All the Blue of Heaven (5 page)

           
Allie carefully pinned her dark blue silk hat over her short curls and examined
herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her large
hazel eyes. She squinted, almost able to picture herself that way she had been,
long blond hair pinned back in a fashionably large bun, tendrils brushing her
pink cheeks. She turned her face to the side. The fire had changed everything,
adding scars where there had been none and sucking the color from her cheeks.
The doctors had warned her to stay out of the sun, and she looked like she’d
spent a year hiding in a deep hole. Sighing, she wondered what Thomas had
thought when he’d seen her. It certainly wasn’t the triumphant return of her
daydreams: the famous painter returning to her hometown  to have an exhibition
of her greatest work, dignitaries and luminaries praising her talent. She’d
envisioned graciously forgiving her mother for ever trying to stop her.

           
Allie grabbed a pair of gloves from the table and marched out the door. Pride
had brought her to this point and she had no one to blame but herself. A new
chapter was beginning in her life and she was resolute. She would do everything
right this time.

Chapter
Four

           
Thomas greeted August Mansfield’s carriage man and took the reins of a beautiful
chestnut mare. “Will you be waiting?”

           
Joe Totten shrugged and pulled out a blackened pipe. “It won’t be long. And I
don’t see why he gives you good money to check her over for ten minutes when I
know that horse better than my own hand.”

           
Thomas let the comment slide but felt the tendons in his neck tighten. He was a
Christian man, but he still wanted to tell Joe Totten that if he paid as much
attention to the horses as he did to his whiskey bottle, Mansfield wouldn’t
have to pay Thomas to keep them healthy. Today was not the day to get into a
senseless argument. He had a long morning’s work ahead of him. Then, Lord
willing, he would stop at Allie’s to make sure she had recovered from her
fainting.

           
He led the mare toward the back of the bustling, open air barn. The late summer
heat didn’t reach inside and the horse nickered in appreciation of the cool.
Thomas gave her a pat with his free hand and glanced around.  Just ten
blocks from the best shops in Chicago, he had set up an outfit that would have
made his father burst with pride. Bradford’s Equine Services was a booming
veterinary business for the well-to-do horse owner. He charged a flat fee that
covered two well check visits and one emergency call per month. After five
years, the business had achieved a sterling reputation for recognizing
illnesses at the very first sign, and for keeping horses healthy.

           
Some carriage men welcomed his expertise, and asked questions. Others, like
Totten, voiced their skepticism, loud and clear. But they weren’t the ones who
were paying him, so he gave them no mind. They stood around the double sliding
doors and spit tobacco, arguing about boxers and poker games.

           
On his way to the first stall along the right hand wall, Thomas noted the
energetic activity of his working men. He caught sight of his right-hand man,
Mateo, trying to convince a surly stallion to open his mouth. Mateo’s young
nephew was standing by, his mouth a perfect
O
of concentration. Thomas
secured the mare’s reigns to the ring of the stall and wandered over to where
Mateo struggled, sweat streaming down his temples, even in the relative cool of
the horse barn.

           
“You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be,” Thomas said, laughing. He
grabbed the prod from Mateo’s hand and waved him away. The stocky Italian shot
him a look of pure exasperation but stepped aside.

           
“Marco, take a few steps back, please.” Thomas glanced behind him at the young
boy, who stood motionless. Mateo spoke to him in rapid-fire Italian and he
scooted off to the side, boots kicking up dust in small puffs.

           
Laying one hand on the stallion’s glossy neck, Thomas spoke in a soothing tone
as he moved closer to his head. The stallion’s ears twitched and his eyes
rolled, but aside from shifting his feet, he stayed put. Thomas kept his weight
on the balls of his feet, ready to spring out of the way as he leaned closer,
sliding his hand toward the stallion’s muzzle. The horse huffed out a breath
that smelled strongly of dried alfalfa. One more moment of positioning and
Thomas was ready. He continued a steady stream of quiet words, as he slipped
the metal prod’s flat end in between the horse’s lips. The animal’s
natural overbite caught the end and with a quick flick of the wrist, Thomas
popped open the beast’s mouth. He held out his other hand for an identical prod
with a hooked end, which Mateo placed in his palm. With the second instrument
pulling the horse’s jaw downward, Mateo held the lantern high as Thomas
crouched down and peered inside. One second, then two, and the stallion had had
enough. He snorted and jerked his head to the side. But that was all the time
Thomas needed.

           
“Easy as pie.”

           
“That is why you are the doctor and I sweep the horse droppings.” Although
Mateo spoke quickly, his accent was thick and deep. Thomas couldn’t help but
laugh at the annoyance in his tone.

           
“It takes time. And I’ve never seen anyone learn faster than you have.”

           
Another shake of his curly black hair but Mateo seemed to appreciate Thomas’s
words. His shoulders straightened. “The hooves are clean, his legs are straight
and he walks well. His eyes are clear, too.”  Mateo handed the last set of
instruments for Thomas to listen to his heart and lungs.

           
Marco took a step nearer, face alight. He spoke softly, hesitantly. “He is
beautiful.”

           
Thomas straightened up, regarding the skittish stallion. “That he is. But I
don’t know why the mayor keeps such a horse. He’s not fit for carriage work and
no man can ride him.”

           
“Wasn’t he a gift from the governor?” asked Mateo.

           
Thomas nodded. “So I hear. But an expensive horse who can’t bear the saddle or
the reigns, and can’t be lent for stud work, is no gift.” He shrugged. “A
beautiful animal, nonetheless. And Marco, you be sure to stay away from this
one. Do you hear?”

           
The boy nodded, dark hair falling over his forehead. Mateo laid a hand on his
nephew’s shoulder. “This boy, he listens. And if he does not, then his Zio
Mateo will help him hear better.”

           
Thomas chuckled at the two of them. They were so similar, not just the black
hair and deep brown eyes, but the playful spirit and constant enthusiasm. “The
Mansfield mare is next, I believe. There are six more before noon, so we had
better hurry.”

           
Thomas spent less than five minutes listening and timing the horse’s heart and
breathing. How he loved the graceful rhythm of their movements, inside and out.
It was a miracle of engineering, a feat of God-sized creativity. Thomas gave
the stallion the all-clear then motioned for an older worker to lead the
stallion back to his owner. No sense taking chances, even if Marco had been
around horses for years. Strong personalities and large hooves made for a
deadly combination.

           
Mateo lead the way to the mare’s stall, his rough work trousers still fairly
clean even though the morning was half-way gone. Thomas always seemed to get as
filthy as humanly possible. His mother claimed she was going to lose her mind
if he brought in one more piece of straw. He had taken to bathing and changing
in the guest quarters and bundling his work clothes into a sack. Still the bits
of straw appeared. He told her it was better than the other items that could be
found on the barn floor.

           
Thomas glanced back at the open door, where Joe Totten leaned against the
double-wide opening. He was arguing with another carriage man, and his tone grew
rough. Thomas frowned, wishing Totten would wait outside, especially if he was
going to pick a fight. As he stood there watching the men gesture angrily, he
caught a clear glimpse of Allie Hathaway’s lovely face. She sped by, framed in
a passing carriage window. Her dark blue hat covered most of her curls and her
face was pale. He wondered if she had slept at all.

           
His heart jumped as his brain registered every detail of the fleeting image.
The carriage headed down Elizabeth Street, horses moving at a quick clip.

           
All it took was one glimpse, and he felt untethered, loose. She had been
untouchable, unreachable for so long, and now she rides past in the middle of
the day, like a runaway stagecoach. Part of him whooped with joy, and the other
groaned in despair. How would he ever learn to prepare himself for this kind of
moment?
Lord, give me strength to be so near her again.
He took a shaky
breath and tried to refocus on the task at hand.

           
“Mr. Bradford?” Mateo’s hesitant voice registered over the din of the busy
barn.

           
Thomas straightened up and swung around, hand reaching for the horse’s bridle.
Mateo’s hands were empty. He watchedThomas with an expression that was hard to
decipher.

           
He had forgotten the mare was already tied in the last stall. “Do you need
something?” Thomas barked out the question and felt warmth creep into his
cheeks. He must look unhinged, staring out the door like that, motionless.

           
“No, I am waiting to assist you. Do you know that woman?” Mateo tilted his head
toward the open door, where he must have seen Allie pass. His dark eyes were
fixed on Thomas’s face, sparkling with curiosity.

           
“Yes,” Thomas said, his tone short.

           
Mateo stood watching Thomas, saying nothing but his posture spoke volumes.
Thomas endeavored to ignore him. There was no way to explain his reaction to
that once glimpse of her face and he wasn’t going to try.

           
Of course, Mateo knew about love. In the two years he had worked for Thomas, he
spoke freely of the beautiful Josefina, now his wife. He could wax on for
hours, if left uninterrupted. She came by last week to bring Mateo a small
lunch pail of fragrant pasta in tomato sauce and Thomas had noted her rounded
figure. If he wasn’t mistaken, in a few months, Mateo would have another topic
of delight.

           
Mateo’s mouth twitched. “Ah, I never believe I will see this day.”

           
“And what day is that?” Thomas fixed Mateo with a baleful stare that did not
prevent the answer he knew was coming.

           
“The day that Mr. Bradford fall in-a love,” Mateo crowed, eyes crinkled in
laughter. He pushed his cap back on his head and folded his arms across his
powerful chest. Short and strong, he was the perfect equine assistant. But at
this moment, Thomas wished he had never hired the merry Italian.

           
“You’re mistaken,” he snapped and turned to stride through the dim barn, dust
swirling in clouds with every stomp of his feet. He dodged an errand boy who
was too busy gawking at the horses to watch where he was going. Thomas worked
to control his emotions as he grabbed his black leather notebook from a small
set of shelves near the wall.

           
“If you say it, Mr. Bradford,” Mateo said, chuckling. He stepped into the stall
and checked that the reigns were secure before they began the mare’s
examination.

           
Thomas flicked open the book where he kept his patients’ information. He found
Mansfield’s name, checked the health history and made note of the date. Then he
paused, struggling to regain his usual calm.

           
Thomas glared into the middle distance of the barn. His heart thumped in anger
and he didn’t understand why. So Mateo noted his intense reaction to that one
small glimpse of Allie. That was no disaster, no reason to be abrupt. If he was
truly honest, the question that really nagged at him was whether his feelings
were that obvious to everyone. Had Allie taken one look at his face and
realized he had never stopped loving her? Is that why she shied away from his
touch? She was too good of a woman to encourage him, despite the fact he was
now in a far better position than he had been when he first proposed.
I must
look like a lovelorn puppy.
He felt his stomach twist at the thought.

           
“Mateo,” Thomas said as he turned back to the stall.

           
“Yes, Mr. Bradford?” His assistant paused, one large hand gripping the metal
hoof pick.

           
“I am sorry for my tone.” It was easy to apologize to Mateo. The man was as
good-natured as any he had ever met.

           
Mateo nodded, his expression somber for once. “It is no problem. I must not
make a joke when I do not know the lady. Perhaps she is married. Perhaps she is
already promised to a man and you cannot bear to see –”

           
“The young lady is not married and  I don’t know what she is promising,
but I can certainly bear to see her. ” Thomas gritted his teeth and stopped
talking.

           
Mateo said nothing, but he smiled in response.

             “Can we go on with our
day?”

           
“Of course, Mr. Bradford,” Mateo said, his face perfectly impassive, eyes still
crinkled in laughter.

           
Marco trotted up to them, leading a deep roan mare on one side and a glistening
chestnut on the other. Thomas directed him to the next set of stalls and waved
to the Mr. Cole. Thomas  was relieved beyond reason to see Mr. Cole and his
horses. Mrs. Leeds’ carriage man had served her well in the years since Thomas
had left for school. He was particular about the horses’ care, even plaiting
their manes with lead so they would lay perfectly
flat.           

           
But before he would see Cole’s two, and all the rest of the horses, he had to
regain his focus.

           
Mateo handed him the long, wooden stethoscope and secure the mare. Thomas placed
the bell end behind one silky front elbow. As the steady rhythmic thump of the
healthy heart reached his ear, Thomas wished that everything was as
straight-forward as caring for these gentle giants.  

           Thomas
and Cole had developed an easy friendship based on mutual appreciation. Thomas
appreciated Cole’s care for the animals, and Cole seemed to appreciate Thomas’s
expertise.  Cole’s small, steady eyes and long face always made Thomas think of
a fox, and he sensed Cole also had  keen intellect behind his  quiet
disposition.

           
He offered Thomas his hand as they approached. “The mayor’s stallion is a
spirited beast.”

           
“A little too much spirit for a carriage horse, I hear.” Thomas grinned. “The
animal needs to be where he can be of good use.”

           
Cole raised his eyebrows. “The life of a stud is serious business. They must
rise at dawn and spend all day working.”