been privileged to hear her opinion of her daughter’s current activities.”
“You sound like you’re shuddering,” Pirtle remarked drily. “I quite understand, and you must certainly understand why I am concerned for the young lady.”
“The reason I am calling is that I have on my desk a loan application I think you would be interested in.”
“Is Clarice asking for a loan?” Pirtle almost tripped over his tongue. The recent news from Kentucky had suddenly roused dormant emotion for this unknown daughter.
“Well, I believe this loan has been submitted for her benefit,” Barton responded. “Here is the situation. One of the art professors at Sewanee has recently inherited a large farm which includes a remarkably intact outbuilding. – I say ‘remarkably intact’ because the structure was intended as a chicken house. We have interior and exterior photographs of the building. This art professor proposes to mortgage her entire property to provide an HVAC system in this former chicken house.”
“The lady must have provided a reason for such a crazy, uneconomical request,” Pirtle observed, twiddling with his desk set. “What reason did she give?”
“She wishes to renovate this ‘chicken house’ as a residence and studio for a former pupil,” Barton told him. “The structure could indeed be used for such a purpose with a few renovations. – I have also heard University gossip that Miss Saxe has been contacting a number of former teachers in her search for housing.”
“Fax me the pictures of the chicken house and the loan specifications,” Pirtle said immediately. “I’ll get a private investigator right on this and get back to you. – If my little lady needs a new home that badly, I’ll make the loan for it out of my own funds.”
Dina McGee was waiting up in the Big House kitchen for Farris when he tottered in one night about 10:00 PM. “Sit down right here,” she commanded. “You aren’t going anywhere until you explain why you’re letting Miss Clarice leave at the end of the month.”
Farris slumped down in the indicated chair and stared at her with eyes like soft-boiled eggs. “You don’t know how much I hate this,” he said through cracked lips. “I’m giving up everything I’ve ever wanted, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it back. – Dina, you must have realized Clarice has a bad case of Mother Dominance to handle.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad,” the older woman responded. “Clarice has certainly perked up since we’ve had her.”
“Marion Saxe has noticed that, too, thanks to the financial advice Terry gave the poor girl.” Farris laid his head on his folded arms. “The woman’s put a private detective on us; I’m just fortunate my staff is loyal. – Anyway, the old harridan has just about decided she’ll force Clarice to marry somebody on the place, then sell up her realty business and move in on us. – That realty business has gone to crap, anyway. Marion’s holding it together on a shoestring.”
“So the lady you love comes with a built-in problem.” Dina summed the matter up in her practical way.
“And I’m behaving in the manner recommended by therapists,” Farris told her. “We’ve agreed it is her problem, and I’m sending her home to solve it. – I just know that personal problems like that often don’t get solved.”
“Yes.” Dina thinned her lips. “I’ve known plenty who’ve tried to solve the toxic relationship problem with pills and repeated spells in rehab.”
“When I studied psychology in college,” Farris continued almost unwillingly, “we learned why most relationship problems don’t get solved. – Nobody really wants to solve them, because everybody’s getting some comfort or perks from the current situation. That’s why I won’t marry Clarice here and now. I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back.”
“I’ve sort of edged around the subject with her,” Dina admitted, “and I think she’d rather cut her own throat than gift you with her problem.”
Farris rose wearily. “That’s why I have nightmares, Dina. I’m going to have a detective in place down there to watch what happens, but I daren’t do any more.”
Chapter 6
Clarice researched Tennessee law online and managed to retain a local attorney in her hometown. In truth, there were not many legal options for a person in her situation. Restraining orders, temporary or permanent, were worthless papers for the oppressed. The only factor in her favor was Marion’s tendency to fly off the handle; that would undoubtedly give the authorities local grounds to take some kind of action.
At her request, Farris pulled many strings with the private pilots who operated in the area and found someone who would agree to fly her home. Both were sure that Marion was carefully watching airline reservations through her contacts with travel agencies. A confrontation at some point was certain. Thankfully, Clarice had taken all her art necessities with her to Kentucky; there would be no going back to her dear little apartment. During their final weeks, the couple spent most of their time together, but it wasn’t until the last night that they finally made love. Farris had come to visit her, overwhelmed with a lust he had held in since the day of their picnic.
He followed her inside, but before they could turn on any of the lights he pulled her near to his body. He embraced her, pressing his lips roughly against the suppleness of her skin and trailed wet kisses down her shoulder blade. The scent of hay was in his hair, as well as earth and his intoxicating scent. She inhaled deeply, savoring each wet kiss as he went down to her breasts. He pealed the sticky shirt from her chest, revealing her robust chest below. For a moment he stood back and licked his lips. She really does have gorgeous breasts. He thought hungrily. Farris dove in, licking and kissing at her nipples until they grew hard from the sensations. He caresses her rounded breast him his rough hands, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. Slowly the two backed through the doorway and into the bedroom
, where Clarice stood awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do next. He whispered in her ear.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice was soothing.
“Yes.” She smiled, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
Farris lowered her onto the silken sheets and held himself above her with one strong arm. He removed her jeans and panties just as he had done before, gazing at her beautiful body in full naked form for the first time. He licked his lips and looked into her brown eyes with love. She glanced down at his erection and her eyes widened. That is going to fit inside me? Slowly and carefully he entered her wet body, a gasp escaping her lips. For a moment it was almost uncomfortable as Farris lay still, allowing her body to welcome him. Then he moved his hips, gently rocking back and forth and allowing the pleasure to creep into her body. Clarice tilted her head back into the pillow, the waves of sheer joy filling her mound as his cock pressed deep inside of her.
“Are you ok?” He whispered sincerely
“Yeah,” Clarice looked up into his chocolate eyes and smiled, her cheeks flushed with the excitement.
“I’m going to go faster now.” He smiled wickedly.
Clarice grinned upward and nodded. His hips thrust deeply into her and the pressure began to build once more as it had done in the woods earlier. She grasped his back tightly, feeling the muscles of his back flexing as he pushed. Farris let out a grunt and with one final thrust the two flew into a rage of organism together. Clarice could feel his warm wetness filling her body and dripped down her thigh. He slumped over beside her, a grin spreading across his face. He took her in his arms and held her tightly.
The Cowboy's Secret Baby: BWWM Cowboy Pregnancy Romance (Young Adult First Time Billionaire Steamy African American) Page 3
