The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) by Patrick E. Craig

Author:Patrick E. Craig
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780996533416
Publisher: P&J Publishing
Published: 2015-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Guardian

Willy Oxendine sat looking out the front windows of the Old Greenwich Station in Greenwich, Connecticut. Most days his job as Station Master was fairly dull and so when the MTA afternoon train pulled in, he always played a little game as he watched the passengers get off. He tried to imagine where they were coming from, what they did for a living, and where they were headed. Of course, many of the passengers were from Greenwich and Old Greenwich, so he already knew their stories. That was why one passenger in particular caught his attention right away.

Hmmm. There’s one that’s not from around here...

Willy watched as the young man got off the train, turned up the collar of his dark pea coat, and looked around at the bustling crowd of commuters. The icy wind tugged at the coat, and Willy watched the young man button it even tighter around his neck. Then the stranger headed toward the red station building, his heavy canvas duffle bag leaving a trail of icy shards through the crusted snow as it dragged over the windblown hummocks. Willy kept an eye on the young man as he pushed through the lobby door and looked around. He stomped his feet and slapped himself with his arms to get the circulation going again.

Black watch cap, pea coat, duffle bag...maybe he’s a sailor? Nope, doesn’t have the swing in his walk.

The young man’s cap was pulled down over his ears, and his face sported a two-day growth of blond beard. He walked straight over to the counter and looked Willy in the eye. “Excuse me, sir, but do you know of any folks who need an experienced stable hand?”

Willy gave him the once-over.

Ah-ha! Farm boy—lookit them hands. Seen a lot of hard work and that coat fits tight around them big shoulders. A hay-bucker if I ever seen one.

Willy looked up at the stranger’s face. It registered in a good way—clean, honest, what ya see is what ya get kinda face, and Willy smiled. “Well, son, are you really good with horses? We got a lot of stables out here, lots of rich people that buy horses and don’t know a dang thing about ‘em.”

“Yes, sir, I am very good with horses. Been around them all my life.”

“You got any references? These folks are picky.”

The young man hesitated and his face fell. “Well, sir, I didn’t think to bring any when I left home. I...I had to leave in a hurry.” Then he brightened. “But all I need is a chance to show somebody what I can do. I’m a hard worker and I’m dependable.”

Willy stared hard at the honest face in front of him and right away he trusted it. “Okay, you don’t look like a druggie or a thief. I’ll take your word. Just so happens that Benny Peterson was in today and he’s looking for another hand out at the St. Clair place.

A strange look crossed the young man’s face. “St. Clair? I’ve heard of them.

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