Taking the Reins (7 page)

“Oh!” The apple slice dropped, and Emma bent to pick it up. When she looked again at the horse, two huge brown eyes stared back at her. There was a sparkle in them that made Emma feel certain the horse was laughing at her. “Think I'm scared, do you?” she asked. She tried again. Stretching her arm, she held only the smallest tip of the apple slice and leaned forward as far as she could.

The horse stretched out its neck, bared its teeth. The apple fell into the dirt, and this time Emma left it there.

“She likes you, Emma,” Tall Joe said.

Emma thought that was the stupidest thing she'd heard all day and opened her mouth to tell him so.

“Will you want her saddled?” the hired hand asked.

Emma's mouth snapped shut. She felt suddenly ill.

“We won't worry about riding the horse today, thank you,” Tall Joe told him. “If you could simply slip a bridle on her and put the sidesaddle in the cart, we'll lead the horse back to town.”

“I thought you'd be pleased,” Tall Joe grumbled on the way home. “Most girls would be grateful for a horse of their own. Your mother rode from the time she was small.”

Emma felt a quick burst of anger. “My mother grew
up in the countryside,” she reminded him, “where her fa
ther was a parson. All a pauper girl in Manchester knows of horses is that it's worth her life to keep out of their way.”

Tall Joe fell silent. They had crossed the bridge from Esquimalt and were passing back through town before he spoke again. “I found a place near town to board her,” he said. “With a few lessons you'll be an expert horsewoman in no time.”

Emma didn't believe a word of it. She turned around on the seat to be sure the horse was still there, still following along. She almost hoped it would be gone, escaped and run off to the farm where it came from. But that wouldn't do much good. Tall Joe would only fetch it back again.

Her attention was caught by something beyond the horse. Standing perfectly still at the side of the road and watching them pass was a girl about her own age. Her light brown hair was mostly hidden by a large bonnet. She wore a warm but simple cloak and a skirt that did not stick out like a bell, as many of the ladies in Victoria wore, but fell in soft folds to the tops of her leather boots. Clutched under one arm was a small stack of books, but it was the expression on the girl's face that made Emma take notice.

She seemed completely unaware of Emma and Tall Joe but followed every movement of the horse tied behind their cart. And her eyes looked uncommonly bright. They shone as if they were filled with tears.

The girl didn't glance one way or the other but took several steps onto the road, her free arm stretched toward the horse. Half running, the girl followed behind the cart. She cried out, but her words were lost in the creaking of wheels and the clip-clop of hoofbeats. The horse heard, though, and its ears perked up. It tried to turn its head but the reins were too taut. It tried to stop and half- stumbled as the force of the moving cart pulled it along. Agitated, the horse raised its head and whinnied. At this the girl stopped following and covered her mouth with her hand. Her face crumpled.

Emma turned away, shaking her head. Nothing of what she had seen made one jot of sense. It seemed everyone in this entire colony, except herself and Mrs. Douglas, was completely daft.

6

E
mma leaned her forearms on the fence top, her eyes fixed on the muddy ground below. She would not look up. Tall Joe might have forced her to come here, but she never would pretend to be happy about it. Her whole entire day was ruined because of him.

She had only one full day off a week, and half of that was taken up by going to church – Governor Douglas saw to that. Now, instead of a few hours to do as she pleased, she had to waste her Sunday afternoon in this dreary stable yard with rain about to teem down at any minute, by the look of those dark clouds hanging over the treetops.

A hint of movement, a heavy footstep, and her eyes flicked to the barn door. Edward stepped out, leading that dreadful horse into the yard. And he called himself her friend! From the corner of her eye she watched the tall, gangly young man but refused to look directly at him. She was that cross.

Edward wore his work clothes and no hat, leaving his thick, light brown hair free to curl down to his eyebrows and over his ears. As near as Emma could figure, Edward was close to sixteen. His arms dangled awkwardly at his sides when he walked, as if he couldn't think what to do with them. His legs looked so loose at the knees they might wobble off in the wrong direction if he didn't pay close attention.

As if he knew she was watching, Edward suddenly flashed one of his wide-toothed smiles in her direction. His round, blue eyes twinkled in that friendly way of his that always made it difficult to stay cross at him. Emma stared at the mucky ground and pretended not to see.

A great loud snort from the horse sent a chill through her bones. Her head jerked up, and her heart took a quick extra beat. No more than ten feet away the beast stretched its long neck, lifted its nose to snuffle the air, shook its head from side to side, and refused to budge. Edward pulled at the reins, but the horse dug its hind feet into the thick, wet earth. In a gentle tone, Edward tried to coax it forward. “Come,” he said, “meet our Emma. I know you'll like her.”

“Don't you dare come one step closer,” Emma warned, even though it seemed the horse didn't want to meet her any more than she wanted to meet it. Emma backed away from the fence. And just in time too, because that huge beast snorted and reared up on its hind legs.

She expected Edward to drop the reins and run for the fence as fast as he could move. He would give a great leap over it and land in a heap of arms and legs at her feet. And it would serve him right for helping Tall Joe. Even better, if he got a good swift kick in his hindquarters to speed him on his way.

To her amazement, Edward did not run but only tightened the reins. He spoke softly to the horse. When the horse settled its front feet on the ground, Edward ran his fingers gently through its thick mane, still speaking quiet words. The horse turned its huge head toward Edward, upper lip curled. Emma held her breath, waiting for him to get a good nip on the shoulder, and that would serve him right too. Her mouth fell open when the horse uttered a soft grunt that sent a puff of moisture floating into the cool, damp air. Edward kept up his gentle talk and rubbed the animal's neck. After another moment, that wild beast stood stone still.

A movement near the barn door caught Emma's at
tention and she turned to look. Tall Joe. He nodded in her direction, happy to see her. She looked away.

“She's a beauty all right.” Edward spoke only loud enough that Tall Joe and Emma could hear, careful not to frighten the horse. “A little skittish at first, but she's calm enough now.” He turned from Tall Joe to Emma and flashed that annoying smile of his. “Emma,” he said, “climb on over here and come meet your horse. Your father's asked me to teach you how to ride.”

“Oh, and s'pose someone asks me what I think?” Emma grumbled, but the horse gave a loud snort and no one heard her. She was angry enough to spit and even angrier because no one so much as took notice.

Tall Joe walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps so as not to startle the horse. “You'll be safe enough in the yard here,” he said softly, just as Edward had spoken to the horse. He extended his hand. “Come on, Emma, climb over the fence and I'll help you up while Edward holds the reins.”

Up? Up where? Not on top of that great snorting, stomping, stinking beast, and that's for certain-sure!
Just come on over to Beckley Farm and have a good look at the horse. Get to know her slowly. You'll grow to like her soon enough, I'm certain of it. She's a beautiful animal and as good-natured as they come.

That's what Tall Joe had said yesterday. And now look at him standing there, grinning through his beard and flashing those great, glaring eyes of his – and him holding out his hand, thinking she'd go climbing up on that animal just ‘cause he wanted her to. Well, he could think about it some more, and Edward could too.

And she didn't know which one made her more cross. Tall Joe for asking Edward to teach her how to ride or Edward for agreeing. Neither one bothered to ask if she wanted to learn. Well, turned out she didn't, and that's for certain-sure.

“Emma,” Tall Joe said, “if it's your crippled leg you're worried about, you don't need to climb the fence. You can walk round through the barn.”

Crippled. Emma curled her fingers around the top fence rail. She glared at Tall Joe, too angry to speak. She was not a cripple, not like all those pauper children crawling under great dusty machines from the time they were small and their bones so soft they never did grow right. All those children who couldn't so much as walk by the time they finished growing, and no one had any use for them after that. Leave them to starve on the streets, that's what happens to cripples. Step around them and pretend they aren't even there.

Well, and she wouldn't let that happen to her and didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her either. Them thinking she was worthless and couldn't take care of her own-self.

Oh, but that saddle! It had only one stirrup, dangling down the horse's left side below a brace meant to hold the rider's upper leg. Above that, close to where a saddle horn should be, were two short handles, curved like a cow's horns. Emma cringed, staring up at them. She imagined sitting up there, her right leg bent and cramped near the horse's neck. Her leg ached just thinking about it.

“Emma?”

Her eyes rolled to Tall Joe. His hand still out, he waited to help her over the fence. She focused on that hand, the long thin fingers stretched toward her, curved slightly upward, the creases on his palm like lines on an oak leaf. “Don't you go callin' me a cripple, Tall Joe,” she said, her voice cold. “Just ‘cause my leg might ache with the cold and damp.”

“Look, Emma, I didn't mean...”

“An' you said to come and look at the horse. Get to know her slowly, is what you said.”

“I did,” he agreed. “Yes. But I thought...”

“I can see well enough from here,” Emma told him. “An' if that's as good natured as they come, then I hope never to meet up with a bad-natured one.”

Tall Joe dropped his hand. “All right then.” His voice was tight with anger. “I'll have Edward lead the horse over to you.”

Before she could object, Edward covered the short distance, bringing that great huge beast up against the fence. “She's beautiful, Emma. And she rides so smooth you'll think you're in a rocking chair. No need to be afraid.”

Emma backed further away. “I'm not...” She cut off her next words. Tell them she wasn't afraid and then what? What reason did she have for not learning to ride this very day? “Did you ride the horse then?” Her voice snapped out like an accusation.

Edward's brow creased. “Uh, yes. She needed exercise. I took her for a run yesterday.”

“Let me see.”

He looked confused.

“Let me see you ride the horse.”

“I, uh, I can't. Not with this saddle. It's a sidesaddle as you can see.”

“An' you can't ride in a sidesaddle?”

Edward shifted his weight. His eyes turned to Tall Joe.

“It wouldn't be right,” Tall Joe explained, speaking slowly, as though she were a very young child who had difficulty understanding the way of the world. “Sidesaddles are for ladies only. Edward can't ride sidesaddle any more than you can ride with a man's saddle.”

Well, and no one ever called her a lady before!
That was the first thought that flitted through Emma's mind. Aloud, she said, “An' if a lady wants to use a proper saddle, what then?”

The two men exchanged glances. Then Edward looked her way, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Tall Joe's lips set in a hard line. He put his head back, rubbed a hand over his full beard, and glared down at her, eyebrows raised. “Such a thing is unacceptable, Emma. Ladies must ride sidesaddle. It's one of society's rules. With your long skirts and all, it really is the only way. You should know that.”

“An' what would happen to society if a girl used the wrong saddle?”

“Well it...I...it simply isn't done.” Tall Joe bristled.

Edward rubbed the horse's mane. Tall Joe glared at Emma over his dark beard. Emma shifted her weight to her left leg.

The stranger appeared out of nowhere, her voice clear and sharp behind Emma.

“If you ask me, it's a stupid rule! Can't you see how much safer it is to ride
astride
a horse, especially on rugged mountain passes and trails no wider than a horse's hoof cut into the side of a sheer rock face? And who makes up these silly rules anyway? It's always us girls who aren't allowed to do this or that or anything half adventurous, and no one gives us any say in the matter!”

Emma spun around. The girl who stood behind her, only a few feet away, was about Emma's own age. Not so tall as Emma, she had a straight, narrow nose, round, dark eyes and a small pink mouth. A fringe of brown hair peeked from the front of the warm cap she had pulled down over her ears. Her clothes were simple but warm-looking and well made. The wool skirt fell in soft folds to cover the tops of her boots.

Emma recognized her immediately. This was the girl she had seen a few days ago, when they brought the horse to town tied behind the cart. But where had she come from? Emma didn't trust her, sneaking up from behind like some gonoph, ready to rob them of all they owned.

Before anyone could think of an answer to the girl's outspoken words, the horse gave a toss of its mane. It snorted softly, dark eyes fixed on the newcomer. Edward let go of the reins, and the horse trotted as close to the girl as possible, reaching its long neck over the fence toward her. The girl's face lit up, and her cheeks flushed pink, which made her look quite pretty, Emma noticed.

“Nugget!” the stranger whispered. She reached up to stroke the horse's nose, then scrambled onto the middle rail and pressed her face against its wide forehead. “Oh, Nugget, I've missed you so much!” When the girl pulled back, her eyes were filled with tears.

Finally Emma found her voice. “Who are you?” Her words hung harsh and loud in the chill air, sounding rude even if she had not meant them to be.

The girl glanced sideways at Emma. “My name is Katherine Harris, and this beautiful horse used to be mine.”

Emma cringed at the sound of that voice, so very proper, exactly the way Emma's mother had tried to teach her to speak. But Emma had grown up with the people of the streets, living in the netherskens and toiling in the textile mills of Manchester. That was where she learned most of her speech patterns. This Katherine sounded exactly like any rich lady in England, a lady who would march past a poor girl selling apples on the street, holding her delicate nose in the air with a lace handkerchief clamped over it. ‘Cause you never knew, that stench of poverty might seep right into her little brain and make her ill, poor fragile little creature that she was.

The girl's steady gaze did not waver. Emma wished she would go away so they would never need to talk. If Emma opened her mouth again, this Katherine would know she was from a lower class. She would turn her nose up and think herself so much better.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Harris.” Tall Joe stepped forward to shake the girl's hand. “I'm Joseph Bentley, this is Emma Curtis, and that's Edward, who works at Beckley Farm here.”

Edward mumbled something that sounded polite, and Emma nodded in the girl's direction. Katherine Harris, she thought, an' she must be the mayor's daughter. Thomas Harris, who bought this horse, won his race at Beacon Hill on it and sold it so the poor horse wouldn't be squashed to a pile of bones under his great weight. Odd the man didn't give the horse to his own daughter, since she seemed that fond of it. And this Katherine was so small the horse would never so much as know she was there. The girl did not take after her great lump of a father and that's for certain-sure. Emma waited impatiently for the girl to be done with patting the horse and go off about her business.