A Little Bit of Charm (21 page)

“Peggy and Connie are coming over to help organize the annual benefit rodeo. They plan to bring lunch, so I just need to make the house presentable before they arrive.”

“Did you get any commitments from the pros?”

“Yes. Once word spread that we're raising money for juvenile diabetes this year, I had several professional riders willing to come to Charm to put on a show. That disease has touched so many lives. Two riders promised to drag their friends too. Advance ticket sales have been brisk, much to our pleasant surprise.”

“At thirty dollars a head?”

“Yep. With the rodeo and a full western buffet, I know we'll sell out. Kids are only ten bucks.”

“What's on the menu?”

“You name it—pulled pork, barbecue beef and chicken, burgers, baked beans, coleslaw, corn on the cob, a variety of salads, corn bread, and tons of desserts. A couple people asked if there would be a beer tent, but I said no. Goodness, this is a charity for kids. Folks can stick to lemonade and iced tea for one afternoon.”

“Whew, I hope Johnny Depp doesn't hear about the gourmet vittles. I won't stand a chance. You should have been a saleswoman.”

“Don't find me any more jobs.” Her brow lifted into a perfect arch.

“Who will cook all this food? Surely not the three of you.”

“Bite your tongue. Connie commandeered local celebrity chefs from Somerset, Danville, Bowling Green, and here in Charm.”

“
Celebrities?
” Ken fought back laughter.

“In their own restaurants they are. Regardless, these chefs are contributing their time and quite a bit of food. Peggy found a local ranch willing to donate beef and pork, and the Stolls have offered some chickens. The buffet is coming together. The girls and I will work out minor details today. By the way, Jake invited his blind riding students, free of charge.”

“I hate to state the obvious, but these kids won't be able to see the performances.”

“They can listen to the MC announcing events and share in the excitement. And you don't need vision to chow down on good barbecue. Now tell me what's troubling you, Ken. I could pack those bags under your eyes for a month-long trip.”

“Would you have sweet-talked Johnny like this?” Ken wiped up the syrup with his last pancake. “Alan Hitchcock, our newest
employee
, started work the other day.”

“The high-priced trainer from Lexington?”

“Yes, and he's got nothing but good things to say about the colt. He shares Jake's opinion that with the right program Eager to Please could be a serious contender.”

“But?” She sipped coffee without taking her eyes off him.

“But the colt was the only thing Hitchcock liked. He demanded changes to his diet and a larger stall, and he practically fired two of our grooms. But they seem willing to adjust because jobs are hard to come by in Casey County.”

“What's the problem?” she asked. “You knew he would make changes. His expertise is the reason we hired him.”

“You're right, but Alan said he plans to take Eager to Please on a grand tour of racetracks as a juvenile. The colt needs to enter certain races as a two-year-old to be assured a slot in the Derby. These tracks are scattered all over the country. He intends to travel with an entourage of assistants, grooms, exercise boys, and a secretary, along with Jake. Hitchcock has a handpicked cadre for these positions—people he trusts to do things his way.” Ken glanced up, but his wife's face remained expressionless. “Taylor, we're talking hotel bills, restaurant meals, fuel costs or airline flights, besides salaries for the next year and a half.”

“And if we refuse to let him take this show on the road? Why can't he train our colt in Charm and schedule track time at the county fairgrounds?”

“According to Hitchcock, setting up mock races won't work. The horse needs to develop a competitive drive, and only well-matched horses will accomplish that. For now Alan will train him here, but he wants to take him to Florida this winter where they hold yearling races. Otherwise, he said Eager won't stand a chance.”

Every drop of color drained from his wife's face. If she hadn't been seated she might have fainted. “This sounds like we took the lid off a box of snakes. Expenses keep spiraling out of control while the whole mess grows more complicated each day. Does this trainer realize we're not made of money?” Her voice sounded shrill, a rare occurrence for a normally serene woman.

“He does. We told him that more than once, but he doesn't care. He insists this is the only course of action.”

Taylor reached for his hand. “What are you going to do, Ken?”

He gazed into her pretty brown eyes, eyes that had captured his attention and then his heart at the University of Kentucky. “I prayed about this last night for a long time, but when I woke this morning, I received no great intuition, no answer other than to stay the course we're on.”

“How can we? Did some long-lost uncle die and leave you a million bucks?”

Sarcasm wasn't his wife's style. Ken peered at her. “Not that I know of, but I plan to take out that jumbo loan with the balloon payment. As Jake explained, we could refinance it at the end as long as our stable books show an increase in profits. Will you sign the contract with me? I can't…I won't…do it without your support.”

Time suspended in their warm cozy kitchen. From the living room came the drone from the TV. Outside they heard the sound of a chainsaw as someone attacked the firewood pile. Luke, one of Jessie's house cats, rubbed against Ken's leg, purring like a lawnmower. Ken reached down to pet his soft fur while he waited for his wife's answer.

Taylor exhaled. “You know I'm nervous about carrying so much debt, but I refuse to argue against your plan without a concrete alternative. I'll sign the papers with you. I did pledge ‘for richer or for poorer.' We just might be put to the test.” She walked to the sink to wash breakfast dishes without her customary kiss atop his head or pat on his shoulder.

Ken would have to content himself that they were united in their decision…no matter what the outcome.

Rachel passed out brochures to the Danville Garden Club with a bright smile. The ladies had made the trip to Twelve Elms their end-of-season celebration. They had been an enthusiastic group
and were now heading to Bread of Life for lunch. “Come back and see us again,” she called.

“Oh, we will,” chimed several well-dressed women.

“Maybe we'll take the mounted tour next year,” added a pretty redhead, to the great amusement of the others.

“It's available every Saturday nine months of the year. Be sure to sign up for our newsletter and check out our website. It's updated regularly by Jake Brady.”

Jake
. She thought about that
Englischer
more often than she pondered Reuben Mullet or John Swartz. Reuben had greeted her warmly last Sunday after church. Apparently, he'd forgiven her for falling asleep. He chatted amiably about news in the Mullet family and recent events around their dairy farm. After a good night's sleep, Rachel had no difficulty following the conversation and interjecting appropriate replies.

No difficulty…but also no interest.

Reuben was a nice-looking young man. He had many fine qualities, but he was as appealing to her as mud.

John's persistence last Saturday had continued until she closed the back door in his face. She'd said
gut nacht
not less than three times. He had chatted during the walk home and asked endless questions about her home, her hobbies, her job—everything other than plans for the rest of her life. She liked him, but he reminded her of the aggressive puppy in a litter—the one who barked and pranced on his back paws:
Pick me, pick me, pick me!

After tying Buster and Bess to a round hay stanchion, Rachel filled their water trough with the hose. She had bonded with these draft horses during the past weeks as though they had spent years together. Thanks to a steady supply of apples, the Belgians responded to her commands with smooth efficiency.

“Rachel, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jake appeared suddenly over her right shoulder.

She almost jumped out of her leather boots. “Sure, I'm finished
here.” She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a clean rag from her pocket.

“According to the schedule, you don't have another tour until late this afternoon.” Sunlight shrank his pupils into small pin dots within a sea of blue.

“That's right. I planned to help the grooms or exercise boys until then. I love taking a few warm-up or cool-down laps around the track.”

He laughed. “We never worry about you napping in the hayloft while on the clock. But if you'd like, I could use help with today's therapy ride.”

“With the blind children? I would love to!”

Jake didn't hide his pleasure. “This is a special day for the kids. Only six are coming—the most proficient of the group. We're taking them on a trail ride to the lake. Each child will be assigned his or her own chaperone who will keep a lead rope on their horse and maintain constant supervision. But the children will hold the reins and control their mount with their thighs. We'll saddle the best-trained, gentlest horses Twelve Elms owns, but it's still quite a responsibility. Keeley, Mrs. Ingraham, and some parents will also be guides. Three dads had originally volunteered to come with us.”

“But someone couldn't come?” Rachel sounded thrilled. She hoped the absent parent wasn't deathly ill or hadn't suffered an accident.

Jake stifled a cough. “That's right. One father was called out of town for business. The mom will pick the child up after work. Can I count on you?”

“Absolutely, Jake. I love trail rides. I'll saddle Calamity Jane and grab my lunch bag.”

“No need. We're taking a pack mule to carry lunch and drinks for everyone.” He began walking toward the barn. “And anticipating your response, I already had Jane saddled.”

For some reason, Rachel blushed as though saddling a horse was somehow flirting with her. “In that case, I'm ready to ride.”

When they reached the indoor arena, the two parents and Mrs. Ingraham were already tightening helmet straps, adjusting stirrups, and checking saddles and tack. “Which child will be assigned to me?” Rachel scanned the six enthusiastic young faces.

“Bethany Morris, so be prepared to have your ear talked off.”

“I'm not worried. I have two of them.” She hurried to the little girl, who stood next to the teacher. “Hi, Bethany. My name is Rachel.” She touched the child's arm lightly. “We're riding together today.”

Indeed, Bethany chattered like a magpie, but Rachel didn't mind. She was every bit as excited. Although the children couldn't see the bright fall foliage or the rolling harvested hills, they could smell the last crop of fresh-mown timothy hay, feel the warm sun on their skin, and hear the buzz of insects in their last-minute frenzy. Three stable workers had ridden along to tend the twelve horses while chaperones assisted their charges.

Jake raised a hand to halt the group beside a clear, deep pond. The smooth surface reflected the sun like a mirror, dazzling the eyes of the sighted. “We'll stop here for lunch,” he called.

“Where are we?” asked Bethany.

“By a small lake with a gravel shoreline,” said Rachel. “There's a long fishing dock and a grove of picnic tables in the shade.”

“Tell me everything you see. Leave nothing out.”

Rachel described the vista in every direction. Bethany asked questions about any description unfamiliar to her, while her expression grew more and more delighted.

“Rachel, Bethany, over here.” Keeley hailed them to her table. Once everyone had sat down, Keeley explained the position of each person so the children knew who they were eating with. Mrs. Ingraham and Jake distributed sandwiches, chips, fruit, and drink
boxes while the two moms cleaned every pair of hands with Wet Ones. While the children chattered a mile a minute, Rachel kept an ear on their stories and an eye on Jake.

He passed out lunch to the grooms, pointed out something on a farm map to the teacher, and checked on each child. He flitted between his guests like a bee, making sure everyone received the attention they needed.