Page 15 of Irish Thoroughbred
“Dee! Dee!” She whirled around to see Mark and Mike scurrying into the stables. “Mom said we could come down and see you, and the new foal, too.”
“Good day to you, gentlemen; it’s pleased I am to have you visiting me.”
“Will you show us the foal?” Mike demanded, and she smiled at his enthusiasm.
“That I will, Master Michael, as soon as I’ve finishedwith my friend here. Now.” She set down the brush and reached a hand into her back pocket. “Where is it that I put that hoof pick?” Her pockets were empty, and she searched the ground, frowning. “It’s the little people at work again.”
“We didn’t take it,” Mark objected.
“People are always blaming kids for everything,” Mike complained righteously.
“Oh, but it’s not children I’m speaking of,” Adelia corrected. “It’s leprechauns.”
“Leprechauns?” the twins chorused. “What’s a leprechaun?”
“Could it be you’re telling me you’ve never heard of leprechauns?” she asked in amazement. The boys shook their identical heads, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Well, your education’s sadly lacking, lads. It’s a sorry thing to remain ignorant of the little people.”
“Tell us, Dee,” they demanded, pulling at her hands in excitement.
“That I will.” She hauled herself up to sit on a bench as the two boys squatted on the floor at her feet. “Now, the leprechaun is a strange fellow, his father being an evil spirit and his mother a fairy fallen from grace. By nature he’s a mischief-maker. He only grows to be about three feet high, no matter how old he happens to be. Some say he likes to be riding on sheep or goats, so a man knows, if his stock is tired and weary of a morning, that the littlepeople have been up to their tricks and using them for some errand where they didn’t want to travel on foot. They can be lazy when they’ve a mind to.
“They love to be making mischief about the house as well. Why, a leprechaun’ll make a pot boil over on the stove, or keep it from boiling at all, as his whim suits him. Or he’ll steal the bacon or toss the furniture about for the sheer love of the confusion. Other times he’ll drink his fill of the milk or poteen and fill up the bottle with water.
“Now,” she continued, her eyes bright with excitement as the two boys clung to her words, “to catch a leprechaun would bring certain fortune to the one who had the wit to hold him. The only time you can catch him is when he’s sitting down, and he never sits unless his brogues want mending. He’s forever running about so that he wears them out, and when he feels his feet on the ground, he sits behind a hedge or in the tall grass of a meadow and takes them off to mend them. Then”—she lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper, and the two heads inched forward—“you creep up, quiet as a cat, and grab him tight in your arms.” She flung her arms around an imaginary leprechaun and shouted, “‘Give me your gold,’ you say. ‘I’ve got no gold,’ says he.”
Releasing her invisible captive, she gave the boys a roguish smile. “Now, there’s gold by the ton, and that’s the truth of it, and he can tell you where it’s to be found, but he won’t till you make him. Now, some try chokinghim or threatening him, but, whatever you do, you mustn’t for a moment take your eyes from him. If you do that, he’s gone in a flash, and you’ll not be seeing him again. The scheming devil has a pocketful of tricks for getting away, and he can charm the birds from the trees if he’s a mind to. But if you hold your ground and keep your eye on him, his gold is yours, and your fortune’s made.”
“Did you ever see a leprechaun, Dee?” Mark asked, bouncing with excitement.
“By the saints, I thought I did, a time or two.” She nodded sagely. “But I never got close enough before they had vanished, quick as you please. So”—she jumped from the bench and tousled two dark heads—“unless I’m finding me one who’s traveled to America, I’ll have to be working for my living.” She picked up a hoof pick from the bench. “And that’s what I’m doing now, or I’ll be fired for laziness and be begging for pennies.”
“We wouldn’t let it come to that, would we, boys?”
Adelia spun around, her color rising as she met Travis’s mocking smile. The thumping in her heart she attributed to surprise, and she was forced to swallow nervously before speaking.
“It’s a habit you’re making of creeping up on a body and frightening the wits from them, Mr. Grant.”
“Maybe I mistook you for a leprechaun, Dee.” His grin was annoying, but she refused to be baited and bent to lift Fortune’s hoof.
He led the twins down to visit the new foal, and she set down the horse’s leg and watched his broad back retreat down the passage.
Why did he always send her into a flutter? she wondered. Why did her pulses begin to race at a speed that rivaled Majesty’s whenever she looked up and met those surprisingly blue eyes? She leaned her cheek against Fortune’s sturdy neck and sighed. She’d lost, she conceded. She’d lost the battle, and though she fought against it, she was in love with Travis Grant. It was impossible, she admitted. Nothing could ever develop between the owner of Royal Meadows and an insignificant stable-hand.
“Besides,” she whispered to the understanding colt, “he’s an arrogant brute of a man, and I don’t believe I like him one little bit.” Hearing the boys approach, she bent quickly and lifted another hoof for cleaning.
“Run along outside, boys. I want a word with Dee.” At Travis’s command, the twins scrambled past, chattering and exclaiming over the foal. She set down the horse’s leg and straightened to face him, the color fading from her cheeks.
Blast my cursed tongue, she thought in desperate condemnation. Aunt Lettie told me a thousand times where my temper would take me.
“I—have I done something wrong, Mr. Grant?” She stammered slightly and bit her lip in frustration.
“No, Dee,” he answered, slowly searching her troubledface. “Did you think I was going to fire you?” His voice was oddly gentle, and she felt a tremor at the unfamiliar tone.
“You did say I could have a fortnight, and I’ve a few days left before—”
“There’s no need for a trial,” he interrupted. “I’ve already decided to keep you on.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Grant,” she began, overcome with relief. “I’m grateful to you.”
