6

CONNOR O’LEARY LOOPED the length of rope over his shoulder and stood back to survey the obstinate horse that tossed his mane and snorted his outrage to the skies. Excalibur, it seemed, was in no mood to cooperate with his trainer today.

Connor slapped his work gloves against his denim pants, causing a cloud of dust to rise. “You may have won this round, boy, but I’ll wear you down yet.”

“This fellow giving you trouble?” Gil came up to lean on the top rail of the fence.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good to hear. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about a new hand starting tomorrow.”

Connor gave the ornery beast another glare. “I think I’m done for now.” He opened the gate and came out to meet his brother-in-law and boss. Connor hoped he hadn’t done anything to make Gil regret giving Connor this promotion.

Despite his being an O’Leary, Daddy had made Connor start at the bottom and work his way up through the business, like every employee. Although it chafed at Connor’s pride, he realized that Daddy couldn’t entrust his clients’ prize-winning steeds to an untried trainer, and Connor had worked all the harder to prove his worth.

Recently, Sam Turnbull, their head trainer and stable manager, had gone out West to visit an ailing brother, and Gil had given Connor the job of overseeing the stable hands. If Connor handled it well, the position might become permanent—especially with Sam hinting he wanted to lessen his workload now that he was getting on in years.

Connor joined Gil at the fence. “So there’s a new hand starting tomorrow?”

“Yes, Seth Miller. Sam hired him before receiving word about his brother being so ill. I wanted you to know so you could look out for him.”

“Sure.” He studied Gil. “Anything special I need to know?”

“Sam mentioned the kid seemed edgy. Like he was desperate for the job. Sam felt bad he wouldn’t be here to help him settle in.”

Connor pulled off his cap and swept his sleeve across his forehead. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”

Gil slapped Connor on the back. “I was hoping you’d say that. Now, if you’ve got things under control, I think I’ll head home for dinner with my family.”

Connor straightened away from the fence. “Give Bree my love. And tell young Sean I’ll give him another roping lesson as soon as I have some spare time.”

Gil grinned. “He’d love that. Thanks, Connor.”

Early the next morning, Connor headed out to the secondary barn to talk to the hands already at work. He wanted to alert them about the new hire expected today. Two of the men, Tim and Mac, were busy feeding the horses.

“Good morning,” Connor greeted them.

“Hello, Mr. O’Leary.” Tim nodded as he poured out the oats.

Connor frowned. “Call me Connor. Mr. O’Leary is my father.” Only a few years older than these fellows, Connor had been their peer until a week ago. Now it seemed strange to be their supervisor.

Tim shot a glance at Mac, who lugged a pail of water over to the trough, but neither spoke.

Connor leaned against a stall door and absently patted a horse’s nose. “We’re expecting a new stable hand today,” he told them. “I want you to make him feel at home and help him learn the ropes.”

“Yes, sir,” they said.

“His name is Seth Miller. Let me know when he arrives.”

They nodded.

Connor paused, wishing they’d tell a joke or regale him with some inside stories. But the lines had been drawn, and he was now firmly on the other side. “Okay, then. Carry on.”

Shaking off the last vestiges of regret, he strode outside and breathed in the clean air of fall—his favorite time of year, when the summer’s heat had dissipated and the trees had started to change color. He walked to the white fence surrounding the track and paused to watch one of the trainers exercising a stallion.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for Mr. Turnbull.”

Connor turned to see a boy standing on the path behind him, his features partly hidden by an oversized floppy hat. He wore a plaid shirt under denim overalls, which sagged on his slight frame.

“Are you Seth Miller?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Mr. Turnbull had to leave to deal with a family emergency. I’m Connor O’Leary. I’ll be filling in while he’s gone.” Judging by the lad’s lack of facial hair, Connor doubted he was much past puberty. “How old are you, son?”

“Nineteen.” The boy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his overalls.

Connor scratched his head. He didn’t look a day over sixteen. Why had Sam hired this kid still wet behind the ears? “Have you had much experience with horses?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve worked with my pa since I was young.”

“Okay, good. I’ll give you a brief tour and then introduce you to the other men. They’ll fill you in on the rest.” Connor started back toward the barn, and the boy fell in step beside him.

Under the overlarge hat, beads of sweat stood out on the boy’s forehead. Connor bit back a sigh. The kid looked terrified. Connor stopped him. “No need to be nervous, son. You’ll know your way around soon enough.”

The kid nodded, a hint of relief crossing his features.

They entered the barn, and Connor acquainted him with the thoroughbreds. Seth remained unusually silent, yet his connection to horses became evident in the way the animals responded to his touch and low murmurs.

Geesh, had the boy’s voice even changed yet? Sam didn’t usually hire them quite so young.

“Seth?”

No answer.

“Mr. Miller?”

The boy stiffened. “Sorry, sir.”

“You hard of hearing, son?” Connor suppressed a sigh, suddenly feeling ancient at twenty-three.

“No.” The lad squirmed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’s just . . .”

“What?”

Distress shone in his blue eyes. “Everyone calls me Joe. My brother gave me the nickname, and it stuck.”

A sense of protectiveness rose in Connor. Something about this boy affected him in a way he’d never expected. Maybe Sam had felt the same way and that’s why he’d hired him. “Fair enough, Joe.” Connor slapped a hand on the boy’s rather bony shoulder. “Let’s go meet the other hands.”

Josephine Miller rode her old nag across the meadow as fast as Mabel could go. As soon as they reached a good pace, Jo let out a long sigh of relief.

Freedom at last. She’d thought the day would never end. Seth owed her in a big way for this. She peered over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching before slowing Mabel to a walk and guiding her under the overhanging branches. They picked their way through the underbrush until they came to a clearing and the log cabin on the outskirts of Mr. Sullivan’s property. Only then did the muscles in her shoulders begin to loosen. Only then did Jo whip her father’s hat off, pull the netting off her hair, and let her long tresses fly out behind her.

Skirting to the far side of the structure, Jo dismounted and tied Mabel to the post. An outdoor water pump stood between the cabin and the small lean-to that served as shelter for Mabel. Jo pumped a bucketful of water, poured some into a trough for the horse, and lugged the remainder up to the front door of the cabin, where she quietly opened the door. She paused, hoping her father would be asleep, since Seth would no doubt still be at work.

Once inside, she immediately wrinkled her nose, praying not to detect any scent of whiskey. A slight chill hung in the air, which meant the fire must have gone out.

Jo set the pail of water beside the woodstove and moved into the main room. Pa lay slumped on the sofa, one arm draping the dusty floor. A loud snore echoed through the room.

Relieved, she tiptoed to the fireplace and patiently stirred the embers back to life. Then she went to the woodstove and lit a fire, ready to cook whatever Seth brought back for their supper.

She still couldn’t shake the sense of dread over this whole deception her brother had talked her into. If only Pa hadn’t started drinking again right when he was about to start the first real job he’d managed to get in a long time. Instead, he’d gotten involved in a drunken tavern brawl and severely injured his leg. The bad swelling and deep gash on his shin made it impossible to start work as the Sullivans’ farm manager.

While Jo waited for the fire to heat the stove, she went into the bedroom, changed back into her cotton dress, and braided her blond hair. Once again, she felt like Josephine Miller, not the pretend Joe that she’d had to fake the entire day.

Seth had better come up with a new plan. From the intelligent look in Connor O’Leary’s eyes, Jo doubted she could pull off the deception for long. At least the other stable hands had left her mostly to herself.

The door to the cabin opened, and Seth entered, bringing a gust of cool air with him. His dark hair sat in a tangled mop over his forehead, his plaid shirt open to reveal a white undershirt beneath.

Pa stirred on the couch, moaning as he changed positions.

Seth set a skinned rabbit carcass on the rough wooden table. Looked like they’d be having rabbit stew. “Sorry I’m late, but it took me a while to catch this guy.”

He scanned her dress and hair. “How did it go at the O’Learys’? Did they believe you were me?”

Jo pulled out the cast-iron pot and dumped some water from the pail into it. “It went just as you said it would. Mr. Turnbull has gone out West, and Connor O’Leary showed me around.”

“He didn’t seem suspicious?”

“I caught him staring at me a few times. I think he wondered why Mr. Turnbull hired someone so young.”

Seth frowned. “You’re not that young.”

She rubbed her fingers over her chin. “I don’t exactly look like a man. But don’t worry,” she hastened to add, “I’ll prove myself soon enough, and it won’t be an issue.” She took out an onion and began to slice it. “Tell me this won’t have to go on for long.”

Seth plopped onto a chair. “Sorry, Jo, but until Pa sobers up and his leg heals, I have to keep filling in for him, and you have to fill in for me.” He let out a long breath. “I’m just glad Mr. Sullivan is being so reasonable.”

Jo peeled a carrot with more force than necessary. “What then? How are you going to take my place at Irish Meadows?”

Seth shrugged. “I’ll figure something out when the time comes. I’m sure if I explain I’m your older brother and you were filling in for me, they’ll understand.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them that in the first place?”

“Couldn’t take the chance they’d say no. Once it’s over and done, they’ll be more likely to forgive us, especially if you’re a good worker.” He gave a tired grin. “Who knows? If they like your work, they might keep us both on.”

Jo swallowed her disappointment. Pa’s injury could take weeks to heal. Weeks she’d have to pose as a boy. Could she pull it off?

She’d have to. Staying in this cabin hinged on one of them working for the Sullivans. Without it, they’d have nowhere to live. And Jo couldn’t go back to living in a tent—not with winter fast approaching.

She chopped a potato and two more carrots, slid them into the water, and added the rabbit. Once it had boiled for a while, she’d take it out and cut the meat off. Maybe she’d get a pot of soup out of it as well.

Seth scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed to his feet. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I’m going to lie down for a while before dinner. Wake me if you need me.”

Seth climbed the rickety ladder to the loft where he’d fashioned a bed out of straw.

A faint twinge of guilt hit Jo anew that she had the bedroom to herself while their father had the worn couch. The one advantage to being the only girl in the family. Perhaps she deserved it, since she now had a full day’s work to put in at Irish Meadows on top of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. The chores just went on and on, like they had for years.

In some ways, it seemed she’d been trying to atone all her life for being responsible for her mother’s death. Flora Miller had died giving birth to Jo, leaving a newborn girl at the mercy of a rough father and an older brother, neither prepared to raise an infant on their own. Never mind a female one at that.

Jo set the lid on the pot to let the contents simmer and went to sit in the rocker by the fireplace. Her body ached from the extra physical work she’d done today. She hoped the first few days on the job would pass quickly so she would cease to be a novelty and simply blend into the background.

She would do her job and nothing more—nothing that might earn her notice.

The key to surviving this deception, she decided, was to keep all attention away from her.

Especially attention from the handsome Connor O’Leary.