“Will you take my boy?”
“Of course I will. When Catherine has him healthy again, I shall return him.”
Yancy lifted his hands, palms upward. “I haven’t the means to keep him.”
“What if she gave you a horse bred by him? He’ll never race again, obviously, but when his bows heal he will be able to stand at stud.”
“Oh, my friend, I can’t race. The time it takes to train. I can’t do it. I have just enough for hayseed, for corn. By the time the hay is ready to be cut, I hope I shall have found some workers, day men.”
Ewing, voice strong, replied, “I’ll send some of my men. You’ll bounce back. We’ve been through war, floundering after the war, which did go on and on, and now we will survive whatever is happening in Philadelphia. We are men of business. Those who live only by books will destroy us all. I pray there are such practical men in Philadelphia, but we are such men here.”
Yancy sat a little straighter. “Practicality is in short supply.”
“Nicely put.” Ewing poured another cup of tea for each of them. “I fear men who do not work for an honest living and I fear even more those men who think they are smarter than those of us who do.”
“Lately, I have been wondering were we pushed into the war, did we understand the problems or were we goaded into it? Did England think we could be dashed, humbled then subservient? All profits flowing one way, so to speak.”
With certainty Ewing responded, “We were provoked. We would settle one insult, which would be followed by another outlandish tax. But no matter what, the profits would not flow one way. The English can’t get enough of our tobacco, hemp, indigo, cotton, and rum. They have to do business with us and, really, where else in the world is there tobacco? If another nation tries to grow it from our seed it will not be Virginia Burley.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I hadn’t either until you brought it up. Now see here, Yancy. You’re tired. You’re in constant pain. Your spirits are low. But you are a resourceful man. Let us just get through this growing season. You will make a profit even if Mother Nature is difficult. We can sort things out after that and”—Ewing put this hand on Yancy’s wrist—“do not now or ever sell your holdings to Maureen Selisse.”
Yancy’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“She is both ruthless and astute. You own highly productive land. She’s trying to beat you down. Jeffrey has dissuaded her from a lawsuit but she’ll come up with other ideas. You know she’s on her way to England.”
“I had heard. I gave it no credence.”
Ewing smiled broadly. “It’s true. She is sailing to meet with Charles’s deeply indebted brother to buy a title.”
“Fantastic.”
“Isn’t it though.” Ewing laughed again. “Now ease your mind. Black Knight will thrive, as will you. Shall we walk down to the stable so you can say goodbye?”
Yancy’s eyes misted, he shook his head. “Thank you, no. Perhaps when time passes.”
“Of course. Do you think William was the perpetrator of his suffering?”
“No. I think William dismounted, took off the tack, stored it somewhere, then made his way either downriver or to the coast. Blackie wandered for who knows how long, possibly picked up by someone who thought they had a new horse but couldn’t ride him. He’s a lot of horse. I expect he was badly beaten and I expect the violence put him further out of reach. Apart from my ill-fated duel, I don’t really believe in violence.”
“I understand, but I see little hope of men doing otherwise.”
“Yes.” Yancy stood as Ewing did, the two men walked down the hall to the large door where Roger was waiting, which meant he’d heard the whole thing. Roger bowed as Yancy stepped out, Ewing alongside.
His cart, coming up from the stable, was a sure sign that Roger overheard all, then sent his son down to alert the boys to ready Yancy’s cart and drive it to the door. Ewing knew this, of course, but pretended otherwise over the years.
Clasping Ewing’s hands in both of his, Yancy said, “I shall never forget your kindness.”
“All will be well. Truly, all will be well.” He watched as his friend drove his heavy-boned draft horse down the long drive of Cloverfields.
Ewing pulled out his gold pocket watch, checking the time, whispering to himself, “I swore I wouldn’t do this.”
Placing the birthday watch back into his vest, he walked down to the stable, where Black Knight stood in a large stall, Catherine on one side, Jeddie on another, and Barker O. in front just in case.
Slowly approaching so as not to frighten the animal, Ewing asked, “How bad is it?”
“Hay, some good oats, he’ll fill back out,” Catherine replied. “Fortunately his hooves are good, no damage.”
Jeddie, out of the sling at last, knelt down holding a heavy warm cloth on Black Knight’s forelegs. “Bows.”
“Yes, so Yancy said.”
“He’ll recover. The scar will be prominent but he’ll actually be ridable, nothing hard. He’s got quality.” Catherine admired the fellow.
“He’s yours. Yancy has given him to us. He can’t afford proper care. Hard times.”
Barker O. turned his head slightly.
“Father…” She changed her mind, said to the men, “Let’s turn him out next to Reynaldo. It’s a small paddock. He can walk about and eat. The last thing he needs is to stand.”
Quiet for a moment, the skinny Black Knight sniffed then dashed to the end of the sizable paddock. Reynaldo, in the adjoining paddock, let out a holler, which Black Knight returned. Then he ran to the fence line, where the two stallions stared at each other.
“They’ll work it out.” Barker O. smiled.
“I’m rather glad I don’t know what they’re saying.” Catherine laughed, happy to see an abused animal bright again.
Love could heal most creatures.
Piglet joined them, interested in the new horse and wise enough not to chase him. Piglet did, however, herd Ewing, Catherine, Barker O., and Jeddie toward the fence line, feeling it his duty to watch over them as they watched the two boys fuss at each other. Lots of flared nostrils, snorts, turning in circles, bucks that finally settled into biting. It was occurring to Reynaldo that he was stuck with this fast horse whom he met at The Levels, just as it occurred to Black Knight he had arrived at paradise.