She landed as carefully but as quickly as she could. As expected, the horse took off like a shot and she had to grab his mane to keep from flying off his broad back. “Easy there,” she called, patting his neck when she caught her balance.
She looked behind her to see Stowe coming after them at a dead run. Still holding tightly, the black mane wrapped around her fingers, Sapphire faced forward again and gently used pressure with her legs to try to ease him back. “We have to slow down, boy, else poor Stowe will run his little legs off.”
To her surprise, the horse slowed to an easy canter. She was halfway back to the barn when she heard Red calling from behind. Using one leg, she guided the black horse back around and trotted up to Red. “I’m sorry,” she said, breathing hard. “I didn’t ask permission to ride. It was just that I saw him running loose and—”
At that moment she realized that Red and his companion had come to a halt in the field and they were just standing there, staring at her. She couldn’t tell if they were angry or shocked or both, but she knew she was not supposed to be on this horse. “Are you Caribbean Prince?” she whispered to the horse. “Something tells me you are, and I am in big trouble.”
“How the hell you get on him?” the other man asked.
“His name’s Cosco. Head trainer for Mr. Carrington,” Red explained, still staring at her.
Sapphire nodded. “Sir.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” Cosco was a man of average height, in his midthirties, his face lined by wind and sun, with sandy hair and a broad nose.
Sapphire patted the horse’s neck, and when he began to dance nervously and both men stepped back, she urged him around in a circle to give everyone a little space. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I saw he was loose and when I caught him, I thought I might as well ride him as walk him back.”
“New shit shoveler,” Red explained, beginning to grin. “Name’s Sam.”
“Do you know who this horse is?” Cosco scrunched up his wind-burned face. “This horse doesn’t let anyone just jump up and ride him, boy.”
She looked down at the man sheepishly. “You…want me to get down, sir?”
“Hell and shitfire, yes, I want you to get down. Do you know how much this horse is worth? A sight more than you are to your papa, that’s for sure.”
When Sapphire began to dismount, Red put up one hand. “Now wait a minute, Cosco. Use your head, here, eh?”
Sapphire stayed put.
“You were just sayin’ the other day,” the red-haired man continued, “that you didn’t know who was going to ride Mr. Prince here all winter, what with Jimmy laid up with those broken ribs and his hand.”
“This boy doesn’t know anything about riding this kind of horse,” Cosco argued, the nostrils of his huge nose flaring.
The black horse had stopped to nibble a patch of the last clover of the season with the new stable boy seated comfortably on his back.
“Don’t look to me like Mr. Prince knows that, eh?”
Blake stood in front of the fireplace in Manford’s study, listening to the crackle of the fire. He swirled his scotch around in a crystal glass, sipping it and savoring its peaty taste. It was only the second week of October but today Boston had seen its first flurries. Soon the snow would begin to fall in earnest and the long New England winter would begin.
Blake had been cold all day. Since he rose in the morning and saw the snow on the rail of his bedroom balcony, all he’d been able to think about was the fact that Sapphire might be out in this weather, cold, alone.
He told himself it wasn’t his fault. He’d offered her everything he had to give and she was the one who had walked away without even bothering to say goodbye.
“Blake?”
He glanced up and saw Manford standing there looking at him. “Where are you today?” his friend asked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“I’m sorry.” Blake turned away from the fireplace and its warmth. He didn’t deserve to be warm. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying that I’ve looked over everything you’ve given me. I’ve talked to your man in Pennsylvania and I think I’m in.”
“In?”
“The rock oil. I think I’m ready to invest.”
Blake perched on the arm of an upholstered chair. “Maybe you should think about this. There won’t be any drilling until spring.”
Manford took the chair across from Blake, drew close to the fire and scrutinized his friend. “You still believe this?”