I let him spin me at that. “They do?”
“They’re saying that you and Sean Kendrick were burning up the cliffs.” Tommy spins me again and grins at me. “And when I say you and Sean Kendrick, I mean
I jerk to a stop and spin him instead. I pretend he’s talking about racing. “You worried?”
“It’s Gabe who should be worried,” Tommy says. He takes my hands and swings me wide enough that I worry for the objects on the counter. “Because his baby sister’s growing up so fine.”
Mum said that I shouldn’t be moved to do anything by someone with sweet words, but Tommy Falk doesn’t seem to be trying to persuade me of anything, so I let his compliment slip down nice and easy. It’s quite agreeable and I’d be happy enough with another.
Gabe stops playing mid-measure, his hands around the concertina spread as if he holds a book open. “Don’t make me punch you in the mouth, Tommy. When’s that chicken going to be done, Kate?”
Tommy mouths,
“Twenty minutes,” I say. “Maybe thirty. Maybe ten.” There’s a tap on the door then. We all exchange looks, Tommy Falk’s as uncertain as the rest of ours. No one moves, so I finally wipe my hands off on my pants, go to the door, and open it a crack.
Sean stands on the other side, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding a loaf of bread.
I wasn’t prepared for it to be Sean, and so my stomach does a neat little trick that feels like either hunger or escaping. There is something very shocking about seeing him standing dark and still on our doorstep.
I lean out the door a ways. The night’s getting chilly. “You got away from the yard.”
“Is it still all right?”
“It’s all right. It’s me and Gabe and Finn and Tommy Falk.”
“I’ve brought this.” He holds up the bread, which is clearly a Palsson’s loaf, and it’s still so fresh that I can smell the warmth of it. He must’ve come straight from there. “Is that what’s done?”
“Well, you’ve done it, so it must be.”
Gabe asks, “Puck, who is it?”
I open the door wide to reveal the answer. They all look at Sean standing there with his hand in his pocket and the other hand around a loaf of bread and it occurs to me all in a rush as they stare at him that Sean looks a little, just a little, like he’s courting. I don’t have time to explain the truth of it before Tommy laughs and jumps to his feet. “Sean Kendrick, the devil. How are you?”
We fold him into the house and Gabe shuts the door because I forget to in my sudden glee. Gabe tries to separate Sean from his jacket while Tommy says something about the weather, and it’s quite loud for no reason at all, because it’s only Gabe and Tommy and sometimes Finn speaking. Sean, as always, manages to get by on one word where everyone else needs five or six. In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy.
I’m quite happy for the smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
After a few minutes, Tommy and Gabe begin to play cards in front of the fire because there’s no one to tell them not to.
Finn just watches because he hasn’t decided whether or not it’s a sin. Sean joins me by the counter, standing close enough that I can smell hay and salt water and dust on him.
“Give me something to do,” he says.
I put a knife in his hand. “Cut something. Your bread.”
He begins to cut it with single-minded devotion. In a low voice, he says, “I saw Ian Privett after you’d gone. He took Penda out after the rest were gone and ran him hard. He was fast before and he’s fast again. One to watch.”
“I heard that he likes to come up fast from the outside at the end.”
Sean glances at me, an eyebrow raised. “True enough. Privett lost him four years ago when he fell in the races. He beat me twice on him before that.”
“He won’t beat you this year,” I say.
Sean doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to; I know he’s thinking about losing Corr. I stir the chicken. It’s done, but I don’t want to have to sit at the table yet.
After a pause, he says, “I was thinking. No one will want the inside, since the sea will be bad on the first of the month.”
“So I should hug the sea because Dove won’t care.”
Sean’s done slicing the bread, too, but he rearranges the pieces as if he still works at it.
I say, “I was thinking, too, that I should hang back. Save Dove for the end.”
“And maybe the pack will have thinned?” Sean considers. “I wouldn’t wait too long or hang too far back. She’s not strong enough to come up from too far back.”
“I want to steer clear of the piebald, and she’ll be at the front,” I say. “I’ve seen the way Mutt rides her.”
Sean narrows his eyes; I can tell he’s pleased that I’ve noticed, and I’m pleased that he’s pleased.
“Blackwell’s the other one,” Sean says. “He’s the one whose stallion tried to take you down, but he got a replacement horse. This new one’s a fast bitch.” He says it without malice.
Of course, there’s one horse that I know will be a contender. But I’ve never seen him in a real race and I’ve never seen his rider give me the slightest hint of how he likes to pace himself.
“Where will you and Corr be?” I ask.
Sean presses two fingers along the edge of the counter, sweeping crumbs into a pile. I notice that his fingers are permanently dirt-stained like mine. He says, “Right next to you and Dove.”
I stare at him. “You can’t risk not winning. Not because of me.”
Sean doesn’t lift his eyes from the counter. “We make our move when you make yours. You on the inside, me on the outside. Corr can come from the middle of the pack; he’s done it before. It’s one side you won’t have to worry about.”
I say, “I will not be your weakness, Sean Kendrick.”
Now he looks at me. He says, very softly, “It’s late for that, Puck.”
He leaves me standing at the counter looking into the sink, trying to remember what I was supposed to do next.
“Puck,” snaps Gabe. “Your soup!”
The dumplings are boiling over and for a moment it appears that we may have flames for dinner, but I manage to snatch the pot and get the heat off.
The boys all hover around the table now that the presence of food seems imminent. Tommy says, “You’re right, Gabe, she does make a mean chicken. Tried to bite her.”
“Ah, but Puck bites back,” Gabe says.
Finn begins to dole the dumplings out into bowls while I swipe up the spill. Tommy chatters on about how his
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
I wake to the sound of crying. I got back too late; it took sleep too long to come to me. For a moment, I just lie there. Exhaustion makes me unwilling to fully wake, and yet: the crying.
The sound resolves itself into an agonized keening, and I am awake. I am awake and I have my jacket and my boots and I am in the stairwell with my flashlight.
The stable is dark, but I hear the sounds of movement, not from the aisles, but from the stalls. The horses are
