Mary saw her father coming down the footpath from the house. Before she could say anything, Patrick intercepted him and then turned to face her as she stood with the black mare.
“Let me just get the saddle on him. We can take a walk around the pasture,” Patrick called, and went inside the barn.
Mary’s heart was racing. She climbed into the saddle. She could escape on Ebony before Patrick could even get the bay colt out of his stall. She wheeled Ebony around and then stopped her. There was that strange feeling again, the feeling of wanting to be around Patrick.
Stop it
, she told herself.
Get out of here while you have the chance
. Still, she hesitated.
“Mary?” a voice beside her asked. Startled, she flinched in the saddle. Her father stood beside her horse, looking up at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I just, well, you know.”
“Patrick’s all excited ‘bout wanting to ride around the pasture. I told him that’d be fine. The colt’s not ready to ride outside the fence, but inside he’d be safe. You feel like you could do that? Jus’ once around, to have another horse with some sense next to the colt?” her father asked. “You’re all ready to go with Ebby. It’d save me the trouble of saddlin’ up another one or walking with him myself.”
Mary’s hands were shaking. “He makes me nervous,” she said, looking toward the barn.
Mr. Hayes rested a hand against the mare’s neck. “Aw, Patrick’s a nice fella, an’ it’d jus’ be once around. Then you can take off like you usually do.”
Mr. Hayes knew well what happened to Mary when she was around a stranger. She had never grown out of her childhood shyness; instead, it had become worse, especially after what Mary had gone through during high school. Still, he did what he could to encourage her to interact with people. He did his best to understand the paralyzing fear and anxiety that gripped Mary in the presence of strangers and hoped that somehow, with his encouragement, she might become more outgoing.
Mary sat astride Ebony and didn’t say anything. Mr. Hayes took her silence as acquiescence and went to see if Patrick needed help saddling the bay.
When they emerged from the barn, Mr. Hayes was leading the colt with Patrick in the saddle. He passed the reins to Patrick over the horse’s head and held open the pasture gate as Mary and Patrick rode through it.
“Remember, Patrick, jus’ once around. Try to work on his gaits and keep him with Mary’s horse—she’s a sensible mare,” he called after them. Then Patrick and Mary were alone, headed out into the vast green pasture.
The blood-bay colt was eager for exercise. He tossed his head, chomping on the bit. Then he tried to break into a trot and bolted sideways. Patrick moved in the saddle with him but had his hands full for a few moments. The bay colt arched his neck and pranced under the tight rein, but Patrick was finally successful in restraining him. Mary and Ebony walked just ahead of them, seemingly oblivious to the battle being waged. The black mare stepped lightly with her ears pricked forward.
“He’s full of himself this morning,” Patrick said, as he and the colt drew alongside Ebony. “He should settle down in a bit, though. Your mare sure has manners. What’s her name?”
Mary glanced quickly at Patrick to her left, and felt the panicky feeling start to well up inside her. “Ebony,” she replied. She felt Patrick looking at her and focused on watching the fence posts pass on her right. It took so long to go from one to the next.
“Suits her,” Patrick said. The bay colt suddenly half-reared, but Patrick managed to stay in the saddle. He turned the colt in a tight circle and came up beside her again. “You think we could trot a little?” he asked. “It might help get some of this friskiness out of his system.”
“Sure,” Mary said, and lightly touched her heels to Ebony’s sides. The mare immediately broke into a smooth trot, leaving Patrick and the bay colt behind her. She didn’t notice that Patrick held the colt back a moment longer to watch her firm backside posting up and down in the saddle in perfect rhythm to Ebony’s movements.
It was as if she were another part of the mare
, Patrick thought to himself. Mary didn’t talk much, but she was great on a horse. Still, he had to find some way to get her to open up. Even with looks like hers, it would not do to have a woman who said only one word at a time. Patrick loosened the reins just a little, and the bay colt surged forward until they were once again even with Mary and the black mare.
“You sure can ride,” Patrick said to her. “Your father taught you?”
“Mostly,” Mary answered. She stole another look at him. “But I’ve practiced for years.”
Patrick was encouraged. That was the most she’d said to him yet.
“How old’s your mare?” he asked.
“Twelve,” Mary answered. “She was born here, when I was seven, and I raised her.” Mary patted Ebony’s neck. For a moment, she forgot about watching the fence posts.
Patrick did the math in his head.
So she’s nineteen
, he thought.
Perfect
.
“I’ve been riding almost five years,” he told her. “Started just before I went to college at a few local stables. They have some pretty nice equestrian facilities in Cambridge. Riding is quite popular. I’m not good enough to compete, not like you, or some of the others up there who’ve been riding all their lives. But now that I’m home, I miss being able to take a horse out and forget about real life for a while. Pop’s setting up a stable for me just outside Rutland.”
“I go riding for that same reason,” Mary said.
Maybe Papa was right about Patrick
, Mary thought. She felt her abdominal muscles begin to relax. They were coming around the far corner of the pasture. “You said that you were home now?” she asked, surprised to hear the words spill out of her mouth.
“Yes. I’m going to help at the Marbleworks, with my father and grandfather. McAllister Marbleworks, in Rutland. You’ve heard of it?”
“Oh, yes,” Mary said. She hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about.
“Grandpop is technically in charge, but my father pretty much runs the whole thing. Pop’s done a lot to expand it. Now we have representatives who travel all over the world marketing our products. He also put up two new buildings to help meet the demand. One’s for cutting marble into tile for floors and things, and the other’s for carving statues and figurines.”
“Oh,” Mary said, because she could think of nothing else to say. She hadn’t known that floors could be made of marble.
“Someday,” Patrick continued, “I’ll be in charge. My father expects me to take over the business once he retires. And, if I can find someone to settle down with, someday I’ll have a son of my own who could run it with me.”
Mary only nodded. His green eyes were piercing, demanding. She felt a familiar heat beginning to creep onto her face.
Mary’s bland response to his mentioning his prestigious future position bothered Patrick. He would try another subject.
“Has it always been just you and your father?” he asked. “I don’t mean to pry. I was just wondering.”
“Oh. Yes. I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me,” Mary said. “So it’s just been Papa and me. And the horses.”
“Well, Mill River’s a nice place to grow up,” Patrick said. “Nice and quiet, pretty countryside. Not too far from Proctor or Rutland. You’re really lucky to have had horses your whole life. Hey, let’s speed up a little. I don’t want to keep your father waiting much longer.” Besides, he was eager to show Mary that he, too, was an able horseman.
Patrick finally lessened his grip on the reins, letting the bay colt loose. The horse tore off toward the gate in the pasture fence and then veered back into the pasture. Patrick managed to stop him, but the bay colt reared up and pitched him onto the grass. Patrick cursed the ground as the colt flung his hind legs into the air and galloped away. He wished he had been carrying a riding crop, as he was in a mind to go give the colt a good lashing.
Even a swift kick to the belly would do
, he thought,
if no one had been watching him
.
Mary urged Ebony into a canter and rode quickly over to Patrick. “Are you hurt?” she asked. She saw her father running through the grass toward them.
“No, no, he just caught me a little unprepared,” Patrick said. “Your father was right. He is a handful.” Now
his
face was the color of a ripe tomato, Mary noticed.
“If you want to start back to the barn, I’ll get the colt for you,” she offered.
“Sure, thanks,” Patrick said, rubbing his hip.
Mary rode over to where the bay colt was grazing contentedly, pulled the reins over his head, and led him back to the barn. Patrick and her father were already there, laughing. Mary saw her father slap Patrick on the back good-naturedly as Patrick shook his head. When she reached them, she handed the reins of the colt to her father. Patrick stood beside him, looking disheveled and sore.
“I was jus’ tellin’ Patrick here that that was the finest show of horsemanship I’ve seen in a while,” her father said, smiling. “Don’ you think, Mary?” Still chuckling, he led the bay colt toward the training paddock.
“Yes,” she said. Patrick’s final moments aboard the bay colt
had
been quite comical. Strangely, the panicky feeling inside her was gone. She looked at Patrick,
really
looked at him for the first time, and smiled. He noticed the look and returned the smile.
Mine
, Patrick thought.
“Well, seeing as how you’re so impressed by my riding prowess, perhaps you would go riding with me again next Saturday, to allow me to give you a few pointers? Assuming, that is, that my trusty steed is, well, a little more trusty?” he asked her.
Mary smiled again. She felt a hint of something rise up inside her, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was more like a triumphant “yes!” from the little voice that had wanted to see Patrick again.
“All right,” she said, and turned Ebony onto a riding trail that led into the sugar maples.
Patrick stood for a moment, watching the black mare disappear into the woods. Maybe falling off the damned horse hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. He smiled to himself in cold satisfaction and walked back toward the training paddock.
~~~
Patrick and Mary went riding the next time he came out to the farm, and the next, and the next. At first, they stayed inside the pasture. As Mr. Hayes worked his magic on the bay colt, however, they began riding around the farm, in the forest, and along the country roads outside Mill River.
Patrick learned that, despite being exceptionally shy, Mary was well-spoken and had a keen mind. Because of her bouts of anxiety and shortened school years for all students during the Depression, Mary’s formal education consisted of sporadic attendance at school. Still, Mary loved to read. She had read every book in the school library. Books were her primary link to the world that she found so difficult to enter.
To Patrick, Mary was the supreme challenge. He knew that the trust he elicited from her each week was fragile. He built it gradually, showering her with attention and repressing any impatience or irritation he felt in prying her from her shell. Several times, he came close to abandoning his attempts to win her over. As a young man of high standing, he was expected to complete his education and marry. He didn’t know how much more of his parents’ incessant urging to “find a nice young lady” he could take, and Mary would require some time. True, he could choose a wife from among a good two dozen twittering socialites who regularly fawned over him. But those women, and the many who had already succumbed to him, were easy. And none was as beautiful or difficult as Mary.
Mary had never been happier in her life. She so looked forward to Patrick’s visits. To her surprise, she felt more and more comfortable with him. He listened with interest to what little she said and always knew exactly what to say in return. She finally had a friend, and human interaction with someone other than her father. Mary didn’t understand why a gentleman like Patrick would want to spend time with a shy farm girl like her, but she did not dwell on the issue.
She swore to herself that she would never reveal to him her darkest secret—the horrific event she still struggled to overcome.
The summer passed quickly. On the first Saturday in September, the bay colt was ready to go. Patrick, his father, and two hired men drove up to the farm in a horse van. A veterinarian from Rutland pulled up behind them in another car. Mary wanted to go down to the barn to say goodbye to Patrick and the colt, but the sight of the other men who had also arrived sent her into a state of panic. It had been months since her fear of strangers had surfaced, and the intensity of it took her breath away. She stayed inside the farmhouse, watching her father and the other men inspect the bay colt and load him into the van.
Patrick’s father wrote a check to Mr. Hayes for the remainder of the purchase price for the horse and got in the van to leave. Patrick looked around for Mary, but she was nowhere in sight.
“Mr. Hayes, you wouldn’t know where Mary is, would you? I’d hate to leave without saying goodbye to her,” Patrick said.
“Last I saw, she was up at the house,” he replied. “You know how shy she is, an’ since your father an’ the vet came with you this time--”
“I was hoping she’d be over it enough to meet my father,” Patrick interrupted, frowning. “I’ve told him what a pleasure it’s been getting to know her these past few months, and I know he wanted to meet her. Would you mind if I went up to the house, to see if I could get her to come down?”
“Course not,” Mr. Hayes said. “But good luck.”
Carrying a small bag, Patrick bolted up the footpath to the farmhouse. He was about to knock at the door when Mary opened it, wide-eyed and pale. He stepped through the doorway until he was just inside.
“Mary, I’m so glad I didn’t miss you,” he said to her. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, and I’ve told my family so much about you. Won’t you come down and meet my father?”
“I can’t,” Mary said in a hoarse whisper. She was trembling. “I wanted to come down, but I couldn’t.”