As he worked, he’d gone over everything he’d done those last hours of Scioto’s life. Nothing had been amiss, nothing. The horse had been right as rain when he fed and watered him that morning. And when he’d come home at noon, Scioto had pranced around the paddock without a care in the world. He looked at the rag in his hand and threw it on the ground. What was it, Lord? What did I do to kill him?
“It wasn’t your fault, Peter.”
He turned. Dr. Kirby stood in the door of the stable. He closed it behind him, walked over, and laid a fatherly hand on his back. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“There had to be something!”
He squeezed his shoulder. “No, Peter. Dr. Detmers and Dr. Townshend performed a necropsy this morning. He twisted his intestine somehow. It had nothing to do with your care of him. Not even your friend Henry Farley could have prevented it.” Peter looked at him. The professor’s face was sad but firm. “I won’t have you beating yourself up over this. Let him go.”
He nodded, weighing Dr. Kirby’s words. How many times had Henry told him about the possibility of something like this happening to a horse? And burying himself with guilt wouldn’t help anyone. “Yes, sir,” he said finally.
“We must be ‘forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.’” He looked over at Scioto’s empty stall. “Not that any of us will be forgetting him anytime soon.”
“No, sir,” Peter replied. It would be a long time before he forgot Scioto, if ever. He took a deep breath. “I guess I better pack my things.”
Dr. Kirby looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“What would you have me do, sir? I can’t stay here and do nothing all day.”
“I’ll find something for you to do,” the professor snapped.
Peter’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to make him angry. Dr. Kirby’s brow smoothed, and he patted him on the back.
“Please, stay. I’ll get a new horse in time. And you must stay for Christmas. The rest of the family is eager to meet you.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “Although, I can’t imagine why you would tell your family anything about me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “Anne’s brother, Jacob, is eager to speak with you. He’s been thinking of raising Percherons for profit.”
Peter didn’t hear the rest of what Dr. Kirby said. His mention of Anne had drowned out all else. “Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, how is your niece?”
The professor regarded him carefully, and Peter looked away. In spite of everything that occurred that night, Dr. Kirby clearly noticed the way he had embraced Anne after Scioto passed. But he didn’t mention it when he spoke.
“She slept late into the day yesterday,” he said. “And claims to have slept fine last night.” The concern in his eyes told Peter she hadn’t looked it. “She’s very insistent that we allow her to go to the library today.”
“You should let her, sir. It will take her mind off everything.”
“You’re probably right.” A small smile spread over the professor’s face. “You two are getting along very well.”
Peter felt his face redden and, looking down, rubbed the back of his neck.
“Anne’s adopted, you know.”
He looked up, surprised. “Yes, sir, I know. She told me.”
Dr. Kirby’s smile broadened like that of a Cheshire cat’s. “Did she? I’m glad.” Before Peter could say anything else, he went on. “It’s time for us to leave. Mrs. Werner mentioned some repairs you might do around the house.” He gave Peter a final pat on the back and left.
He would’ve put more thought into what Dr. Kirby said if he hadn’t missed Anne so much all that day. She was never far from his thoughts, and he sent many prayers up for her as he helped Mrs. Werner around the house. The professor’s family would be arriving in a week, on Christmas Eve, and he helped her lift things down from closets and made minor repairs here and there. They finished not long before Anne and Dr. Kirby were due home, and Peter went out to the stable. He changed into clean clothes then walked downstairs. There was Anne, standing in front of Scioto’s stable.
She heard him and turned. His heart nearly broke at the sight of her face. Her eyes looked dull and dark. Circles stained the fair skin beneath them. She certainly hadn’t slept well last night. Even her fiery, ginger hair seemed less brilliant. He walked closer. His arms ached to hold her. Instead, he gripped the stall door while she directed her gaze to the lonely bed of straw within.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said.
“Neither can I.”
“He was the first horse I ever rode,” she whispered. “I was five. I was visiting Uncle Daniel and Aunt Kitty. Uncle Daniel had ridden Scioto to a meeting, and when I saw them trotting up, I ran out to meet them. He asked me if I wanted to ride Scioto. He was such a big horse that I was a little frightened. But Uncle Daniel said Scioto would take care of me.” She looked at him, her eyes bright, filling with tears. “And he did. He knew—as soon as Uncle Daniel put me in the saddle—he went so slow, so steady.”
Her voice broke on the last word, and Peter couldn’t stand it any longer. He pulled her into his arms and allowed the waves of her grief to break against him, rubbing her back as she shook with sobs. When her tears were finally spent, she lifted her head but didn’t look up at him.
“I’ve spoiled your shirt,” she said, vainly wiping at it with her hand.
“I have another,” he said, lifting her chin. Her eyes wandered hesitantly over his face. A few tears still shone on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with his thumb and forefinger. She swallowed, and her eyes darted away, but he continued looking at her until they once again locked onto his. He leaned in and gently brushed her forehead with his lips, her curled bangs brushing his skin like a feather. He longed to kiss her but knew this wasn’t the time for it. He wouldn’t take advantage of her grief. She stepped back, and he released her.
“It’s time we went in for dinner.” Her voice was soft and shaky, and she wouldn’t look at him.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded and slipped out the door.
Chapter 15
The next week slipped away quickly, and Anne’s grief at losing Scioto eased. A bittersweet pang rose in her heart whenever she thought about him, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that his passing had not gone unnoticed by God.
“‘And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father,’” she whispered as she and Uncle Daniel walked home from the Main Building.
“Did you say something, my dear?”
“I was just thinking of Matthew 10:29.”
He nodded. “Yes, that one has been on my thoughts as well.”
“He was a good horse,” she said, squeezing his arm.
“Peter said it’s lonely in the stable without him.”
Anne almost started at the sound of his name. That evening in the stable never seemed to be far from her thoughts. She’d felt so comforted in his arms, and she relished in remembering how tender his green eyes had been in the soft lamplight. The kiss he’d placed on her forehead made her dizzy just thinking about it. And over the past week, he’d been very attentive to her, pulling out her chair at dinner and drawing her into the conversations between him and her uncle while they sat together in the parlor. It was as if he were courting her. Her heart leaped as she realized it, and she fought for control. Stop it! Uncle Daniel may have decided to keep him on, but I’m still leaving. She laid her hand at the side of her waist, feeling the crinkle of her letters tucked in her bodice, her resolve slipping. Maybe Peter was different. Unlike Sam, he’d seen her father firsthand, and it hadn’t made a difference. Dare she tell him the rest? No. I can’t stray from this path. Besides, even if he understands, I can’t do that to him. I love him too much. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally admitted her feelings for him to herself.
; It caught again, later, when she came down to dinner and Peter smiled at her. He stood behind her chair, as usual, and as he helped her slide it beneath the table, she happened to look at her uncle. His eyes twinkled and a smile played at the corner of his mouth. She bit the inside of her lip. Wasn’t everything hard enough already without knowing that her uncle approved of Peter’s regard for her?
“I hope you both had a good day,” Peter said. He spoke to both of them, but he was looking at her.
“It was fine,” Anne said, averting her eyes to serve her uncle. “It’s actually been rather boring, now that term examinations are coming to an end. No one needs the library for now.”
“You mean, aside from the other times when it’s not?” he asked slyly.
Anne couldn’t help looking up and smiling. He knew, so well, how tedious she found her job. “In fact, Emma told me to take the day off tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Uncle Daniel said. “That actually fits right in with my plans.” He turned to Peter. “Dr. Townshend came to see you today?”
“He did.”
“Everything is arranged, then?”
“Yes, sir, everything’s ready.”
Anne looked at both of them quizzically. “What’s going on?”
“Why Anne, I’m so glad you asked,” her uncle said. Anne sighed. As if she could do anything but, what with the sly smiles on both their faces. Her uncle continued. “Peter wondered if you could help him with something tomorrow.”
She knew it would be better to refuse, but her heart and her mouth turned traitor on her. “Of course, what is it?”
“A surprise.” Peter’s eyes shone as bright as a spring day. “I’ll show you tomorrow, after we walk your uncle to the Main Building.”
The next day, Anne’s curiosity peaked as Peter led her away from the Main Building. Especially when he stopped after a few steps and looked at her.
“Do you trust me?”
The playful look in his eyes was so charming she almost forgot to answer. “Yes—of course,” she stammered.
“Close your eyes.”
Anne looked at him momentarily then obeyed. He took her hands in his. Despite that they both wore gloves, the warm pressure of his fingers sent shivers of delight coursing through her.
He gently guided her over snow-covered paths and across what she thought might be Neil Avenue, which ran through the university grounds. She wasn’t familiar with this part of campus, and she couldn’t imagine where he was taking her. They came to a stop.
“Now don’t peek,” Peter said.
He removed her glove and guided her hand. At the same time her fingers made contact with something warm, soft, and smooth, the wind changed direction and a familiar scent reached her nose. Her eyes flew open. A sweet bay mare stood before her, hitched to a fence outside the university farm buildings. Anne took in the horse’s markings, eyes widening as she recognized her.
“This is Spice,” she said. “She belongs to Dr. Townshend. He brought her to our farm this past summer to breed with Scioto. What’s she doing here?” The reason quickly dawned on her, and her jaw dropped as she looked at Peter. “He’s giving the foal to Uncle Daniel?”
Peter nodded. He took her hand and smiled. “That’s not all. If you want her, Spice belongs to you.”
Anne looked at the mare with mixed emotions. She’d liked Spice while she was at the farm over the summer. She was so gentle and sweet tempered, Anne had jokingly told Dr. Townshend she should’ve been named Sugar. Stroking her neck, she wondered how she’d feel seeing her in Scioto’s stall, when she remembered it didn’t matter. She might as well say yes, and leave a note for Uncle Daniel when she left, giving Spice to him. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
Peter looked down at her. “Are you sure? I know it’s soon—”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, it’s fine. Besides, Uncle Daniel said he was going to get another horse soon. It might as well be one I’m familiar with.”
His smile warmed her and, for the moment, chased away the rest of her tears. “Then let’s get her home and settled in.”
With Spice loping placidly along behind them, Anne remembered she hadn’t had a chance to speak with him privately since that evening in the stable. Her heart began to pound, and she yanked her focus to the question she had to raise.
“When do you plan to visit your friend Uncle Billy again?”
Peter looked down at her, his brows slightly furrowed. “Why do you ask?”
Anne chastised herself. She should’ve asked a less straightforward question. What had she been thinking? When she didn’t answer, Peter’s frown deepened, and she groped for an explanation. “I just wondered. …” Her voice trailed off and she looked away.
“The doctors at the asylum found Billy’s family in Indiana,” he replied quietly. “They contacted them and sent him home.”
“Were they able to help him?”
Peter brought Spice to a stop, forcing Anne to do so as well. She felt his gloved hand lift her chin, and she looked into his stern but gentle face.
“I know what you want to do,” he said. “I don’t mind taking you to see him. But I won’t do it until you tell your uncle that you know. No more sneaking around.”
She nodded. She’d have to write to her father’s doctor then. But Peter’s words had sent her determination wavering again like a leaf caught by the wind. He was willing to visit her father? He didn’t mind? Father, I’m so confused. What should I do? The answer laid on her heart only confused her further. No, it wasn’t possible.
She was still pondering it when they got back to the stable. Once they had Spice settled in her stall, Peter brought out the grooming bucket. He smiled at Anne and handed it to her. She took it and gazed at it reflectively. Would this be the last time she’d do this? Or not? She looked at Peter.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She started to work but winced as she found how hard it was to groom Spice today. She usually wore a simple skirt and shirtwaist when she worked in the stable. But the dress she wore now draped around her front, its bustle brushing the sides of the stable. Not to mention the sleeves were quite snug. She glanced at Peter. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do it. I’m not dressed for this.”
He grinned at her. “You do look as if you stepped right out of a fashion plate.” He took the brush. “But then you look lovely no matter what you wear.”
It took a full minute for her to organize her thoughts again. Once they were set to rights, she watched Peter groom Spice. He had an easy smile on his face.
“You look content,” she said.
“I am.” He gave Spice’s coat one more swipe with a soft cloth, put it back in the bucket, and carried it out of the stall. He leaned against the door frame. “I’m very happy with where the Lord ended up leading me.”
Her brows rose at his wording. “Where He ‘ended up’ leading you?”
“When I first came to Columbus and gave my life to Christ, I thought God wanted me to be a true ‘new creation,’ leaving behind everything from my old life.” He rubbed Spice’s nose. “I didn’t think He would lead me to work with horses again.” His eyes locked on to hers. “And I never thought He’d lead me to you.”
Everything in the world fell away as she lost herself in the passionate green of his eyes. He reached out, toying maddeningly with one of the ringlets at the base of her neck before stroking her cheek with the back of his thumb. Cupping her face in one hand, he wrapped his other around her waist and pulled her closer. A roguish grin gently played across his face before his lips finally found hers.
Nothing else existed except the soft warmth of his lips, the faint scent of shaving soap, and the gentle pressure of his hand on her waist. Everything she ever wanted was in this moment, and she didn’t want it to end. She refused to open her eyes when he lifted his head. She clung to him, their foreheads still touching.
“Anne,” he whispered.
This time she kissed him, her hands buried in his
chocolate-brown hair. Something prodded her at the back of her mind, something she should be remembering, something important. But the sweet forgetfulness of his kiss drove it far from her thoughts, until he finally raised his head again.
“Anne, I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Nothing else matters.”
Sudden and painful remembrance gripped her heart and nearly stopped it. She backed away, her eyes rapidly filling with tears. Peter’s face, full of shock and confusion, only added to her pain.
“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.”
She turned and ran from the stable, not stopping until she’d reached her room.
Chapter 16
The words danced in front of Peter’s eyes for the millionth time since he’d found the letters lying in the straw in Spice’s stall.
The Topeka Insane Asylum will be happy to make room for your father, Robert Wells, at your earliest convenience. Please have his doctor at the Columbus Asylum for the Insane send us all necessary records. …
He’d started after her then stopped himself. Mrs. Werner would wonder what was going on if she saw him chasing Anne from the barn to the house. He walked back inside and found Spice pawing at something and discovered two letters addressed to Anne Wells, care of the university library. He was more than willing to obey the nudge he felt God giving him to open them.
The first was the letter from the asylum. The other one, from some school district in Kansas, offered Anne a position teaching school as soon as she could make the arrangements. He shook his head at himself. Why hadn’t he seen it? He knew that because of her father she didn’t feel worthy of someone’s love but hadn’t imagined she’d take it this far. No wonder she wanted to go to the asylum again. She needed to talk to her father’s doctor.
Peter rose from the bench near the harness room and ran his hands through his hair. He had to tell Dr. Kirby. He had no choice. She’d be angry, that was certain, but she’d get over it. There was no way on earth he was going to let her do this.
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