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The other man jumped his red king over Tater’s black one. “Ah, you one of them migrant workers then?”
Tater glared at the board, then glared at his companion. “’Course he ain’t no migrant, Lawrence. What in Sam Hill’s the matter with you?”
“Well, I didn’t mean no disrespect, I just meant—”
Darcy interrupted before the squabble got more intense. These two men seemed to have a long-running routine, and he wasn’t sure he could stand still and listen to it. “I don’t know as much about working crops,” he said diplomatically, “as I do working horses.”
“Ah.” Tater nodded. “You a horseman?”
Darcy nodded in turn. “Yes, sir.” It was true he’d ridden and been around horses all his life. Even if he didn’t do any of the breeding and training work on his farm now, his grandfather had made him work on the farm every summer until he was thirteen. He’d avoided it ever since, but what the hell—a horse was a horse! How bad could it be for a month? “Know of any horse farms around here that might be hiring?”
Tater narrowed his eyes and leaned back, giving him a slow, steady once-over. “Well, I might. I just might.”
“Ain’t you looking for somebody to help out for a while, Tater?” Lawrence asked.
Darcy met Tater’s gaze with his steadiest stare, hoping the man liked what he saw, fully expecting that he would. After all, Darcy had been rebuffed by very few people in his life. The strange thing was, he was just now starting to wonder if he’d earned that reaction or if it was given in sheer deference to his wealth and position.
The man’s eyes, bright and sharp, seemed curiously out of place in his grizzled old face. “That I am, Lawrence.”
Talk about luck. Darcy was tempted to ask for a job, but restrained himself. His stomach clenched as he waited for Tater to make up his mind.
A long moment later, the old man rubbed his chin and exhaled. “Might be we could give you a try. I gotta warn ya, though, the pay won’t be great. But we’d be talking room and board.”
“We?”
“Harden Braybourne of Braybourne Farm. Harden had an accident awhile back and he’s decided we need some more help.” Tater grinned, revealing a large gap between his front teeth that gave him a peculiarly boyish look. “The operation’s not as big as it was, but we ain’t as young as we used to be, neither.”
“Getting older happens to everyone, I hear,” Darcy said with a smile.
“Gotta tell you, Son, I’d be a lot happier if t’weren’t happenin’ to me.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Name’s Travis O’Neill. Most folks call me Tater.”
“Darcy…uh, Rick Darcy.” He shook the man’s hand. “Just call me Darcy. Everyone does.”
“Okay, Darcy. Hop in your truck and follow me back to the farm. I’ll show you around and you can tell me about yourself. Then we’ll see.”
“Didn’t you say Harden was lookin’ for a temporary manager, Tater?”
Tater nodded, saying slowly, “So he told me this morning.”
“Oooeee!” Lawrence hit his knee with the heel of his hand. “Silver Braybourne ain’t gonna be happy about that, is she?”
Tater gave his friend an annoyed glance. “You know, Lawrence, you talk a mite too much sometimes.”
Darcy was intrigued. “Who’s Silver Braybourne?”
Tater clamped his hat on his head. “Sylvia is Harden Braybourne’s daughter. Silver’s her nickname.”
Lawrence laughed. “Name fits her. She’s fast moving, with a temper as hard and shiny as a new quarter. Oh boy, I’d love to be a fly on the wall if you hire this young stallion to—”
“Lawrence, like I said, you talk too much.” Tater headed for his own pickup, moving at a clip that belied his years. “Saddle up there, Rick Darcy. I got chores to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Darcy dashed down the steps behind him and leaped into his truck to follow the man to Braybourne Farm.
Tater O’Neill’s truck picked up speed on the way out of town, leading Darcy up and down gentle hills, past some surprising, jutting limestone cliffs, then through a woods. Just when Darcy was wondering why this was still considered part of the bluegrass area, the woods parted to reveal wide pastures and farms. Tater turned into a driveway. A white gate swung open automatically to reveal a long road that led to a white house, barn and stable complex, all decorated with dark green trim.
Darcy stared at the sprawling farmhouse. It was slightly shabby, but charming gable windows and a big front porch with flowering vines climbing up the posts made up for that. This place was nowhere near as luxurious as what he was used to, which in itself was a surprising relief. Here he could really be a normal guy.
His stomach clenched again with anticipation. Something momentous was going to happen; he could almost see the hand of fate…. Then he shook his head, marveling at his idiocy. His cousin would probably tell him that anyone could imagine anything in order to justify doing exactly what they wanted to do. As Darcy stopped the truck near the stables and looked around, he had to agree. He didn’t know what awaited him here, but he was about to find out. He set the brake, jumped from the truck and followed Tater inside the dim barn. The air was cooler in there and filled with the mingled scents of hay, feed and horses.
“Well, Darcy…” Tater waved his hand. “This here is home.”
Darcy’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he looked around. The stables were neat and well ordered, with the names of each horse printed on a decorative board above its stall. As Darcy took stock of his surroundings a few horses came to gaze curiously over their gates. Fewer than he might have expected from the number of stalls. He glanced at Tater.
“We had a few hard years here and had to sell some of the stock. Hell of a shame.” Tater reached to scratch behind the ears of a glossy chestnut mare. “We had one colt that had wings for feet. He might a’ done the Derby job for us, but…what is, is.”
“Tater? Tater, have you seen…” A big voice echoed through the stables, followed by a tall, powerfully built, silver-haired man. His left arm was in a cast and he leaned on a cane as he limped down the stable corridor toward them. He stopped and stared at Darcy, his sharp gaze slicing into him.
Tater stepped forward. “Harden Braybourne, this here’s Darcy, Rick Darcy. Just got into town. Says he knows horses and is looking for work. I brought him out to talk about his qualifications, before we go further.”
“Hmm…” Harden nodded, his gaze sweeping over him from top to bottom. “You got the look of a horseman, young fella.”
Suddenly a bit nervous, Darcy met the man’s firm stare. “Thank you, sir.”
“Been around them long?”
“All my life. My grandfather was one of the best horsemen I ever knew. I hope I take after him.” And not just in his handling of horses, either. The thought surprised him.
“Well, do you?” Harden asked in a dry tone.
“I’m working on it,” Darcy said.
Harden gave a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s honest, at any rate.” He gave him another long, penetrating look before he said, “Let’s go into the manager’s office and you can fill us in on your experience. Tater probably told you we need some help.”
“Yes, sir.” Darcy reached to steady Harden as he turned and stumbled.
“Don’t do that, boy, I’m not that old. I had an accident is all.”
Darcy pretended to kick something to the side, plastering his most diplomatic expression on his face. “There’s a rock here. I didn’t want your cane to land on top of it and send you sprawling to land on top of me.” He grinned. “You’re a pretty big man.”
Tater winked at Darcy as he opened a door to the left. “Right in here.”
Darcy followed the two older men inside, and with an unaccustomed knot in his stomach, prepared to cross his fingers and give a brief and slightly embellished story of his life and career to date. As he answered Harden’s probing questions, he silently thanked his grandfather for working his butt off on the horse farm when he was a young boy. He must have absorbed more knowledge than he thought. A half hour later he and Harden were shaking hands. Darcy was hired as temporary manager of Braybourne Farm.
“You understand it’s just till I get back on my feet and can take over again,” Harden said as they emerged from the office. “Should be a couple of months on the outside. Meanwhile, Tater and Billy and Ed will be helping you.”
“Don’t forget Silver,” Tater murmured.
Harden frowned. “Silver is going to get married soon.”
“She is?” Tater exclaimed. “Says who? Silver didn’t tell me nothin’ about that and I just seen her this—”
“Well, there’s nothing definite, so I wouldn’t go asking her about it,” Harden cautioned. “But I got it on good authority that John Tom Thomas is that far—” he held his fingers one-eighth of an inch apart “—from popping the question.” Harden set his face in a mulish expression, blustering, “I can’t see any reason she wouldn’t accept him. He’s well-off, from a first-rate family, good-looking and—”
“He puts me to sleep every time he opens his mouth, Daddy.” A female voice floated through the stables.
Surprised, Darcy looked toward the doorway, but the light was behind the woman who stood just inside. All he could see was a tall slim silhouette with a cloud of platinum-blond hair that glowed like a halo. He stared at the hair. This must be why she was called Silver. He glanced over at Harden, who was now looking a bit flustered.
“Damn you, girl. Where’d you come from? Why don’t you make a bit of noise instead of sneaking up on people?”
The woman walked forward, her gait as smooth and fluid as a prime show horse…or a Vegas chorus girl. She had the body for Vegas—the long long legs, slim hips, full high breasts just suggested by an expensively cut summer suit the color of orange sherbet. Lord, but Darcy loved cool women with hellfire and heat underneath. Darcy didn’t know why she gave him that impression, but she did. Maybe it was the direct, challenging look she gave him, or the slight pout on her full lips. Cool, cool ice ready to melt. His gut twisted and his mouth watered. He wanted to lick her all over. The surge of lust took him completely by surprise and he glanced at the two older men, hoping his desire wasn’t written on his face.
“I didn’t sneak. I roared up and parked my car right outside behind that old pickup truck. Whose is it, anyway?”
Darcy hid a grin. She could see him perfectly well, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge him until she was forced to, a time-honored feminine play to get the upper hand. Funny, he didn’t think he looked like much of a threat, but maybe that moment of sheer sexual awareness hadn’t been one-sided. As intense as it was, he sure as hell hoped not. Ready to play, he nodded his head in mock deference.
“It belongs to me, Miss Braybourne. I’m sorry if it’s in your way. I can move it.”
“I parked right behind you, so you’ll have trouble getting out to leave.”
Darcy grinned. That was subtle. “I’m not going anywhere.” He’d thrown the first card. Now he waited to see if she’d pick it up.
She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
Harden jumped in. “This is my only daughter, Silver…uh, Sylvia. Honey, this is Mr. Darcy—”
“Darcy.”
“Uh, Darcy, who’s come to help us out for a while.”
She lifted her lids slowly, letting the long sweep of lashes flutter a bit before meeting his gaze. A slight smile played over her tempting lips. “Call me Silver, Darcy. Sylvia always makes me feel as if I’m in trouble.”
Tater chuckled. “You been in trouble since the day you was born, missy.”
“Now, Tater. You’ll give Darcy the wrong impression of me.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll happen,” Darcy said.
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’ve got a good idea what you’re all about.”
He did, too. He gave her a slow once-over. Silver Braybourne reminded him of the more successful debutantes he’d grown up with, the ones who made getting their own way an art. He was a bit surprised to find her kind here on this slightly run-down farm, but you never could judge by appearances. Darcy knew many illustrious families who’d slid into genteel poverty. His gaze met hers again.
Silver’s eyes glinted. “You think so, do you, Mr. Darcy?”
Again Harden jumped in. “How was the charity tea? Did you and your mother have a good time?”
“We had watercress sandwiches and fruit salad. What does that tell you?”
Darcy chuckled. “Southern fried chicken not on the menu, huh?”
Taken by surprise, Silver smiled at him. “Not even close.” She turned back to her father. “However, we did give the children’s hospital a big check from the money we raised in our Southern Ladies recipe book sale.”
A nice respectable organization with a nice respectable purpose. Figures, Darcy thought, almost sighing as he looked at Silver. Regardless of the impression she’d initially given him, Silver was just another dull debutante type—same as all the rest. Why had he thought even for a moment that she was different? Because he was in a different situation?
“So,” Silver said, “you’re here to help out, you said?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“Silver, why don’t you walk me back up to the house?” Harden said.
She patted his hand. “We’ll go in a few minutes, but right now it would be extremely rude of me to walk away when Darcy is talking to me, now wouldn’t it, Daddy?” She smiled at Darcy, tilting her head like an inquisitive bird. “You were saying?”
“I’m the new—”
“Tater,” Harden interrupted again, “why don’t you give him the back room to stay in for now.”
“Okay, Harden.”
With an annoyed glance at the two older men, Silver stepped forward until she was practically chest to chest with Darcy. The sheer intimidating intent of the move tickled the hell out of him. He wondered what she’d do if he slid his arms around her waist and pulled. Tempting, very tempting.
“You were saying?”
Darcy gave her his most innocent stare. “I don’t remember.”
Her voice dropped to a smooth whisper that had the kick of moonshine. “You said you’re the new…what?”
Darcy stepped a little bit closer. “The new manager.”
“The new manager of what?”
“This.” He waved his arm, as if the king of all he surveyed. “It’s just temporary, of course, till your father improves.”
Silver let out her breath in a snort that reminded Darcy of an ill-tempered pony. He waited to see what would happen next, half expecting her to come after him with teeth bared. “You are the temporary manager at Braybourne Farm?”
Darcy glanced at Harden and Tater, who were standing as still as statues. “Your father just hired me a few minutes ago.”
“I see.” She glanced over her shoulder at Harden, and Darcy was glad the man was made from strong stuff. Then she turned her attention back to him. “And you, what—magically appeared from thin air?”
He laughed. “No, I got into town this afternoon and ran into Tater. He said you needed some help here, and I was looking for something to do.”
“Something to do? Tennis or golf is something to do. Running a horse farm is a bit more complicated than that.”
Harden interrupted with a firm, impatient tone. “Silver, Darcy knows all that, or else I wouldn’t have hired him.”
Silver turned and stepped toward her father, while Tater took the opportunity to back out of range. “Oh, I don’t know, Daddy. I think you would have hired anything that had the right equipment between its legs.”
Harden stiffened, gripping his cane. “Wait a minute, what do you mean by that?”
