Lucky Thirteen

by Melanie Jackson

  Mark rose grudgingly from his place on the beach and retrieved his beach towel.

  “And you,” Alex said, addressing me. “You need to get inside and put some clothes on.”

  “I don’t think I like your tone, Alex Lincoln.”

  Alex was silent. He knew that I only ever used his full name when I was mad at him. His arrogance fled him, leaving him at a loss for words.

  “I’ll leave you two to iron out your marital difficulties alone,” Mark said.

  I didn’t appreciate this comment either and expressed my displeasure using my evil glare. This made Mark laugh. Gathering my beach towel closer around me, I walked to the hotel.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Chloe Boston,” Mark called after me.

  Though I was annoyed with both of them, I couldn’t help but drop my towel and put a little extra hip action into my walk. Call it a dismissive farewell display. I heard Mark laugh in response and Alex scold him for it. Leaving the two men to iron out their work difficulties, I went upstairs to shower and get dressed.

  I put on a pair of jeans, a smart white blouse, and a pair of sneakers, which was what I assumed one would wear for a day at the horse breeder’s. Since I still had plenty of time before Charles arrived to take me to the estate, I grabbed a good cozy mystery novel I’d been reading about a young woman hiding out in Canada and snuggled into a chair next to the window to have a read. The time passed pleasantly and eventually there was a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” I called, rising to my feet.

  “Charles McAdams,” a voice replied in a thick Scottish brogue.

  I opened the door to find the rude little man waiting for me. Again, he was wearing his black suit and bowler hat. Again, he gave me the once-over and frowned. Perhaps my attire was not suitable for a visitation to an upscale facility. In any case, I wasn’t going to change, so I grabbed my purse, sunglasses, and a hat and closed the door. Charles made a gesture toward the elevators and then followed me.

  Having recently had a bad elevator experience, I considered taking the stairs, but bucking up my courage I was able to step into the car and remain calm as it started to descend. I felt that the silence between us was awkward, so I made an attempt at idle conversation.

  “It’s beautiful weather we’re having today,” I observed.

  “Aye, that it is indeed, madam, but a storm is comin’.”

  “So I’ve heard. Where in Scotland are you from, Mr. McAdams?”

  He balked at my question.

  “Does me accent place me so keenly then?” he asked. “And here I’ve been practicin’ so hard to work the brogue out of me voice.”

  I had to fight to keep from laughing. He possessed one of the thickest Scottish accents I’d ever heard. The singsong lilt of his voice was almost musical.

  “Why would you do that, Mr. McAdams? I think your accent is lovely.”

  I was delighted to see him blush and turn away in an ah shucks manner. Perhaps this little man wasn’t as odious as I’d first thought.

  “It’s kind of you to say, madam, but I fear an accent places a man, socially speaking, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do at that.”

  “Take your own accent for instance.”

  And here I didn’t think I possessed an accent.

  “One would place ye as lower class colonial rabble if one did nah know the better of you.”

  I didn’t know quite how to respond.

  “Pardon the frankness, madam. I fear I may have said too much.”

  “No, no. It’s an interesting observation. Perhaps I’ll need to start working on my own accent.”

  “That might be for the better, madam. I have several books I can lend ye.”

  Based on how well the books had worked for Charles, I thought I’d decline. We reached the lobby and Charles led the way out front. A vintage Rolls Royce Silver Cloud was waiting at the curb. I wondered if royalty had recently arrived at the hotel.

  “Wow! What a beauty,” I observed.

  I was shocked when Charles stepped past me and opened the rear door of the Rolls so that I could slip inside. I looked around, self-consciously noticing that everyone was watching me, and saw that there was no one else but me who could be expected to enter this gorgeous vehicle. So, I slipped inside.

  The interior of the car was spacious and comfortable, all done in leather and silver paint. There was a fresh rose in a vase attached to the side of the compartment. Charles slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine which purred contentedly. The solid vehicle rode smoothly as he pulled away from the curb. A sliding glass door in the panel between the passenger’s and driver’s compartments had been left open.

  “Charles, this is the most beautiful car I’ve ever ridden in. Does Miss Hightower always ride in such style?”

  “Always, madam.”

  Charles accelerated smoothly onto the freeway and continued to drive at a moderate speed in the slow lane. Meanwhile, cars sped past us, surely exceeding the speed limit. I rode in comfort and silence for a time before my curiosity got the better of me.

  “So, tell me something about Miss Hightower,” I prompted.

  “What is it you need to be knowing?”

  I thought it interesting that he used the word need instead of want. I decided that I’d better be careful in how I phrased my questions.

  “She never mentioned a husband. Is she married?”

  The pause before Charles’ response was telling.

  “A tragic story, I’m sorry to have to say, but far be it from me to tell of it.”

  Feeling rebuffed, I was about to stop with the questions all together when Charles spoke up again.

  “Jilted at the altar,” he clarified.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. She’s such a wonderful woman.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he agreed. “I suppose you’ll have noticed that she’ll always be wearin’ white. And she has since the day her beau left her waitin’ in the church that day.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Aye. And I’d be beholden to you if you failed to mention it in her presence.”

  “Of course. So, does she live alone then?”

  “If only that were the case,” Charles snarled. “No, she’d be livin’ with a houseful, includin’ her niece, the most spoiled of lasses, and her drunk of a brother and his timid mouse of a wife. Then there’s her head trainer. Aye, that would be the lot of them.”

  “Well, at least it’s nice that she’s not alone.”

  “If you say so, madam. Not a silver shilling between ’em, if you ask me. But there I go talkin’ out of turn again.”

  And here I appreciated getting the lowdown on what I was stepping into from a reliable source. I had to admit, I was beginning to appreciate Charles and his protective attitude toward Miss Hightower, a woman I liked a great deal.

  “By the way, I’m sorry,” Charles added.

  “For what?”

  “For cuttin’ into the bettin’ line before yah.”

  “Oh that.” I tried to sound like it was no big deal, though it was at the time.

  “I was in a hurry, you see. I had to get back to ma’lady before she found out.”

  “Didn’t she know you were laying down a bet for her?”

  “No, that was my bet.”

  I see.

  “So, you managed to win thirty thousand dollars that day.”

  “Yes, madam. I’ve managed to sock away a few quid over the years,” he said with a smile and conspiratorial wink in the rear view mirror.

  The remainder of our drive was spent in silence. I laid my head back against the leather upholstery and admired the changing scenery outside the window as we drove further into the countryside. Soon we were surrounded by brush and woodlands, a stark contrast to the tall buildings, open air, and scattered palms imposed by man on the coast. At times I would wake with a start having no idea how long I’d been asleep. For a time I rolled my window do
wn a crack and let the crisp fresh air blow on my face in an attempt to stay awake.

  Eventually we drove between two stone pillars supporting an arch over a gravel drive, proclaiming our destination as the High Tower Horse Breeding and Training Facility. The facility looked to be huge. We passed horses running free in large paddocks as we drove across the property. No more than a quarter of a mile into the facility we came upon the mansion.

  Three stories tall and nestled in amongst the shade of a grove of oak, tall elm, and beech trees, the mansion was built to look like a Spanish hacienda with thick adobe walls, arched terraces and walkways, and a red tile roof. Portions of the building sprawled in every direction away from the central hub. The place was huge and most likely as grand inside as out. There was a fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive that ran in front of the solid wood double doors leading into the home. I was getting excited to get out of the car and have a look around. I waited for Charles to park and open my door for me, and then I was out, shading my eyes and trying to look everywhere at once. The day was bright, the air calm and clean, and the sunshine warm, hinting at another beautiful day in paradise.

  Before I had more than a moment to look around, I saw Miss Hightower coming down the steps from the mansion dressed in black riding boots, camel jodhpurs, and a white blouse. She was carrying a black velvet riding cap in her hand. This was the only color I’d seen in her apparel other than white. Flying Miss Lady pranced along not two feet from her right heel. I was pleased to see that Miss Hightower had a broad grin on her face. It was then that I noticed I was wearing a broad foolish grin of my own.

  “Chloe, I’m so glad you made it,” she said, coming to a stop before me.

  I accepted her hands on my shoulders and kiss applied to each cheek readily. I was so excited to see her and her beautiful home that I nearly threw my arms around her in an embrace.

  “I can see that you’re excited,” she said, stepping back and taking my hands. “Good.”

  “Miss Hightower, I barely know what to say,” I acknowledged. “This is all so far beyond my wildest expectations.”

  “As well it should be, my dear. Come, let me show you around.”

  I bent to give Flying Miss Lady a pat and a scratch behind the ears, once again being reminded of my own dog back home. Miss Hightower began to walk and I naturally fell in beside her.

  “I trust that your drive out was to your liking,” she prompted.

  “Oh, the Rolls was lovely. Where did you find it?”

  “It was my father’s, as is the case with so many of my finer things. The house we’re walking past was built by my grandfather in 1927 and expanded by my father during the 50s. We were all alone out here back then. Of course, now, Disney World and who knows what else is just down the road and the world is closing in on us. I’m sorry to say it, but our way of life is rapidly coming to an end.”

  Miss Hightower began to look somber on me, but I would have none of it. I changed the subject quickly to get things back on track.

  “Tell me about the horses. How many do you have here at the facility?”

  “There are currently forty horses here at all stages of development. Some are still racing while others are retired. Some are my personal riding companions while others are breeding stock. Still others are just beginning training. We tend to focus on quality rather than quantity so that we can work on the development of each and every horse to their full potential. And then we breed horses for a select few customers. In fact, if we hurry, I may have a treat for you this afternoon.”

  Miss Hightower stepped into a golf cart that was sitting by the side of the path. I hopped into the passenger seat and Flying Miss Lady into the back, then Miss Hightower drove me through the gardens on the way to the stables. Little was blooming this time of year, but you could see the potential in each green bud that was sprouting. Three gardeners were attending to the plantings, clearing away the weeds and cutting away the deadwood. As I rode in wonder, I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Miss Hightower said nothing as she parked the golf cart and led me into a large stable. The building smelled pleasantly of hay and horse manure. Flying Miss Lady went to lie in the corner and lick herself while I was led to a stall where several men were gathered round.

  “Any change?” Miss Hightower asked with concern in her voice.

  “I think you arrived just in time,” one of the men said with a smile.

  I looked inside the stall to see that the horse inside was in obvious distress.

  “Is the horse alright?” I asked.

  “Of course, Chloe. She’s about to give birth, that’s all.”

  I gasped in astonishment. I’d never seen an animal this size give birth. I thought of the horrible mess involved and hoped that I didn’t get sick. As the mare paced within her stall, breathing heavily and snorting, her water broke, raining down her flanks into the straw bed covering the floor. After several more minutes spent pacing, she slowly lowered herself to the floor of the stall and rolled onto her side.

  As I watched I was presented with the miracle of birth. There was nothing disgusting to be seen as the mare strained and the birth sack began to appear. The mare breathed heavily and snorted from time to time. She rocked from side to side, alternately straining and resting from her exertions. Eventually her foal’s head and front quarters appeared. The stall door was opened and Miss Hightower led me in for a better look. One of the stable hands entered to help with the birthing process by grabbing onto the foal’s forelimbs and gently tugging. The remainder of the foal slid free. The stable hand pulled the birth sack away from the foal’s head, and beneath was a beautiful newborn colt. The infant was black, its hair slicked down with birthing fluids. The mare rolled onto her knees and looked back to see her progeny for the first time. Eventually she rose and turned to lick the birth sack from her foal.

  “It’s a beautiful new lassie,” one of the stable hands announced.

  I must have stood, watching in wonder, for close to an hour. By the time we left the stall, the foal was successfully standing on spindly legs set wide apart. I had to laugh, wiping tears from my eyes caused by the breathtaking sight I’d just been shown.

  “No matter how many times I see it, it never becomes commonplace,” Miss Hightower commented.

  “It was beautiful,” I replied. “What are you going to name her?”

  “I thought Chloe Girl might be appropriate. What do you think?”

  “I think that would be a fine name,” I said, laughing.

  The next couple of hours were spent touring the horse training facilities. All around us there were riders, trainers, and stable hands tending to the horses. We even ran across several more greyhounds gathered round the stables, dogs which Miss Hightower had adopted after Flying Miss Lady had proven her worth as a pet. There was so much work going on around me all the time that I half felt that I should roll up my sleeves and pitch in.

  To maintain the horses’ health and state of mind, there were numerous large paddocks provided in which the horses were allowed to run free during the day. In these open areas, horses of various ages ran, played, nibbled grass, or simply lazed around in the sunshine. Stables with large freshly cleaned and airy stalls were available to house the horses at night. And for the horses in training, there was an uphill gallop track, a training track, and starting gates on a sand track. We stood by to watch a thoroughbred being timed and I felt all the excitement I’d felt at the track welling up inside of me.

  “That’s my pride and joy, Soft Spoken Hal,” Miss Hightower pointed out as the horse crossed the finish line.

  “Lucky thirteen.”

  “That’s right.”

  “When does he race?”

  “Tomorrow at the same track where we met.”

  “Oh, how I wish I could be there.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  I was sorely tempted to take Miss Hightower up on her thinly veiled offer, but then there was Alex to consider. Miss Hightower
stepped away for a few moments to have words with the man I assumed to be the trainer. I was leaning against the track railing with my chin on my hands when Miss Hightower surprised me with her next offer.

  “Chloe, have you ever ridden?”

  I was pretty sure she didn’t mean a bicycle.

  “Once, when I was a little girl.”

  “Follow me.”

  Miss Hightower led me to yet another stable, this one more modest than the other we had visited to see the birth of the foal. Again, there were several greyhounds waiting to greet us. As we approached, Miss Hightower explained that this was the family’s private stable which housed her personal riding stock. A few quick commands to the stable hands and two horses were soon saddled and bridled, waiting for us in the stable yard. The horse Miss Hightower chose for me was a lovely bay mare named Clarabelle. I was intimidated by the horse’s size even though Miss Hightower assured me she was a sweet and docile animal.

  “Do you know how to mount a horse?” she asked from the saddle of her own sorrel.

  “I wouldn’t even know which way to face in the saddle,” I admitted to the amusement of the stable hand holding my horse’s reins.

  “I’d recommend you face your mount’s head,” Miss Hightower suggested, apparently taking my statement seriously. “Franklin, get the mounting block for Ms. Boston.”

  One of the stable hands brought a small box and set it next to the mare. Another stable hand stood in front of my mount holding the horse’s head.

  “Now, grab onto the reins with your left hand. No, let out some slack. Grab ahold of her mane, not too tight, and step up onto the mounting block. Keep your left side toward her shoulder and turn the stirrup toward you. No, not like that! Franklin, help Ms. Boston get her foot in the stirrup.”

  With the aid of the two stable hands and a constant stream of instructions, I was eventually able to mount Clarabelle, and I was even facing the correct direction. I felt like an ass needing so much assistance for what turned out to be a relatively simple operation. Next came a stream of instructions regarding starting, steering, and stopping my horse. I was smiling all the while, though I was still nervous. So far, I liked riding horses. Never had I been so tall. Never had I been in control of such strength. As Miss Hightower trotted off, my horse naturally followed, no instructions needed. Good horse, I thought, patting her on the neck.