Free The Horse Thief by Tea Cooper Page B

it with his own. ‘We can make this work. Look how much we managed today.’
    Peggy’s trolley squeaked its way across the polished floorboards of the hallway. He lifted his hand with a sense of regret.
    â€˜Bread and butter pudding. Everyone’s favourite.’ Peggy’s lips twitched, and he had no doubt her bright eyes noted their proximity. ‘I’ve taken some up to Miss Violet. She’s in her room sulking. I told her to stay there until she learns some manners.’
    â€˜That’s a bit harsh.’ India pushed her chair back. ‘I’ll go upstairs and talk to her.’
    â€˜You’ll do no such thing. What that girl needs is to understand she’s not the most important person in the world. Besides, you’re talking business.’ Her face broke into a dubious grin.
    â€˜Indeed we are. Tomorrow will be day one of the new breeding program. Give it twelve months and just as I promised Papa, a whole new herd of animals will be frolicking in our paddocks.’
    Peggy poured the golden custard over a generous helping of pudding and placed it in front of India. ‘Eat up. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.’
    The soothing smell must have restored India’s appetite. Once he had his plate in front of him she picked up her spoon, grinned and tucked in.

    Perhaps Jim was right. Having shared only a small part of her concerns the future already looked brighter. India sneaked a look at him from under her lashes. Would he have dropped his hand from hers so quickly if Peggy hadn’t come bundling into the room? His warm and welcoming touch soothed her. Sitting side by side instead of staring at each other across the table stripped the room of the false formality Violet’s presence had created.
    Her buoyant mood of the afternoon returned and with it the belief Peggy was right, too. She would stop pandering to Violet’s tantrums and leave her to her own devices. If Violet wasn’t going to be any help then at least she could ignore her and prevent her being a hindrance. She put down her spoon. ‘Thank you, Peggy.’ Wiping her mouth she turned to Jim. He was so close the stubble on his tanned cheeks was visible. It gave him a disreputable air she rather liked.
    â€˜If you can spare me an hour or so I’ve located the studbook and perhaps you could give me some advice. I’d like to begin making plans tomorrow. It should be our first priority.’
    â€˜I think it’s a perfect idea.’ Two bright spots of colour flared on his cheekbones as he pushed his chair back from the table and began to rise. ‘Thank you for a delicious meal, Peggy.’
    â€˜Come with me and I’ll show you the library. It’s the office now.’
    India led the way through the double doors into the library at the front of the house. The scent of Papa’s tobacco still hung in the air and the soft light from the desk lamp bathed the room in a comforting glow.

Ten
    An enormous hand clenched Jim’s heart and a cold sweat peppered his forehead. The massive oil painting hanging over the fireplace dominated his very being. He forced some air into his starved lungs.
    The bay horse in the centre of the framed canvas stood proud between the two fig trees leaving no doubt where it had been painted. A perfect anatomical representation of a thoroughbred in his prime. It might have been Jefferson.
    He bunched his fists defying the impulse to reach out and touch the painting. The carriage of the animal’s head and the proud arch of his neck were as familiar to him as the lines on his own hand. Even the black markings on the legs replicated Jefferson’s. There was no doubt. He didn’t need to read the small silver plate screwed to the frame. He knew what it would say. Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist.
    Goodfellow: Sire Helligen Park 1840–1850
    â€˜That’s Goodfellow, Papa’s horse. He was his pride and