Free Fate's Intervention by Barbara Woster

Stanharbor, ” he said. “ Would you like Elizabeth to rejoin you now? ”
    “ No. Let her ride, ” he said.
    Matthew nodded and shut the door. “ A s long as she doesn ’ t try to ride next to me, ” he muttered, placing a foot in the stirrup and pulling himself up onto White Star ’ s back. He glanced over his shoulder and winced when Elizabeth met his gaze, smiled, and dug her heels into the mare ’ s side.
    Without hesitation, Matthew snatched the reins from Adam and spurred White Star into a gallop. “ Let ’ s see just how fast you can really move, boy , and if you manage to keep that mare from catching you, I ’ ll feed you six cookies when we reach Lander. ”

CHAPTER TEN
    Marcelle walked around the stalls at the auction, admiring all the different breeds of horses that were available for sale. She loved horses. She had loved them from the day her father decided she was old enough to go to the stables without the huge beasts trampling her. Ten years of age. About three years too late, by her estimat ion .
    From that day on, she accompanied her father to the auctions and to their clients ’ homes to deliver the steeds purchased. It was an exciting life and one she was hesitant to give up. If she married someone outside the horse circuit, then she could very well end up losing, not only her father , but her precious horses. Her entire existence. She shook the thought away before it bogged her mind down into a depressive state, but the thought that replaced it wasn ’ t much better.
    Normally her father would be accompanying her from corral to corral to examine potential purchases, but he was simply too tired. The trip had drained what little energy he had left. Even the cushioned seats in the carriage hadn ’ t helped any, so he remained behind in his room. S he was worried about her father ’ s rapidly deteriorating health. How much longer he had with her was a mystery that the doctor couldn ’ t solve. All he could tell her was that her father was going to die within the year, but he couldn ’ t tell her whether it would be next week or in several months. If his increasing frailty were any indicator , it wouldn ’ t be too much longer. Another indicator was the fact that he was now entrusting her with the purchasing for Weatherman stables. Something he never would have done if he were in good health. A woman simply didn ’ t participate in business, he told her on occasion when she asked to bid or negotiate a purchase.
    Today, however, because of his continued illness, she was on her own. She couldn ’ t prevent the tremor of excitement that coursed through her veins at the prospect of making all the selections and doing the bidding today and slowly her mind retreated for the marshy mire of depression into the light of eagerness. She wanted to do well and make her father proud of her.
    A soft whinny sounded behind her and she turned.
    “ Well, hello there, fellow, ” she purred softly. Marcelle giggled as the horsed nuzzled her hand, tickling her palm with his big lips. “ You are a fine specimen of horse flesh , aren ’ t you? ”
    “ You have good taste in horses, ” Marcelle spun, startled. She started to say something to the man about sneaking up on people, but couldn ’ t seem to force any words past the lump lodged in her throat. She swallowed hard, but it didn ’ t budge. Wow was all her mind supplied. She stared at the stranger for a moment trying to steady her breathing and then her brain recovered its ability to reason , reprimanding her sharply about acting doltish.
    In her own defense, it had been years since she ’ d seen such a fine specimen of a man. If he were a horse, he ’ d be on a par with the great creature snorting at her side. Most of the men paraded in front of her had flesh that was within only a few years of deteriorating. This man, however . . . oh, why hadn ’ t her father been able to find someone like this?
    He was taller than her five-foot- eight stature