Lara's Gift Read Free Page A

over.”
    Papa twisted the long, dark hairs of his beard. “It’s clear you love the dogs. And it’s true I’ve been grooming you to become the next kennel steward. All of that will have to change, if your mama gives birth to a boy. Trust me, Lara, I’m thinking of your future.”
    Up until now, I had never thought Papa would really take away my dream.
    He turned away from me to dote on his favorite dog. While he checked Borei’s paws for cracks, I tried to muster up my most respectful voice.
    Instead, frustration poured out. “Everything I’ve learned will be wasted.”
    Papa gave me a look—the one that said I’d better watch myself. “Nothing is ever wasted. Your training will come to good use—as nursemaid—when your mama gives birth.”
    I glanced down at Zar in horror and mouthed,
Nursemaid!
    Zar nudged my hand and leaned his long, thin body against me. His touch usually brought me comfort, but my rattled nerves spread, like weeds in an untended garden.
    “What if Mama doesn’t give you a son?” I shouldn’t have said such a thing aloud. In Mama’s mind, just uttering the mere words could summon the evil house spirits, and take the baby away.
    Papa quickly stood up and folded his arms across his chest. “Is that what you want?”
    “Son or not—my place is with you and the dogs,” I said. “To one day support Alexander when he becomes Count.”
    “Your place is with a husband,” Papa snapped. “How will I ever find you a good one smelling like a pack of dogs, even noble borzoi worthy of the Tsar?”
    Papa’s words bit me like a rabid dog. He might have been thinking about my future. All I could think about was what a huge disappointment I must have been when I was born. No wonder Mama prayed at home and in the chapel as much as she did. She had failed Papa at her duty of bearing him a son.
    “I know more about raising borzoi than I do about being a nursemaid.” My voice quavered, but I wouldn’t let myself quit. “I’ve cared for the dogs through distemper, tended to their wounds, administered their worming treatments, fed them proper diets, exercised them, whelped litters, and managed their mating, as well as anyone, even Alexander.” I paused and caught my breath. Like me, Alexander adored the dogs. So much so, he deemed no kennel chore—not even shoveling dog dung—beneath his noble title.
    “And most of all,” I added, “the dogs listen to me.”
    I climbed onto the bench just underneath Papa’s horn and pointed to the scroll upon which the Eight Golden Rules were inscribed. “Don’t forget, I live by these Rules, too.” Although I couldn’t read, my memory was as sharp as the tip of a sickle. I pointed at the scroll, met Papa’s eyes, and recited each Rule aloud.
    Except for the unspoken Rule.
    Golden Rule Number Eight was kept a secret among kennel stewards.
    I had tried many times to pry it out of Papa but with little luck.
    The Eight Golden Rules
    1—A promise is a promise
.
    2 —
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst
.
    3—Never walk away from a borzoi giving birth
.
    4—Trust, but verify
.
    5—Mothers know best
.
    6—Three borzoi make up a hunting team
.
    7—An inexperienced borzoi is a dead one
.
    8—Revealed upon induction to kennel steward
.
    When I was done reciting the Rules, a half smile emerged on Papa’s face. “Your spunk reminds me of me when I was your age.”
    “
Please, Tyatya
. I don’t want a husband.” I hopped down from the bench. “The only thing that matters to me is you, the dogs, and one day becoming the best kennel steward for Alexander.”
    Zar’s feet danced as he circled around me.
    “To breed true hunting dogs, you need hunting expertise, of which you don’t have.” Papa scooped a dollop of herbal balm and rubbed it into Borei’s pads.
    “Mama said you could teach me to hunt when I turned fourteen,” I said.
    “That’s her promise, not mine.” Papa pushed the wisps of hair off my face. “You need to learn some