He glanced at the clock. “I truly cannot tell. A lot depends on how bad the roads are at the moment. With luck, they’ve had a good solid ride along dry lanes, but we can only guess.” He held out his palm. “Come on. Let’s get to the stables and take care of our horses. For Trick…”
“For Trick,” she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out of the front door and around the house. They walked silently down the path to the stables, Adalyn aching as she realised Trick wouldn’t be there with some lighthearted jest or a welcoming smile for her.
Two of the stalls were empty—Giles and Daniel had taken those mounts—and the remaining ones housed a large gelding she recognised as the one that pulled their gig, another dark brown lad with a white blaze, and an older mare, a gentle lady who whickered softly at her as she entered the stall.
“Hallo there,” Adalyn stroked the long nose that sniffed around her shoulder.
“That’s Maggie,” said Jeremy over the wooden wall that separated the stalls. “She’s a darling. Very even-tempered, a stately lady who likes nothing better than plodding over the fields with one of our small ploughs. Rain or shine, she’s always happy for a slow walk, and she'll pull the gig now and again if she has to. Sometimes these other two are needed for the carriage.”
“What a good girl.” Adalyn patted her neck. “What shall I do, Jeremy?”
“On the shelf there you’ll find some grooming tools. There should be a curry comb and a dandy brush?”
“Um, there may well be, but since I don’t quite know what those are…” Adalyn stared at an assortment of instruments that looked foreign to her unschooled eyes.
Jeremy shook his head. “I apologise. Use the one with the brown handle. She’ll love that if you just brush her gently with it. Stay clear of her eyes and nose, and don’t press too hard…”
Adalyn did as she was bid, soon finding that such work was both soothing and easy. The smell of horses, hay and old wood, mixed with a touch of leather was unique but not unpleasant. She stroked Maggie’s coat to a shine, then gingerly took on her mane, easing the tangles free with a delicate hand.
“There, girl, now look how pretty you are, eh?” Crooning softly, she let her thoughts drift, relaxing into the rhythm of the task.
Maggie seemed to enjoy it as well, turning so that Adalyn could administer the same loving strokes to both sides.
From the other stall, she could hear Jeremy shovelling straw around and occasionally taking a barrow load out of the stable.
Time passed, and he looked over the wall. “Let’s change sides? I need to clean Maggie’s stall and this chap would welcome a nice brush, I’m sure.”
She saw the sweat on his face and noted that he’d taken off his coat. His shirt was damp. “I’ve a better idea. Let me start cleaning here, and you begin to give the lad a good brush.”
“No, Adalyn,” answered Jeremy. “’Tis hard going.”
“I need something to put my back into. And how hard is it to fork soiled straw into the barrow and then lay down fresh?”
He looked uncertain.
“Please? I’ll tether Maggie outside for a bit, so I won’t run any risks. And if it’s too difficult, I will tell you.”
“Promise?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Of course,” she lied.
And so the Lady of Wolfbridge picked up her pitchfork and shovelled soiled straw into an empty wheelbarrow, while clad in a man’s breeches, an old shirt and boots that were a little too large for her.
Feeling the muscles moving in her back did Adalyn good. It had been some time since she’d done anything as physical as this, and being used to scrubbing floors, cleaning furniture and living an energetic—if tiring—life, the sensation was not unpleasant.
Her thoughts wandered as she worked.
“Jeremy, what are you going to do about Miss Brockford?” The question popped out of her mouth, more a thought than a question, but it seemed so natural to ask as they toiled side by side in the stalls.
“I’m not planning on doing anything, Adalyn,” he answered. “I do hope she can move forward. I cannot take responsibility for her, although I understand the two of us share a difficult incident that shaped both our lives.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” She heaved another forkful onto the barrow. “This one’s done.” She grabbed the handles and worked it out of the door toward the muck pile at the back of the stables. She knew that it would be spread over the fields as fertiliser. Nothing went to waste on a farm. Not even the waste.
She was proud of her accomplishments, even though before half an hour had passed she was feeling the muscles of her arms and shoulders.
As if he could read her mind, Jeremy came into the stall and quietly took the fork from her, giving her the curry comb instead. “Finish him, Adalyn. You’ve done enough of the hard lifting for today.”
Wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she nodded. “I’m afraid you may be right.” She’d shed her coat and once she stopped moving, the chill air made the damp fabric cling. She shivered and put her coat back on.
