Thunder clapped in the distance as Busick circled the horse, stepping back to look at Zeus’s hocks and the height of his withers. Shire horses were strong specimens, workhorses, and occasionally horses for war. “Is it winning if it’s easy?”
“We can still win and not make things so difficult. That’s a lesson for me, too.”
“Easy. Difficult. It’s of no consequence. As long as the weather holds and that coming storm delays, I’m winning today.”
Busick looked over Gantry’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of LaCroy coming on to the stone balcony. Did nannies choose the easier path?
Zeus deserved his attention, not the brooding nanny that he needed to impress. Checking the saddle, he tugged on the girth. It was tight. “Time to give this a test.”
Tossing him his glove, Gantry followed him to the steps of the platform. “Repington, you sure you’re ready for this? We could review the troops like we always do, then head in for whatever the ladies have prepared for breakfast.”
With a deep sigh, Busick shook his head and clasped the rail of the stairs. “No. We . . . I’m committed to this path.”
He looked at his haggard friend—pale countenance, disheveled dove-gray tailcoat—and decided to offer more charity. “You haven’t been sleeping. The bags under your eyes could transport supplies.”
“They’re not so big. And I’m hungry.”
“Heartache won’t be solved by eating, Gantry.”
One tired eye shot up as his man shoved his fists into his pockets. “A lot of things can be solved by breaking bread. Or offering compliments and apologies.”
Would complimenting the nanny make things better between Busick and LaCroy? An apology for wanting his old life back—never. But for the tone he used to express his differing opinion—maybe?
Gantry climbed the steps behind him and leaned over the built-in horse pen. “How is this hangman’s platform going to work?”
“Simple.” Busick tugged on his riding glove. “Second Lieutenant, lead the horse to the front of the stall as if you were stabling it and then back him in,” he said to the soldier. “Use a gentle pressure on his reins. Show him his respect.”
The viscount glanced down to the soldier. “Let’s not keep the duke waiting.”
The man hastened his pace, circled Zeus, then aligned him into the structure.
With the flooring surrounding the horse like a dock, it was easy to imagine the Shire being moored into place, like a sailboat. For Busick, it was time for a maiden voyage. “Gantry, you followed my instructions perfectly. I can walk around on three sides, even check the reins again. I don’t have to depend on anyone to ride, I could even back Zeus in myself, tie him off, climb, and mount. Excellent. Most excellent.”
His friend reached the overarching beam. “A hangman’s noose could sit here.” He gave it a pound. “But, no descending rope for you. You’re going to hold on to this traversing board, the guillotine part of your structure, and lower yourself onto the horse?”
Noose? Guillotine? His friend’s doubts weren’t subtle, but they wouldn’t shake Busick’s confidence . . . much. He handed his crutch down to the groom and took a few unaided steps. The strapping at his thigh was tight and rubbed as he moved, but it felt steady. The muscles in his back felt strong and in control.
Good. “It’s not a guillotine for there’s no blade. And yes, I can use my arm strength to hold on to the board and ease onto the saddle. No additional help required. It’s fantastic.”
“I and a groom could just hoist you onto the saddle. It wouldn’t be any trouble, and it’s far less risky.”
True, but that would make Busick a burden to others. That would never do. “Why waste a good guillotine?”
“Tell that to the peers of France.”
“Non.” Busick clasped the traversing board. With a grunt, he pulled his torso up to it and then lowered onto the saddle. “See,” he said between gasps. Clutching the pommel, he stayed upright in his saddle. “Zeus, I know this is a unique experience, even for aneasyhorse like you. We’ll get used to it.”
“What goes up must come down, Duke. And at least it was not unceremoniously done. Good.”
Busick took up the slack in his reins and chuckled to himself. The viscount hated to be wrong. “Everyone, move.”
Gantry leaped down the steps and motioned to the soldier to let go.
Busick steered the gelding forward. “I have Zeus now.”
“You’re good up there, Duke? You sure?”
“How is that even a question? I’ve kept my troops and my civilian audience waiting long enough.”
