“No,” his father prevaricated. “The Solomons made us a very good offer on your grandmother’s house.” The Solomons had been renting it for years now, since Cathy and Perry moved to Missouri and Joseph’s grandmother moved across the garden fence to his mother and father’s house. “We accepted. So I can finally do something I’ve been meaning to ever since you were stranded in the rain with that livery nag.”
The day Tessa lost Bean.
“What I meant was: I’m boarding him foryou, son.” His fatherstroked the elegant, muscled neck of the grey horse. “Henry and Nathan will ensure that he’s properly shod and exercised and ready when you need him.”
Joseph could only gape. A Priest shouldn’t own an animal fit for nobility—certainly a curate shouldn’t. He was supposed to live in holy poverty. Bishop England didn’t even have his own horse. Joseph could only imagine what such an animal had cost. “I cannot accept?—”
“He wasn’tquiteas expensive as he looks,” his father interrupted.
Hélène shielded her mouth with her hand, as if she were protecting the horse’s pride. “His bloodlines aren’t pure.” She grinned. “But his name is Prince.”
Of course it was.
“His former owner was eager to be rid of him—through no fault of his own. Prince just didn’t want to work for someone who abused him.”
Then their father could sell the grey to someone kinder.
“The moment I saw him, I knew he was the one,” Joseph’s sister declared. “Papa wanted to buy you this ugly red roan, but I convinced him otherwise.”
“I find it difficult to deny your sister anything,” their father confided. “Especially since—” He broke off and looked away.
Before Joseph could question him, Hélène continued: “You see, Joseph, youcan’trefuse: you’d be insulting not only Papa, but me as well. Furthermore, you’d deny Nathan the chance to spend time with his family.”
“Prince may look like royalty,” put in the young man, “but if you’re gentle with him, he’s willing as a dog.”
His sister strode to their father’s horse, who hung his head over his stall door. “You must consider Rocinante too. He’s been awfully lonely—haven’t you, boy?” Hélène offered the older horse a lump of sugar from her pocket.
“How can he be lonely, the way you spoil him?” Joseph pointed out.
“I won’t always be—” She stopped suddenly just as their father had.
There was some secret they were withholding; Joseph was certain now. Were Hélène and Liam planning to elope? Joseph would have to remind them that the Church did not condone such behavior.
His sister hurried on. “Prince can keep Rocinante company, when their masters aren’t out on their missions of mercy.”
“You make house calls just as much as I do, Joseph,” his father reasoned. “Youneeda good horse, one you can rely on.”
Nathan added: “Prince has the smoothest action you’ve ever felt—like riding on a cloud.”
Joseph moved no closer. His duties required him to leave the city perhaps once a week. Having his own mount was an extravagance. Certainly a mount like this was. He wondered if the ugly red roan was still available. “This horse isn’t at all appropriate for?—”
“Don’t judge him by his appearance,” Hélène interjected. “Yes, he’s gorgeous—but more importantly, he has a good heart.” While she spoke, Prince nosed about her pockets.
“Apparently he has a sweet tooth as well,” Joseph observed.
His sister produced a second sugar lump but managed to keep it out of the horse’s reach, placing it in Joseph’s palm instead. Prince reached toward him with questing lips. Joseph extended his hand, and Prince snatched the sugar.
“No more objections, Joseph,” his father said with finality. “Prince is perfect for you. He’s young, strong, intelligent, and calm in a crisis. He’s even a gelding, so the two of you can commiserate.”
“Papa!” Hélène slapped their father’s arm in reproof, but she giggled.
Joseph only sighed.
Father Baker seemed amenable.Then, he saw Prince. His curate needed a reliable mount; but for Joseph to ride such an animal smacked of vanity. They would wait to hear what Bishop England had to say. After he returned from his latest tour of the diocese and before he departed for the Provincial Council in Baltimore, His Lordship considered the grey horse. Finally Bishop England smiledand asked if he might borrow Prince on occasion. Joseph agreed, and the matter was settled.
Joseph himself warmed quickly to the animal. That abusive owner had been a fool. Prince was certainly spirited, yet he remained docile and responded readily to affection. His action was fluid and steady; he was the most comfortable horse Joseph had ever ridden, just as Nathan had promised. Most of all, Prince offered Joseph a taste of freedom, the freedom other young men must enjoy. To counterbalance the work that filled nearly every waking hour, now and again Prince helped him snatch moments of rest, even pleasure.
Every fortnight that summer, Joseph took Prince with him on the ferry to Sullivan’s Island. The island did not have a church, but it had a growing Catholic congregation: Irishmen repairing the breakwaters that protected Fort Moultrie. After Joseph said Mass in the open air or in someone’s parlor, he usually had an hour or two before the last ferry left.
