Oh, Cherry Ripe

Bromley Grange was certainly an impressive estate. Its lands were extensive and its parks neatly groomed, but it was not the extent of its landscape that caught Cherry’s full interest. She pressed her face to the coach window and exclaimed as she surveyed paddock after paddock of horses … beautiful horses!

“Mr. Trekner! You never mentioned that Bromley Grange was a breeding farm. Why, look at those mares … stunning!”

“Yes, indeed. The estate brings in a handsome income from the animals.”

“Stud paddocks must be in the back …” Cherry mused out loud.

“That’s right. Like horses, do you?”

“Oh yes, and I hated having to leave mine with Polly … Miss Corbett, but I thought it best for the time being.” She knew anyone looking over her prime blood would know its cost and certainly not believe she had to work for a living. “Horses,” she added, “are a passion of mine.”

Cherry felt a twinge of shame that she had to keep up the pretense of her real identity, but she rationalized that she had no choice. She eyed Mr. Trekner fondly. They had enjoyed a lively conversation, and she had found him warm-hearted and fatherly and was totally comfortable with him, enough to ask, “How many studs do they put up here?”

“Knowing, aren’t you, Miss Parker? I am fairly certain there are a few, but only one that draws in the major fees, and that is French Connection.”

Cherry’s mouth dropped, and she exclaimed, “Never say so! Why he took more races last year than—”

“Quite so,” Mr. Trekner cut in, himself apparently a horseman. “Ah, that’s right, and Bold and Fancy is the other well-known stud.”

“Why, this is beyond everything famous!” Cherry clapped her hands. “Oh look … their stables are superb. May we stop for just a moment before we go up to the house?”

He was no doubt anxious to find the twins and introduce them to their new nanny but kindly sighed and said, “I can’t see how a short stop will do any harm, and it will be good to stretch my legs.” He took his cane and pounded at the driver’s wall, calling the man to halt the coach.

Cherry nimbly alighted from the carriage and watched as Mr. Trekner followed, but when they reached the entrance of the stables, she heard something that made her hurry ahead.

Rushing down the dimly lit corridor of the barn to the double-wide opening at the far end, she came to one of the stud paddocks, where a magnificent bay stallion with all the room he needed had still managed to ‘cast’ himself in a corner between gate and rail fence line of his paddock. Oh, you silly thing! You have all that room in which to lie down, and you still managed to find a way to get stuck so you can’t stand back up! And unlike some well-behaved horses I know, she mentally berated him, you aren’t dealing with it calmly at all. In fact, he was groaning and thrashing his legs and was in danger of hurting himself. He let out a kick in desperation and cut himself against the wood railing.

A groom attempting to get near enough to kick out the rail was speaking softly to the stallion. Two children were wringing their hands. Every time the groom attempted to get close enough to knock out the railing with a sledgehammer, flying hooves kept him from his effort.

Cherry didn’t speak as she turned and found the tack room, ran in, and grabbed two lunge lines.

Mouth agape, Mr. Trekner stood to one side as she sped past and went to the groom, saying, “Here, take this. Sling it round his front leg. I’ll get his rear, and we’ll get him over!”

“Aye, good girl!” the older groom agreed. “But we still may need to get this rail out of Frenchy’s way.”

“Right, but first we might be able to move him a bit, Mr. er …”

“Thomas, miss, no ‘mister’ needed.”

They worked as a team and managed, without getting kicked, to get the lines around first the front leg and then the rear. Cherry looked towards the two children and called them to her. “Come on, loves, get behind me and pull me as I pull.”

Grunting and moaning, the three pulled and in fact did manage to get him nearly over, but not quite as he was tired from his thrashing and collapsed back into his corner.

However, they had managed to move him sufficiently so Thomas was able to get close enough to remove the offending railings. This done, they attended Frenchy, who had managed to get on his back—rolling from side to side as he instinctively was aware of what he needed to get out of the trap he found himself in. With a winded groan, Frenchy finally rolled to one side and with a snort scrambled to stand. He blew out as he recouped his strength and regarded his rescuers.

Thomas shook his head and eyed Cherry. “Thankee, miss. That was well done.”

She smiled. “However did such a brute find himself cast in this large paddock?”

Thomas grinned. “See that mud in the corner? Frenchy likes to roll in mud, and Oi’m thinking that was what he did and cast himself.” He tipped his hat at her. “Oi’ll be looking at his legs now. Good thing ye were ’ere—all m’lads are out and about this morning.”

Cherry turned to the two children and touched their shoulders. “Well, and thank you. I didn’t have the weight to manage that without your help.”

They both blushed with pleasure, but this was short-lived as Mr. Trekner broke the spell of the moment with reality, saying, “Well, well, Felix, Francine. Come, we will all ride up to the house together. How nice that you are here to welcome your new governess.”

Cherry felt her heart sink when she witnessed their wide smiles simply vanish. She could have kicked Mr. Trekner in that moment. She had been nearly certain the two children were her future charges, and she wished that introduction had come only after she had been able to converse with them a few moments. However, there was nothing for it … the moment of truth had come.

Well, some truth.