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Authors: Dorothy Love
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her slice of pie and drained her glass. “And often mothers put off sending for the doctor for themselves. By the time Dr. Spencer sees them, they’ve gotten worse. We need a place where they can come and stay for treatment if necessary. I can handle the routine things, and Doc will have time for the more serious cases.” She stood. “Come on. Ready to ride?”
They left their dishes in the kitchen, changed clothes in Gillie’s room, and headed to the barn. Gillie lifted the bar on the door and they went inside. A sleek brown mare, her soft eyes fringed with thick lashes, bobbed her head and snuffled as they passed. Sophie breathed in the familiar smells of horses, hay, and liniment andpaused to rest her cheek against the horse’s muzzle, missing home and everything in it. Why had she insisted on coming back here, so far from everyone who loved her?
Well, it was too late now. She wasn’t one to give up easily. She wouldn’t go home until she’d accomplished what she set out to do.
“Look around if you wish,” Gillie said. “I’ll have Old Peter tack up a couple of mounts, and that will take awhile. He’s ancient, but he loves it here, and Papa hasn’t the heart to retire him.” She disappeared into the dimness of the long barn.
Sophie stayed put and spoke quietly to the mare, running her hands over the animal’s sleek, warm sides. The discomfort of Mrs. Gilman’s cool reception vanished, replaced with the sense of peace that being around horses always brought her.
“Well, look who’s here. Our newspaperwoman.”
Sophie spun around, one hand over her heart. “Mr. Heyward. You startled me.”
In a few long strides he covered the distance between them. “And you startled me, Miss Caldwell, with your editorial in the Gazette .”
“Oh, that.” She patted the horse. “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you, but it’s my job to report the facts. And to remark upon them when I feel it’s warranted.”
“Thus giving readers the benefit of your vast experience.” His voice was deadly serious, but a glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
Was he making fun of her? She plucked a currycomb from the stall shelf and began grooming the horse. She hadn’t meant to sound so didactic, but heavenly days, what did Mr. Heyward think she was supposed to do? Ignore the circumstances at the resort just to keep his good opinion?
He held out his hand, allowing the horse to sniff. “Of course, I can’t tell you what to write, but your comments left the wrongimpression. I’m not hiding anything up at Blue Smoke, and I didn’t much care for the insinuation.”
“I understand a couple of men died in fights up there. I’m only trying to prevent more bloodshed.”
“Who told you that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? What happened to your high-and-mighty journalistic standards? Or are you now in the dirt with those sensationalist hacks who make up their so-called facts?”
She returned the currycomb to the shelf. “I did not make it up. One of your men told me about it the night I rode up there with Sheriff McCracken. The man did not tell me his name.” She glared at him. “Apparently he’s too afraid to speak out. He did tell me that fights are common among the workers. It seems to me like a dangerous situation.”
He fixed her with a steady gaze. “I don’t like it either, but human nature is what it is. So long as the coloreds and the Irish hate each other and they both hate the Chinese, there will be disagreements. I’m trying to keep the lid on things until Blue Smoke is finished. Editorials like yours don’t help matters.”
She waited, one hand resting on the mare’s side.
Mr. Heyward propped one booted foot on the bottom rail of the stall door. “Besides, the situation is temporary. Another couple of months and most of them can go home. Problem solved.”
“A lot can happen in the meantime.”
The mare blew out and danced sideways in her stall, and he soothed her with a
They left their dishes in the kitchen, changed clothes in Gillie’s room, and headed to the barn. Gillie lifted the bar on the door and they went inside. A sleek brown mare, her soft eyes fringed with thick lashes, bobbed her head and snuffled as they passed. Sophie breathed in the familiar smells of horses, hay, and liniment andpaused to rest her cheek against the horse’s muzzle, missing home and everything in it. Why had she insisted on coming back here, so far from everyone who loved her?
Well, it was too late now. She wasn’t one to give up easily. She wouldn’t go home until she’d accomplished what she set out to do.
“Look around if you wish,” Gillie said. “I’ll have Old Peter tack up a couple of mounts, and that will take awhile. He’s ancient, but he loves it here, and Papa hasn’t the heart to retire him.” She disappeared into the dimness of the long barn.
Sophie stayed put and spoke quietly to the mare, running her hands over the animal’s sleek, warm sides. The discomfort of Mrs. Gilman’s cool reception vanished, replaced with the sense of peace that being around horses always brought her.
“Well, look who’s here. Our newspaperwoman.”
Sophie spun around, one hand over her heart. “Mr. Heyward. You startled me.”
In a few long strides he covered the distance between them. “And you startled me, Miss Caldwell, with your editorial in the Gazette .”
“Oh, that.” She patted the horse. “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you, but it’s my job to report the facts. And to remark upon them when I feel it’s warranted.”
“Thus giving readers the benefit of your vast experience.” His voice was deadly serious, but a glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
Was he making fun of her? She plucked a currycomb from the stall shelf and began grooming the horse. She hadn’t meant to sound so didactic, but heavenly days, what did Mr. Heyward think she was supposed to do? Ignore the circumstances at the resort just to keep his good opinion?
He held out his hand, allowing the horse to sniff. “Of course, I can’t tell you what to write, but your comments left the wrongimpression. I’m not hiding anything up at Blue Smoke, and I didn’t much care for the insinuation.”
“I understand a couple of men died in fights up there. I’m only trying to prevent more bloodshed.”
“Who told you that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? What happened to your high-and-mighty journalistic standards? Or are you now in the dirt with those sensationalist hacks who make up their so-called facts?”
She returned the currycomb to the shelf. “I did not make it up. One of your men told me about it the night I rode up there with Sheriff McCracken. The man did not tell me his name.” She glared at him. “Apparently he’s too afraid to speak out. He did tell me that fights are common among the workers. It seems to me like a dangerous situation.”
He fixed her with a steady gaze. “I don’t like it either, but human nature is what it is. So long as the coloreds and the Irish hate each other and they both hate the Chinese, there will be disagreements. I’m trying to keep the lid on things until Blue Smoke is finished. Editorials like yours don’t help matters.”
She waited, one hand resting on the mare’s side.
Mr. Heyward propped one booted foot on the bottom rail of the stall door. “Besides, the situation is temporary. Another couple of months and most of them can go home. Problem solved.”
“A lot can happen in the meantime.”
The mare blew out and danced sideways in her stall, and he soothed her with a
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