Michael stepped closer to her. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t say anymore… unless you let me know why Auntie Vera would be talking with you.”
He shrugged. “She’s concerned. Wouldn’t your mother be if some man were trying to take you on a dangerous journey? One that might lead to death?”
Therese bristled. “Yes, but why was she telling you?”
He glanced over Therese’s shoulder and then said, “Because she thinks I can talk some sense into Badan. That’s all.”
“Do you plan to threaten him? Turn him in?”
“What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, Michael. What kind of person are you?”
When he didn’t answer, Therese left the kitchen, but later that evening, when he told Polly goodbye and that he was headed back toward Petersburg, Therese followed him down the stairs to the door of the loading dock. She waited until he would have had time to climb into his wagon to step out. Auntie Vera stood on the dock, her hands crossed over her chest as Michael tipped his hat to her.
“What’s going on?” Therese called out.
Michael turned toward her.
The wagon master stepped out from the stables and asked, “Is there a problem, Miss Jennings?”
“Thank you, but no. I just have a question for Lieutenant Talbot.”
For a moment, Michael appeared tense enough that she thought he might snap the reins and race the wagon out of the courtyard, but then he relaxed a little and remained.
Therese hurried down the steps of the dock and to the driver’s side. “What’s going on?” she hissed.
“Nothing.”
She glanced at the back. There was a tarp spread over the bed of the wagon, but it was perfectly flat. Therese couldn’t help but think of the Huguenots, so long ago in France, who had to escape persecution in such ways, lying hidden in the back of horse drawn carts for journeys of hundreds of miles. She returned to Michael’s side, speaking quietly. “Is there a false bottom in this wagon?”
“Therese!” he hissed fiercely. “Stop asking questions.”
“There is, isn’t there?” she whispered. “And Badan and Aggie are inside.”
Swallowing hard, Michael gave a slight nod.
Therese lowered her voice even more, despite the surge of anger in her veins. “What do you plan to do with them, Michael? Force them to serve the Confederacy? Coerce Badan to take up weapons and make Aggie to care for the wounded on the front lines? Or do you plan to sell them to raise money for food for soldiers? Have you done this with others in bondage? Do you trick them into trusting you, only to conscript them into service? Or sell them down south?”
“Please stop,” Michael said wearily. “I can’t explain, but trust me. Please.”
Therese stared into his dark eyes. She didn’t think she could trust him, not anymore. Not since he returned from France a different man, one whose ideals and beliefs had catapulted him to the opposite side.
Still, he was gazing at her with such intensity that for a moment she thought she could see a glimpse of the old Michael inside, the person who would have put himself in this position not to deliver his present cargo to the battlefield but to freedom.
Taking in a deep breath, she decided that she had no choice after all but to trust—just a little. Aggie and Badan’s very lives might depend on it.
“A better plan is in the works,” she whispered. “They’re going north tomorrow. It’s all been arranged. Mother has their papers ready to give to them. They’ll be free.”
“They’re going north? How? With whom?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then the rumor is true. You’re leaving.”
She shook her head. “I was, yes, but my plans have changed.” Glancing away, her cheeks growing warm, she added, “I made an arrangement with Mother. If I stay, then she will allow them to go.”
Michael waited until she again met his eyes. “You traded your future for their freedom.”
“I suppose it seems that way.”
“Tell me. Is that the only reason you’re staying?”
She tried to speak, but a lump formed in her throat. In that moment, she realized she didn’t love Alec and never had, at least not in the way she’d thought. She loved Michael—the old Michael, the one she used to know.
“Please don’t betray us,” she managed to whisper, hoping he had once loved her too. Perhaps that past love would lead him to do the right thing now. If not, then she’d just sealed the fates of not only Aggie and Badan but also herself and probably Alec and Ruth as well.
Michael shook his head, and for a moment a wave of panic overtook Therese. What had she done?
“Our families have been friends for decades, Therese. I won’t do anything to harm that bond.”
Her panic receded, though her heart still pounded. “Thank you, Michael.”
He nodded, his expression guarded. “I’m going to distract the wagon master. Have Auntie Vera stand watch while you open the wagon and release Badan and Aggie.” He jumped down and placed his hand on Therese’s shoulder. “And then both of us will pretend this never happened. Do you understand?”
She nodded, overcome with gratitude. She’d trust God that Michael hadn’t completely lost his soul, though whether his intentions today had been to deliver them to harm or to safety, she would never know.
Once she got the hidden compartment door open, she whispered for Aggie to come out. When the woman shook her head, Therese added, “Mother has agreed to free you both. You’ll be heading north tomorrow, but in a different way. A safer way.” When Aggie still hesitated, Therese added, “This could be a trap, Aggie. Go to your room, and I’ll come explain in a few minutes.”
Eyes wide, Aggie wriggled out first and then slipped into the hospital through the back door. Badan emerged next, a scowl on his face.
“I’ll explain everything to Aggie,” she whispered. “For now, you’ll just have to trust me. Go get Mother’s buggy ready. She’s almost ready for you to drive her back to the Corbetts’ house.”
Without a word, Badan headed for the stables, leaving only Auntie Vera on the loading dock. The poor woman hadn’t been able to hear Therese’s exchange with Michael, and now she was glaring at Therese with fury.
“Trust me,” Therese again whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”
Uncertainty flickered in Auntie Vera’s still-angry eyes. But then she turned and went back into the hospital.
Therese waited by the wagon until Michael appeared, tipping his hat to the wagon master as he did.
When he saw her, he frowned. She returned the expression, not sure what to say to him. Perhaps the less she said the better. She curtsied and, without a farewell, retreated back to the hospital.
She passed Mother in the foyer and told her Badan was harnessing her horse.
“Wait.” Mother pulled papers from her bag. “Give these to Aggie. I passed her on the stairs, but I think you should be the one to present them to her.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Well, you got your way, and hopefully we won’t all starve. When we return to River Pines tomorrow afternoon, I expect you to come with us.”
“Tomorrow afternoon? But you can’t. Warner’s in no condition to leave yet. You have to speak with Dr. Talbot—”
“Dr. Talbot,” Mother snapped, “is the one who suggested it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nicole
On the last Friday in May, at the end of the workday, I was in the stable and nearly out the door when it struck me that Hutch hadn’t nickered his usual greeting.
“Well, hello to you too,” I teased, backtracking to his stall to give him a pat. But then I hesitated when I noticed his demeanor. He seemed oddly restless, ears flat against his head, one hoof pawing tentatively at the ground. “You okay, buddy?”
Clearly uncomfortable, he kept shifting his weight, and as I glanced around his stal
l, I noticed that he’d barely touched his grain. Something was wrong. Brows furrowed, I went outside in search of a coworker, but none were in the area. I’d have to do this by myself.
Working quickly but smoothly, I retrieved the first aid kit and took out the supplies I would need to check Hutch’s temperature and other vital signs. Then I grabbed his info card, clipped a lead rope to his bridle, and led him out to a hitching post. There I managed to calm him down enough to get some readings, and as I compared my numbers to the norms listed on his card, it was clear that the Arabian was in trouble.
I set him loose inside the nearby exercise ring then left him there to go in search of Nate. I found the man in his office in the main building, doing paperwork. As soon as I told him what was going on, he jumped up and came with me.
Back in the ring, as Nate examined the horse, I asked if the problem could be colic, which I knew was an obstruction in the bowels that was serious and sometimes even fatal.
“That’s my guess,” he replied. “We’ll see what the vet says.”
He dialed the veterinarian on his cell, spoke back and forth for a moment, and then hung up again, saying she’d be right over.
“You know,” Nate added as he returned the phone to his pocket, “not everyone would have picked up on the signs at this stage, but with colic early identification is critical. You may have saved this horse’s life.”
My pulse surged at the praise, but I tried not to let it show. “So what happens now?”
Nate ran a hand down the animal’s broad neck, trying to calm him. “The vet will check his temperature and pulse, probably confirm the diagnosis, and give him a dose of banamine to help remove the obstruction. Then I’ll just have to keep an eye on him for the night, make sure he stays upright, walk him around the paddock every hour or so. I can’t let him sit or lie down. He has to keep moving. Hopefully, the obstruction will pass by morning, and he’ll be okay.”
“You might have to stay up all night with him?”
Nate shrugged. “I’ve done it before. I’ll be fine.” Grasping the horse’s lead rope, he thanked me again, told me to have a good weekend, and then turned to go.
Obviously, I’d been dismissed, but I hesitated, watching him lead Hutch away.
“Nate,” I called after him, “why not let me take the first shift? My other work is almost done, and I don’t have anything going on tonight.”
He paused, turning back toward me. “Appreciate it, but this is a critical time. I need to be here myself. Plus, if it gets worse, Hutch could accidentally hurt you. He’s going to get a lot more irritable and restless as the pain increases. Thanks, though.”
After being dismissed a second time, I took the hint.
I finished out my last few duties in the stable and then skipped the showers to head straight for the parking lot. Except for my boots, I wasn’t all that dirty today, and I didn’t want it to look as if I was hanging around after Nate had made it clear I should leave. I climbed into my car and started it up, relieved to see the vet turning in the lot just as I was pulling out.
On the main road and headed for home, I didn’t get far before I decided to go back. Something about leaving just didn’t feel right, no matter what the boss had said. Not only was I worried about Hutch, but my gut told me Nate needed support during this time, whether he realized it or not.
I pulled in at a strip mall to make a U-turn, but as I did I spotted a pizza joint halfway down the row, so I parked instead. After going inside and placing an order, I headed to the grocery store next door to grab bottles of water, Cokes, chips, and a big bag of sunflower seeds. Nate ate them so much, the joke around the farm was that you could usually find him just by following the trail of seed shells.
Back in the pizza shop as I waited for my order to finish, I pulled out my phone and shot Maddee a text:
Trouble with one of the horses. I’m going to stick around to help out. Don’t wait up, could be super late.
She responded quickly:
Okay, thanks for letting me know. Have fun with the handsome stallion… oh, and with the horse too.
With a chuckle, I put the phone away.
When I got back to the farm, I found Nate still at the smaller ring, only now he was standing on the outside of the fence and watching Hutch move around restlessly within.
“Hey, anybody hungry?” I called, and when he turned to look, I held up the pizza box and grocery bags. He seemed surprised to see me again, but not upset, which I was afraid he might be. Instead, I caught a glimpse of something else in his eyes, probably just relief that I’d come bearing food.
“The vet was here,” he told me as I drew closer. “It’s colic, all right.”
“Oh, boy. Guess that means it’s going to be a long night.”
We just stood together at the fence for a few minutes, and though his attention was fully on the horse, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man and how I could feel the heat of his body next to mine.
“So what have you got there?” he asked, turning to look. “Smells good.”
“Yeah.” Once again, I held the things up for him to see. “I brought a few snacks for myself. Not sure what you’re going to have.”
Nate gave an easy laugh, and I tried to ignore what a thrill it was to have been the source of that laughter. I’d heard him joke with others, but he and I had never shared a single moment of levity before.
“It was nice of you to come back,” he said, gesturing toward a nearby picnic table. “I’m famished.”
We carried the goods over to it, detouring past the antibacterial lotion dispenser on the way, and then spread everything out and dug in. Twice while we were eating, Nate returned to the ring to lead Hutch around some more, but otherwise we sat there in companionable silence, eyes on the patient as we shared the food.
I didn’t know how long he’d let me stick around, but eventually we got to talking and the time passed. Every half hour or so, Nate would take Hutch for another walk around the ring as I watched from the fence, and the rhythm of the routine was pleasing somehow, despite the seriousness of the situation.
One of those times the sun was setting in the distance, and the beautiful orange-and-purple glow of the horizon created a striking silhouette of man and beast. I breathed deeply, taking it all in. For about the hundredth time since getting sober, I saw how deceptive drug use could be. As much as I’d always told myself that I had to be high to be happy, the truth was, the type of “happy” that came from drugs didn’t begin to compare to the sheer bliss of moments like this. How I had gone for so long without any real joy in my life, I didn’t know, but I thanked God for letting me find it again, and for feeling it now.
Time passed even less noticeably once it was fully dark, the hours blurring together into one long stretch of quiet talking and gentle laughter broken periodically by sounds from Hutch and the need to give him another walk. At one point, Nate left me alone while he ran off toward the main building. He returned about ten minutes later with a fresh can of bug spray, two thickly padded folding chairs, and a pop-up screen shelter. Soon we were ensconced inside the little structure, far more comfy and bug free but still with a full view of poor Hutch, who alternated between periods of quiet and bouts of huffing and whinnying, his stomach growling and groaning all the while.
More than once, Nate insisted I head home, but I politely declined. I could tell he was getting more worried about the horse with each passing hour, and I didn’t want to leave him to deal with it by himself.
Late into the night, I finally brought up the racetrack ministry and the connection to Nana.
“Mrs. Talbot is your grandmother?” He broke into a broad grin. “I love that woman! She’s a real kick. She always tells it like it is.”
“Yeah, she’s in your fan club too.”
Nate shook his head, still smiling. “I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection.”
“Talbot’s a pretty common name around here.”
“Yeah, but you’re
so much like her…”
My eyebrows raised, but I didn’t reply.
“You are,” he insisted. “She’s strong, tough, no-nonsense, and she doesn’t take smack from anybody.”
We saw the horse trying to lie down in the ring, so Nate went to get him up and walk him some more. I stayed where I was, considering his words. I supposed it was a compliment in a way. I just hoped I could retain some of Nana’s better qualities without also embodying some of her worst.
Despite talking most of the night, including telling Nate my story, it wasn’t until the wee hours, as the black of the sky slowly turned blue, that he finally opened up in return. He told me how he’d grown up in Florida, migrating from track to track with his dad, and started drinking at just twelve years old. He didn’t stop till he was seventeen.
“Sounds young, but you grow up pretty fast on the backside. I’m just lucky I didn’t end up in prison or dead like some of my friends.”
As he talked, all sorts of lightbulbs went on for me, including a better understanding of why he didn’t trust addicts to stay on the straight and narrow. His mother had been clean and sober for three and a half years before she went back to heroin and accidentally overdosed when Nate was just five. Some of his friends had gone in and out of sobriety numerous times, some of them sobering up long enough to really seem as though they were going to make it, only to fall back into that life in the end.
I also understood now why Nate was so dedicated to the workers at Powhatan Downs, because he’d grown up living that way himself. He said he’d been sixteen, running wild, when he met the chaplain who would end up changing his life. I knew the odds against a kid that age getting—much less staying—sober, but according to Nate, he was transformed the moment he came face-to-face with Christ’s love, with true grace.
“And that chaplain, man, he could see how badly I needed out of there. He’s the one who arranged for a job for me here and vouched for my character. Can you imagine? The poor fool had so much faith in me that no way was I going to let him down. And I didn’t. I worked hard, and after about two years I also started going to college at night, followed by seminary. My ultimate goal was to become a youth leader, maybe help out messed-up kids like me, but when I started looking around for a position, I realized there was one big problem.”
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