Chapter 5

I stopped in the middle of the stable yard and did a three-sixty. I was looking for Terry, the new lad that I had hired for the general scut work around the yard. He was too young to trust with animals of his own to care for, at least for now, but he was a very good worker. His being there helped relieve some of the workload on the other lads. I finally saw him, out near the road, painting the fences.

Instead of following Bobby into the office, I turned and walked out to talk with Terry. The boy was so engrossed in his work, and was singing so loudly, that he didn't hear me come up behind him. I took the opportunity to inspect the work he was doing.

I was impressed!

The boy didn't slap the paint on the fence but used his brush to stroke on just the right amount of paint. There were a minimum of drips and runs, and where these did occur, he would dry-brush the surface 'til the run or drip was smoothed out. I was beginning to feel some small affection for this boy ... read that as mother-son or big sister-little brother affection.

I first met Terry at Bert's hardware store, where he was trying to get a job. The poor kid looked like some thing out of a Dickens novel. Bert wasn't interested, and wanted the kid to leave. Street kids asking for a job and then stealing as much as could be carried off, had burned Bert once too often.

I studied the boy as he stood his ground and asked again, he was determined to get a job. I had a feeling that this boy was a good risk and spoke up.

"If you don't mind, Bert, I could use an odds and ends lad at the yard."

"I don't mind a bit, Lacie. I really don't have any work for him, but..." Bert took my arm and led me aside as he spoke and continued in a whisper, "Lacie, these street kids will nick anything that isn't nailed down! You need to be very careful."

"I know, Bert but I just have a gut feeling that this particular boy is worth the risk."

"Ok, then," said Bert with the shrug of his shoulders. He didn't say it but he was sure that no good would come from my decision.

I turned and walked back to the boy. He looked up at me with an expectant expression.

Before I could say a word, he said with a strong voice and confident air, "My name is Terry, and I'm pleased to meet you."

As he said this he extended his hand to me and we shook hands. His handshake was firm, and I was simply enchanted. My gut was screaming at me that this boy was worth saving.

"Well, Terry, I'm Lacie ... and if you want a job, I have one for you."

"Marm, I'm your boy," he said with an ear-to-ear grin.

From that day to now he has worked his ass off, without a single complaint. I never asked why he was on the road, but I did know that he was underaged, so I paid him a small cash stipend along with room and board. As the old saying goes, everything was 'under the table.' Watching today, as he diligently painted the fence, I was reminded of myself when I first arrived at Cutter's Way. Since Terry arrived, he has filled out and grown. He now looks like the young teen that he is.

I cleared my throat quietly, so as not to startle Terry, but I failed. So intent was he on his job, that my simple act surprised him. So much so, that his fully loaded paintbrush went high into the air, spewing streams of paint in all directions. Thankfully, none got in my hair, but I couldn't say the same for my new shirt and jeans! They now sported an irregular white stripe that crossed diagonally from left shoulder to right hip.

Looking around and realizing the damage he had done to my clothing, Terry stood up and began a litany of apologies, saying "I'm so sorry, Marm..." over and over.

"It's okay, Terry, it's my fault for scaring you. Please calm down."

It took a couple of minutes but he did calm down and was able to understand what I was saying.

"Terry ... Terry?"

"Marm?"

"I want you to clean up here, for now. You can finish this, later. I need you to clean up boxes twenty and eleven. We have a colt and a two-year-old coming. I want a full wash down. Check for anything that needs repairs, also. The animals that are coming are from two very rich owners. They want special service, okay?"

"Yes, Marm. Right away, Marm," he said as he quickly turned to retrieve the brush and wipe up the mess he'd made. I left Terry and made my way back to the dorm building, to change out of my paint spattered clothes. I still liked the old dorm building. I now had my own private little apartment on the ground floor, rather than just a bunk and a locker, upstairs in the dormitory. Before I reached the exterior door to the dorms, I heard the gate to box eleven slam open, and the spray of water as Terry started to wash down the new home of the soon to arrive colt. His pure tenor voice floated across the yard. One always knew when and where Terry was working, because he sang continually.

I changed my paint stained clothes and then went to see what old Ben had in mind when he had me summon Bobby. As I opened the outside door to the main house I heard talking and laughing but I couldn't make out what was being said.

As I neared Ben's office it became clear that the two men were not speaking English. The sounds of the language they were speaking had a sort of Hungarian or perhaps Romanian flavor, something Eastern European anyway. I knew that I had heard that tongue before, but cannot say as to where.

I paused at the open door to Ben's office, and knocked softly on the doorframe. The laughing stopped.

Old Ben looked up and called happily, "Lacie, Lacie! Come in, come in. Bobby here was just telling me a funny story."

I entered and took the seat that Ben indicated with the wave of his good arm, my seat was just to the side of the big oak desk. I was surprised to see that Bobby had moved the big wing chair away from the fireplace and set it right in front of the desk, the chair was so close that the tiny man could put his feet up on the desk. A bottle of very old Brandy sat on the desk and each man had a snifter of that wonderful drink in hand. The aroma of the amber liquid filled the room and made my mouth water. Even though I'm young, I love a good Brandy.

The thing that seemed strange to me was that all of the mirth left Bobby's face and that somber mask returned as I entered. I had never before noticed that he had special eyes ... dark, deep, mysteriously controlling eyes.

It took Ben a couple of moments to break my enslavement to those eyes. I blushed as I turned to look at Ben, but I was thankful, too. This was the first time that I had been enslaved by a man with just a look, and it frightened me.

"Erm ... yes, Ben?"

"We were just discussing Lord Weaver's two year old. If we make the Lord happy, we will be back where we were before I had my stroke. Do ya see that, girl? The yard will be in demand again!"

"Yes, Ben, I know. I'm having Terry clean out boxes twenty and eleven. I figure to put the Lords filly in box twenty. It's our biggest and best box."

"Good! Good!" exclaimed Ben with great enthusiasm, "And be sure to tell Terry to check the whole box with a fine-toothed comb."

"Already did so," I said with a smile.

I had never seen the old man this happy and animated. Seeing him like this made my heart sing. Just then Jean entered with a heavily laden tray, filled near to overflowing with a platter of sandwiches, a teapot, a coffee carafe and cups and such.

I noticed that Jean never looked at Bobby. In fact she moved so as to keep her back toward him the whole time she was in the room. I would have to talk to her about Bobby. I needed information.

"I've asked Bobby here for two lads and he has agreed, so you will need to get the private dorm room ready for them."

I didn't say anything but gave old Ben a look. I was surprised that these two new fellows were to have preeminent space in the dorms.

Ben saw my look and said, "Trust me Lacie, none of the other lads will complain."

I shrugged and nodded at the same time, but remained silent.

A minute later, Bobby finished his Brandy stood and left without a word. Ben and I spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the schooling of our charges, and the other minutia of running the yard while munching on Jean's wonderful lunch. By the time we finished it was time for evening stables.

I decided that I would have to wait for the right time to talk with Jean. I needed to be sure that Ben was not going to interrupt the conversation. I knew that there was something that scared Jean, and I had a good idea what, but I needed a definitive answer.

Two days later, Jean was out in the garden gathering tomatoes and I stopped to talk with her.

"Jean, may I talk with you?"

"Of course, dear."

"First what language were Ben and Bobby talking the other day? Second what is it, with Bobby?"

Jean got a strange look on her face and then said, "Come and sit with me, dear."

We walked to the covered bench that was in the garden.

"There was a time, years back now, that I was quite ill. Ben, he was strong then, made this little sitting area for me," said Jean with a dreamy look.

I looked more closely, and saw many different types of flowers surrounding the little sitting area. "It's really nice here, peaceful," I said.

"Yes, it is. I don't spend as much time here, now. What with Ben's stroke and all..."

Jean caught herself, sighed deeply and turned toward me with a serious expression and said, "You are not to tell anyone about this, Lacie. Is that understood?"

"Ok, yes, I understand."

"I'm serious, Lacie. We could lose several owners if this got out!"

"I promise to keep my mouth shut, Jean. After all, look at my secrets that you are keeping."

"Oh, my, yes! I'm sorry, dear." Jean sighed heavily again and then continued, "Well you're aware how the Black people used to be treated in the southern part of the U.S.? The persecution and all of that violence? Well that could happen to Ben and Cutter's Way Stables."

I was shocked so that my mouth fell open and I was not able to speak for a minute. Once my voice returned I asked, "But why would such things happen to this place and you people?"

"Because Ben is 'Roma'!"

"I don't understand. I don't know what that is."

"It means that Ben is what some call a Gypsy. Gypsies are persecuted, here, just like the colored people in your country have been. Some of our owners are very bigoted and would, at the very least, take their horses away!"

"What about Bobby? Is he a ... a, what did you call it, a 'Roma', too?"

"Yes. He is a prince of the local Romany group."

"Jean, why were you afraid of him? I could see it in your actions when you brought the lunch in to us the other day."

"It's his eyes! I don't usually put much stock in magic and such but his eyes grab hold of you and tear into your very soul! He scares the life out of me! That man has some kind of power because he has done unbelievable things with horses. Did you ever read the book called 'The Horse Whisperer'?"

I nodded.

"Well, he can do all of those things, and more! The man terrifies me, pure and simple."

"Oh," I said softly, for I had felt some of that same fear when Bobby looked at me in Ben's office the other afternoon. "Is the reason that the other lads won't complain about the two new lads having the private room ... is that they are ... ah... 'Roma', too?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything that I shouldn't say or do? I mean I don't want to offend the new lads ... or, for that matter, Bobby!"

"Just don't call them Gypsies. That word is an insult. Treat them fair, and they will work hard for you."