Page 58 of Irish Rebel
“Look at this.” Brian walked up to the fence, leaned on it. “You’ve done all the work already.”
“You’ve caught me on a good day.” Keeley checked the cinch, stepped back. She knew his stirrup length now, and his favored bit and bridle. “I had no idea how much time I’d free up by having Ma help out on a regular basis.”
“And what do you intend to do with it?”
“Enjoy it.” When he opened the gate she led both horses through. “I’ve been so focused on the work the last couple of years, I haven’t stepped back often enough to appreciate the results.” She handed him the reins. “I like results.”
“Then maybe you’ll use some of that free time to come by the track.” He vaulted into the saddle once she was mounted. “I’m looking for results there. I have Betty entered in a baby race tomorrow.”
“Her maiden race? I wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“Charles Town. Two o’clock.”
“I’ll ask my mother to take my afternoon class. I’ll be there.”
They kept it to a walk, skirting the paddock and heading toward the rise of land swept with trees gone brilliant in the softening slants of sunlight. Overhead a flock of Canada geese arrowed across the evening sky sending out their deep calls.
“Twice daily,” Brian said, watching the flight. “Off they go on their travels, honking away, dawn and dusk.”
“I’ve always liked the sound of them. I guess it’s something else that says home this time of year.” She kept her eyes on the sky until the last call echoed away.
“Uncle Paddy phoned today.”
“And how’s he doing?”
“More than well. He’d bought himself a pair of young mares. He’s decided to try his hand at some breeding.”
“Once a horseman,” Brian said. “I didn’t figure he could keep out of the game.”
“You’d miss it, wouldn’t you? The smell and the sound of them. Have you ever thought of starting your own place, your own line?”
“No, that’s not for me. I’m happy making another man’s horses. Once you own, it’s a business, isn’t it? An enterprise. I’ve no yearning to be a businessman.”
“Some own for the love of it,” Keeley pointed out. “And even the business doesn’t shadow the feelings.”
“In the rare case.” Brian looked over, scanning the outbuildings. Yes, this was a place, he thought, built on feelings. “Your father’s one, and I knew another once in Cork. But ownership can get in the blood as well, until you lose touch with that feeling. Before you know it, it’s all facts and figures and a thirst for profit. That sounds like bars to me.”
Interesting, she thought. “Making a living is a prison?”
“The need to make one, and still a better one, first and foremost. That’s a trap. My father found his leg caught there.”
“Really?” He so rarely mentioned his family. “What does he do?”
“He’s a bank clerk. Day after day sitting in a little cage counting other people’s money. What a life.”
“Well, it’s not the life for you.”
“Thank God for that. These lads want a bit of a run,” he said and kicked Honey into a gallop.
Keeley hissed in frustration but clicked her mount to match pace. They’d come back to it, she promised herself. She hadn’t learned nearly enough about where the man she intended to marry came from.
They rode for an hour before heading back to stable the horses and settle in the rest of her stock for the night. He was half hoping she’d ask him over to the house for dinner again, but she turned to him as they left the stables, lifted a brow.
“Why don’t you ask me up for a drink?”
“A drink? There’s not much of a variety, but you’re welcome.”
“It’s nice to be asked occasionally.” Before he could tuck his hand safely in his pocket, she took it, threaded their fingers together. “You have free time now and again yourself,” she said easily. “I wonder if you’ve heard of the concept of dates. Dinner, movies, drives?”
