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trudged after India, watching the rise and fall of her hair against the back of her shirt. Never a fanciful person he wondered if he’d seen an apparition yesterday. Some ghostly being haunting the fringes of the once-famed Helligen Park. Despite the warmth of the day a shiver traced his spine. The air of dejection about the place was getting to him.
    â€˜If I may make a suggestion,’ he said, ‘I would like to go over the stables. It’s the hub of any breeding enterprise and without wishing to put too fine a point on it, there’s work to be done there.’
    She shot him a look down her pert nose. The woman was so damn prickly. The sooner he got into the stables, the sooner he could start looking for the stud records. That was his first priority. Find what he’d come for. After that he could worry about whether he wanted to fulfil the ludicrous commitment he’d made to her in a moment of foolishness.
    India’s lips curved into a smile. Like the sun coming from behind a cloud her aggravation of a moment ago dissipated. ‘That’s an excellent idea. And Fred could do with a few pointers. He tries his best. Unfortunately I don’t think anyone has ever shown him what he should be doing. I remember as a child the stables were always as neat as a pin. The original stud master had his office in there.’ She took off almost at a gallop and headed back to the courtyard.
    Jim curbed a smile. That’s where he’d find the information he needed to register Jefferson and take their first step to the winning post.
    â€˜Fred, where are you?’ India stood in the middle of the courtyard shading her eyes. The lad appeared from the barn. ‘I’m here, miss.’ He dragged his feet while humping a bundle of straw wider than his scrawny shoulders.
    â€˜Mr Jim. Good morning, sir.’
    India’s eyebrows rose and Jim smothered a laugh. Kilhampton might have bundled his family off the place, but the mere fact he was a male commanded a degree of respect around here. ‘Good morning, Fred. I told you, no need to call me sir. Jim is fine. How’s my boy this morning?’
    â€˜Just about to go and fix up his stable—that’s what this is for.’ He tossed the straw onto the ground.
    At the sound of Jim’s voice the stallion’s head appeared over the half-door, his ears pricked.
    â€˜India, come and meet Jefferson. He’s the apple of my eye.’
    â€˜Your horse?’
    â€˜Yes, a Munmurra animal.’ He unlatched the barred gate to release Jefferson then slipped a rope around his neck and led him out into the courtyard.
    The expression on India’s face changed from appraisal to appreciation as she examined his horse. She reached and touched the warm velvet of his muzzle. Jefferson pushed his big head into her hair, snuffling and snorting as she ran her fingers through his mane.
    Concerned she’d object Jim pulled back on the lead rope and brought Jefferson around.
    â€˜I was enjoying it.’ Pushing up from the tips of her absurd boots she stretched out her hand and rubbed the horse behind the ears. A quiver of delight rippled Jefferson’s glossy hide from the top of his neck to the tip of his black tail.
    Unable to drag his gaze away, Jim stared, a vicarious thrill shooting down his spine. In the next life he might come back as a horse and ask to be stabled here, particularly if one India Kilhampton ran the show. Chance would be a fine thing. He didn’t belong in a place like this, definitely not if they twigged to his dubious lineage. Jefferson—now that was another matter.
    â€˜Would you like to put him in the mating yard?’ India gestured to a small well-grassed paddock next to the stables. ‘All the horses love being in there. Lots of treats on the other side of the fence in Peggy’s vegetable garden.’
    She led Jefferson away and Jim waited to see what would come next. Hoping for a