by G M Mckay
Just my imagination, I told myself nervously. Ever since the traumatic Frederick incident I’d been more wound up than usual and once in a while I saw things that weren’t there. Just little things like flashes in my peripheral vision or imagining that someone was standing behind me. My doctor had said that it was probably a perfectly normal stress-response and that eventually it would go away on its own. I certainly hoped so.
A heavy man dressed in plaid sat a few stools down from us at the counter and I caught him staring at me with his eyebrows raised. I smiled back weakly before sliding shame-facedly back into my seat, still rubbing my neck. My first day out in public in months and I had somehow already managed to draw attention to myself.
“Jilly, what’s wrong?” Gil asked laying a steadying hand on my wrist.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, hunching down in my chair and wrapping my hands around my steaming coffee mug to thaw them. “It’s cold in here.”
Gil looked at me quizzically but didn’t argue.
We lingered for as long as we could, and for a while it was like the last awful year of Fredrick had been erased and we were back to the same easy friendship we’d always had.
“Well, we’d better check on the horses again and hit the road,” Gil said, standing up slowly. He looked as reluctant to go as I was. Still, we had to get moving; we had over half a day left to travel.
It was surprisingly warm outside for late fall. The sky overhead was cloudless and blue and the day had a bright, hopeful feel to it.
“Hey guys, how was your lunch?” I called to the horses as I opened the side door to the trailer. But when I stepped into the spacious living quarters, I got a surprise.
“Morris!” I scolded, seeing the fat orange tabby lying flat on his back on the plush leather couch, his front paws folded lazily over his chest. “How did you get in here?”
“Meow,” he said languidly, opening one green eye and stretching out a gigantic paw in my direction.
“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now,” Gil said. “We can’t send him back. We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t escape and get lost.”
I bent down to rub the cat’s furry belly, laughing as he broke into a rumbling purr, and then hurried to check on the horses.
I went through the interior door into the tack room, and then through a second door into the compartment where they were quietly eating their hay.
“Are you guys comfortable enough in here?” I asked, inspecting their hay nets and offering them both a good drink of water. If the trip were any longer, I’d pull them out so they could walk around and stretch their legs, but right now they looked fine. And, as wonderful as the truck stop was, it wasn’t a great place to be leading a horse around.
The second leg of our trip went much faster than the first. Xan woke up when the truck rumbled to life and was in a surprisingly good mood, even making an effort not to be outwardly rude to Gil.
We made good time even after we left the main highway and turned down a series of narrow paved roads, consulting the map from time to time. Dusk was just falling as we passed up a nicely graveled country lane lined on either side with thick maples in all their colours.
“We’re here,” Xan said happily. But his smile faded as we pulled up to a set of imposing black gates set into a high red brick wall. The top of the wall was bound tightly with ivy and the overall look was of an impenetrable fortress.
“Well, this looks cheery,” Gilbert said, staring glumly out through the windshield. Ahead of us the iron gates, with their filigreed swirls and decorative spikes, were sealed tight, shackled by multiple wraps of a thick, black chain. The message was clear: Keep Out.
Xan rubbed his finger on the side of his nose, a habit he had when he was nervous or trying to talk his way out of trouble.
“It doesn’t look very inviting, does it?” I said doubtfully, peering out the window. “Are you certain she knew we were coming this afternoon, Xan? What did she say when you called her?”
“Well,” Xan said, shifting around uncomfortably. Colour flamed his cheeks. “I didn’t exactly speak to her directly. I meant to call last night, but I guess it slipped my mind.”
“Oh, Xan,” I said in dismay. “She won’t know what time we’re arriving. And we’ve brought the horses all this way.”
“No fear,” he said, throwing the door open and jumping out. “I’ll have this sorted out in a minute. I’ll call her right now and let her know we’ve arrived. I’m sure she’s expecting me; she sent me the letter, after all.”
“This is just great,” Gilbert muttered at Xan’s retreating back. He turned off the ignition and stared moodily up at the huge black metal sign set into the red brick wall. It showed a rearing horse and the farm name, Dark Lady Farm, in thick, gold lettering. Despite the circumstances, it was an impressive sight, especially against the autumn background of red and gold fall leaves.
I leaned forward and looked up at the sky, frowning as I saw that the bright blue had been cluttered up by dark grey clouds. The temperature had plummeted at least four degrees and suddenly it felt like it was going to snow. I fished my jacket out from the back seat and slid into it gratefully.
Out on the driveway, Xan glared down at the phone in his hand incredulously. “No cell service!” He called, looking horrified. “We are literally in the exact middle of nowhere. Unbelievable.”
I slid out of the truck and stretched my cramped muscles, checking my own phone to confirm that Xan was right; there wasn’t any cell service.
“That’s strange that there isn’t a padlock,” I said, looking at the heavy chain on the gate, “it must be on the other side.”
“Let me check.” Xan stuck his hand through the bars but they were too close together; he couldn’t get in further than his wrist. He kicked the gate a few times just to vent his feelings and then suddenly stopped and looked to his right into the woods. “Here,” he called, “there’s a path and it looks well used. I’m going to follow it. It’s sure to lead somewhere. Come on, cousin.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Gilbert said, appearing beside me and clamping a restraining hand around my wrist. “You’re not tramping off in unfamiliar woods by yourself after that idiot. There could be wild animals.”
“What?” I looked down to where he gripped my arm in surprise. Gil could be overprotective at times, he’d spent a lifetime defending me from hostile townsfolk after all, but he didn’t usually go around manhandling me.
I hesitated; it had long been my policy that it was usually easier to give in to people rather than argue, since it made life so much easier. I almost gave in but just then another of those icy, wintery breezes blew over me, pulling sharply at my hair with cold, little pinching fingers. I jerked backward, tugging my arm out of his grip and looked around in surprise but the wind subsided as quickly as it had come, even the trees were still.
I looked at the woods around me warily; the whole forest felt different now, less friendly, as if it were watching me.
“Gil, what’s wrong with you?” I asked, rubbing the spot on my wrist where his fingers had dug in. “I think I can manage a short walk in the woods without getting eaten. You stay here and watch the horses, I’ll be right back.”
My voice came out sharper than I’d intended and I saw him flinch away.
“Yes, of course, madam,” he said, clenching his jaw, “whatever her majesty orders. Please, be my guest and march right into danger like you always do.”
“Fine, I will,” I snapped, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. Without looking back, I stalked off into the woods after Xan.
“If he were my groom, I’d fire him fast, no matter how good a rider he was,” Xan said loudly over his shoulder, obviously intending Gil to hear.
“He’s not a groom, Xan,” I said wearily, “he’s assistant trainer to Christoph. Or he would be if Mother would pay him full wages. Anyway, let’s just focus on finding a way in.”
The path was well beaten down and we found our entr
ance less than a hundred feet away, set deep in the stone wall. It was a smaller metal gate, just big enough for a person on foot or on a horse to pass through. It was partially buried beneath a thick screen of ivy and was nearly impossible to see unless you were right on top of it. But it was clear someone had used it recently—there was a trodden-down pathway right through it. The door opened a good foot when Xan gave it a hard pull before getting hung up on the overhanging ivy.
“It doesn’t make much sense to have a massive chain on the gate when this door is so easy to get through,” I said, frowning. “I wonder why it’s unlocked.”
“Who cares,” Xan said, flicking at a hanging strand of ivy. “It’s our way in. Come on.”
We squeezed through the barrier and headed through the woods back in the direction of the main gate, but when we finally reached it, we were disappointed; a giant padlock held the loops of chain firmly together.
Gilbert leaned against the hood of the truck on the other side of the gate, arms crossed over his chest in a superior sort of way. “How did your little exploration work for you?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“We have it all perfectly under control,” Xander snapped. “No thanks to you. We’ll just have to unload the horses and ride up to the house and let them know that we’re here. The groom, of course, will have to walk. Hope you don’t mind carrying the luggage, Gilbert.”
Gil just shook his head and turned back to the trailer while the two of us retraced our steps toward the smaller gate. It took both our efforts, and a lot of torn ivy, to pull it open wide enough to fit a horse through but finally, it broke free.
“Look Jilly,” Xan said as we paused for breath, “I know you like spending time with that lout, but it isn’t healthy. You need to get out and meet real people. Socialize a little. Maybe then you can finally stop moping around thinking about Fredri—”
“Oh, let’s not talk about that right now,” I said quickly, “it’s water under the bridge; Frederick is long gone and forgotten. I barely even remember what he looked like.”
“Hmm,” Xan said, “it sure sounds like you’re over it. Well, you let me know when you’re ready to start meeting people. I mean, if Alastair can somehow find love then surely you can, too.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “I’ll let you know.”
We finally made it back to the trailer. Gil had backed the rig up a few feet and moved it to the side so it wasn’t completely blocking the gate. He led Bally down the ramp just as we arrived. Bally’s hooves swooshed through the thick gravel on the driveway; he nickered when he saw me and looked around in interest at his new surroundings.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I said to him, coming up to take his lead rope and run a hand down his silky neck. “Should we go on an adventure?”
“This is a bad idea,” Gilbert grumbled, pulling off Bally’s black and gold travelling blanket that was stamped boldly with our farm name. He handed it to me and reached down to remove the matching shipping boots, running an expert hand down each leg to make sure there wasn’t any heat or swelling after the long journey.
“It should be fine, Gil. We’re just going to ride up to the house and see if Great Aunt Ruth is there. As soon as she knows we’ve arrived then we’ll have someone drive us back down here, open the gate, and bring the trailer inside. It should be simple.”
“Hmph,” he snorted. “I don’t think anything’s ever simple with you around.”
I looked away quickly, feeling strangely stung by his offhand comment. I knew he was only teasing, and he was just grumpy to be playing the role of Xan’s groom, but for some reason my nose prickled, and my eyes welled with tears.
Gil looked up instinctively, eyes widening in surprise and then concern. “Hey, Jilly, I didn’t mean—”
Just then Rigel skittered backward off the trailer with a rapid clatter of hooves, dragging Xan behind him. He held his head high, staring around the forest indignantly, and let out a loud, bugling neigh.
“Easy there,” Xan commanded, gritting his teeth while Rigel snorted and danced around him in circles, lifting his black legs up and down in a steady march as if he were a wind-up horse on springs. He hardly stood still long enough for Xan to take his sheet and travelling boots off, and I couldn’t see how we’d get manage to get his saddle and bridle on.
In the end, Gilbert had to put Rigel’s bridle on and then hold tight to both reins to avoid being bitten while Xan quickly dressed Rigel in a red quilted saddle pad and slipped a new-looking saddle into place. There was a tense moment while he tried to tighten the girth. Rigel spun in circles, snapping at everyone within reach but finally, the horse was ready.
“Hold him still,” Xan barked. He somehow managed to clamber aboard, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He yanked hard on Rigel’s reins as he spun the horse back toward the trail. Rigel obeyed instantly but instead of rewarding him, Xan dug his spurs sharply into the horse’s side several times and then cracked him two good hits with the whip, snarling angrily when Rigel bolted a few feet to one side in response.
That was a mistake, I thought, a horse like that never forgets when you’ve treated them unfairly. Rigel looks like the type to hold a grudge.
Gil’s amused smile slipped from his face and he turned abruptly away. I knew how much he hated when horses were roughly treated, even one like Rigel.
“Do you want to wait here, Gil?” I asked, gently. “We shouldn’t be too long.”
“Oh no, I’m coming with you. There’s no way you’re going off into the woods unsupervised with that oaf.” Gilbert hefted his own heavy backpack over one shoulder and motioned me to go ahead.
Bally calmly followed the leaping, skittering Rigel down the trail and Gil stayed right beside us, easily keeping up with Bally’s leisurely pace. When we came to the little door in the ivy Rigel planted his feet, blowing and snorting at the opening and refusing to move no matter how much Xander urged him on.
“Is he always like this, Xan?” I asked, frowning as the big horse reared up a little in defiance then slammed his front feet back to earth angrily.
“I have no idea,” Xan said, his face flushed with frustration, “this is only the second time I’ve ridden him. Don’t worry, I’ll soon show him who’s boss.”
Xan took one hand off the reins and raised his whip, but before he could strike, Rigel made a great leap forward and plunged through the gate at a gallop, heading into the woods with his neck braced and his nose straight up in the air, carrying Xan along with him.
“Rigel, you idiot,” Xander shouted, flattening himself low over the horse’s neck as tree branches snapped over his head. Grabbing the right rein in both hands and pulling hard, he managed to somehow slow the horse down and turn him, with difficulty, back onto the driveway.
“Xan! Do you need help?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “I’ve got this.”
I eyed the nervously prancing horse uncertainly. He looked like a powder keg ready to explode.
Xan must have thought the same thing. “He just needs to blow off some steam. I’m going to let him stretch his legs a bit. I’ll meet you at the house.” Before I could argue, Xan loosened his grip on the reins and, without hesitating, Rigel launched up the driveway like a rocket. There was a moment where it looked like Xan might actually have things under control and then Rigel swerved and suddenly plunged into the nearby woods.
“Xan!” I called, standing up in my stirrups to see the driveway better.
“I’ll meet you theerrrrre,” Xan’s voice drifted back through the woods.
“It’s okay, Bally,” I said, reaching down to pet the grey horse’s shoulder. He raised his head slightly and blinked a few times as if trying to comprehend what had just happened, and then he dropped his head with a sigh and reached out to nibble at some grass at the side of the trail.
“I’m not sure that Bally is even a real horse,” Gil said, laughing. “Nothing much fazes him, does it?”
“That’s because he’s per
fect,” I reminded him. “I hope Rigel doesn’t get hurt with all that galloping. He just spent the whole day standing in the trailer; it can’t be good for his legs to take off without even a warm-up.”
Gilbert chuckled under his breath. “I don’t think an animal that awful will hurt himself; he looks like the type that will live forever.”
“Well, Xan can’t exactly afford to replace him if he gets hurt. Should we try to follow them or keep heading toward the house?”
“House,” Gil said without hesitation. “Xan’s a somewhat decent rider; he can take care of himself and honestly, he deserves what he gets. I’m sure he’ll meet us back at the driveway soon.”
“All right,” I agreed, looking anxiously into the woods. Xan was a brave rider and he was used to eventing and hunting, after all. A gallop through the forest should turn out okay. Maybe.
The temperature dropped again and I shivered, wishing I’d brought winter gloves; my thin leather deerskin ones didn’t do much to keep out the cold. The dark clouds sat low over our heads, threatening snow, and I tilted my head back, marvelling at the contrast between the steel grey sky and the magnificent gold and red bursts of maple leaves towering over us.
Bally stepped lightly along the driveway, looking around with interest and snorting softly under his breath with each step. His short, grey mane bounced up and down on his neck as he strode along.
Gil walked silently beside us, easily matching Bally’s pace and though he didn’t say anything, I could sense the tension fading away from him. Gil was different when it was just him and me; that defensive attitude he put up around the rest of my family fell away and he was his usual funny old self again.
“Come on, admit it,” I said, smiling down playfully at him, “this is more interesting than training all day long at home. It’s an adventure.”
“You and your adventures. Remember the time you convinced me there was a ghost in the machine shed? We had traps set up everywhere.”
“I think we caught Christoph instead,” I laughed, surprised at how good it felt to talk about this stuff again after all this time. I’d almost forgotten how much fun we’d had as kids.