by Ilena Holder
She thanked Aunt Elizabeth for the breakfast and, taking a last sip of her coffee, she headed upstairs. Aunt Elizabeth said if she didn’t have the proper boots, to let her know, either she or the maids would come up with something.
Alone in her room, she dug quickly through the trunks, hoping against hope that she would find something suitable for horseback riding. It would have been asking too much to have found a good pair of black knee high boots in the trunks. Underneath the layers of clothing she hadn’t unpacked yet, she felt something like leather under some sweaters. She pulled the item out and was pleased that it was a cordovan leather boot, short, almost like a modern Jodhpur boot. That would do the trick, but only if it fit. She removed her shoe, and pulled the boot on. Luckily for her, it didn’t lace up. It was a plain pull on style. She put the other one on and found it a bit snug but otherwise perfect. They had even been broken in and a bit scuffed, so much the better. They looked like hers she decided.
Removing her white cap, she thought she might wear some kind of appropriate head covering for a hack with her Uncle. The white cap looked more suited to the bedchamber. Now with her hair back to a normal condition, she could remove it if she wished. Nobody in this day and time wore a decent black safety helmet. However, they might very well wear a cap or scarf she decided. For formal wear they probably even wore black silk top hats! She thought back to old daguerreotype and paintings she had seen of equestrian styles and events. Finally she settled on a nice black silk scarf that would do the trick. She knotted it loosely around her neck for the time being and went downstairs.
Uncle George was in a fine mood, she hoped it was her company at breakfast that made him that way. Though her aunt was temporarily injured, she knew it could be difficult on a marriage for one of the partners to be sick. Perhaps her unexpected visit was a diversion for her Uncle. Whatever the reason, perhaps she could feel him out on this subject without appearing to be prying.
“Isn’t this wonderful weather?” Uncle George asked, his eyes scanning the fast moving clouds above.
“Yes, it’s great, and so unseasonably warm,” replied Donna. “Nothing like a normal Chicago October, that’s for sure!”
They headed up the path, towards the stable. Rex the dog decided to join them and trotted alongside.
“Tell me, dear, how you stand the Chicago winters? They are so fierce.”
“Ah, you get used to them. Actually I find them invigorating.” Donna laughed at the puzzled look on Uncle George’s face.
“Invigorating? I never heard anybody describe a Chicago winter that way!” he said. “Now I want you to tell me again what you did before the tutoring job? You may have said it earlier, but I might have been preoccupied with Beth’s back.”
“When I finished boarding school, Uncle Grayson offered me a bookkeeping job at the Planters and Merchants. My parents thought it wonderful of him, but I thought it terribly boring. So, I am afraid I wasn’t the best at keeping books. My heart lay in writing; I thought I’d try my hand at a novel.”
“How is it going?” Her Uncle looked pleased at this piece of news.
“Well enough. It’s much more fun than looking at figures and columns on paper all day. I know Uncle Grayson loves it, but it was torture to me.”
“A young woman sometimes finds it hard to be cooped up in a bank, I would imagine.”
“I loved writing. Since I was in no rush to be married, my parents told me I could pursue my passion for one year and then I should either marry well or find other employment. They said I could write in the evenings just as well.” Donna sighed. “Then the tutoring position was dumped in my lap and they were overjoyed.”
“Tutoring children is a fine occupation.”
“Yes, and I think it’s a cut above being a nanny!” They both laughed at this. Now they were at the stable door and saw Royce had one of the bay geldings hitched up to a racing buggy. Plus he had a grey mare saddled for himself. What Donna saw next jolted her. He had a third horse tacked up and ready to go—a red roan—complete with a sidesaddle!
While Uncle George patted his gelding, Royce saw the look of fear in Donna’s eyes. Unfortunately, with her Uncle close at hand, she couldn’t tell Royce that it was impossible for her to ride sidesaddle. She could ride, of course, even do elementary dressage and jumping. But sidesaddle? That was another thing altogether! Of course, some people still did it. She saw it on television during equestrian events. Women in formal wear rode this way, perfectly composed and elegant, putting their mounts through dressage moves. Yet it was the exception rather than the rule. How could she get out of this one?
“Your Uncle said to saddle up a mount for you, Donna.” Royce appeared confused at Donna’s apparent frustration. “You said you love to ride, so here we are.”
Donna stood rooted to the spot.
“Whatever is the matter? Is something wrong with the tack? It’s the same that other female guests ride with.”
Donna glanced over at her uncle; he was preoccupied with fiddling with his horse’s cheek straps and the placement of the bit in the horse’s mouth.
“I thought we were going for a buggy ride. Yes, of course I can ride! But who ever heard of riding sidesaddle?”
“Every woman rides sidesaddle! Unless, of course, you’re a farmer’s wife!” Royce shot back at her. “Why are we quibbling? This should be a simple task for you. Besides, your Uncle said you were a crackerjack rider.”
He took a long look at her. Now he realized what she was talking about. This whole scenario was strange to her! She really was from a different time!
“You have to help me,” she whispered. “I don’t have the slightest idea how to mount with this kind of saddle. If you help me, I think I can fake it. That is, as long as we don’t do anything other than walking.”
“Here, I’ll help you.” Royce’s voice was gentle. “Let’s go over to the mounting block.”
Donna was familiar with the mounting block; every stable worth its salt had one. You simply led the horse up to it, with his near side to the steps. You climbed up the two or three steps and quickly and neatly vaulted on the horse’s back. It was convenient for youngsters, older riders and even people with too tight riding pants.
“Hop up, then straddle the horse as a man would,” Royce said in a low voice. “Then hitch your skirts up and hook your right knee around the pommel.”
Donna did as he said, not wanting to draw further attention from her Uncle. This little expedition wasn’t turning out as she planned, by now she thought she’d be in a buggy with a lap robe over her legs.
The mare stood stock still until Donna got on. Flipping her skirts around, she managed to get the folds of material arranged.
“What are you staring at?” she asked Royce as he handed her the reins.
“You don’t have any riding breeches on! Just skirts and pantaloons!”
“What in thunder do you think a woman would ride in?”
“A lady wears riding breeches! On top she wraps an apron to cover everything up! If your uncle saw your underpinnings, he’d think you were daft!”
He put his hand on her thigh and casually slid it higher up her leg. With the mounting block between him and Mr. Bradenton, no one was the wiser. A smile begin to curl up Donna’s lip.
“What are you doing?” she murmured.
“Touching you. You don’t mind, do you?” He slid his hand up to the juncture of her legs. “I liked being in here yesterday. I guess I am saying I want some more of you.”
Donna began squirming under his touch. “Now you’re teasing me and I can’t do anything about it. Oh, never mind. What is the mare’s name?”
“Her name is Eden. Your secret is safe with me. Just don’t fall off.”
“Not if I can help it,” Donna said. “I’ll stand here until you mount.”
“Fine. The mare will stand firm. I trained her myself. She’s fit for any lady to ride safely.”
Royce ran his hand down Donna’s leg. He then handed h
er a long stiff whip topped with a scrimshaw whalebone handle in the shape of a fox head.
He mounted his grey deftly, settling into the saddle softly. Donna could tell that he was an experienced rider by the fluid way he positioned himself into the saddle. Uncle George was now getting adjusted in his seat, arranging the reins in a familiar manner. He was a man in his element, happy to be out with his horses in the country air. Royce maneuvered his horse next to Donna’s, positioning himself so her Uncle couldn’t see his face or possibly read his lips.
“We’ll stay together. The horses were raised together and won’t fuss. Your Uncle will probably want to take his bay around the track he made in the summer. We’ll let him go about it and then we can talk.”
“Won’t he expect me to go galloping around a bit?” Donna asked.
“You can just say you’re unused to the saddle or the mare. Make something up.”
“Yes, I’m getting good at that,” Donna replied wanly.
Uncle called out to them. “Let’s head out to the track, Royce! This bay feels ready to go!” His horse was pulling forward in the traces.
“Yes, sir! Right away!” To Donna, he nodded. “Let’s go. You’ll do just fine.”
The three of them headed down the lane towards a westerly meadow. Donna had not noticed the track on her walkabout, probably since it was mainly a grassy plain. At a casual glance, it was just a fallow meadow, covered with soft grasses. When they reached the outer edge, she saw an oval, beaten into the sod, probably a good half-mile. She saw that her Uncle wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her or her mount. Uncle George turned the bay towards his track. Once he got the buggy positioned the way he wanted, he let the bay walk at his own leisurely pace in a counter clock-wise manner. Royce tilted his head at Donna to pull her mare nearer to him.
“You look lovely on Eden. Like you were born to ride sidesaddle. And your posture is perfect. No one would guess you are new to this.”
“Thank you,” Donna said. “I’m settling down a bit. I don’t want the mare to sense my fear.”
“Oh, she won’t. I raised her from birth.” He gripped his reins lightly in one hand and shielded his face from the sun with his other hand. “Your uncle will be busy for a good hour. We can go walk around the edge of the meadow.”
Donna nodded and nudged her mare behind Royce’s mount with a touch of the whip on Eden’s right flank.
The morning was crisp. The warmth and lack of rain was keeping the fields and meadows colorful and dry. Cornstalks were still brown and brittle, not black from rot. The horse’s hoof beats fell soundlessly on the leaves.
The horses were still glistening with their summer coats. The weather had slowed the growth of the heavy winter coats they would eventually carry far into the Michigan spring the next year. The tack they wore was soft and shiny with a well-kept sheen. The bits and buckles of the harness and bridles glinted softly with burnished cleanliness.
Donna felt at peace for the first time since she had arrived. Today she felt more in control of her emotions and her surroundings. Perhaps it was being back in the saddle that did it. Royce pulled his gelding to a halt so Donna could pull up next to him.
“Here, ride alongside me. Your uncle is preoccupied now and won’t notice anything.”
Donna glanced over at her uncle, now trotting the young bay slowly. He appeared to be off in another world.
Royce glanced at her and smiled. “Do you feel like attempting a trot? Eden has a smooth gait.”
“Yes, let’s try. But you lead off.”
“We’ll take it slow and easy. We should be showing your Uncle that you can actually ride sidesaddle.” With this, Royce nudged his horse into a slow trot and Donna’s followed behind. Royce was right; the mare’s trot was smooth and comfortable. She would make any rider look good. Quickly Donna fell under the spell of riding a good horse. The thrill of being outdoors on a beautiful day was uplifting also. Surprisingly, she even forgot she was riding sidesaddle. Her riding skill soon helped her adapt to the saddle. It wasn’t much different than switching horses or tack with a friend and adjusting the stirrups. With her weight balanced in the saddle, and her feet turned front wards, she felt as if she had been riding this way all her life. Royce kept his gelding at a slow trot and occasionally glanced backwards to check on Donna’s progress. When he saw that she was doing fine, he turned onto a small path and pulled his horse neatly to a stop.
“You’re doing wonderful! Are you absolutely sure you’ve never ridden this way before?”
“No, never! And I can’t believe how secure I feel. Perhaps it’s the saddle. It’s unbelievably comfortable. Like a rocking chair. And you were right—Eden’s trot is so smooth! I just love her!”
“We’ll continue riding then. I don’t think we should let the horses canter though. I know you think you’re doing fine, but I don’t want to chance it. The ground isn’t all that smooth around the edges of the field. But this side of it was.”
“Thanks for warning me. I’d hate to take a tumble,” Donna said. She turned Eden alongside Royce’s mount and reached over to lay her hand on top of his. “This means so much to me…”
she paused.
“You don’t have to thank me. I love doing it. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look in the morning sunshine?” He leaned precariously out of his saddle to plant a kiss on her lips.
“I…never…no not really.” Unexpectedly she felt shy and awkward. “Thank you for the compliment.”
“A man would be proud to have you for a lady friend. Here, I can see I’ve embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to.” He urged his horse back out to the edge of the field. “Follow me. We need to keep moving.”
“Yes, of course.” Donna was glad for the break. She did enjoy that Royce saw her in that light. Her mare followed his horse again.
“Pull up alongside me. There’s plenty of space here,” Royce said. “We haven’t had much time to talk, have we?”
“No, not alone,” Donna said. “Yet I feel as if I know you. Perhaps I am too trusting of people.” She laughed. “Listen to me. We’ve already made love.”
“I hope I would be the type of man you would trust, Donna—both in bed and out.”
“Yes, you are. I need to tell you something. Tonight, Royce, I would like to travel to my time in the future. I think I may have figured out a way to do it.” She waited while he appeared to mull over her offer.
“I don’t know. Do you think it will really work?”
“Why shouldn’t it? You see me here now in your time. Why couldn’t I reverse the events of the evening last week? Wear the same clothes, the same jewelry. I think it has something to do with the silver pin.” She touched the brooch she wore at her throat. Since she thought it was a vital link to the time travel, she hadn’t let it out of her sight.
“All right. I’ll watch you. One part of me wants to try the travel with you and the other part wants to stay here. I feel comfortable in my own time you see.” He smiled as they resumed their walk around the field. “Do you know anybody who’s done this in the past?”
“No, I’m afraid I’m the first! I think you should at least be there since you were at the receiving end, so to speak, when I arrived here.”
“You forgot one thing.”
“What’s that?” Donna asked.
“Where are we attempting this fling through time?”
“Oh that! I’ve given it serious thought. I think we should do it in the tack room.”
“Why in that dusty place?” Royce asked.
“Because it will recreate everything as closely as possible,” Donna said. “I plan to wear the same outfit as the night you found me on the floor.”
“Do you think I should do the same?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. I think it has something to do with my blood letting—where I accidentally pricked my finger. I’ve fainted before at the sight of blood, but it was nothing like this. Everything faded to grey. I guess that is the best way to describ
e it.”
“Count me in, Donna. I’ll be on hand to help you tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll sneak out of the house after sunset. I know the path well enough to walk it alone. It should be dark by eight o’clock.”
Chapter Ten
With the Brandentons occupied with some drop-in company, Donna had time to prepare. She bundled up her traveling outfit and stuffed it into a black drawstring bag she found in the washing area. There was nothing else she needed to get ready, except her presence in the tack room. She tried to approximate the time she first traveled backwards in time and thought she would gauge it as close to that as possible. Since she had no instructions, she thought she would just wing it and see what happened. A fleeting thought that she might end up somewhere else in time nagged her a bit, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. She needed to get back to Chicago, to her life and her job. Stashing the bag behind one of her trunks, she went back downstairs to read before the firelight.
She watched to see when the maids left for the night. That took place about six o’clock. With them out of the way, she could plead weariness and go to bed early. No one would think anything odd of that. After all, she had been out horseback riding for most of the morning!
Annabelle and Rose had been incessantly chattering on and off all day about an upcoming barn dance and hayride next week. It was fun to listen to them go on about their outfits they planned to wear and what ribbons they planned to use in their hair. They were no different than young women in modern day Chicago, she thought.
Finally after a light supper, she bid Mr. and Mrs. Brandenton good-night and headed upstairs. She even took some books with her, pretending she would read them in her room by lamplight. When most of the household noises had quieted down, she tiptoed down the stairs with her bag and made for the back door. It wasn’t too difficult to be stealthy. The kitchen was quiet and the cooking fire in the stove was burnt down to a few embers.
Fearing the door might creak when she opened it, Donna prepared herself to open the heavy latch slowly. It was a pleasant surprise when she found it wasn’t even locked at all!