Smoky Mountain Home

“No.” She had lost the upper hand somehow. On her feet, Ruth Ann headed for the door, needing light and air, a chance to think….

Jonah Granger stood at the same moment and moved to block her path. Her momentum brought her right up against him, with her chest pressed into his ribs. His hands closed over her shoulders, vetoing any move to escape.

“You’re going to run away instead?” He lifted one eyebrow, giving his face a sardonic expression. “You don’t have the guts to face the situation and really decide which of us is right?”

Ruth Ann glared up at him, speechless with too many emotions to name—foremost among them being fury that he read her too easily, along with a weird sort of shiver as her body touched his. “I—You—”

“Here we are.” Jayne Thomas entered carrying a tray with a coffeepot and cups. Miriam Edwards followed, bearing a basket of pastries and bagels.

Suddenly free, Ruth Ann took a long step back at the same time as Jonah pivoted to face the new arrivals. “Good morning, Miriam,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Miriam gushed over him, paying Ruth Ann no attention whatsoever. And Ruth Ann was grateful, for once, because she could feel her face flaming red, the way it did whenever she was embarrassed. While the others poured coffee and debated over calories, she walked back to her chair at the end of the table, rubbing her hands over her shoulders to erase the tingles lingering there. Picking up her favorite mug—the one with a cartoon of the front end of a cute pony on one side and the tail end on the other—she took a deep breath, then turned to confront the situation.

“Okay,” she said, glad that her voice didn’t shake. “I can’t spend all morning in here—I’ve got work to do at the barn. What are we supposed to accomplish?”

She heard Jayne sigh at her bluntness, but Miriam was the one who spoke. “Now, Ruth Ann, dear, I know how attached you are to the old stable, and for good reasons—certainly your family has a history there and we understand that means a lot to you.”

Miriam was a well-preserved sixty years old, a lawyer’s wife who advertised his success with cashmere sweaters, triple strands of real pearls at her throat and diamonds set in platinum on her fingers. Her coppery hair gleamed in the light from the library’s overhead lamps and swung smoothly around her face as she nodded. She kept a string of hunters and polo ponies in her own stable, and wanted the barn at Hawkridge named in her honor.

“I’ve been thinking since our meeting last week,” she continued, including Jonah in her glance, “and it occurred to me that perhaps we don’t have to raze the old building. Once we’ve built the new equestrian facility, we could get the old one cleaned up and use it for…some other purpose.”

Before Ruth Ann could object, Jayne leaned forward in her chair. “Come and sit at this end of the table, Ruth Ann. You’ll be able to see better. And I can pour you some fresh coffee. I know you live on the stuff.”

Reluctantly, Ruth Ann sat down beside Jayne, with Miriam across the table and Granger sitting closest to the easel. A glance at his superior smile set her teeth on edge. Once Jayne handed back her mug, Ruth Ann made sure that the back end of the pony faced Jonah as she took a long sip.

His eyes narrowed as he took in her message. In the next instant, though, the frown smoothed away as he got to his feet. “Miriam, I think that’s a good idea, though we’re not quite to the stage yet where Ms. Blakely has agreed to cooperate. I thought I would go through my elevations and floor plans again, Ms. Blakely—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she interrupted. “Call me Ruth Ann. It’s hard to argue effectively using last names.”

His grin, now filled with real amusement, surprised her. “True. I’m Jonah. As I was saying, I thought this would give you a chance to voice any thoughts, ask any questions that occur to you.”

For Jayne’s sake, Ruth Ann bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. “Go ahead,” she told Jonah. “Impress me.”

The exterior drawings were beautiful renderings of an imposing structure fit for a king, not merely the king’s horses. Ruth Ann looked at the headmistress. “Our girls should have such nice quarters. Why don’t we make this the new residence hall, instead of a stable?”

Jayne frowned at her. Miriam said, “My sister’s new barn blends with its environment and looks like it’s always been there. I expect Jonah can do the same with this building, by the time construction and landscaping are complete.”

“My stable blends with its environment,” Ruth Ann countered, “because it’s been there for more than a hundred years. Howard Ridgely used the same brick and stone and timber for the house and the barn. You’ll never get new materials to match.”

“You’d be surprised what can be achieved with the right tools.” Jonah shifted the pages to display an interior view. “A new building can be aged to complement its surroundings.” He held up a hand when Ruth Ann started to say something. “Without the kind of deterioration that natural aging inevitably brings about. You get a stronger building with a similar appearance.”

And so it went. For every objection Ruth Ann raised, Miriam and Jonah had an explanation of how their stable would be superior. High ceilings, expensive materials, too much space or not enough…nothing she could say broke through their certainty. Jayne appeared to be listening to both sides, but Ruth Ann couldn’t tell what conclusions she drew. Anyway, she was only the headmistress—the Board of Directors would tell her what they wanted done and she would execute their orders.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Ruth Ann said, once Jonah had finished his presentation. “I mean, I’m sure some people would feel privileged to have a barn like this for their horses. But it’s too big, for one thing—the number of extra steps you would add to my day would become miles before long. The tack room down there,” she said, pointing to the room plan, “and the stalls over here—you’ve got me carrying saddles and bridles and blankets from one end of the place to the other.”

“These details can be modified,” Jonah replied in a stiff voice.

“There’s no room for hay storage without using stall space. The feed room is on an interior wall, meaning I’ll have to bring bags through the aisle rather than being able to use an outside door.

“As for upkeep—have you seen the cobwebs a barn ceiling can accumulate? How am I going to clean those clerestory windows thirty feet off the floor? Horseshoes chip brick floors. Horses chew wood and kick walls—how are you going to feel when your mahogany stall paneling gets smashed? The amount of money needed to keep a place like this in good shape and the number of people required for maintenance are way beyond what the school has been willing or able to fund in the past. I can’t—”

“Enough.” Jonah held up a hand. “Clearly, this plan doesn’t meet with your approval.” He looked at Miriam. “I can make changes, of course, to bring the project more in line with Ms. Bla—Ruth Ann’s ideas.”

Miriam folded her hands together on the table, where her rings twinkled under the lights. “Well, to be frank, Jonah, Ruth Ann doesn’t have final approval for the stable plans. We’ve solicited her advice, of course, because she’s good at her job. But in the end, the board will decide what’s to be done about the equestrian facility.” Her gaze conveyed no warmth as she glanced in Ruth Ann’s direction. “With or without her.”

Ruth Ann hadn’t expected anything else, though she hadn’t thought to hear the truth expressed quite so blatantly this morning. After a couple of seconds, she cleared her throat and nodded. “I understand the situation, Mrs. Edwards. I’ve already explained my position to Ms. Thomas. I like working at Hawkridge. I think my horses are good for the girls. My stipulation for staying is that we use the old barn—a building constructed by men who knew and loved horses, managed for a century by men who felt the same. My barn has flaws, I grant you, but nothing a careful renovation couldn’t correct. I believe the history of the old stable makes it as valuable as the Manor itself to Hawkridge School.”

She shrugged. “If the board doesn’t see it that way, I’ll find another job.”

Standing, she moved toward the library exit, careful not to touch Jonah as she passed him. On the threshold, she turned. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the terms of Howard Ridgely’s will, as well as my grandfather’s and father’s wills, are quite clear. The stable does, as you say, belong to the estate and the school.

“But the horses are mine. If I leave, so do they.”

Miriam’s gasp was the last thing she heard before she left the room.

IN THE AFTERNOONS of this first week of class, new girls were taken around in small groups to meet the staff members in charge of extracurricular activities. Cultural pursuits—music and various art disciplines—as well as individual and team sports were available, and girls were encouraged to participate in whichever pastimes drew their interest.

Darcy’s group visited the stable on Thursday afternoon. She and seven other girls, including Eve, arrived with their upper-class guide, Ingrid, at three-thirty.

“Right on time,” Ruth Ann said as she greeted them. “Which is what you should be if you decide to come for lessons or unstructured rides. It’s not fair to me or to the horses to leave us standing around waiting for you.”

She led them into the stable. “Our horses spend about half the day inside and half out. I bring the darker horses inside during the day, to keep their coats from bleaching in the sunshine. They eat breakfast and dinner inside, then spend the night grazing in the field. Not one of them would bite you out of meanness, but if you hold one finger out, they might think it’s a carrot and reach for the treat.” Her pantomime of a horse biting off the tip of a finger made the all the girls giggle. Well, all except Eve.

“So keep your fingers together. If you want to pet a horse, you can use the backs of your knuckles softly on their cheeks.” She demonstrated on the girl nearest her, provoking smiles. “Feel free to visit up and down the aisle, say hello to any horse that strikes your fancy. Their names are on the stalls.”

Most of the girls dispersed along the length of the barn, and soon the horses began poking their heads over the locked bottom halves of their doors, hoping for treats but settling for attention if that was all they could get.

Eve, however, went to the barn entrance and stood looking out, away from the animals.

Ruth Ann went to join her. “You’re not into horses?”

The girl shook her head. “They smell. This place smells.” She sniffed, then coughed. “Gross.”

“I’m willing to concede that the smell of horses and barns isn’t appealing to everybody. What do you like to do instead? Tennis? Softball?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Gag me. Who wants to hit a stupid ball around? And the clothes? Yuck. I run. Alone.”

“That’s a great workout for your heart and lungs. Do you do any strength training? Keeps your bones healthy, you know.” The girl needed some muscle, as well. Her wrists weren’t much bigger than broomsticks.

Her response, however, was an impatient sigh. “How much longer do I have to be here?”

Too long, as far as I’m concerned, Ruth Ann answered silently. “Until the rest of the girls are ready to leave. If you’d like to sit in the tack room, there are a few magazines on the table. Maybe even one or two that aren’t about horses.”

She showed Eve to the tack room, ignored her sniff of derision when she saw the worn sofa and scarred coffee table, then went back to the horses. The girls had evidently picked their favorites and Ingrid, one of her longtime riding students, had been to the feed room for carrots and was supervising the careful delivery of treats.

Darcy, however, had not homed in on a particular animal. She stood in the center of the passage instead, carefully studying each horse, but making no move to get close enough to touch.

“Can’t make up your mind?” Ruth Ann asked.

The girl shook her head. “I like white horses.”

“Grays, you mean?” When Darcy nodded, Ruth Ann said, “Come with me.”

She led the way outside, across the cobble-stone stable yard with its curving brick walls, and out to the pasture. “These are our grays,” she told Darcy. “Maybe one of these would be your favorite.”

A drawn-out “Oooh” was Darcy’s comment as she folded her arms on the top board of the fence and propped her chin on her hands. “They’re so beautiful!”

Ruth Ann had to agree—the grays were her pride and joy. The eight of them looked over, ears pricked, as she and Darcy approached, no doubt wondering if dinnertime had come earlier than usual today. Gradually, the animals went back to grazing the fall grass, creating a portrait of peace in their pale-green pasture against a backdrop of dark evergreen and gold-tinged hardwood trees, with the blue-green Smoky Mountains in the distance.

“Tell me about them,” Darcy commanded. “What are their names?”

A glance over her shoulder told Ruth Ann that the rest of the girls—minus Eve—were coming to join them. After more exclamations, she included them all in her introductions.

“Waldo is the largest of all the horses we have here, and the oldest, at twenty-three. He’s a Percheron gelding.” She spelled the breed name for them. “Percherons were developed to do heavy work, like plowing or pulling carriages. They’re very much like the horses knights would have ridden into battle in the olden days, wearing armor and carrying shields and swords.” In answer to a question, she said, “Gelding means that his testicles were removed so he can’t mate with the mares. That happened to him a long time ago.”

After the giggles died down, she introduced the mares—Sheba and Gizelle, both Arabians, petite and fast, the lovely dappled gray Dutch warmblood, Silver Filigree, and the thoroughbred sisters Crystal, Diamond and Lainey, short for Porcelaine.

“Are they triplets?” one of the girls asked.

Ruth Ann shook her head. “Horses usually only have one baby at a time. Lainey’s ten years old, then Diamond is nine and Crystal eight. All three are really good jumpers.”

“What’s the tiny pony’s name?” Darcy asked. “Do you ride her?”

“That’s Snowflake.” Ruth Ann led the girls along the fence, closer to the pony in question, only about forty inches tall. “She’s a miniature horse—this is as big as she’ll ever get, and she’s already thirteen years old. We have a cart she can pull, but we don’t have anyone small enough to sit in it right now, so she has a good time just hanging out in the pasture.”

Snowflake ambled up to the fence and gave everyone a chance to stroke her nose and sides. Then Ruth Ann herded the girls back to the barn and into the tack room with Eve, where she explained about taking lessons and the types of riding they could learn.

“You’ll get a form to fill out on Friday,” she told them, “where you can list the sports and other activities you’d like to try, in the order you’re most interested. If riding is your number-one favorite, you should put it at the top. Next week I’ll be setting up lesson schedules and we’ll get started. Any questions?”

Eve raised her hand. “Can we leave now?”

Fortunately, several other girls had legitimate questions, so Darcy’s roommate would have to wait. Finally, though, Ingrid headed them toward the Manor and the dorms. Darcy hung back as everyone left.

“Did you have a question?” Ruth Ann collected the magazines Eve had left scattered over the table and on the floor.

“C-could I…” Darcy shook her head. “Never mind.” She got out the door before Ruth Ann managed to catch her hand and stop her.

“What did you want? Darcy, look at me.” Finally, she had to turn the girl’s face toward her to see her dark-brown eyes. “Ask your question. It’s okay.”

“I just wondered if…if I could watch you feed the horses.”

As Ruth Ann stared, the words came tumbling out. “I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t touch them or anything, I promise. I won’t make them mad or hurt them. I just want to watch.”

“Whoa.” Ruth Ann took one of Darcy’s hands in both of her own. “Slow down. Relax.” She saw that Ingrid was holding up the rest of the group, waiting for Darcy. “She’s staying here,” Ruth Ann called. “I’ll bring her to dinner myself.”

Ingrid nodded, waved, and turned away, with the girls following. Still holding Darcy’s hand, Ruth Ann went back into the tack room. “Sit down for a second.”

Looking scared to death, Darcy dropped onto the couch. She had a habit of keeping her arms folded around her waist, for protection or camouflage, Ruth Ann wasn’t sure which.

Moving the magazines, Ruth Ann sat on the coffee table directly across from Darcy. “You’re welcome to stay and watch,” she said. “I need to see how you are around the horses, to be sure that you’re safe. Jonah said you’d broken your arm earlier this year?”

Darcy nodded. “In May, at a horse show. Rufus jumped a crossbar fence and I fell off. Before they caught him, he ran through a couple of other fences, tripped, and strained his leg. It was gonna take him months to get better.”

“That’s too bad for Rufus. I guess your broken arm needed a few months to heal, too, didn’t it?”

The girl shrugged. “It was okay. I don’t like swimming, anyway, so I stayed in the house.”

“Maybe Rufus doesn’t like jumping in the summer heat, either.”

“Oh, no.” Darcy looked shocked at the idea. “He loves to jump. My mother was going to take him to Europe with her, until he got hurt. He would have competed with some of the best three-year-olds in Germany.”

“You were jumping on a three-year-old? Have you done that much riding, Darcy?”

“Since I was five.” She sighed and shook her head. “But I don’t seem to get better at it.”

“What’s Rufus like?” Ruth Ann asked the question, though she thought she could predict the answer.

“He’s a seventeen-hand chestnut thoroughbred with a white blaze and four white socks,” the girl recited, as if she were reading off a sale list. “Really eager, jumps four feet and over, no problem.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d be scared to death sitting on a young horse that big.” Ruth Ann stood up and motioned for Darcy to do the same. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I’d give him another two or three years before I’d trust him not to dump me at a fence.”

“Oh, he didn’t dump me. I just…fell. I’m too fa—clumsy to ride.”

“Right.” Ruth Ann relaxed her jaw and tried not to hate Jonah Granger and his wife. “Okay, the way this works is, I clean up a stall, then walk the horse out to the pasture and bring one in. It’s kind of labor-intensive, but since I’m the one doing the work, nobody complains. All these horses are calm—no Rufuses here to worry about. So you just stand there and talk to them while I muck out. Okay?”

Darcy nodded. “Okay.”

Four horses later, as they walked back in from the pasture with Filigree, Ruth Ann asked casually if Darcy wanted to hold the lead rope. “Fili is a very sensible lady,” she promised. “She knows how to walk quietly beside you without making a fuss.”

“O-okay.” Darcy took the rope and held it correctly, about a foot from Fili’s chin with one hand, gathering the rest in her other hand. As Ruth Ann dropped back slightly, the girl and the mare walked without incident to the waiting stall. Darcy was so busy talking to the horse that she didn’t even think about leading Fili into the stall, where she turned her around, unbuckled the halter and stepped back outside to shut the door.

“Very good,” Ruth Ann told her. “Seeing you handle Fili, I can believe you’ve been around horses since you were little. You’re good with them, Darcy, calm and sure of yourself.”

The girl blushed bright pink, and she didn’t say anything. But her eyes shone with happiness.

Once they’d led the grays in, Ruth Ann set the manure fork aside. “I’ll clean up the last four stalls after dinner. We can just take these guys out to the pasture, and then I’ll walk you back to the Manor.”

The glow in Darcy’s face faded. “Okay.”

Leaving the indoor horses with hay to munch on, Ruth Ann showed Darcy the path from the stable back to the Manor. “You’re welcome to come visit any time. You don’t have to ride if you don’t want to. Horses are fun just to talk to or look at. As Winston Churchill said, ‘The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.’ Or woman.”

“Maybe I will,” Darcy said. But she didn’t sound very certain. “I have to get my homework done, too. And practice my music.”

“That’s true, though I always thought there was time enough for horses and homework. I never got to do music.”

“Did you go to Hawkridge?”

“No, I went to the public schools out in town. But my dad managed the stable, so I was here every afternoon and all weekend, working with him.”

“Was it fun?”

“Well, sure. I loved being with the horses.”

“Did you like working with your dad?”

Now there was a tough question. “He could be picky, sometimes, and he’d get mad if I didn’t do something just the way he wanted it. But he was a great trainer and taught me all I know about horses.”

Once they reached the manicured lawns surrounding the Manor, they could see other girls heading toward the dormitory to prepare for dinner. Ruth Ann glanced at the jeans and sneakers and sweatshirt Darcy had worn to the barn.

“Guess you’d better get changed in a hurry.” She checked her watch. “You’ve got ten minutes before the warning chime.”

“Okay.” That seemed to be Darcy’s favorite word. As she veered away, though, she stopped and looked back at Ruth Ann. “I had fun this afternoon. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Darcy. Like I said, come back anytime.”

Ruth Ann watched the girl walk with dragging steps toward the residence hall. In the two hours they’d spent together, she’d gained the impression that Darcy’s energy level was dialed to Low—she simply didn’t put out much effort, even with the horses. She seemed competent with the animals, but uncertain of herself, reminding Ruth Ann of a child outside the toy store, nose pressed against the window as she stared at the gifts she knew she couldn’t buy, wouldn’t receive.

Jayne Thomas would be able to provide an explanation for Darcy’s behavior. Maybe a conference with the counselor and Darcy’s teachers would be a good idea. Ruth Ann wanted to know what she would be dealing with as she worked with Darcy, what sore points to avoid and what counseling techniques to use.

She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. When a hand closed around her elbow, she gasped and automatically assumed a defensive posture.

Jonah Granger gave a derisive snort. “Going to take me out with a kick and a karate chop?”

Ruth Ann jerked her arm free. “Why are you sneaking up on me? What are you doing here? Parents aren’t allowed to visit until Thanksgiving.”

“But architects are,” he countered. “So I came looking for you.”

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