and Annis ate in the kitchen with Mrs. King. She and her father had never spent a great deal of time together. Now they spent none.
Annis didn’t know what she had done to lose her father’s love. She wanted to ask Mrs. King, who watched over her with such affection, but she didn’t know how. The change wounded and bewildered her. She fell into the habit of avoiding her father, trying to escape her confused feelings. She turned instead to Sally, letting the pony fill the empty spaces of her child’s heart.
Annis poured herself into learning everything she could about riding and horses. She and Sally, with Robbie and Tater beside them, explored the meadows and paths of Central Park until they knew each tree and every shrub, where the ducks swam and where the rabbits hid. Annis spent every moment she could in the stables. She tagged after Robbie as he worked in the tack room or the hayloft. She pestered him with questions, demanding to know everything he did about how to care for horses.
She was thirteen when Bits arrived, a leggy Thoroughbred foal accepted as payment for a debt owed to her father. Annis claimed him immediately for herself. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and she loved him even more than she loved Sally, though she was careful not to let Sally see that.
There was only one person who could separate her from Black Satin, and at this moment he was glaring at her without putting down his pen.
She folded her arms tightly around herself, struggling for the right argument. “Why, Papa? Why do I have to get married?”
“Don’t be foolish, Annis. What else are you going to do with your life?”
“What else? I’m going to breed horses!” she said. “I’ve told you!”
“Haven’t you outgrown that notion yet? Women can’t breed horses.”
“Why not?”
“No one would buy horses from a woman!”
“They will when they see how marvelous mine are, Papa!”
“Foolishness. The whole idea is a waste of time and money.”
“That’s not true! The horse markets are doing a thriving business.”
He snorted a laugh. “Horse markets! What do you know about horse markets, Annis?”
She thrust out her chin. “I know there were a hundred thousand horses sold in New York last year. Heavy horses, light horses, mules. I know the revenues were more than fifteen million. I know the market on Third, nearest Twenty-Fourth Street, specializes in horses bred for riding.”
George lifted his eyebrows with something like respect. “You’ve done some research.”
“Of course I have,” Annis said. Encouraged by this slight advantage, she burbled on, “I expect I would need someone to make transactions for me at the Bull’s Head, because some men won’t care to negotiate with a female. Most of my sales would be private in any case, but I mean to make this a business. I will breed the finest riding horses and be famous for it.”
The eyebrows fell, and the look of impatience returned to her father’s face. “No. Much too indelicate a business for a girl. A well-brought-up young lady shouldn’t have anything to do with—with such activities.” He leaned back a little and tried a half-hearted smile of persuasion. “You should be thrilled by Frances’s plan, Annis! You could be a titled lady. You won’t have to do a jot of work your whole life!”
“Not a jot of work?” She bit the words out, her temper frayed to a thread. “You mean, except breed?”
George’s temper broke completely. He slammed down his pen, spraying drops of ink across his desk blotter, and his face purpled. “How dare you speak to me in that disgusting manner!”
She was her father’s daughter. She didn’t flinch. “Disgusting? Why? Do you think I don’t know how babies are created? Don’t you think I should know?”
“You’re too young to understand that sort of thing!” he roared.
“Don’t be absurd, Papa. Everyone knows that sort of thing.”
She thought it made a good argument, though it wasn’t exactly true. The girls at Brearley tried to guess sometimes, wondering how it was between men and women, but they mostly got it wrong. More than one of her school friends had been convinced kissing caused pregnancy.
Annis, however, understood the biology perfectly well. She knew because she insisted on being present in the stable when Bits serviced a mare.
Her father’s voice rose further. “I’m appalled, Annis! That’s—
it’s—unladylike!”
With a curl of her lip, she quoted her morning’s acquaintance. “Being ladylike is tedious.”
“Tedious!” Her father gripped the edge of his desk with unnecessary