We all opted for saddles, although I was of course more comfortable with hunt seat. I eyed the Western saddle, unsure how it would feel.
Like a father to his children, Harrison urged us all to use the bathroom in the tack room nearby, and when we all obeyed like good little doobies, he started matching us with our mounts. The boys brought three horses out, and without hesitating, Pablo handed the reins of a beautiful bay mare to Roberta. “Here she is, Missus. Your usual.”
Roberta leaned toward her mount and patted the mare’s flanks. “Hi, Betsy. How’s my girl this morning?”
I couldn’t help the smile that crept over my lips. Apparently part of the “hanging out” Roberta had done with Harrison included riding the mountains with him. And hugging and kissing him. Happiness glowed within me—I so wanted Roberta to be cherished for the wonderful woman she was.
Harrison directed Quinn to a glossy black gelding whose head hung low and relaxed. His feet were almost as big as dinner plates, and I wondered if he had some draft horse in his background. Percheron? Quinn spent several minutes patting the big fella’s forelock and nose, then went to his side and adjusted his stirrups.
Harrison paired Callie with a palomino who yawned through the bit when she mounted, and Sky was given a big gray roan with rust and gray spots on his rump, who swung his head around to watch Sky mount. I think the horse was about to nip his pants, but Harrison made a “uhnt-uh!” noise and the horse’s head swung back in position.
That left me.
I wondered if all the good horses were taken, and prayed I didn’t get a skittish one. I didn’t like the idea of climbing a mountain on a nervous filly who shied at every blowing leaf rustling along the trail.
Manuel emerged from the barn toting two big mules. One was loaded down with supplies, and the other had a saddle.
My cheeks flushed. No way. I’m left with the mule?
Thankfully, the boy walked them past me, and began loading bedrolls and tents onto the second mule’s saddle, tying them up with various leather straps and a few bungee cords.
Harrison disappeared into the barn and emerged with two chestnuts. Manuel took the reins of the big chunky liver chestnut gelding with the dark reddish black mane and tail, while Harrison led the sorrel gelding toward me. He stood at about fifteen-two hands and sported a wide white blaze and four white socks. His mane and tail—flaxen gold—were soft and well combed.
I fell in love on the spot. “Hi, big fella. What’s your name, huh?”
Harrison smiled. “This is my sweetest horse. His name is Trooper. He used to work for the mounted police department downstate.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “Oh, Harrison. He’s perfect.”
Trooper must’ve understood me, for he turned his big head and nuzzled me. I draped an arm around his neck and hugged him. “Hey, big fella. You and I are gonna be best friends, aren’t we?”
After we mounted and the boys helped us fine-tune our stirrups, we took a few minutes in the corral to get used to handling our animals. Harrison assured us that it really wasn’t necessary, because the horses just followed each other up the trail, but it made his guests more comfortable, so he always took time for a mini-riding lesson.
Trooper was smooth-gaited and responsive. He felt solid beneath me, and I knew even if we covered rough terrain, he wouldn’t slip or stumble. I wanted to pack him up in my suitcase and take him home.
Quinn came up beside me on his black gelding. His horse was a bit taller than mine, maybe sixteen hands, and walked sedately, almost as if he were falling asleep.
“What’s his name?” I asked. “Sleepy?”
Quinn snorted a laugh. “Ha. Very funny, babe. No. He’s Sir Lancelot.”
I chuckled under my breath. “More like Sir Sleeps-a-lot.”
Quinn shook his head with a smile. “I’d rather ride on this reliable fella than all the fancy-dancy horses in the world.”
I chuckled and sent him what I hoped was a sweet smile that told him I was just kidding. “Me, too. My Trooper’s nice and calm.”
I finally got used to the long-legged position of the Western saddle, and realized I’d be using more of a balance-seat than the barrel gripping hunt seat position I was used to from my youth. I learned to sit back and relax in the saddle and mastered neck reining in short order. It wasn’t hard. Just gently lay the reins against his neck, one-handed, to turn in either direction, basically pushing them in the direction you want to go.
When we all seemed more or less ready, Harrison led the way, with Manuel and Pablo bringing up the rear on two bay geldings, leading the mules. Harrison headed toward the mountain at a steady walk, and the horses all fell into step behind him, single file.
Chapter Seventeen
The trip up the mountain was easier than I’d expected. The horses walked or jogged the whole way, their heads bobbing as our legs swung gently in the stirrups. A few times we had to detour a washed-out trail, or duck low for branches, but for the most part, the track was soft dirt and leaves with few rocks or fallen trees. It was wide enough for two abreast, and we paired off: Quinn and Kitty, Sky and Roberta, and Callie and me. Harrison stayed alone at the head of the line, and Pablo and Manuel brought up the rear with the mules.
It took us three hours to reach the summit, and when we cleared the woods my breath caught in my throat. Transfixed, I soaked in the view of turquoise lakes and purple-blue mountains spreading in all directions. Harrison told us what towns and lakes we were looking at, pointing north toward the High Peaks, but I was too enthralled with gawking and taking pictures of the scene to actually pay attention to the details.
The hills dipped and rose, and cumulus clouds hovered in the east. To the west, the sky expanded in a cloudless, cerulean blue. Atop the nearest hills, leaves exploded in scarlet and saffron, punctuated by masses of dark green firs.
Harrison and his boys scurried around the clearing, making camp as if they’d done it a thousand times, which they probably had. They sweated now in the seventy-five degree weather; I smiled and watched them work like the contented guest that I was. I would have helped if I’d known what to do, and if they’d stopped long enough for me to ask a question. Instead they worked together as a well-oiled machine, heads down, issuing curt instructions and replies in the balmy Indian summer air.
They ran a long line between distant trees to tie the horses, removed their saddles and bridles, leaving them in their halters. I spied a fifty-pound bag of grain on one side of the supplies, so I knew they’d be well fed. Later, I was surprised to see a shed in the back of the camp area, and especially stunned when Manuel and Pablo dragged several bales of hay out of the building and started doling out leaves of hay to our equine friends. All we needed now was an outhouse, but I had a feeling that wasn’t part of the deal.
Harrison and Sky brought buckets of water up from a stream that led to a small pond, filling pails for the horses and also some cooking pots over a stone fire pit. Roberta and I gathered twigs and branches for the fire, and Callie and Sky helped the boys put up three tents. One for the girls. One for Sky and Quinn. And a smaller one I assumed was for Harrison and his men.
By noon, we had a good fire going and had figured out our bedding. Manuel started a huge pot of chili, and Pablo mixed up dough that he flattened and cooked over the fire in a wire skillet. Starving now, we all gathered round and were served in tin cups with bottled water that had also been stored in the shed. I figured the guys must take four-wheelers up the mountain to store the heavier supplies in advance of their expeditions to help make the whole experience richer for some of their city-folk customers. Which, apparently, included me.
When we were done, Roberta, Callie, and I washed the dishes in the stream. I’d never done that before, but with the special biodegradable soap Harrison provided, they came out squeaky clean and I didn’t have to feel guilty about messing up the ecosystem.
The sun had been warming my back for the past half hour and I actually felt too hot. In October
. In the Adirondacks.
After we put the tin dishes back in their storage container, I glanced at the mirror-surface of the lake that glistened downhill. It called to me.
Everyone was busy but Callie and me, so I dragged her over to the tents. “Wanna go for a swim?”
Her mouth dropped. “Marcie, it’s October.”
I opened my eyes wide and waved my hands in the air. “But it’s so hot. And it’s beautiful. And I’ll bet the sun warms that shallow pond really fast on days like this.”
Callie cast her eyes over to the water. She’d swum in May and October before in Honeoye Lake. I’d been with her. But it had been a while for both of us.
“Okay. Let’s do it. Should we invite the rest of them?”
“Heck, no. This is just time for you and me, Kiddo. Girlfriend bonding time.” I looked at Quinn and Sky, who were chopping up a dead oak tree on the far side of camp. I wondered if it were a he-man contest, and was half-tempted to stay and watch the only two men I’d loved duke it out with axes and no shirts, but I decided to stay out of it. Roberta sat with Kitty, combing and braiding her hair and speaking softly to her on the grass beneath a great pine tree.
Manuel and Pablo had disappeared on their horses, apparently going back to tend the farm with Rico until tomorrow. I wondered if they’d meet us back here in the morning.
Harrison was busy over at the line of horses, rearranging things and retying a few of the knots.
I smiled at Callie and dragged her toward my tent. “Come on. I brought a big towel in my backpack. We can share.”
After grabbing the towel, I told Roberta where we were headed and waved to Quinn, who stood with axe poised high in the air and sweat glistening on his chest. His jeans had slipped down on his hips, and the turquoise bolo I’d given him last year dangled over his smooth skin.
I pocketed the sensations his maleness sent shuddering through me, linked arms with Callie, and walked her toward the lake.
“So, when are we supposed to have the mind-melding ceremony?” I asked, feeling sorry afterwards. I’d sounded cynical and I really didn’t mean it that way. Part of me thought melding with anyone’s mind was something you did if you were an actor in Star Trek, but the other part of me remembered last summer, when we’d actually connected up with Callie’s spirit when she was kidnapped. What made it happen then was a large amber crystal, her dog, and Sky’s oils.
What would we use today?
Callie chirruped a laugh. “Don’t be a disbeliever, Miss Marcie. Or it won’t work.”
I pulled her along the shore that dipped down the mountain and away from the view of the campsite. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes you did, but that’s okay. I know you’ll come round.” She laughed and walked to the water’s edge, feeling it with her fingers. “Ooo, it does feel a little warm here in the shallows.”
I looked up over the hill and around the pristine lakeshore. Nobody for miles. “I didn’t bring a suit, did you?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s October!” She laughed again, reminding me of a lake loon. “Come on. It’s just us girls, anyway.”
Giggling like schoolgirls, we both started to shed our clothes. I didn’t really relish the idea of walking around with wet underclothes, so I stripped out of them, too. Callie followed me, and we both ran toward the shore like Grecian nymphs, holding hands and laughing as if we were running toward presents under the tree on Christmas morning.
The crystal clear water was warm near the shore, but as soon as we got waist deep, it turned cold. I realized I’d have to dive in if I were to get used to it. This inch-by-torturous-inch stuff was for the birds.
“Come on. Race you to that little island.” I dove forward, the shock of the cold making me dizzy. But I swam underwater for several feet and broke through anyway, churning my arms toward the islet.
Callie followed close beside me, a huge grin on her face. She swam in a slow side paddle, graceful, youthful, and exuberant. “It’s freezing!” she cried, rolling over and kicking onto her back. “But it’s warmer on the top level. Try it.”
I followed her lead, and we both floated side by side, our breasts, knees, and toes poking out of the water, and our fingers touching. The sun shone hot on my face, and I closed my eyes, drinking in the warmth of it. “This is heaven. Forget the island. I’m not moving from this spot.”
She giggled. “I hope no one can see us.”
I squeezed her hand. “Hey. So what if they do? We’re two amazing women, and we deserve this freedom. Right?”
She laughed again. “I guess. As long as no one sees us.”
We talked about our past in that hour beneath the sun; about the crush she’d had on me since we were sixteen, how hard it had been for her when I’d fallen in love with Sky, and how she’d hidden her feelings all those years. She’d felt guilty, awkward, embarrassed, and cheated. I told her how horrible I felt about the whole thing, how I wished I’d known her feelings at the time, and how I would have still been her best friend in spite of it all, even if I couldn’t return her love in that way.
When we got to the shore again, we shared the giant towel and I hugged her close. She was so beautiful, her body so trim, her soft swelling breasts still high on her ribs. I loved the way her legs flowed from her body, slim and supple and all peach-colored skin. And she had such pretty little feet, much nicer than my big size nines. “You are so beautiful, Callie. How do you do it?”
She blushed and looked at the ground. “Stop it. You’re the one in great shape. You look like you did when you were sixteen.”
I snorted. “No I don’t! But really, how do you stay this way? Do you work out in your house?”
“No, I hate doing exercises.” She started to get dressed. “Promise not to tell?”
“Of course.”
“I swim at night. I always have. After I got home from college, after the…rape… and after my mother forced me to have the abortion, I couldn’t leave the house. You know that.”
“Of course. We never saw you outside. Never.”
“Well, once my insides healed and it was okay to swim, I would wait until midnight, when all the lights winked out around the lake. Then I’d slip into the dark water. I swam for miles every night.” She smiled. “I still do. But now it’s in Lake Pleasant instead of Honeoye.”
“That is so neat.” I pulled on my underwear and smiled at her. “I wish I’d known. I would’ve come over to swim with you all these years.”
Her eyes misted over. “Really?”
“Really.” I slid into my jeans and top, held her close to me. “You’ll always be my special Velvet. I love you like a sister. You’re the best, Callie.”
I slung the towel over my shoulder, and we walked arm in arm back to the campsite.
Chapter Eighteen
When Roberta hadn’t suggested we perform our ceremony by dinnertime, I started to wonder what she had planned. I sat next to her, eating beans and steak on a tin plate, and gently probed. “So, what are we doing, and when?” I mumbled, wiping my mouth with a paper napkin.
She leaned toward me with a conspiratorial whisper. “Here’s the scoop, chickipoo. We’re going to wait for midnight. That’s when these woods have their greatest power.”
Had I not been sure I heard her clearly, I would’ve asked her to repeat it. “You’re kidding, right?” I cut another bite of steak and popped it in my mouth.
“No, honey. This is hallowed land. It has a great history, and mystical things have happened right in this very spot over the centuries.”
“Over centuries? Seriously?”
“Seriously. There are books written about it, Marcella.”
“But what about the crystals, oils, and Seneca traditions?”
“We’ll come together as one at midnight. The moon will be shining, and we’ll let it help us work our magic.”
I took a long swig of homemade sun tea that Harrison had brewed before dinner. “Okay. You’ll have to guid
e me as we go.”
She winked at me. “Of course, dear. We’re in this together.”
***
“Marcella, it’s time.” Quinn kissed my cheek and squeezed my shoulder.
I rolled to the other side. I’d been having the weirdest dreams, full of ghosts and goblins and eerie whistling spirits. “Just five more minutes.” I’d been saying the same lame thing every time someone tried to wake me up for the past forty years.
“Marcella, the ceremony. Remember?”
I opened my eyes and felt a shiver of excitement. “Oh. Right.” I sat up and pulled on my sweatshirt and boots. “Is everyone up?”
“Yeah. Callie and Kitty are outside, getting some hot chocolate. Come on.”
I followed him outside onto the dew-soaked grass. It wasn’t horribly cold for October—probably fifty or fifty-five. A heat wave, really, a true Indian summer. I waved to the girls and reached for a cup of cocoa from Harrison. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure, miss.”
I checked my watch. Eleven-thirty.
The moon rose over the horizon—fat and full, its rays spread over the landscape, sparkling on fields, trees, and the lake, where its reflection rippled, silvery and pure. A shiver of anticipation ran through me.
Tonight’s the night.
Harrison went to the horse line and untied Kitty’s brown and white paint, leading him toward us. The gelding walked quietly, like a pony does when he has a child on board. When he reached Kitty, he nuzzled her with his big head. She stroked his ears and mane, and before I could ask what was going on, she leapt to his back, sitting tall and proud, as her ancestors had done on their wild ponies on the plains.
I realized without asking that this was Kitty’s safe place, her natural alignment in the universe. Sitting astride a horse was where she was meant to be. There would be energy in this, good energy. And she’d be relaxed and comfortable, which should help.
Quinn had been inspecting a collection of river rocks he brought up earlier in the day from the streambed. I thought maybe they were intended to make a campfire, but then remembered we already had a stone fire pit that seemed perfect. Why was he running his fingers over the stones and humming?
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