Furmidable Foes

10

November 28, 1787

Wednesday

Tidbit, a light chestnut mare, nickered when Ralston entered the stable. He adjusted her blanket, rubbed her ears, and put out fresh hay for her, as he did for the other six mares in the eight-stall stable. The one empty stall gave a tiny bit of relief. Caring for horses in the cold took longer. One’s hands froze; buckets of water spilled on one’s legs and shoes. Ralston stuffed his gloves in his pocket. He preferred mares. For whatever reason, they seemed to like him.

Ard came into the stable, the packed earth crunching underfoot. “Good?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hands jammed in his pockets. “Why don’t you sleep in the stable tonight? I’ll have one of the boys bring wood and start the stove. It’s better sleeping in here than the bunk room. Keep an eye on the girls.”

Ralston nodded. “Is. No one snores in here but the horses.”

Ard laughed. “Mr. Finney’s wrapped up in his guests from Baltimore. Ship captain and his wife. Quite a peach, I’d say. A pretty girl lightens your heart. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my missus. A good woman. But I do like to look at the young pretty ones.”

“Yes, sir.” Ralston smiled. “Anything special you’d like me to do with the mares?”

“No. They’re in for the night. Going to be a cold one. They’ll be happy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Finney says Baltimore is growing. The port brings in goods, people. I suspect he’s thinking about investing in a ship or cargo.” He shook his head. “Not me. Worst time of my life coming over the water. I’ll never go back.” His face softened. “I’ll never see my mother. If she could see me now.” He smiled. “Royal Oak is grand.”

“It is. Mr. Finney built a beautiful place. The stables have everything.”

“That they do.” Ard walked down the aisle and returned, opened the door to the tack room. “Personally I think every stable should have a man sleeping in a tack room or stall. I bring it up, but Mr. Finney says the boys like living together. Do you?”

“Ah.”

“Ralston, I’m not a snitch.”

“No, sir. I like being alone.”

“Is your mother still alive?”

He paused again. “Yes, sir, but we never got along. I’m happier on my own.”

“Yes.” Ard liked the young man, curious about him for he was so closemouthed. “You and William are like chalk and cheese.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you travel with him?” Ard knew better than to say “run away,” but that was obvious.

“Well, he promised all manner of things.” Ralston took a breath. “Most of which was bull, but not finding Royal Oak”—a long pause—“a good thing. Good horses.”

“I like you, Ralston. You’re a good hand with a horse, a good rider, and you keep your mouth shut. William talks against you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No one much listens. I’ll give him credit—he has courage on a horse. But he beats the hell out of his woman. She’s a sweet thing.”

Ralston felt his face burn. “Mr. Elgin, no man should hit a woman.”

“Oh, I agree. But as my sainted father used to say, ‘A woman can pluck your last nerve.’ Carried away by coughing, he was. Well, I’ll get the wood over.”

Ard started for the door, which he had closed against the cold, wet wind. “Ralston”—he stopped—“I’ve seen you look at Sulli and I’ve seen her look at you. Watch your back, boy, watch your back.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Ard lifted his hand, then opened the door, closing it quickly.

Ralston checked each stall, his face still burning.

Two hours later, the night clear, the stars cold like brilliant chunks of ice, Ralston mended a pair of broken reins sitting by the potbellied stove. He heard the outer doors open and close. He didn’t move.

A light knock on the tack-room door, then Sulli’s voice. “Ralston.”

He put down the reins, vaulted to the door, opening it. “How’d you get away?”

“William’s drunk. The boys found or bought liquor somewhere. Passed out.”

Ralston wrapped his arms around her, kissing her. “I can’t live without you, baby.”

Sulli kissed him back. She had no answer but she felt the same way. They took off each other’s clothes, going to the firm straw pallet, covered with a thick blanket on the bottom and one on the top. With the stove crackling away, the room kept them warm as they kept each other warm.

Afterward, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I have to go back. He’ll wake up from his stupor eventually.”

“I know. Been drinking a lot?”

“When he can get it.”

“M-m-m.” Ralston sighed. “At least he hasn’t been beating you lately.”

“No. But he nags at me. I wish he hadn’t told Ard we were married. I can’t get away from him.”

He nodded, stroking her hair—she’d braided it tightly. He thought she looked like a queen. “Sulli, we’ll figure something out.”

“He’ll never let me go. He doesn’t love me. He uses me.”

“If he won’t let you go, then I’ll have to kill him. And if he lifts a hand to you again, I will kill him any way I can.”

“You can’t go killing people. Someone will tell, you know? We’re free now. Won’t be free for long if you commit a murder.”

“I’ll find a way.”