Page 2 of Irish Thoroughbred
“The finest horse farm in all of Maryland, sure as faith,” Paddy added with possessive pride as he proceeded along the curving drive. “And—in Padrick Cunnane’s opinion—the finest in the whole of America.”
The car rounded a bend in the drive, and Adelia caught her breath as the main house came into view. An immense structure, or so it seemed to her, with three magnificent stories of old and muted stone. Dozens of windows winked in the gleaming sun like large, clear eyes. Wide and boldly glistening, they were a sharp contrast to the stone’s mellowness. Skirting the top two stories were balconies, the design of wrought iron as intricate and delicate as the finest lace. The house stood on a gently sloping lawn of close-cropped green, graced with bushes and stately trees just awakening from their winter sleep.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Dee?”
“Aye,” she agreed, awed by its size and elegance. “The grandest house I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, our house isn’t so grand as this.” He turned the car left as the drive forked past the stone building. “But it’s a fine place, and I hope you’ll be happy there.”
Adelia turned her attention to her uncle with a smile that transformed her face into a work of art. “I’ll be happy, Uncle Paddy, as long as you’re with me.” Letting impulse guide her movements, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Ah, Dee, I’m glad you’re here.” He took her hand in a firm grip. “You’ve brought the spring with you.”
The car came to a halt, and Adelia turned to look out the front window, her mouth falling open at what greeted her eyes. An oval track commanded her view, and across from it stood a large white building, which Paddy identified as the stables. Fences and paddocks checker-boarded the area, and the scent of hay and horses drifted through the air.
In solemn amazement she gazed about, and the thought sped through her brain that she had not moved from one farm to another but from one world to another. At home, the farm had meant the earth, with its blessings and curses, a small barn in constant need of repair, a strip of pasture. Here, the space alone made her eyes widen, so much space to belong to one man. But as well as space, she recognized the efficiency and the order in fresh white buildings and split-rail fences. In the distance, where the hills began their soft roll, she saw mares grazing while their foals frolicked with the joy of spring and youth.
Travis Grant,she mused, recalling the name of the owner from Paddy’s letters.Travis Grantknows how to care for what he owns.…
“There’s my house.” Now Paddy pointed out the opposite window. “Our house now.”
Following his direction, she let out a cry of pleasure. The first story of the building was a large white garage, which she learned later serviced the trailers and trucks used for transporting the Thoroughbreds. Atop this was a stone structure, nearly twice as large as the farmhouse in which she had spent her life. It was a miniature replica of the main house, with the same native stonework and glistening windows graced with balconies.
“Come inside, Dee. Get a look at your new home.”
He led her down a narrow, crushed stone path and up the stairs to the front door, opening it wide and nudging her ahead of him.
A bright, cozy room welcomed her, with pale green walls and a shining oak floor. A brightly checked sofa and matching chair invited her to sit in front of the raised hearth when the weather was cool, or contemplate rambling hills through wide, sheer-draped windows.
“Oh, Uncle Paddy!” She sighed, making an inadequate but expressive movement of her hands.
“Come, Dee, I’ll show you the rest.”
He led her through the house, her wide eyes growing larger with each new discovery, from the kitchen, with its sunny yellow fixtures and spotless counters, to the bath, where creamy ivory tiles made her dream of languishing for hours in hot, soapy water.
“This is your room, darlin’.”
He opened the door across from the bath, and Adelia stepped inside. It was not an overly large room, but to her inexperienced eyes it was huge indeed. The walls were painted a robin’s-egg blue, and sheer white curtains billowed and swayed at two open windows. The soft blue and white was repeated in the flower print of the bedspread, and a fluffy white rug lay on the wooden floor. The mirror over the maple dresser reflected the expression of stunned pleasure on her face. The knowledge that the room was to be hers brought unaccustomed tears to her eyes. Blinking them away, she turned and threw her arms around her uncle’s neck.
Later, they strolled across the lawn toward the stables. Adelia had changed from the dress she had worn for the trip and was now clad in her more customary attire of jeans and cotton shirt, with her auburn curls pulled up and covered by a faded blue hat. She had convinced her uncle that rest was not what she needed, and that seeing the horses was what she wanted above all else. With her face glowing and eyes pleading, Paddy would have found it impossible to deny her anything.
Approaching the stables, they spotted a small groupgathered around a chestnut Thoroughbred. The raised voices reached uncle and niece before their presence was noted.
“And what might be the problem here?” Paddy demanded.
“Paddy, glad you’re back,” a tall, husky man greeted him with obvious relief. “Majesty just had one of his spells. Gave Tom a bad kick.”
Paddy transferred his attention to a small, spare young man seated on the ground, nursing his thigh and muttering.
“How bad is it, lad? Did you break anything?”
“Naw, nothing broke.” Disgust was more evident than pain in both voice and face. “But I don’t guess I’ll be riding for a couple of days.” Looking over at the dark chestnut, he shook his head with a mixture of resentment and reluctant amusement. “That horse may be the fastest thing on four legs, but he’s meaner than a stomped-on cat.”
“His eyes aren’t mean,” Adelia commented, and several pairs of eyes focused on her for the first time.
“This is Adelia, my niece. Dee, this is Hank Manners, assistant trainer. Tom Buckly, on the ground there, is an exercise boy, and George Johnson and Stan Beall, grooms.” After introductions had been completed, Adelia quickly turned her attention back to the horse.
“They don’t understand you, do they? Ah, but you’re a fine fellow.”
