Free Healing Grace by Elizabeth Courtright

before,” she countered. “Or fainting. I’ve never done that before, either.”
    “Hmm, so I can’t blame Igore here? It really was me?”
    “It wasn’t you,” she said contritely, then added, “There really was a rat.”
    At that, he burst out laughing, and his deep throaty chuckle was infectious. Constance joined in.
    When finally she could, she said, “Thank you, by the way, for covering for me.”
    “You’re welcome,” he said. “To get to the schoolhouse, we turn here? It’s been a while since I’ve been in these parts.”
    “Yes. This is the way.”
    “Come on, Igore,” he coaxed.
    Constance couldn’t hold back any longer. “You named your horse Igore?” she blurted.
    It was dark, but there was no mistaking the mischievous flash in Etienne’s eyes. “He was an ogre when I got him. It took me months to get him to listen. But now we’re pals, right buddy?”
    As he spoke, he bent forward to stroke the dark stallion’s neck. Leaning back again, he asked, “How long have you had Izzy? She’s a real powerhouse… a beauty.”
    “I’ve had her almost two years. After I moved here, I thought it would be a good idea to get a horse, and Emily invited me to pick from the stock at Grace Manor. Trent tried to discourage me from Izzy. He said she’s too much horse for me.”
    “Is she?”
    “Maybe.” Constance shrugged, and copying him, leaned forward to stroke Izzy’s neck. “I saw her in the barn and couldn’t resist. I guess you could say it was love at first sight.”
    “Was it?” Etienne murmured.

NINE
    “Go, Sadie!”
    “I told you, I just have to finish this chapter!” Sadie snapped.
    She was slouched in the wide sagging chair with her feet dangling over one thickly cushioned arm—the most comfortable seat one could find. With the lamp on the table burning brightly beside her, she was utterly engrossed. Who wouldn’t be while reading Dickens?
    But then, in her peripheral vision she noticed her father, still standing there, but postured now, with feet planted and fists on hips.
    Contritely she murmured, “I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m almost finished.”
    Wally’s eyes narrowed. “Dose infernal books o’ yers! All ya eva wanna do is dat dere readin’. It ain’t healfy. An’ I done tol’ Missus ya’d take care o’ dat soldier Mista Etienne brought wif ’im. I done showed ’im to da house a whole hour ago, at leas’.”
    “Miss Jessica brought this for me,” Sadie mumbled as she attempted to pull herself up out of the concave seat, not such an easy thing to do.
    “Missus Jesska done brought ya a whole stack of dem books. You’ll be good fer nofin’ fer I don’ know how long,” Wally muttered as he stomped off.
    Most likely he was going to bed. Her father was an early riser and that meant he went to bed early too, which was just fine with Sadie. She could read undisturbed for as long as she wanted. Many times she’d still been immersed when her father padded in, rubbing his eyes and wondering if she would fry him up some eggs.
    Now, however, she did need to do what her father had asked. Although why it was necessary she didn’t know. She’d cleaned and changed the bed linens at the vacant house next door a week ago, before Mr. Emerson died.
    Poor Mr. Emerson . Just thinking of him still had the power to choke her. Sadie would miss him, and his stories, even if she’d heard them a hundred times already. She would miss his nosey poking around the kitchen while she tried to make meals, and his yumming groans when he was finally settled at the table with fork in hand.
    Mr. Emerson’s passing also meant Sadie no longer had a job. Without a job, she would have no spare money to spend on books. Whenever she had enough saved, she gave it to Mr. Trent, or Miss Emily, or sometimes the schoolteacher, Miss Constance. They would go to the bookstore and buy books for her. A few times Miss Constance had lent her books she’d gotten from the library, and