The Stablemaster

The Stablemaster

A Novel

by

Johnnie Mcdonald

Frankie and Johnnie Publications

2 Grove Isle Drive, #1403

Coconut Grove, Florida 33133

Copyright © 2017, Johnnie McDonald

All Rights Reserved

Other Publicatons by Johnnie Mcdonald

NOVELS

The Deweyville Church Secretary Trilogy with Frankie Carroll:

Devil’s Basement, Book One

Loose LIPS, Book Two

Boilerman, Book Three

The Property

Final Test

Texans First, The New Republic

Haunted Hearts

Trail Ride

Channel Lineage Trilogy:

Bondsman, Book One

The Stablemaster, Book Two

The Stablemaster’s Son, Book Three

BIOGRAPHY

Something Special by Frank and Peg Brady with Johnnie McDonald

Disclaimer

No, the Channels of the Channel Lineage Trilogy are not the Channels with whom you may be acquainted or related in contemporary Virginia. Those Channels, as well as historical events, have inspired the author to create fictional stories and characters recounted in The Stablemaster. References to real people, incidents, dates, or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity, not to represent historical fact. Keeping to what could have been, what might have happened, is the intent.

No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

Dedication

For a short time, my husband and I owned a tiny horse ranch outside Norman, Oklahoma. We acquired a few horses, none of them pure anything, put some hay in the barn, assigned the children to mucking stalls, bought cowboy boots, and considered ourselves ranchers. What happened next? you ask. I was thrown from the mare not once but twice. My husband broke his leg and I installed the fences. The children cried because they didn’t care to muck stalls. The filly we waited for months to be born was skittish; the children cried because they couldn’t pet it. The mare was discovered with her legs in the air one morning, stiff as a board from colic—the children cried. I cried. It was hard work. We gave up.

I have fond memories of our horse days despite the challenges, and I have remained enamored with the life of ranching and respectful of the people who make it their life’s work. Watching a foal kick up its heels in a pasture is as beautiful a sight one may experience.

My friend in New Jersey, Peg Brady, hails from multiple generations of Irish blacksmiths and farriers of county Mayo who brought their skills to America. Practicing an age-old profession in a modern world is to be admired.

I dedicate The Stablemaster to Peg and Frank Brady who encouraged me to continue writing, and to the indomitable spirit of those who remind us who we were and what we did to build this great country.

Chapter One

But, Da, must I go to the Cutters this morning? Oralena is home, and I do not wish another encounter with the spoiled princess. May I not wait until next week when she returns to Boston? Liam bellyached while ruffling the mane of a two-week-old foal.

Ahem. Will Channel cleared his voice before answering, Master Cutter instructed us to return the mare and her foal as soon as they are fit for travel.

Liam leaned against the corral rails and crossed his long growing legs one over the other. While cleaning his fingernails with a pen knife, he continued protesting the task. Are they truly naming this foal Nocturn? And what does it mean, Da?

I am unsure, son. Something to do with the night since it looks as if he will turn coal-black.

Upmh. Tis a foolish name for a horse. That priggish bookworm Marilee Cutter is probably the one who thought of the silly name. At any rate, Saul and Mika are expecting me to help them fire and bend the bands for the new carriage wheels today.

I am certain Joshua’s boys are capable of blacksmithing without your help. Now, stop shillyshallying or you will not return here before dusk and your mother begins to fret. And tomorrow, you are expected at the Dearbourne Estate to secure two colts for gelding.

If I arrive with urgency, that saucy brat will not have the opportunity to bedevil me. Oralena will not leave me be, Da, chasing after me all these years, asking impertinent questions such as do I sleep in the pig sty or the hay loft. He picked at a healing pimple on his chin. Now she makes tease of my red spots and asks why my sideboards are sparse? Last time I was there, she ordered me to boost her into the saddle. I had her boot in my hand and was giving her a lift when she went flying backward, and we both landed on the ground with her sitting atop me.

Liam’s father snickered, remembering a long-ago incident in which Finnie had slipped on her first attempt to pull herself onto a side saddle. With her skirts bunched and her limbs splayed, her rump had landed on his belly. As was her habit at age seventeen, she cursed in the Irish. The moment was one of his fondest memories.

Twas not humorous, Da. Oralena lifts herself into the saddle all the time without help or hindrance. I believe it was a deliberate attempt to humiliate me. Then, she commanded me to ride out with her as if I am her servant. And when I refused, she cracked a whip above my head. Well, I cannot mind my manners when it comes to Oralena Cutter. She is a rude little tart.

Will stopped picking debris from the hooves of the mare and cleared his throat again before chiding his son. Liam, I have heard this same argument for many years now. Perhaps Oralena wishes to befriend you, but you continue to act in the impudent manner of an ill-mannered stable boy, proving her accusations to be founded. How many times has your mother boxed your ears for referring to the Cutter daughters in such insulting terms?

Uninhibited to a degree around his father, Liam did not use vulgar terms in front of his Irish mother whose temperament included a do as I say not as I do philosophy. Through years of scolding, ear-tugging, arm-pinching, and an occasional tongue-washing with lye soap, he had learned manners and respect. At fifteen, he towered over his petite mother, but never did he consider back-talking or defying her.

Your mother is coming with your supper, Liam. Mind your tongue.

Liam took the bundle containing victuals from his mother, pecked her on the cheek, and climbed onto the saddle horse. Before she could warn him not to behave like a hooligan, he picked up the reins to the mare and headed out to the Cutter’s La Belle Plantation with the wobbly foal scampering close behind its mother. Over his shoulders, he paid his respects to his parents who always maintained a vigil when he departed the farm. Ma, thank you for the vittles; I love you. Good day, Da; till the evening tide.

Will drew his wife into his arms and nuzzled her neck. What are you planning to feed me, wife?

Finnie pushed her husband away with a playful rib. Ah, ye beast. The last time Liam rode out, me husband took me to the hayloft in the broad daylight to have his way. Now, he’s askin’ what it tis I shall be feedin’ his stomach.

Finnie, darlin’, I have mud on my boots, sweat on my blouse, and horse dung on my hands. The only clean part of me is my mouth. Will you give us a kiss then?

I shant. Ye do in deed smell as if ye wallowed with the hogs.

I must ride to the north pasture and bring home the Arabian mare who has escaped the fence again. I know naught how the old thing manages. If I bathe later, may I take you to the hayloft or the meadow on the hill? I promise to earn my supper.... He winked wickedly and attempted to kiss her cheek.

Finnie smirked at his foolishness while ducking away. Iris is fixin’ the goose and yams, and we’ll be havin’ our supper served on the terrace promptly at twelve. Do not tarry while searchin’ for that mindless old nag or you’ll go without. Before returning to the house and her chores, she giggled, "I shall take ye up on that promise, leannan. Make sure ye clean behind them ears."

Will followed his wife of eighteen years with his eyes. After the many seasons, her nearness resulted in the same giddiness as the day she had fallen on his person. As a grown woman and mother, Finnie was more beautiful to him than when she had been a wee lassie and first trussed up in the garb of a scullery maid. With bright-green eyes full of devilment, blonde hair peaking from beneath her lace cap, freckles dotting her impish nose, and full lips made for kissing, the very sight of her made him feel like a colt, ready to frolic across the fields and kick up his heels.

There was a bit of gray streaking Will’s dark hair and the grooves around his eyes were deep due to the elements. He held his muscular body with pride and performed his job as the indentured stablemaster on Lady Belle Equestrian Farm in the James River Valley of County Surry without tiring. Not for one moment of the day since landing on Virginia soil in seventeen hundred and two had he wanted more in life than his wife, his son, and his work. He was young in all respects, and it was his contentment which kept him so.

* * *

Liam moseyed along the road on his return to Lady Belle, fussing and grumbling all the way to no one but himself and the horse. "‘Oh, Liam,’ she says, ‘Watch me. Watch me, please.’ Umph. Never said please before in her life. She is a frivolous female, and has no business riding around astride a horse and cracking a whip. She knew full well I was in a hurry, but she bragged, ‘I am able to pluck a pebble off yonder log with one crack.’ And by Jove, she did it. That pebble went flying off into the air like it had wings. Aye, twas a right smart trick, and I was ready to give her praise before she began to crow like a satisfied rooster. ‘I bet you cannot crack a whip in such a manner, Liam.’ That is when I told her I could crack a whip if I had time to squander on pointless amusements. Well, the goad sent her into a red-tainted tizzy, with cheeks puffed like a chipmunk and eyes bulging from their sockets before the hellion cracked that whip over my head. Sounded akin to thunder striking next to my ear and so close my hair stood on end. I intended to drag her off the horse and spank her unmentionable when I stepped toward her with my hands fisted. She must have seen I was serious mad because she smacked that horse on the rump, and they went tearing home to her papa.

Aye, horse, I just might take me up some whip works and.... Liam stopped talking to himself and reined his horse to a halt. What are you two doing out here? His father’s huge work horse was trotting down the middle of the road toward home with an empty saddle, and Zidayah, the old Arabian clipping behind. Whoa, Goliath, whoa. At the signal, his horse trotted up beside the pair, and Liam took hold of the Quarter Horse’s loose reins. Goliath’s eyes were wild, and a sheen of white lather covered his chestnut colored chest and withers. Liam glanced around before calling for his father. Da, can you hear me? Where are you, Da? There was no answer. He glanced at the horse again and noticed something dark on his rump. Leaning over, he ran his fingers over the spot—the liquid was sticky and crimson. My God, tis blood.

Chapter Two

Following the death of her beloved Will, Finnie remained inside the hall of Lady Belle, pacing the floor, wringing her hands, talking aloud to his ghost. Sleep would not relieve her grief, and she rarely made an appearance beyond the boundaries of her quarters. After eight weeks of isolation, Finnie surfaced, her body a mere skeleton. She did not venture far from the front porch where she kept a vigil of the stable where Will had worked, where his precious horses still whinnied and stomped in their stalls as if they missed the raspy voice of their master. The rocking chair where she had rocked her son and the sons of Joshua and Iris, remained in constant motion, its soft squeak a balm to quiet her mind.

While hulling beans one afternoon, a shawl wrapped around the black dress which hung on her emaciated frame, Finnie’s head shot up when Redcoats came riding into the yard. The sight of their scarlet uniforms sent a wave of panic through her, and she rose to her feet, timorous as a sparrow. Madame Lucille heard the noise of multiple riders from the parlor and joined her friend on the porch.

Having returned from Philadelphia upon hearing of the death of Will Channel, Lucille Trammel took charge, politely asking the Redcoats to state their business.

The soldiers remained on their horses, but the captain responded with a tip of his black-feathered hat, announcing himself as Captain Morris of His Majesty’s army. What he proclaimed next, shocked Finnie to the core. I have orders to seize the boy Liam Channel and take him to the magistrate in Norfolk. There is an obligation of indenture, and, as the son of William Channel, it has been determined the boy be held until the debt is paid.

Rage fermenting in her belly, Finnie gripped the arm of the rocker for support while Lucille remained stoic. As the owner of the farm, it was Madame Trammel’s responsibility to display authority. Captain Morris, William Channel was murdered only eight weeks past. And here stands his widow. You may observe for yourself she is in mourning and has suffered greatly due to her husband’s passing. And now you come for her son? What manner of callousness is this?

Beg pardon Madame Trammel, Mistress Channel. None-the-less, I have my orders. Where is the boy?’

Finnie rushed off the porch and flew at the captain. One would have thought she had no strength left, but she flailed at him like a demon and hung onto his leg as he signaled his horse to turn toward the stable. Finnie cried, He’s free. He was born a free person. What are ye sayin’? Ye shant take him.… She was dragged through the yard as his horse marched toward the stable, her constant pleas for mercy heard above his orders for his men to search the place until they found the boy.

There were too many of the lobsterbacks to fight when they grabbed the youngster off Goliath as he prepared to ride to Cutter’s La Belle Plantation for a job of gelding. Questions were asked but went unanswered as the captain commanded Liam be put on an extra horse brought along for the purpose, and his hands to be tied to the pommel. He rode off the property of Lady Belle peacefully, but with tears in his eyes at the sight of his mother lying in the dirt, sobbing and cursing in Gaelic, Madame Lucille’s arms around her.

* * *

Liam was thrown in the Norfolk jail and left to consider his fate for a week. The magistrate, an elderly man with a reputation for dispensing justice depending upon who possessed the bigger purse, scoffed at him daily, rattling the bars of the rat-infested cell, making such statements as, they shall pay. Liam did not understand the pretense of his incarceration, other than the notion the greedy Horace Belcher had found a way to profit from his father’s death.

His mother and Madame Lucille visited Liam on the seventh day of his imprisonment, and the scheme became evident. Belcher claimed himself to be a staunch Loyalist to the Crown, and considered contracts written by a London judge to be sacred. When Madame Lucille reported Will Channel’s murder several weeks prior and insisted Belcher search for the killer, he made a snide comment regarding the remaining five years of the indenture contract. She left his office not knowing why he fretted over a dead man’s unpaid debt, and he made no commitment to locate the murderer.

Remembering the conversation, Lucille was prepared to bribe the avaricious magistrate for Liam’s release, and offered twenty-five pounds. Belcher sniggered at the bribe, responding the payment was insufficient. When he quoted the sum, twenty-five pounds for each year remaining on the five-year indenture, Lucille was reduced to shock.

Upon visiting Liam in his cell, Finnie promised, I’ll get ye out of here, son, if I have to kill that mangy dog of a magistrate and drag his gluttonous carcass through the streets of Norfolk.

Lucille interceded in Finnie’s harangue. Liam, we shall not abandon you. I shall sell the Arabians to pay the fee....

Liam argued, Nay, Madame Lucille, you cannot sell your prized Arabians. The future of Lady Belle and all its people depend upon those horses. Tell Belcher I shall gladly complete Father’s contract as an indentured servant reporting to whomever he selects.

To Finnie’s boisterous rejections complete with Gaelic profanity, Lucille made the offer to Belcher. The magistrate harrumphed and refused the deal. Liam remained in jail another several days.

The outcome to the puzzle became evident on day thirteen. Liam was brought out of his cell, filthy and louse-ridden, and forced to stand shackled as if a thief in front of Belcher and two other men. With their backs to him, Liam did not at first recognize Captain Elias Dearbourne of the Dearbourne Estate or Dutton Cutter of La Belle Plantation, who were arguing noisily regarding his worth.

Mister Belcher, I protest most vehemently, Dearbourne shouted, his fist slamming down on the desk Belcher was cowering behind. I have previously agreed to pay the one hundred fifty pounds in exchange for the boy’s indenture.

Dutton Cutter was in the process of upping the ante. I am offering two hundred pounds for Liam Channel. I expect the court to record the indenture as a five-year contract and at its conclusion, he will be accorded a full release and granted the fifty acres promised to his father by The Crown. Cutter was not in the least intimidated by Belcher’s rank or Dearbourne’s posturing.

Dearbourne was most displeased to hear his neighbor and fellow farmer outbid him. His aristocratic face went red with fury and his powdered wig became saturated with sweat.

Liam, standing quietly behind the men who appeared close to fisticuffs, suddenly had the audacity to laugh aloud at the spectacle. After all, he was but fifteen, and never had he dreamed his slight contribution to the horse profession was considered so treasured.

For his outburst, Belcher added contempt to the court fees, a calculated total of two hundred ten pounds. At this point, Captain Dearbourne must have determined Liam was not worth the sum, called Belcher a double-crossing skunk, threw up his hands, and stormed out. The expression on Belcher’s face was as if he had eaten a lemon, but he quickly palmed the notes Cutter counted out to him. Having been caught with his corruption exposed, Belcher was overly strict in his final warning to Master Cutter, issuing mandates which were recorded as a non-forfeitable Indenture Contract. Further, the records stipulated Liam Channel must be held to account and: be maintained in Cutter’s custody for five years, not be allowed to leave Surry County, not be allowed to own property or paid wages, not be allowed to marry, and some other not alloweds Liam could not recall.

On the way home to Lady Belle, Cutter informed Liam, Belcher’s mandates did not specify on what property you must work. I shall ask Madame Lucille to reimburse me the sum of one pound per year to allow you to continue working at Lady Belle. Twill be our secret. I have asked Réne Lambert to oversee the farm in the interim, until Madame secures a new stablemaster or determines you are able to handle the job. Should there ever be any concerns with Lambert or of any matter, do not hesitate to come to me.

Sire, why have you been so generous with your purse? The amount you paid to the Court, to Belcher’s pocket, is extravagant. How shall I ever repay this debt? Liam asked while scratching at his head.

Tis no debt you owe, Liam. The Trammels and the Channels have been loyal friends and neighbors all these years, and I have faith you will someday extend a favor. The only thing I ask is for you to become the best stablemaster in Virginia, and to think of me when you go on your own. I would have many horses trained by a son of William Channel. Cutter squelched a snicker. Uh, Liam, I believe your mother will have a few choice words of Irish to say about your stay at the Norfolk jail—your hair is moving.

When Liam returned to Lady Belle, there was cause for celebration, but not before Liam was given the treatment in the washhouse. After being scalded and scrubbed, he was given the choice of a scalping or a combing. He wanted the delousing chore over and done quickly instead of having a mixture of vinegar and salt scrubbed into his head and then a coating of lard applied. Having to sit in the washhouse overnight while the lard smothered the nits, followed by another vinegar wash and tedious combing of the nits, was more bother than he cared to endure. He opted for having his long hair shorn to the scalp.

With Liam back in the fold, Finnie’s spirits were bright. She continued to watch the barns and the fields from her rocking chair on the porch, but now it was to keep Liam in her sights. She grew nearly mad with worry when he left the farm on horse business, watching for his return, vexing when he was but an hour delayed.

Concerned with Finnie’s state of mind, Madame Lucille announced, "Michelle’s youngest son Pierre will be celebrating a birthday, and I shall be there to congratulate him and to act as Grandmere Lucy to my other grandchildren who barely know me. Now, hear me, mon ami, you are moving with me to Philadelphia, and I shall have no argument about the matter. We leave in one week, so prepare yourself." Lucille had resorted to her status as the mistress of the farm, making demands upon the woman who was previously her indentured maid but whom she considered a friend and treated as if a niece. Rose, the girl who was abused by Jack Robbins and who never left Lucille’s side, as well as Joshua’s younger son Mika, were invited along, and preparations for the journey commenced.

The day had turned gray and rainy, but plans were not delayed. When the wagons were loaded with Madame Lucille’s fine china, silver, and imported silk frocks, as well as the personal belonging of the other travelers, the rocking chair was set on the flat bed of the third wagon. Finnie, having never debated the matter, sat with her head facing the stables, rocking back and forth as the wagons pulled out of the yard down the road leading away from Lady Belle, and out of the Virginia where she and Will had landed twenty-three years past.

* * *

The story of their lives was etched on Finnie’s heart. Through the years, she had told the tale often to those who would hear, particularly to her son Liam. While making the trip out of Virginia to this new place called Philadelphia, she mentally relived every detail of her life, little noticing as the scenery changed about her....

William Channel had been imprisoned at Newgate Prison in London in seventeen and one for beating the foreman of the carriage house where he worked. The foreman had been abusive to the horses, and Will had put a stop to it by hitting the man over the head with a beam and hiding the horses. After several months in prison, Will was bonded to Lord Byron Trammel because of his youth and experience with horses. The indenture contract was for twenty-five years, an abnormally long indenture due to the unscrupulous practices of the English courts.

On the ocean crossing to the colonies where Trammel owned a large tobacco and cotton plantation as well as a prosperous horse farm named La Belle Plantation, a lad named Finn Carroll was assigned to assist Will with the valuable Arabians Lord Trammel had purchased. Finn, a runt of a lad with a feisty attitude and a willingness to fight anyone who crossed him, had boarded ship as a stowaway. When he was found, he admitted he was after finding a new life in the colonies. Well into the journey, Will discovered Finn was actually Fionnuala, a scrawny lassie of fourteen escaping the hardships of Ireland following the death of her Aunt Cori. Finnie, as she was later called, had disguised herself as a boy to protect herself from untoward advantage. Trammel was exasperated at her audacity, but offered her an indenture of five years as a maid to his wife Madame Lucille Trammel. Finnie fought like a wildcat and cursed like a sailor when she was forced into skirts, but she finally succumbed to her fate and learned to tame her Irish temper over the next couple of years. Will was assigned to the plantation stables as groomer and trainer, and watched Finnie grow from a reluctant house maid to a beautiful and clever woman. Another indenture, a malicious man named Jack Robbins, also took an interest in Finnie and attempted to woo her, but Will was the one she chose. When Finnie came of age, the Trammels allowed her to marry Will, although they were both still bonded.

The newly wed Channels were happy for a few years on Trammel’s La Belle Plantation, until everything turned to wrack and ruin. Jack Robbins was found guilty of abusing the young slave