Nearly a week had passed since his visit to her room. The day had dawned with heavy black clouds threatening to engulf the verdant island in a storm. Standing on her balcony, Shanna contemplated the ominously dark sky which seemed to press down upon the hills with evil portent.
A loud, angry whinny rent the air, and Shanna whirled to find several men in the lane before the manor, struggling to subdue a horse that reared up before them, pawing the air with its forelegs. Even from where she stood, Shanna could see the bloody slashes that marred the glistening reddish brown coat. Her rage soared at the thought that such a magnificent beast had suffered abuse.
“Here there, be careful with the nag. The beastie is already sore.”
The voice that bellowed was one Shanna had never heard before, but she recognized the garb of the men as being that of seamen—the largest boasted a braided coat, while the other three wore the dress of common tars.
“You there!” Shanna called down as she hurried along the veranda. “What is the meaning of this? Have you no ken to the value of that animal? Were you all born on the wooden planks of a deck?”
Like a whirlwind she descended the wide steps, gilded curls bouncing riotously, and approached the four, glaring at them before she turned to the task of calming the mare. Speaking soothingly, she reached out a hand to caress the silken nose of the steed and stroke its shivering sides. Gradually the animal quieted beneath her gentle touch and condescended to stand still as the men gaped their amazement. They had battled the mare all the way from the village as she had refused to be led either by wagon or themselves.
The large, bewhiskered man took a step forward and spoke apologetically. “We had a bit of a tiff with the weather after we left the colonies, and the ship was tossed to such a degree that the mare was bruised against the stall we built for her. ‘Twas not from ill use, I assure you, mum.”
Shanna contemplated the man and decided he spoke the truth. “What is your name, sir, and for what purpose have you brought the animal here?”
He gave a quick bob of his head. “Captain Roberts at your service, mum, of the Virginia Company. Captain Beauchamp bade me see the mare safely to Squire Trahern or his daughter in return for their generous hospitality while he was here. Might you be the Widow Beauchamp?”
Shanna nodded. “I am.”
The captain fished in his coat, withdrawing a sealed letter which he handed to her. “This be for you, mum, from Captain Beauchamp.”
Accepting the packet, Shanna gazed a moment at the wax seal bearing an elaborate “B.” She was overwhelmed by Captain Beauchamp’s generosity, for this was no pauper’s gift he had sent. She had long ago learned of horses and their value. The broad but tapering head of the mare, the large, expressive eyes, and the gracefully arched neck bespoke Arabian blood, and as she read the letter, Shanna was assured of this, for Nathanial had detailed the blood line. The mare was as worthy a steed as Attila, and no doubt would produce good foals if bred to the stallion.
The note went on to reassure her that the Beauchamps were happily anticipating their visit, and Nathanial expressed his hopes that nothing would delay their journey, for he predicted it to be a colorful autumn this year.
“We had no one to tend the beastie’s wounds, mum,” Captain Roberts explained, mistaking her slight frown of bemusement.
“Oh, no matter,” Shanna replied slowly. “There is a man here on the island who has a knack for that sort of thing.”
A young lad, perhaps ten, stepped forward from where he had been staying out of harm’s way and juggled a large bundle around in his arms so that he could yank at the captain’s coattail.
“Where am I to take this, sir?” he questioned, holding forth the hide-wrapped bundle.
“Mum?” The captain looked to Shanna again. “Do you know where the lad might find a Mister John Ruark?”
Shanna responded in surprise. “I’m not sure. He might be working at the sawmill, but he has a cottage behind the manor. Can I help you?”
“This here thing,” the man gestured to the package, “be for him. Can we leave it at his house?”
“Aye.” Shanna pointed toward the back. “There’s a path through the trees after you pass the manor. Follow it around. ‘Tis the large cottage beyond the others.”
As the men left, Shanna affectionately rubbed her cheek against the mare’s muzzle, pleased with the gift.
“Jezebel, the Beauchamps have named you. Aye, and you shall surely tempt my Attila, for nowhere on this isle is there so fine a filly. But I must fetch Ruark to care for you, for I’d not trust another to tend you. My dragon has a way with ladies,” she whispered, smiling wistfully. “I know you will like him.”