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just as he had Georg’s mother, Marta.
    “He did raise you well, Abbi.” Georg checked to make certain the saddle was secure. “Don’t let anyone try to tell you otherwise. But as far as his last wishes being carried out, you might as well get used to the idea.” He leaned over the saddle and looked directly at her. “Your grandfather is gone now. You can hardly protest. But it won’t be so bad. Once you turn twenty-one or marry, your aunts can go back to England.”
    “But that’s still three years away,” Abbi said in dismay.
    “Most young ladies would marry before then,” Georg said and Abbi gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s the matter?” He chuckled. “Don’t you want to get married?”
    “I’ve hardly thought about it.”
    “For heaven’s sake, Abbi. You’re eighteen. You can’t spend your whole life with horses.”
    “You ought to talk,” she shot back. “A man approaching thirty who spends every bit as much time with horses as I do.”
    Abbi scrutinized him briefly, wondering why he hadn’t married. He was handsome enough, lean and taller than average, with blond hair that was more fluffy than curly. His features were chiseled, contrasting with eyes of gentle green. And his smile was brilliant, always leaving a remarkable impression on any who saw it as he proved when he laughed at her remark. “It’s my job. Besides, I didn’t just inherit an estate.”
    “At times I wish I hadn’t.”
    “It’s not so bad,” he smiled, helping her into the saddle. “I’ll always be here to help.”
    Abbi smiled down at him, appreciating his friendship as always. “You know,” she said wistfully, brushing her hand through the stallion’s mane, “Blaze will be three years old this month.”
    Abbi saw a shadow pass over Georg’s face.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked.
    “No,” he said. “Funny how time flies.”
    Blaze pawed impatiently at the soft earth beneath his hooves, but Abbi held him back, searching in Georg’s eyes for the cause of his distress. “Georg?” she asked with concern, but he looked up with a forced smile.
    “You be careful now,” he said and slapped the horse to send him galloping. “And don’t go too far!” he called after her.
    With no deviation, Blaze galloped a well-beaten path toward the covered bridge until Abbi stopped to turn and look back at her home. The big house stood tall and stately against a magnificent background of mountains, surrounded by a blanket of green on every side. It was still difficult for Abbi to comprehend that this was all hers now, but then Papa had not been gone long. His absence still tugged at her painfully. It was now necessary for her to see that the tenant farmers’ needs were met and that everything ran smoothly. Of course, Mr. Logen had been Papa’s overseer for many years. He was a good man and Abbi knew he would see that everything was taken care of. Still, she had to meet with him regularly and try to stay abreast of all that was happening. Just the reality that it all belonged to her now was unnerving.
    Blaze turned impatiently and thundered over the covered bridge, hesitating at the fork in the road as if to ask what kind of mood she might be in. One direction led into town, passing by many farms and homes. The other went toward the foothills, which she had avoided for the most part these last few weeks. Needing peace and solace, Abbi opted to head into the hills. She’d always had a unique fascination with the Bavarian countryside, and never tired of riding the same places over and over. This fair valley of Horstberg was not only home, it felt like a part of her. She couldn’t comprehend living, or even going, anywhere else. Her explorations never ceased to put her mind at ease, and whatever trouble might have ailed her fell temporarily away to the rhythm of Blaze’s galloping hooves and the gentle rush of wind against her face. Even now the thought of having two bothersome ladies come to act as her