Callie

Maggie Stephens met me in the driveway, the horse trailer behind the truck. Michael was following in his car. This load was household things; Hector would come next.

She was tall, thin and rather pale-looking for a woman who spent at least half of her year in sunny Florida. With a nervous smile, she waved and came toward the truck. "Where's the baby? I was hoping you'd bring him."

"He's with a friend right now, while I move."

"Awww... well, we'll see him soon enough. I just love babies. Here now, I can't keep you standing around visiting. Let me show you your house so you can get started putting in your things. It's not fancy, but you're allowed to paint, paper... anything you like. There's an attic over my garage and it's filled with things that were in the main house when we bought it. You're welcome to go up and pull down anything you'd like to use."

"You're very kind. I'm sure we'll be fine."

"You father; how is your father doing?"

"Much better, thank you. He'll be home, well, here, in probably a couple of months, and then he can help me. He's a fairly well-known trainer around here."

"Oh, that would be great. We can never have too much help, and his knowledge will come in useful."

Michael walked up behind me and cleared his throat. "Oh, I'm sorry. Mrs. Stephens, this is Michael Shannon. Michael and I grew up together, and it was his putting the word out that brought me to you."

"Michael," she put out her hand and he shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine. Don't mean to cut this short, but we have a few loads and it's starting to get dark, Callie. I can give you a hand tonight, but tomorrow I've got class and you have to pick up the baby."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Stephens clutched her bony throat and started walking toward the barns. I followed, assuming that she was leading me to the house. "You can pull right up to the door if you like," she called over her shoulder.

The farm manager's house resembled a cottage from a fairy tale book. It was built from stone and probably dated back to the years when slave walls were built prior to the Civil War. So much of central Kentucky still held these old buildings, or at least foundations. The roof was covered with red tile, molded from the red clay soil found throughout this side of the state. It would easily stand another two hundred years. Mrs. Stephens, or Maggie, as she asked me to call her, opened the door and then handed me the key she'd used. It was far more spacious inside than I'd expected, mainly due to a more modern addition at the back. There were floor-to-ceiling windows with a sliding door that looked out over the acreage; pastures and barns. I could see they had a tobacco base and an accompanying barn off in the distance. I'd stripped many a tobacco plant as a young girl to earn extra money. There were three bedrooms of equal size, two at one end of the house and one in the newer section. I assigned that one to Dad so he could look out the bigger windows while he was on the mend. The baby would be in the room next to mine.

There was an eat-in kitchen with plenty of room for a nice-sized table, and all the appliances were modern and state-of-the-art. There was central air, evidenced by the cooler temperature inside. A moderately-sized living room had a stone fireplace, which explained the pile of firewood stacked against the end of the house I'd seen as we drove up. A bathroom with a tub and shower combination, sink and commode sat in the center of the house. Everything was compact, but clean and well-taken care of.

"It's lovely," I said. "Thank you so much for allowing me to take this position. You won't be sorry. Between Dad and I, there isn't a thing we don't know about horses or caring for a farm like this."

"Oh, it's our pleasure, to be sure. I thought we might fence in an area by the patio where your little one can play when he's big enough."

"That would be really great. Well, Michael and I had better get started. If your offer about using some of the older furniture stands, I'd like to go up and see what there is in the way of beds or maybe a sofa or table. I'm afraid everything we had belonged with the old house."

"May I ask a question, Callie?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't the former farm just hire you in place of your dad?"

I blushed. "I can handle a farm this size, but the Smithfields run about thirty horses, some milk cows and about a hundred chickens. That would have been too much for me to handle on top of the other things I do. I hope this isn't a problem?"

"Oh, no, no... was just wondering. I didn't get the details of your situation other than who was coming and that you'd begin moving in today. As for that, we're leaving for Florida next Thursday, so you have time to settle in and get acquainted before you take over."

"Thank you. Michael?" I finished, looking to him for help, but he was out in the yard, already shouldering in some boxes.

"Men," Maggie exclaimed. "They can't stand still for a second. Come with me and I'll show you the ladder to the garage attic."

I found just about everything I needed in the attic and called to Michael to help me bring it down. I was so glad he was there to help. The furniture was older, but well-made and perfectly solid. I found two double-sized four-poster beds, a couple of over-stuffed wing chairs, and a small dining room table with leaves for when company came; it included six chairs. There were two matching loveseats that I thought would be perfect facing one another before the windows. At the last minute, I unearthed a coffee table and two bedside tables. It seemed like it had all been waiting for me.

Michael carried everything himself, refusing to let me help. "Just point where you want it," he said, and I did exactly as he asked. I busied myself putting away dishes, pots and pans and the boxes of food for the cupboard. We'd not had much in the refrigerator, so I'd left that behind. I would go to the grocery before I picked up Josiah.

I did have some lamps, and once I'd put out our little knick-knacks of pictures, a mantle clock and a few porcelain pieces my mother had collected, things looked quite cozy. There were white ruffled curtains at all the windows, as well as blinds, and I thought they'd do quite well for the moment. There were no dressers, but I could make do with the hanging rod in the closet and perhaps a few boxes turned on their sides until I could find some used ones.

Maggie had wished us goodnight and gone back to the main house to fix dinner. Michael and I closed up and then headed back to the Smithfield farm to get the last of my things, and Hector.

Bringing Hector allowed me to get my first look at the horse barn. Like many in that part of the country, it was more ornate than our little house. The walls were paneled in cherry, and each of the stalls had oil paintings on its back wall and velvet ropes to hold the horses in place. There was a small pool with a ramp where the horses could be bathed and exercised. This was nicer than at the Smithfields'!

The farm manager's office was also housed here. It was a separate room with glass in the top half of the interior walls so I could see all the horses at a glance. There was a desk with an executive chair, a computer, a small television, and a door that led to the tack room. I found a vacant stall for Hector away from the others and bedded him down for the night on his own. He needed to get used to the others before I let them get too chummy.

Michael let out a low whistle between his teeth. "Looks a lot like Dad's place, just smaller," he said admiringly. "I think you've done yourself proud, lassie. How many people are you supervising?"

"Don't know for sure yet. I know there are at least two stable boys, and then more farmhands down at the edge of the property living in a bunkhouse. They see to the tobacco and some livestock, as well as keeping the grounds landscaped and buildings in repair. From what I understand, I'll manage everything, make up work orders, do payroll and such, but the only thing I'll touch hands-on will be the horses. They're my special domain."

"All thoroughbreds?"

"Yes. They're bringing two more up from Florida when they come back this time. I think they want to try the tracks up here. Hopefully Dad will be well enough to be home. Even from a wheelchair, he can give me some pointers and advice."

"You've done him proud, lassie," Michael complimented me.

"Thank you. I'd invite you to stay, but I'm pooped and I have to get the trailer back to the Smithfields' and close up the house, turn in the key, etc. Did I tell you that Mr. Smithfield stopped by to tell me that he's setting up a modest retirement income for Dad? He said Dad had been with them for thirty years and deserved some security."

"No, you didn't. That's really good news."

"Just about everything in my life right now is perfect, Michael."

"Is that so? Does that include me?"

"Most especially you, big guy. I don't know what I would have done without you. You really saved us."

"All in a day's work when you're Superman," he teased me, and I slapped him playfully on the rump. His response was to stop dead, twirl and pick me up, holding me over his head as though I was flying. I shrieked and he laughed hard, lowering me, but not before kissing me in my crotch area. "Mmmm... wish I had time to taste a little of that right now."

"You're incurable, you know that?" I pushed at him and stepped back. "Now, don't forget... you're talking to a manager now. I have to be aware of my surroundings and set a good example."

"What does that mean?"

"That, my dear Michael, means no diddling in the hay, no pulling down my pants or lifting my shirt for a feel."

"Would I do that?"

"Have you?" I answered.

"Good point." He kissed me hard and slapped me on the butt. "Good night, Miss Manager. Be good, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."