A Buss from Lafayette

  I smiled. “Well, I do not think we are quite sisters, as yet. But somehow or other, we have become better friends. Do you know what she told me last night? She has been jealous of me. Of me! Most unaccountable.”

  “Oh, I think I can account for it, my dear,” my stepmother said. “You are not only pretty, but you are also as smart as a whip. I think that perhaps she feels she cannot keep up with you, with the play of your mind, I mean.”

  “Do you really think I am clever, ma’am? Most of the time, I do not feel so.”

  She put her arms around me. “Yes. You are every bit as clever as Caroline was, and that is truly something to be proud of.” She stepped away and put her hands to her back. “My back is so very painful today. I do not know why. It is not as if I have been bent over a stove cooking of late. You and Penelope and Mary Putney have been such a big help with the cooking this weekend. I do thank you, Clara.”

  “You are most welcome, ma’am,” I replied, with a playful curtsy.

  My stepmother put her hand gently under my chin and looked into my eyes. “And one other thing: I am very pleased to see you take an interest in looking your best. Why, I believe you have combed your hair for a longer time in the last day or two than all the time you ever spent brushing it up until now. Well done, my girl.”

  I shifted, a little uncomfortable at this only partially deserved praise. My reasons for combing my hair were not exactly what she thought they were.

  “Now,” she said, hanging up the dishtowel, “I think that after entertaining company this weekend, we deserve a holiday. With Joseph and Samuel gone for most of the day, we can do what we like to while away the time. It is too hot to do any work—I believe it is even hotter than last week! But happily your father has brought me a book called Pride and Prejudice, by the English authoress, Jane Austen. I have never read her work before. Will you read it to me? Your mother always said that you read aloud so well, it is almost like being at a play.”

  “Did she, ma’am? Truly?”

  My stepmother patted my hand. “She did indeed, Clara. She was so very proud of you,” she said with a warm smile.

  These words made me feel very happy as I settled down on the sofa and started to read aloud. The story turned out to be most amusing. As I read, it occurred to me that, even though the intriguing “hero,” Mr. Darcy, was not described in any detail in the book, something about him reminded me of Dickon Weeks. Or at least the elegant Dickon Weeks, in his unaccustomed finery, who had danced with me at Perkins Tavern.

  Suddenly my stepmother clutched her belly. “Clara, I think this baby is coming. I am going to need you to fetch Dr. Lerned!”

  The book dropped from my hands. “Now, ma’am? Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be. I have actually been feeling twinges all morning . . . now I think something real is happening.”

  I helped her to stand up, and supported her as we walked to the bedroom set up for her in the back of the house.

  “Can you help me undress, Clara? I . . .” My stepmother stopped suddenly and bent over in obvious pain.

  With shaking hands, I untied the betsy from her neck, took off her mobcap, and then unbuttoned her gown. I eased it gently over her head and helped her to lie down on the bed, wearing only her chemise.

  “I shall go fetch Dr. Lerned now. Will you be all right?”

  “Just get the doctor.” She groaned as another pain hit her. “As fast as you can. Better yet, ride to the Putney Tavern and ask Elder Putney to fetch the doctor. I am sure he will go for you.”

  I ran upstairs to my own bedroom, thinking as quickly as I could under the stress of the moment: If I have to go fast, I need to ride astride. And to ride astride, I shall need to wear Joss’s old breeches.

  I pulled off my pantalettes, replaced them with the breeches I kept hidden in my wardrobe, and flew through the house to the barn.

  When I arrived at Flame’s stall, I hesitated for a moment. I had another important decision to make and quickly. After all, Flame had never been ridden. Since the filly had never been saddled before, maybe it would be best to ride her bareback. Yes, bareback was the best way to go.

  “All right, girl,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “We must do this together, all right? I know it is new to you, but I need you to do this.” I slipped a bit into Flame’s mouth, took hold of the bridle, and led her outside to the mounting block.

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled my skirt and petticoat out of the way, carefully eased my leg over Flame’s bare back, gently applied my bare feet to the horse’s sides, and bade her to go.

  CHAPTER 31

  I managed to guide Flame into the road and downhill to the Putney Tavern. There, I pulled on the reins, and the filly came to such an abrupt stop that I nearly went over her head.

  I called out to the house. “Elder Putney! I need your help!”

  But most unusually, neither Elder Putney nor anyone else came at my call. Even though there were the usual wagons parked near the inn, I did not see a soul nearby.

  Where is everybody? I thought, feeling a twinge of fear. I took some deep breaths to calm my nerves. Dr. Lerned’s home is right in Hopkinton Village, only a mile away. I can fetch him myself.

  I eased Flame into a canter and headed for the village. Luckily, the filly’s gait was as smooth as the action of the old rocking horse Joss and I had ridden for hours as children, and we soon reached the village.

  By the time I turned onto Main Street, I was so intent on reaching the doctor that I scarcely noticed the large crowd of people gathered underneath the enormous elm in front of the Wiggins Tavern.

  I rode past the crowd and stopped on the other side of the street at Dr. Lerned’s house. It was not the most modern home in town, but it was large, dignified, and solid, just like its owner. Hip-roofed, with a huge central chimney, Dr. Lerned’s place had old-fashioned, stately windows with twelve panes over twelve panes, unusual in the village. It also had the most enormous door I had ever seen, stretching up nearly seven feet tall.

  I slid quickly down from Flame, tied her to the granite hitching post in the front yard, then ran to the door and rapped on it smartly.

  It seemed to take forever, but finally the eldest of Dr. Lerned’s daughters opened the thick oak door. “Why, Clara, what is it?” Miss Lerned asked.

  “My stepmother has started her travail. I need the doctor to come to our house without delay!”

  “Oh, dear. Father is already delivering a child up near Rattlesnake Hill. He might not be home for hours, I am afraid. I do not believe the other regular doctors are in town, today, either. You need to find Dr. Flagg.”

  My heart sank. “Dr. Flagg? But she wants your father! Everyone knows he is the best doctor in town. I have heard such, well . . . mixed reports about Dr. Flagg. Will he be able to deliver her baby safely? And besides, he has no home here in town, so how can I find him?”

  “Try Towne’s store,” replied Miss Lerned. “I believe Dr. Flagg is often there during the day, drinking more Medford rum than is good for him. You might find him a little tipsy, as usual, but he will still be of help to your stepmother, I am sure.”

  Without another word, I ran back to Flame, grabbed the reins, and led her at a trot back to Towne’s store. I tied the horse to the post there and hurried inside.

  Just as Miss Lerned had predicted, Dr. Flagg was inside, holding forth with a large glass in his hand, full to the brim with a dark liquid that looked like rum. I sincerely hoped that meant he had not had much of it to drink yet.

  “Dr. Flagg! Please come. My stepmother needs your help. She has started her travail. My father is not there. She is all alone. Please,” I said, my voice choked with emotion.

  The doctor turned, carefully set his glass down on the counter, and picked up the black medical bag that he had set there. When I was a little girl, I had thought that such bags carried by doctors had babies inside them. After all, I had reasoned, when they said they were going to “deliver” babies, they always
brought their bags along. I no longer believed this was what actually happened, but I was not quite sure what did. In any case, I was happy to see that the doctor had his bag along, so there would be no delay, whether there was a baby inside or not.

  “Mr. Towne,” Dr. Flagg rasped, “I hope you will keep that rum safe for me until I take care of this girl’s stepmother.” He looked at me and gave a nearly imperceptible sniff. “Well, missie, do not waste my time. Let us be off!”

  I trailed him out the door and watched him climb into a rickety gig that looked as if it had seen better days—and many of them indeed. “On Gould Hill, correct?” he asked.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “You had best get on your horse and lead the way. That will get us there the fastest.”

  I untied Flame, and then remembered there was no mounting block at Towne’s. I hesitated, then looked down and recalled that I was wearing breeches under my dress. I pulled up my skirt and petticoat and tucked them into my sash. Then, putting my hands on top of Flame’s back, I vaulted up and landed astride, something I had done many times with the docile Feather.

  This horse was not the docile Feather.

  As soon as I landed on her back, the startled filly reared up on her two back legs. I instinctively locked my knees to Flame’s sides—something impossible to do on a sidesaddle—grabbed two handfuls of the horse’s mane, and held on with all the strength in my legs and arms.

  Luckily, when Flame’s front hooves finally came down to earth again, the horse seemed to have gotten over her surprise at my precipitous action and stood quietly, although she was quivering all over.

  At that moment, to my amazement, I heard a hoarse “Bravo, my girl!” from Dr. Flagg.

  I let go of Flame’s mane, took up the reins, and guided the horse across Main Street. It was only then that I became truly aware of the massive crowd of people standing at Wiggins Tavern, every one of them staring at me. Oh, well, I thought. The damage to my reputation is done, but it is for a good cause.

  In the crowd, I glimpsed Miss Eaton, the village schoolmistress, surrounded by her pupils. Next to her stood Elder Putney and his wife, which explained why they had not been at the Putney Tavern when I had stopped there on the way to the village. Seeing everyone’s eyes on me, I suddenly realized that, added to all my other unladylike behavior, I was in the village with no shoes on my feet or bonnet on my head!

  I gave a quick, apologetic wave in the general direction of Wiggins Tavern as I urged Flame into a canter. Turning left in front of First Church, I raced up Hopkinton Road, with Dr. Flagg’s gig close behind me.

  Soon we reached my house. I swiftly dismounted and pulled my skirts down before rushing inside, Dr. Flagg at my heels.

  From the kitchen, we could hear my stepmother talking loudly to herself in the back room, her words punctuated by pain. “Why on earth did I let my little sister talk me—uh!—into this? But oh, no, I never could say no to Caroline. And she was dying. Made me promise to marry Samuel and be a mother to her children. To help Clara—uh!—get an education. So I promised! And look what it got me? And I have already failed as a mother—uh!—I know I have.”

  My stepmother’s words caused me to stop so suddenly that Dr. Flagg ran into me. Could this be true?

  “Pay no attention to what she says, girl,” Dr. Flagg muttered to me. “Women talk nonsense when they are birthing babies.”

  When we got to her bedside, I spoke to my stepmother in a tone as soothing as I could make it. “We are here, ma’am. Dr. Lerned is delivering someone else’s baby out at Rattlesnake Hill today, but Dr. Flagg is with me. Everything will be all right.”

  She gave me a brief, worried look.

  Dr. Flagg set down his medical bag, took off his jacket, and went to the pitcher of water and basin on the stand next to the bed in a reassuringly businesslike way. “Now, ma’am, as soon as I wash my hands, we will see this little person into the world without delay.” He nodded at his patient as he scrubbed his hands.

  With obvious effort, my stepmother looked at the doctor calmly. “I thank you for attending me, sir,” she said weakly. She then reached out and took my hand.

  “Please, Clara,” she said. “You must go and tell your father that the baby is coming. Samuel is certainly on his way back from Warner by now, but he might be taking his time. Please find him and tell him I want him home with me.”

  “Do you not need me to stay and help?” I asked Dr. Flagg.

  He shook his head briskly. “No, I can take care of things here. If that is what she wants, you had better go, girl.”

  As I made my way out of the house, I could hear Dr. Flagg telling my stepmother all about the dramatic scene in the village, when Flame had reared up and I had managed to stick to her back. “She clung to that wild horse just like she was glued on, ma’am! What an intrepid young stepdaughter you have!”

  I hope he does not tell her how her intrepid young stepdaughter had been wearing breeches and had her skirts tucked up around her waist at the time, I thought. Not to mention that she was both bareheaded and barefooted!

  I quickly re-tucked my skirts into my sash, led Flame back to the mounting block, and climbed up on her now quite sweaty back once again.

  It suddenly occurred to me that Flame was in a “state of inelegance”. I guess female horses can glow, too, I thought, as we hastened out of the barnyard in search of Father.

  CHAPTER 32

  Soon I was cantering down Hopkinton Road to the north, towards what was called the “upper village” of the town, Contoocookville. Once there, I wondered why so many people were standing by the side of the road and where they could all have come from. Usually not many people were seen in this village. A number of water-powered mills—to grind grain into flour and saw wood into planks and such—lined the Contoocook River, but only a few houses were in the village.

  I think all the mills have ground to a halt, I thought, nervously noting that even in my state of high anxiety, playful words kept popping up in my head.

  All the millers and their customers appeared to be standing in the street near the covered bridge across the river. Indeed, it appeared that the whole countryside had been emptied of people, judging from the size of the crowd that was buzzing with excitement. It appeared to be a very mixed crowd, as well. The millers, their smocks dusted over with white flour that gave them a ghostly appearance, stood next to elderly men wearing uniforms like that of the stranded stranger I had met at Towne’s store. Sunburned farmers, both men and boys, clustered together talking and glancing back up the road where I had just come from. Women and girls clad in their Sunday best held bouquets of flowers, and barefooted children ran around madly chasing each other.

  I briefly wondered what could be going on, but was too intent on finding Father to give the puzzle more than a passing thought.

  I rode on through the upper village and kept going for several miles beyond it, well past Brown’s Brook. I was nearly at the town line between Hopkinton and Warner, where I could see another crowd had gathered, before I spotted Fury pulling our family’s whisky towards me, with my father and brother inside.

  “Father!” I called, urging Flame into a full gallop. I met the small carriage and stopped beside it.

  My father looked alarmed to see me wearing breeches, skirts rucked up, and riding a horse that had never had a rider on its back, so many miles from home. “Clara! What’s the matter?” he said.

  “The baby is coming. You need to get home!”

  “Now? She’s having the baby now? You did not leave her alone, did you?”

  “No, I fetched Dr. Flagg. Dr. Lerned was away.”

  “Joss, we need to get home as fast as we can,” Father exclaimed. “Let’s go!” He turned back to me. “You look near to having heat stroke, Clara. So does Flame. Take her to a stream so you can both cool down, then make your way home when you can. Brown’s Brook is close by. Take a rest there awhile, Daughter, in the shade. You have earned one today.”

  Joss
shook the reins to start Fury towards home. I watched the whisky disappear down the road, and then slid off Flame. “You deserve a rest, too, my friend. Let us walk together as slowly as we please back to Brown’s Brook.”

  It took nearly half an hour to get back to the brook. There the overhanging woods were thick and the shade beneath was deliciously cool. Flame went straight to the water and drank her fill.

  Kneeling down by the stream, I cupped my hands to sip a little, too, and then splashed the rest over my burning face. I reached under my skirt to untie my pocket, set it carefully on a rock safely way from the burbling water, then sat down right in the brook itself.

  A few minutes later, I reached over to open my pocket and took out my comb. “Might as well put this time to good use,” I said to myself. I undid my pigtails and brought the unbound strands around so I could take a good look at them, then started combing my hair.

  After what seemed like an age, I pulled my hair forward with very sore arms to look at it again. There was no sign whatsoever of a “beautiful shade of black.”

  “This is not working! Not working at all!” I exclaimed aloud. I thought of all I had gone through to get this miracle-working comb, and it was not working any miracles. After all that had happened today, the realization that I was stuck with the reddest of red hair was the very last straw.

  I burst into tears and, sobbing, re-braided my hair. Then I lay down completely in the stream and let the water flow over me.

  A short while later, the loud report of a musket shot, loud enough to hear over the rushing of the brook, came from the direction of Contoocookville. Startled, I lifted my head out of the water and listened intently. I heard no more shots fired, but I distinctly heard what sounded like a thousand maddened sheep baa-ing far in the distance. I knew that no one had a flock of that size nearby. Wondering what this could be, I let my head fall back into the water and went back to my brokenhearted crying.