*
"Give me a half hour or so to take care of my horse," Trish bade Lucinda with a smile and wave. The sun beamed bright, daring to warm the nip in the morning light. Trish's steps broke into skips for several paces until she caught sight of someone in the distance. Not wanting to look like a silly schoolgirl, she slowed to a more studious walk.
Albert's voice carried on the cooler air of the livery as she pulled the heavy door open.
"You know Old Curly and his tales of silver and gold."
"Yup," an unfamiliar masculine voice responded. "Finally paid for that pack. Guessin' he paid you for his mule, too."
Albert looked up and motioned toward Trish. "Lady is gonna be needin' somethin'."
The man Trish didn't recognize didn't glance at her, as he stepped around Albert and hurried out the doors behind Albert.
"Go ahead and prop that door open with that round of a log there." Albert indicated a chunk of wood that had apparently been left by the door just for that purpose.
"Morning again."
"Morning, what brings you to my livery?"
"Oh, I just thought I'd check on my horse. I see you kept him in a stall overnight."
"He was downright flighty last night. Seems like a right high maintenance animal."
Trish picked up a brush and entered the stall before continuing the conversation. "Guess he can be that at times. I don't mind, gives me a chance to think while I groom him."
Albert placed a couple more logs on the forge. The flames licked at the hard wood and finally took hold of it. "What on God's green earth do you need to think about?"
"Nothin' in particular. Do you have any saddle soap that I can use?" Trish did her best to mimic the vernacular of those around her.
"Over there," Albert indicated a shelf across the livery and its paraphernalia with a jerk of his chin. Apparently, Albert had a bit of work to do. Trish located a tin of saddle soap with a rag under it. She settled into soaping and rubbing the water-stained leather.
Several minutes later, Albert stood over her. "In my livery, there will be no women soaping down saddles, not even you."
Trish started to argue, but Albert stared her down. "My livery, my rules. Working with horses and even your own tack is no job for the genteel lady."
"Oh, I don't mind. I actually enjoy working with my hands."
Albert paused what he was doing. "Maybe yar pa does leatherwork or is a saddler."
"I don't…maybe." Don't blow it now, Trish reminded herself. Lies need to be as close to the truth as possible. "I'm not even sure I know how. It just seems like something I would do."
Albert rubbed his chin with thoughtful strokes. "You sure seem to know how to get it done right and quick."
Trish allowed a small smile to curl her lips. She had lost count of how many saddles, harnesses, and carriages she had soaped and polished for her uncle in payment for Yedi before he was even foaled. Caring for horses and leather was in her blood and Vance's. It was the commonality that held their bonds of friendship as secure as the second cousin relationship. It didn't matter that years separated them. A horse didn't know age. It knew its handler’s comfort level.
Yedi's shrill whinny alerted them to new arrivals moments before the door Trish had propped open was jostled completely ajar. A girl that Trish judged to be in her mid-teens led a roan pony into the livery. The animal was being difficult, balking repeatedly and fighting its lead rope.
"Blue Bell," the girl yelled at the animal, yanking the lead rope. The whites of the pony's eyes spoke volumes. "Stop being a jack---"
"May I?" Trish intervened, taking the lead and speaking softly to the animal. The pony's ears twitched, swiveling to listen.
"Easy, baby. No one's gonna hurt you." Trish stepped closer to the animal and easily recognized the problem. The saddle blanket had moved under the saddle. Keeping her hand on the lead rope, Trish loosened the cinch and lifted the heavy western saddle from the animal’s back.
"Blue Bell is always great in the corral, but whenever I put the saddle on her, she acts like a jack--"
"Katie," Albert interrupted the girl. "Your mother would not be pleased to hear you speaking so."
"But she is such a--" Trish didn't hear what Albert said to soothe the girl's temper. Instead, Trish gave all of her attention to the animal. She pulled the saddle blanket off, dropping it on the saddle behind her. Quietly and with sure hands Trish stroked the animal. The pony had a bump on her back. When Trish ran her hand over it, the pony shied away. "Whoa, baby. What have we here? Does this hurt?" The animal shied again at her touch.
"Katie, is it?"
Katie nodded. "What's wrong with my pony?"
"Have you had her for long?"
"Pa got her about a month ago in trade for some supplies."
"Were the people that traded her riding her at the time?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"This pony has had a broken back. She has a knot right here."
Katie's eyes grew the size of teacups just before the tears started to roll down her cheeks. "Not my Blue Bell. I didn't do it, I promise," the girl wailed.
"Katie, you need to stop crying. You'll scare her again." Trish waited for the girl to calm down. "If you'll come here and be quiet, I’ll show you where the break was."
Katie tentatively stepped forward. "We have to have a light touch or she'll balk again." Trish guided Katie's hand over the pony's back. "Can you feel that?"
“Yes." Katie's voice still quivered. "Does this mean I can't ride her?"
"Well, that depends on Blue Bell. You need a much thicker blanket under the saddle and maybe even a different saddle."
"I'll go ask Mother for a heavy blanket." Katie skipped out the open door.
Trish watched her go with a smile.
"That was right smooth. Ya sure the pony's back was broke?"
"Yes."
"Shame. Right pretty pony."
"Albert, do you have an English saddle?"
"Nope, but I'm sure I can get one. It may take a couple of weeks."
"In the meantime, I'll need to teach that young lady to be very unladylike."
"How so?"
"She needs to learn to ride that pony bareback."
"Her mother isn't going to take too kindly to that notion. Penelope has it in her mind to raise a lady in these parts. I doubt riding like a boy is on the woman's agenda."
"Then we won't tell her mother. Do you have a pasture that Katie can ride in? At least while she is learning and until the saddle gets here? Katie would have to ride astride on the saddle she has."
"Penelope expected the girl to loop her leg over the horn."
"Penelope needs to do it herself to learn just how uncomfortable and unrealistic that is in the long run."
Albert ran his hand along the pony's back. "And yar sure an English saddle is what Katie needs?"
"Not sure at all. But because of where the break is on this rib, I would imagine the weight of the saddle is rather painful. Katie's lucky she wasn't on the pony when it hurt. Blue Bell could have hurt them both."
"Trish."
"Yes."
"I looked that pony over when I shoed her two days ago. Paid more attention to her feet and legs than her back. Missed that bump. Told Katie's pa the pony was safe to ride. I was wrong." Albert extended his bear-sized hand to Trish. "Rules are made to break. Yar welcome in my livery any time for any reason."
Trish took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Thank you."
Albert turned back to the forge and the work he'd left there. Trish led the pony to where she could be tied and turned to watch Albert resume his work. She hadn't paid attention to the way he was built until she watched him draw the bellows with one arm. Men in the twenty-first century were wimps compared to the power Albert displayed on a daily basis. She found herself wishing she would one day find such a man.
Lucinda's cheerful voice punctuated the tap, tap, twang of Albert's handiwork. "It's a beautiful morning."
r /> Trish turned to greet her, dusting her hands on her skirts. "It is at that."
"He didn't have you working, did he?" Lucinda's words were laced with abject disdain.
"Oh don't fret," Trish reassured her brightly. "He didn't ask me to do anything. I offered to help Katie with her pony."
"We best be getting to the mercantile."
Albert thrust the iron he had been shaping into a bucket of water. It hissed as steam rose. Trish glanced at the steam and the man who caused it. Albert had an adoring smile for his wife before his gaze settled on Trish. "Most men ain't willing ta help a girl with her pony. Sure she thanks ya."
Trish smiled at him and for a moment, nothing else existed except the two of them and their mutual respect. She pulled herself away to follow Lucinda out of the livery.
The two were half way to the mercantile when Trish stopped. "I'll be right there, Lucinda. I left that saddle and blanket on the ground."
Worrying that she might be too late, Trish lifted her skirts and ran toward the livery. A young cowboy approached on foot from the opposite direction, leading a lame horse. He appeared dirty and looked as if he'd had a sleepless night. She skidded to a tentative walk. The cowboy nodded in her direction without stopping, the expression on his face unpleasant as he led the animal into the livery. Trish waited at the door for an appropriate time to interrupt the ensuing scene.
"Jackson, my 'orse has gone lame again," the cowboy roared. "I just walked a day and a 'alf. Spent the night under a pine tree without shelter with the wolves a howlin', 'cause 'e threw the shoe you put on last week!"
Albert thrust the horse shoe into the nearby bucket of water. Water hissed sending steam into the air. Albert's shirt hung on a nearby nail, his leather apron tied at his waist. He walked to the horse and placed his experienced hand on its flank. The horse kept its weight off its near hind foot.
"Cardston, I put the far hind shoe on last week. Your gelding has thrown his near hind shoe." Albert's voice remained stoic in spite of the young cowboy’s badgering. "You paid me for one shoe. I suggested then an' I'm suggestin' 'gin now… Shoe 'im properly and he won't throw the others. One of these days you might not be so lucky as to walk just a day and a half. That there desert has taken more than one man."
"Was the same shoe 'e threw, I tell ya!" Cardston bellowed with venom in his words. "Don't I know my own 'orse?"
"I suggest you put shoes on both hind feet, that way they will wear evenly." Albert's self-mastery held true as his words defied any frustration.
"And pay you for two shoes? Never, I'd rather see you dead." The cowboy stormed out of the livery, leaving his horse ground tied. "Have 'im shoed right or I'll see you 'anged for cheatin' me."
Trish expected Albert to react to the threat. He remained calm, leaving the horse ground tied. Apparently, the matter would wait.
Trish weighed Albert's response to her more modern point of view. She probably would have told Cardston and his bad attitude to take a flying leap off a very high cliff, but not Albert. Was he as level tempered about everything? No wonder Lucinda was happy in her impromptu marriage.
Deciding the moment to interrupt wouldn't get any better, she stepped into the livery. "I'm sorry I left the saddle and blanket in the middle of the floor."
Albert looked up at her, his expression calm but definitely not inviting as it had been, earlier. "I'll take care of it. Thank you."
Recognizing that she was no longer welcome, Trish nodded and retreated to return to Lucinda.
"Good," Lucinda said as Trish caught up to her at the steps to the mercantile. "For a moment there I thought you weren't coming, honey. Ready to meet Penelope?"
"Of course." Trish paused at the top of the steps and turned back to glance across the distance of the dusty street to the livery. What was happening there behind those rough walls?
Things were certainly different here. The street which she considered more a well-worn trail wide enough for two wagons to pass, stood sparingly occupied by the livery on the north end and the mercantile with its lone hitching rail at the other. The mercantile boasted a wooden walk spanning its front. At the other side of the store, the street took a dogleg toward a narrow bridge spanning the river. A dark red building with smaller matching outbuildings appeared hastily positioned among a sparse scattering of trees.
Lucinda pushed the door open. A jingling of bells welcomed them. Soft humming coming from behind a tall display alerted them to a woman's presence. A sturdy version of the frontier woman that Trish assumed to be Penelope appeared from behind the display with a welcoming smile. She wore her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her well-dressed figure marked a sharp contrast to Lucinda's plain dressed petite one. Penelope's three-quarter length sleeves appeared starched and pressed, her bustle simple where Lucinda was clean and tidy but not overly fashionable.
"Morning."
"Good morning, Penelope," Lucinda greeted.
"You've come to introduce me to a newcomer." Penelope cast a discerning regard Trish's direction. "I do believe Albert's appraisal was accurate. You better keep a firm hand on him, Lucinda. Most men can't describe a woman standing right in front of him."
Lucinda laughed. "I'm sure whatever he said was guided by my words."
"That explains his brash evaluation, all tactless and a smidgeon of boyish guilt." Penelope smirked as if remembering a humorous moment. "I find it hard to believe that you would send him out with such an errand."
"Oh honey, don't you know that I can get him to do anything for me?"
"Spoken like a true newlywed." Penelope extended a hand to Trish. "But we are being rude. I'm Penelope and you?"
"Honey," Lucinda cut in. "This is Trish. We, or rather she, needs your help. My skirt may fit around her waist, but she can't go around showing her ankles like this. Even if her boots are high."
Trish hadn't given much thought to the length of her skirt. She'd accepted the gift of clothing without question, knowing her wrangler jeans and shirt would be considered men's clothing. She hoped Lucinda would be too reserved to mention her underclothing. The demands of survival and simplicity of the west and its need for practicality suited Trish. Of course, it would prove challenging to ride in long skirts.
Penelope ushered them to a back room and offered Trish a longer gray skirt. She removed the one Lucinda had given her and quickly redressed.
Penelope offered yet another gift, one of her fashionable dresses.
"I actually have no need of such dresses, but thank you so very much for this one," Trish declined.
"Nonsense. You'll need something to wear while you wash what you're wearing." Penelope pressed a simple dark green skirt and matching striped blouse into her hands.
"We'll take it with us." Lucinda handed a scrap of paper to Penelope. "I'm taking her over to meet Zelda." Penelope's smile faded, replaced by a disapproving grimace. "Trish is wanting a hot bath. I'll introduce them and be back for these things."
"You're not--" Penelope placed a hand on the folded green clothing sliding it away from Trish a bit.
"Honey," Lucinda laughed, putting a hand on Penelope's forearm. "It's just a bath."
Trish wasn't sure whether or not her guilt flickered at seeing Penelope's reaction or her needs being so openly discussed. She really wanted a hot bath, no matter what. The sponge bath had done little for her body odor. She just hoped Zelda had some nice fragrances she was willing to share as well.
Chapter 11