Disclaimer: I do not own the Trixie Belden characters. The only thing I am making from them is entertainment for myself. I do, however, own Adelle and Uncle Andy.
Regan ran his freckled hand through his damp dark copper hair with a sigh. Either he was getting too old or he just wasn't used to all the work he had finished that day. Stretching his sore muscles, he wandered into the barn to check on the horses one last time before hitting the hay.
Matthew Wheeler, Regan's boss, had decided to sell a few of the horses now that the Bob-Whites were no longer around to ride them. The Bob-Whites, a group of seven kids including Trixie, an incurable detective, her older brothers Brian and Mart, her best friends Honey and Diana, Honey's adoptive older brother Jim, and Dan, an ex New York gang member- had been away to college for over a year now.
That had been decided a little over a month ago, and they had advertised the three horses, Starlight, Strawberry, and Lady for sale. Edward Lynch, a neighbor and Diana's father, had decided to purchase the horses for his four remaining children since they only had one horse, Sunny, that Diana left behind when she went to live on campus with the other girls. When they heard that the Wheeler's were selling three of their best horses, they jumped at the chance.
That is what made Regan's muscles ache. He had loaded the horses, one at a time, and taken them to the Lynch estate. Granted the Estate wasn't far away, but the horses decided they wanted to test Regan, refusing to load easily. After getting the horses settled in, he returned to the Manor House Stables to load up the tack, feed, and hay he promised the Lynch groom he would bring by.
He stayed long enough to make sure the horses were in good hands and to give the groom, a young man by the name of Jack, a warning of the horses' few idiosyncrasies. He admitted to Ed Lynch how glad he was that the horses were so close to home. Then home he came to shower and try to relax his aching muscles.
Shaking the thoughts from his mind he walked past the tack room/office. He first peeked in on Susie, a sweet little black mare, who was sound asleep in her stall, standing with her left hind leg cocked and only the toe of her hoof touching the ground. He patted the stall door, not wanting to wake her, and continued to check on Jupiter, a handful of a gelding. When he looked into Jupiter's stall, his smile fell.
Jupe was pawing at the bedding of his stall and tossing his head to nip at his flanks. Swearing under his breath, Regan slowly moved into the stall with Jupe, talking softly all the while.
"Easy Jupe. It's alright, let me take a quick look at you," he ran a gentle hand down the horse's glistening neck, across his shoulder and belly. He carefully laid his ear on his flank to listen for a moment. A frown crossed his brow.
He left the stall as easily as he had entered and made a beeline to the phone in the tack room.
"What do you need, Regan?" Celia answered.
"I need to speak with Mr. Wheeler please, Celia," Regan's words were rough, letting the maid know something was wrong.
"Right away," she disappeared. Regan hadn't waited more than two minutes on the other end of the line before he heard, "Yes, Regan?"
"We have a potential problem down here, I just wanted to inform you. Jupe might be colicing. I'm on my way to walk him around a bit, and if that doesn't help, I'll give the vet a call."
"Thanks, Bill. You go tend to Jupe, and if you need anything else, just call."
"Consider it done, sir," Regan said and quickly hung up the phone.
Regan pulled a lead shank off its hook and hurried back to Jupiter. He slipped back into the stall and easily clipped it to the horse's halter. He led the gelding out of the stables and around a little clearing between the barn and the riding arena.
"Easy boy, that's it, just keep moving," he spoke softly while leading him and stroking his neck. Regan continued the process for fifteen minutes and led Jupe back to his stall to rest. He wanted to see if the walking had helped him any, and he also wanted to check his temperature.
Regan almost ran back to the tack room to get the thermometer he kept for emergencies such as this. When he returned Jupe still seemed restless, but not as much as before the walking. He checked Jupe's temperature as quick as he could and frowned at what he saw.
"Easy does it, Jupiter. It looks like you have a fever buddy. I'll go ring the vet and be right back."
*****
Receiving calls close to midnight is the norm for an on call vet. The second Dr. Don was off the phone he threw pants and a shirt on, kissed his wife and took off for his car.
*****
When Regan returned to Jupiter's stall, portable phone in hand, he found Jupe laying down looking out at him. Even worried, Regan smiled, as he always did when one of his horses looked at him that way.
"You'll be just fine, Jupe," he told the gelding softly. Regan propped his back against the wall just to the left of the stall door and yawned. What a day, he thought.
When the vet got there Regan led him to Jupe's stall, and the vet proceeded to insert a stomach tube and give Jupe mineral oil. While the vet continued to watch Jupe, Regan ran up to his apartment to grab his foldaway cot. After shaking hands with the vet and thanking him for coming out at such a late hour, Regan set his cot up just outside Jupiter's stall and laid down for the night.
"Finally," he sighed as he quickly fell asleep.
*****
The young woman hopped out of the beat-up old truck and then directly into the brand-new work truck her great uncle had bought. She pulled out of the drive of her great uncle's house and headed towards the countryside, keeping the directions to the country estate pinned under her leg to prevent the wind from the open windows from blowing them out the open window. Pretty sure of where she was going, she only glimpsed at them before she left.
With a happy sigh she turned on the radio to her favorite country station. Absolutely delighted at the song that came on, she belted out the lyrics with Reba McEntire. Turning her blinker on, she slowed for the turn onto Glen Road. Her jaw fell as she looked to her left and saw the estate she was headed to. It was huge. Uncle Andy wanted her to take over this estate for him? She took a deep calming breath and made the left turn into the driveway.
She parked and put the emergency brake on out of habit. She dropped down from the cab and went to unlock the trailer. She left the trailer- door unlocked- and went to the front of the house to ring the doorbell.
An efficient-looking middle-aged woman in a deep gray suit answered the door.
"May I help you?" She asked.
"Hi, I'm here for the lawn maintenance. I'm sure my uncle called you. Uncle Andy decided to retire, and he handed down the business to me."
"Ah, yes. You must be Adelle Bishop. I'm Marjory Trask, the Wheeler's Estate Manager."
Adelle tried her best not to wince when Marjory pronounced her name 'A-dell.' She just smiled and nodded.
After taking care of the pleasantries, she returned to her trailer and started on the yard with the riding mower. It took her most of the morning to get the mowing and edging done. She had just started weeding the flowerbeds when she met another of the staff members.
"Hi. You sure have been working hard," a dark-haired man kneeled down to pull a weed. He tossed it into the tin bucket that Adelle had half full.
"It's my job," she smiled.
"I just wandered down to see if I could offer you some lunch," he said continuing to weed with her.
"Thanks, that would be great. Uncle Andy didn't mention how big this job was, so I didn't think to bring lunch today."
"You're old Andy's niece?"
"Great niece. Adelle," she took her glove off and shook his hand.
"Ad-dah-lee?" he tried to wrap his mouth and Yankee accent around her very Southern name.
"Close enough," she laughed.
"I'm Tom, the chauffeur."
"Nice to meet you Tom."
"The pleasure is all mine. Have you met the other staff members yet?" He asked as they headed towards the mansion.
"Only Miss Marjory," she said, falling back on her southern roots.
"Well," he said following her into the kitchen, "this is Cookie, the cook." Pleasantries were said and Cookie set the trays of lunchmeats, cheeses and different breads on the table for everyone to help themselves.
During lunch, Adelle also met Celia, Tom's wife, who looked to be about six months pregnant and absolutely glowing. Tom was glowing too, obviously excited about fatherhood. A conversation of names came up and Adelle offered some names that were popular in Atlanta-where she grew up. Julia, which with her distinct accent came out Jool-ya, was a hit. Both Tom and Celia loved it.
As they were putting their plates in the sink and thanking Cookie for the wonderful lunch, Tom asked, "Where in the world is Regan? He has never missed a lunch before."
Mr. Wheeler chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. His eyebrows raised when he heard Tom's question.
"He's in the barn with Jupe. Hasn't left that horse's side since last night," Mr. Wheeler answered. "I had Winnie take a plate out to him."
He looked at Adelle for a moment before it hit him that he didn't recognize her. One ginger eyebrow shot up.
"Do I know you? Am I supposed to know you?" he asked good-naturedly.
"I'm Uncle Andy's replacement. After his stroke he decided he should take it easy and retire," Adelle answered with a smile. She liked him already. "Adelle Bishop."
Matthew Wheeler shook her hand and grinned at the Southern accent. There was something about Southern accents that was charming.
"Well, then, we have another red-head around the house. The more the merrier. You don't have the red-headed temper, do you?" As an answer Adelle just laughed, walking from the house.
As they left the kitchen, Tom once again escorting Adelle, she looked up at him and asked, "Who is this Regan?"
"The groom, of course. One of the best in the state," Tom said.
Adelle just nodded as she went back to work. It didn't take her much longer, and when she was done, she headed to the other job on Glen Road that her Uncle had lined up before his stroke.
She parked on the side of the road when she got to Ten Acres. A construction crew was just laying a new foundation for the house she had been told the owner wanted there. She looked once more at the business card Uncle Andy had handed her. James Winthrop Frayne II. That name made her picture an aloof old man. Taking a deep breath she went to find him.