The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,28

didn't ride for a long time. I was busy taking care of him."

"Did he die?" Richard asked bluntly, curious in spite of himself.

"Yes, he did. I felt awfully bad at the time. I suppose you remember how you felt when your own parents died?"

"I didn't feel anything," the boy snapped, hostility written all over his face.

"I know what you mean," Cara purposely misunderstood. "I was numb at first too, but then I felt terrible. So I let a little more time go by when I didn't ride." She paused hoping she would see some encouragement from Richard but his eyes were downcast, staring at the toe of his boot. "At any rate I waited so long that now I'm afraid to ride again."

Cara held her breath as Richard's head snapped back, eyes wide, but before she could continue, all emotion was wiped from his face and he stared at her with expressionless eyes. Cara's heart sank, wondering if the plan she had worked out would founder stillborn. Sighing in sheer frustration, she plunged ahead.

"I talked to Glum, as he seems to know pretty much all you need to know about horses, and he said if I got used to being around horses again then I probably wouldn't be afraid anymore."

It seemed that the tension building inside the boy was becoming unbearable. He was shifting from foot to foot as Cara talked and now he waved his hands as though to push away her flow of words.

"What's the secret?" Richard snapped rudely.

"This." Cara opened the door of the stall so that Richard could see inside.

Standing amid the straw was a wobbly foal that backed up into the corner, staring at them with enormous brown eyes. His coat was still the downy fuzz of a newborn although he had been weaned. He was reddish-brown with four white stockings and a white blaze just above his right eye. Richard, who had been stiff with fear when Cara opened the box, sagged against the door at the sight of the trembling animal.

"He doesn't look so very fierce," Cara crooned holding out a tentative hand to touch the velvety nose. "Come on, you little beauty. I won't hurt you."

Cara entered the box cautiously, clucking and crooning to the shaking colt. His coat was satiny under her caressing hands and she could feel the jump of nervous muscles. Ignoring Richard, Cara murmured to the colt and was delighted to feel him steady under her fingers.

"What's his name, Miss Farraday?" Richard stood in the doorway, a longing to touch the animal etched plainly on his face.

"Glum says he hasn't got one. He said if I could think of a good one, that's what they would call him."

"It ought to be a real smasher," Richard whispered. "I think he's going to be a very special horse."

"I do too," Cara agreed. "Now you see my secret. If you could come over with me to the stables in the morning, no one would think that I was neglecting my duties."

"I see," said Richard, eyes lighting with appreciation of the plan. Then as though he were still reluctant, "I guess I could do that."

Cara spent a delightful hour grooming the colt as Richard lounged in the doorway. His eyes never left Cara, following every move she made. She never asked if he would like to help or to touch the animal but she noted the longing in his eyes.

"Well, I think that should do it for today. Do you know, Richard, my hands aren't shaking anymore." She held them out for his inspection then exclaimed at the amount of dirt on her hands and arms. "Could you close up the box while I locate some water?"

She walked down the line of stables to the trough. Unbuttoning the collar of her dress, she fanned her sweaty face with her handkerchief. Dipping it in the cold water she ran it around her neck and then, redampening it, washed her face. She made her ablutions slowly, pretending not to notice that it took Richard a long time to join her. As they left the stables, Cara waved gaily to Glum who was on the far side of the yard.

"It seems, Miss Farraday, I am forever finding you in the most unlikely of places."

Cara's head spun around at Lord Wilton's amused drawl. Under his piercing scrutiny Cara was aware of her appearance. An hour of physical labor in the close confines of the stable had done little to enhance her morning toilette. Perspiration seeped out