Miss Rothwell disappeared into the snow.
Callum bridled Buttercup, then walked to the tack room to fetch more bridles. He needed to ready all twenty of the horses to be moved. In the group of horses who lived on the estate, only two could not be put in the same paddock, and that was the two stallions. All the rest had an easy rapport with one another and could be housed in the same space for a night together.
“You can have your own stalls,” he told Firelight as he passed on his way to put a bridle on Snowstorm. He glanced at the guests’ horses. He had no idea which of them would tolerate the others, but the stable-hands must have some sense of that by now. He slipped the bridle onto Snowstorm, noticing that the stallion stood without complaint and let him do it. His own mood must have settled a great deal if the horses were no longer feeling afraid.
He was putting a bridle on one of the guest’s horses when a voice hailed him from the door.
“Your Grace?” It was Alan, one of the stable-hands.
“Alan! Grand!” Callum beamed at the sound. “Come in! You, too,” he added, summoning the other stable-hand, Noah, who waited at the door. “We need to move the horses. If you two willbridle them with me so we can lead one pair at a time to the coach-house?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Alan replied, frowning.
“The coach house is almost full. Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” Noah said, looking down as if afraid to contradict an order from a duke.
“Yes. It is. Quite right. Which is why we are going to stable them in the main part where the coaches go. If you could tell me which of the guest’s horses may safely be stabled with my herd? I would appreciate it,” he added honestly. He slipped a bridle onto Rainstorm and stroked her muzzle, calming her.
“The coach house? Cor!” Alan exclaimed, eyes round.
“Good idea,” Noah complimented warmly.
Callum just smiled. He was too busy to thank them, and besides, he was not sure how to respond, and so he continued with his task, going back to the tack-room to fetch more bridles.
They fell into an easy rhythm. Callum worked with the horses belonging to their estate, while the two stable-hands bridled the guests’ horses swiftly. A knock at the door made them all turn around. Miss Rothwell was there. She caught his eye and smiled.
“The coach house is empty, Your Grace. The coaches are parked on the lawn. They are quite a sight there.”
Callum grinned. She was smiling, her energy infectious. It seemed to crackle in the air around her. He looked at the stable-hands. At that moment, if she had told them to throw themselves into the brook, they would have done it. They hung on each word she said.
“We can begin leading the horses in, two at a time,” Callum announced, his heart soaring. He beamed at Miss Rothwell. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly.
She smiled back and he smiled to himself. He would have done anything she asked in that moment, even if it meant leaping into the brook himself.
“Come on,” he called to the stable hands, summoning them to the door. “Let’s get the horses out. I shall take Firelight and Buttercup.”
“I’ll take Rainstorm and Snowstorm,” Alan said swiftly.
“I’ll do the two guest-horses who make a fine team together,” Noah offered.
They began leading the horses out.
Miss Rothwell stood silent in the doorway where the aisle widened and met the tack room. The horses walked calmly past her. Callum led them into the coach house without complaint. Firelight went into his own stall on one end of the row of stalls where the coach-horses slept.
They worked for an hour. Callum leaned on the door, sweating despite the trips into the cold, as the last pair of horses were led into the coach house. The vast space was spread with straw on the floor, and one of the gardeners had helped to move the feeding mangers from the stable into the space and filled them with hay and oats. Eighteen horses milled about in the space, feeding or resting calmly. Firelight and Snowstorm were in stalls on opposite sides of the space, able to see the rest of the horses, but not able to see or reach each other.
“All is settled now, Your Grace,” Alan said, collecting a bridle from where he had hung it on a post. All of the horses were standing comfortably, their bridles removed. With so many of them in the space, it was warm, and, more importantly, it would remain so because it was dry and sheltered from the elements. Callum shut his eyes, relief making him feel suddenly weakened.
“Go to the kitchen,” he told the two stable-hands tiredly. “Tell the cook to prepare a fine meal for you—whatever is beingserved to the guests, you are to have your share. As much as you desire.”
“Cor!” Alan exclaimed; eyes wide.
“As much as we like? Blimey, Your Grace! Thank you!” Noah effused.
Callum nodded wearily. “You need it. And a rest. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Thank you, Your Grace!” Alan called as the two youths hurried to the door.
Callum sighed, leaning back against the wall.
