Taming the Trainer

by Sara Jolene

  Sophia’s stomach began to turn. She wrapped the rest of her cookie carefully in a napkin and tucked it back into the bag she’d brought to carry home her goods.

  Sophia found that it bothered her less that Otto had looked at her like that than it used to when the men at the saloon had done it. She wished she didn’t have to invite him out to the cabin to see the horse before she could buy a buggy. She was trying to build a new life and be a proper lady. Having a single man, or any man, to her home unescorted wouldn’t help paint the picture of propriety she was trying to create. She had very little money left from what she’d brought with her on her journey. One of the good things about being in the environment she’d been in the last few years was she’d learned not to trust anyone. She’d remembered to keep her money on her and very well hidden, so even once she’d been taken, the men didn’t find it. Nor did whoever had ended up with her bags. They’d eventually been returned to her, but things had been missing. Someone had gone through them.

  Otto had said he couldn’t come to the cabin the next day but the day after. Sophia was grateful for the time before his visit. She thought it might be good to invite Reverend Bing and Millie out for the day as well. Then she wouldn’t have to be alone with Mr. Clay. She caught her thoughts and changed them; he’d asked her to call him Otto.

  The cabin looked peaceful when she arrived. It hadn’t quite gotten fully dark, but she could see Mrs. Sanderson sitting in her chair by the window, outlined by the glow of her tabletop lantern. Sophia stopped to appreciate the moment of peace. Mrs. Sanderson wasn’t always the easiest person to deal with. The rumors all over town were that her husband had left her up on top of the mountain because he couldn’t take her crankiness. Sophia liked the old woman more often than not, but the rumors didn’t feel farfetched sometimes. Sophia was grateful to her for taking her in, and she cared for her like she would her own grandmother … or how she imagined she would have. She’d never gotten to meet either of hers.

  Mrs. Sanderson rose slowly from her chair, banishing Sophia from her moment of silence. She took in a breath, put one foot in front of the other, and headed into the house, where she immediately called out, “Mrs. Sanderson! I’ve returned from town. I’ll have your supper in just a moment.” She walked through the house, the bag of goodies still on her arm, looking for the woman. She found her at a small shelf, choosing a book.

  “I didn’t know you liked to read. Shall I get you a new book or two next time I’m in town?”

  “Where’s food?”

  Sophia could see the woman was in one of her moods. She often got like that, especially when Sophia spent a lot of time out of the house. Close proximity seemed to help her temperament.

  “I have it. Beatrice sent me home with some bread and some stew. I’m not sure what kind of stew, but everything Beatrice makes is wonderful. I also brought you a little surprise.” Sophia practically skipped from the room. She enjoyed sharing her time with someone, caring for them. She’d never done that before. Every day of her life had been work, all day, from the moment her parents had passed away and she’d left Arizona for Colorado. She hadn’t had a chance to look at tending to someone as showing care and concern—it was always something she’d had to do.

  Sophia put some wood on the fire. Willie had come earlier in the week and chopped a bunch. Enough to get them through a fortnight, at least. She always tried to save a few baked goods or leftovers from their suppers for him. He was a good boy who’d had a hard go of it. Sophia could relate. She enjoyed being outside when he was there. They’d talk. He’d tell her about his sisters and little brother. Even told her about his ma. He hadn’t said much about his pa, but he hadn’t needed to. Sophia, like everyone else around Bachelor, knew that he’d lost his pa in the last bad mining accident. He’d become the man of the house at a very young age.

  Sophia emptied the bag onto the table, found the bowl of stew, carefully separated two portions into a pot, and set it on the now-warm stove. She put the rest in the icebox and got out the milk. After pouring herself and Mrs. Sanderson a glass each, she set them on the table before returning the milk to its place. She was living as peaceful an existence as she’d ever thought possible. She’d even admit to being cautiously happy … so why was it that as she stirred the stew that her dear friend had made her, all she could think of was what more she wanted?

  Otto was still reeling from his encounter with the lovely Miss Perkins. In a town like Creede, beautiful women were few, and the ones who were around had husbands. Otto found himself occasionally wondering, if he ever did get the urge to settle down and have a family, if it would even be a possibility living where he did.

  He’d chosen Creede on a whim. It suited him, made it so he could be somewhat far from his family but close enough still. He had a little sister who was an important person in his life, but he’d wanted more stability than tribal life had given him. His people had been travelers, nomads that moved with the changing of the seasons, living off the land and making friends they’d visit on returning trips through town. At least until they’d been confined to the reservation. He’d been raised believing that moving around and making their own way was better than being confined. So his family continued as travelers, moving around as much as possible. They had managed to keep some of the old traditions. Otto looked forward to seeing them when they would inevitably pass through Creede in the spring, but he was happy to have his space and his freedom throughout the rest of the year.

  Otto packed up the last of his tools, stowing them below his main workbench. He’d had a good day and decided to go to the mercantile and get himself a cookie before he went back home and made dinner. Though he could cook, there were nights that he missed the restaurant being in town. One thing he never did, though, was bake. Beatrice baking and selling her cookies at the mercantile had increased his visits there, as he was sure they had the other single men in town as well.

  He lived next to the livery in a small house with just one bedroom. He’d never wanted much more than that. Spending his life in a small space on the reservation with the tribe whenever they weren’t moving from town to town, he’d felt just fine in small spaces. He’d felt the best when they were living in wagons and on horseback—that was where he felt at home. With the horses. Being in Creede, owning the livery, it was perfect for him. The best of everything he could have wanted.

  He closed up the part of the barn he’d transformed to house the buggies and went around back to feed his horses. After spending some time with his animals, he left his property and walked the short distance to the mercantile.

  Mortimer was in his usual place at the counter, chatting with one person or another. He recognized the newly married young missus, Marta Clark. Otto had been very happy to hear about those two getting hitched. The Clark family had been through a lot, and all those kids had been an awful lot for their pa to manage on his own. Marta had gotten them all in hand in a short amount of time. Otto was impressed. He’d heard that she’d not backed down when the rustlers had gone out to the Circle C. Royce was a good man. They made a good pair.

  Otto waited until Mortimer had gotten Mrs. Clark all the things she needed and was set to order the ones he hadn’t had stocked.

  “Evening, Mortimer.” Otto stepped up to the counter and stood in the spot Mrs. Clark had just vacated.

  “Otto. You here for more cookies?”

  Otto laughed and nodded his head. “Can’t seem to stay away. You get Mrs. Jameson to make more every day?”

  Mortimer returned Otto’s chuckles with a few of his own. “Even if I had, I’d still run out just as fast. Even with a baby on her hip, that lady can bake.”

  “She sure can.” Otto looked around the mercantile, making sure no one was watching, then he lowered his voice. “Did you hide one for me?”

  Mortimer got real close to Otto and reached under the counter. “I did. I always do.” He handed him the cookie.

  “How about them Clarks? They seem much better now that
they’ve gotten a new ma.”

  “Sure do. Otto, you reckon you’ll ever marry?”

  Otto was confused by the look on Mortimer’s face but took his question seriously. “Even if I was inclined to have a wife, which I’m not sure I am, I haven’t any idea where I’d find one.”

  Mortimer nodded in agreement. “There’s all them girls that got rescued, like Mrs. Clark that just left. Word is a few more stayed in town.”

  Realization hit Otto. Sophia. He wasn’t a gambling man, but he’d bet at least one good horse that she’d been one of those girls. He wondered where she’d been headed when she found herself stuck in Creede with the likes of them.

  “Is that so?”

  Mortimer nodded again. “Yes, sir. I also hear there’s this paper where you can order yourself a bride from back East. You could get one to come in on the train.”

  Otto smiled. He often wondered if Mortimer was lonely. He was very social, but owning the mercantile and talking to everyone in town all day might not be enough to satisfy a man like that. He might miss company in the evening, or not want to eat alone. Otto was the opposite. He was fine all by himself. Liked it that way, in fact. It was quiet … no one to argue or disagree with. He could do what he wanted. Which was strange, because ever since the beautiful Sophia had come into his livery earlier in the day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about sharing his life with someone.

  Otto wasn’t positive why he’d made such a big fuss about seeing that Sophia had a proper horse to pull a buggy. It wasn’t usually part of the deal. Though it was true that ever since the incident with Bob, he felt a little more responsibility than he had before, this was different and he knew it.

  His real love in the livery business was horse training. He’d been more at ease around horses than people his whole life. Breaking and training horses came naturally to him. The buggies and wagons were extras.

  The cabin was small but well built. Otto found it made him happy to know Sophia was living in a place that could offer her protection, not just from the elements, but from the scoundrels that often made Creede, or even Bachelor, home. He noticed a good sized woodpile and wondered if she’d cut the wood herself. He wondered a lot of things about Sophia. It seemed the more questions he answered, the more he had.

  Otto knocked on the door, though he was sure it wasn’t necessary. Surely Sophia could hear his racing heart pounding in his chest from inside the house. It was deafening. He watched through the window. As soon as she came into view, the thumping in his chest slowed down but got stronger. Her dark hair was up today, twisted into a knot atop her head. A few loose pieces framed her pale face and caused her eyes to seem brighter than the other day, when she’d had her long hair loose. He attempted to take a deep breath. It caught in his throat as the door swung wide.

  “Mr. Clay, good morning.”

  Sophia had on a different dress than he’d seen her in at the livery. This one was deep red. She was absolutely stunning. It took Otto longer than he would have liked for him to calm himself enough to speak. “Morning, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her.

  “Let me just get Mrs. Sanderson settled, and we’ll head down to the barn. Please, come in.”

  Otto was confused. “So she’s real? Mrs. Sanderson, I mean. I always thought … I mean, one hears things but …”

  Sophia turned from the door and walked deeper into the cabin. “You thought I invited you here under false pretenses? That I wanted to be alone with you?”

  “No!” Otto panicked as he followed behind and shut the door.. He followed Sophia, clutching his hat in his hand. He didn’t think that of her. He didn’t want her thinking that he did. “No. Please … I don’t mean … well, I’m sorry, I’m not real sure what I mean.” He stopped when she stopped. She spun around to face him. He twirled and fidgeted with the hat in his hands.

  She was smiling—almost laughing—and it made his chest hurt. “I know you’re a gentleman, sir. I was just teasing.” She returned to her task. “As for Mrs. Sanderson, she’s not as bad as everyone says. I’ve heard the rumors, too.”

  Otto felt ashamed of himself. He looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean …”

  He heard Sophia let out a breath, almost a sigh. He could tell she was no longer smiling. “I know you didn’t, but people in this town—people in most towns—they have a habit of believing the worst of people. Even if they’ve seen differently with their own eyes.”

  “You certainly have a way of knowing how to put your foot in your mouth, don’t you?”

  Otto jumped. The man he’d been talking to in the livery the other day had just appeared by his side.

  Otto opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there with his jaw dropped, tongue hanging out.

  “Best if you don’t say anything about me being here. I haven’t much time, and you’re trying to make a good impression. Miserably failing, but I know you’re trying. Fix what you just did. Whatever it takes. Fix it.”

  Otto struggled to gain control of himself. He blinked, and the man was gone. He hadn’t wanted to offend Sophia or Mrs. Sanderson, and he didn’t need some figment of his imagination to tell him to fix it. He knew he should do that. He had never even been out to the cabin, so he shouldn’t have assumed any of the rumors were true. He hadn’t thought the place or the woman actually existed until Sophia told him where she had been staying.

  “Please accept my apology. I’m terribly sorry. All of this is just such a surprise.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Sophia. “I honestly thought she was a tall tale. The kids all treat her as such. They play games and call her things. I had no idea she was a real person.”

  Sophia nodded but frowned. “I know they do. I’ve heard the stories as well. I’m not saying there isn’t some merit to a few of them, but for the most part she’s just a lonely old woman who needs a helping hand.”

  Otto found that he was relieved she didn’t shy away from him. She was accepting his presence. He looked around. “Well, it seems you have things well in hand. She seems thoroughly taken care of.”

  Sophia went back to moving through the small space. “I try, but I don’t do it alone. Millie, Julianne, and especially Beatrice, have helped so much. I’ll be forever in their debt. They’ve been wonderful to me. I need to find a way to repay them.”

  Otto stopped beside her outside what he assumed was Mrs. Sanderson’s quarters. “I don’t know them well. I do love Beatrice’s cookies, and the reverend and Millie have both been assets to both Creede and Bachelor.” He laughed as he continued. “Even if she likes to pick fights with miners on payday. I guess she won’t be worrying about that for a while, anyway.”

  Sophia smiled, and it warmed him. He never wanted that smile to leave her face.

  “I’ll just be a moment, and then I’ll show you the barn. It really would be nice not to have to walk back and forth to town.”

  Otto went to comment, but Sophia had already disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

  Chapter Three

  The barn was sturdy and had four stalls, two of which were empty. Sophia brought Otto right up to her favorite mare, Marigold. She had been Sophia’s confidant since she’d been freed from the cellar and had come to stay with Mrs. Sanderson. Sophia knew she couldn’t share her past or her secrets with anyone in town. Even those who knew her secrets couldn’t take the chance of others overhearing if they were to talk about them. It would ruin her, and she was slowly starting to build a life for herself. She wouldn’t jeopardize that. But it was difficult, and she’d needed someone to talk to, especially in the beginning. Marigold had been her sounding board. The horse had kept all her secrets, and Sophia had made sure she had all the hay she wanted and brought her oats and carrots when she had extra. She’d spent long hours brushing her while she talked.

  Otto seemed just as taken with Marigold as Sophia was. He immediately lifted his hand to run it down the horse’s nose. “You’re a pretty girl.” He looked back at S
ophia. “How’s her temperament? Does she do well with a rider?”

  Sophia fidgeted. She wasn’t sure what to say. She hated admitting any sort of weakness. She’d been hoping they would avoid this particular little detail. She’d hoped they’d focus on him coming to see the horses simply to sell her a buggy. She shuffled her feet in the dirt. “I would hope so. She’s the best horse. Well-behaved and she loves to be brushed.”

  Otto crinkled his eyebrows. It made his whole face darken, made him seem more serious. He tilted his head to the stall next to Marigold’s. “And that one?”

  Sophia nodded and moved to the front of that stall. She reached in and began to pet the horse there while not letting her eyes leave Otto’s. “Midnight is a good girl. She’s older but still sturdy, and though she isn’t as fond of being brushed, she’s an excellent friend as well.”

  Being with the horses was something that Sophia hadn’t expected to enjoy. She’d always assumed they were too much trouble, more trouble and work than they were worth, anyway. But she’d found solace there in the barn. The animals didn’t judge her. They saw who she really was, and she saw them.

  “Shall we take them for a ride? I assume they haven’t ridden trails together in a while.”

  Sophia’s nerves kicked up again. She’d calmed herself down when Otto had moved on to asking about Midnight. All her anxiety came flooding back, though. She swallowed hard.

  “I can honestly say they have not.” She didn’t wait for him to ask more, just moved to one of the empty stalls and shuffled around, trying to look busy.

  “Where’s their gear? I’ve left the livery closed for now, and it can stay that way for a bit. I’d really like to be sure Marigold will be okay with a buggy, maybe even Midnight here, too.” He reached across the stalls to pet the other horse.