Taking the Reins

by Dayle Campbell Gaetz

  Mr. Roberts pulled at his thick brown mustache with a finger and thumb. “I assume you had a safe trip and were able to find your brother?”

  “I, uh, yes, thank you.” She felt the need to keep talking, anything to prevent him from mentioning her visit to his store last month. “George is safe at home and he’s actually working hard for once in his life. He’s digging the well now and will build a small barn for Duke and Genevieve – that’s our horse and cow. It seems George works much better when Father doesn’t hang over him and tell him what he’s doing wrong every minute of the day.”

  Mr. Roberts threw back his head and laughed. He had a pleasant enough laugh, one that revealed a row of straight teeth below his mustache. Katherine was surprised to realize that this man was younger than she first thought. At a guess he was not more than three or four years older than her brother. “Ah, yes,” he said, “that is a common behavior in young men. I remember my own father...” He paused and studied Katherine.

  She shifted from one foot to the other, twisting Nugget’s reins around her fingers.

  “But that is not important now.”

  “I must go,” Madame Landvoight told them. “I will leave you both to make the deal.”

  Katherine watched the storekeeper walk away. Make the deal. Her stomach collapsed. Nugget stepped closer and pressed her soft muzzle against Katherine’s shoulder. The warmth and trust in that gentle touch made Katherine’s eyes sting. She turned away from Mr. Roberts to run her fingers through the long black hair of Nugget’s mane. She wanted to bury her face in it. She needed a means of escape. How could she possibly go through with this?

  Time slowed down. Why was the man so quiet? Katherine was afraid to look. She never should have come here. She could never ask him to buy this horse, this gift. If only she had known.

  “I understand you want to sell your horse.”

  “Oh.” There. He said it for her. Katherine felt a sharp pain in her chest. She could not breathe. Could not answer. What to say? Yes, thank you very much for giving me this beautiful horse but now I’d like to sell her, so how much will you pay me?

  Silence closed in around them. What now? Katherine wanted to speak, needed to look. What was he doing? She stole a sideways glance, hoping he would not notice. But he was watching her. She could scarcely believe it when he smiled.

  “It’s not that I want to sell her,” she said, “because I really, really don’t. Nugget is such a wonderful horse, but the problem is...” She hesitated.

  “Your family needs the money?”

  Katherine nodded.

  “If you want to know what I think...”

  Here it came. Now he would tell her what he really thought, that she had a lot of nerve coming here...

  “I think you are a remarkably brave young woman.”

  Well, that was an unusual way of phrasing it, but still meant the same thing after all. She had a lot of nerve.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Roberts, but I didn’t know you were the horse trader. Do you think I would have tried to sell Nugget back to you had I known?”

  He looked confused. Cupped his hand under his chin. Rubbed his mustache. “Nugget is your horse, Miss Harris, to do with as you please.”

  “But...”

  “Have you forgotten the reason I gave her to you? It was my way of thanking your sister, who, according to my older brother, saved the life of his baby when his little family was so ill aboard ship. Yes. Nugget is your horse and a fine horse too. I expect to make a good profit on her when I get to Victoria, so you mustn’t worry that I’m doing you a favour. This is not charity, Miss Harris. We will both gain from the sale.”

  Katherine began to feel better. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “As a matter of fact, I already have a buyer in mind. Only two days ago I was in Victoria speaking with the man who just last month got himself elected as the city’s first mayor. He asked what I might have in stock to help him win the autumn horse races.”

  Katherine tried to picture William Cubitt, Lord Mayor of London, an old man with a white powdered wig on his head, racing around the track astride a horse. “Surely you don’t mean he’ll ride the horse himself?”

  Mr. Roberts laughed at her surprise. “He will indeed. The mayor hates to lose any sort of competition and loves to race horses. That’s why he’s looking for a fast horse before the races begin.”

  “Then he’s in luck. I know Nugget is fast. She had no trouble beating Duke in a horse race when George needed convincing to return home. Please never tell my brother, but Nugget wasn’t even trying very hard.”

  “Yes, your Nugget is a fast horse, and strong too. Being an unusually large man, the mayor needs a powerful horse to carry him and so will be willing to pay good money. Shall we talk terms?”

  Katherine nodded. She had a good idea of what Nugget was worth, her mother saw to that. Now mind you don’t sell the horse unless you get your price for it, she said before Katherine left this morning.

  So when Mr. Roberts made his offer, Katherine knew it was more than fair. The two shook hands, sealing the deal.

  “Katrine! Monsieur Roebear!”

  They turned to see Madame Landvoight at the edge of the grassy field. Katherine waved and the storekeeper started toward them.

  “Please,” Katherine ventured, “please don’t mention William.”

  Mr. Roberts studied her curiously. “William?”

  “Yes, that young man who acted as my guide. My father, um, my father...” She fumbled for the right words.

  “Doesn’t approve of your associating with an Indian boy?”

  Now, how did he know that? She considered Mr. Roberts more closely. The man had an intriguing sort of face, not handsome, but kind and humorous at the same time, as if he would far sooner laugh than be angry.

  “I only wanted a friend,” she confided, “but William’s father didn’t like me either, even though he never spoke one word to me. When we arrived at William’s village his father watched us, all grumpy and disapproving, exactly the way my own father would be. After that William told me a man can’t be friends with a girl. He sent me away.”

  “Sometimes the world can seem unfair,” Mr. Roberts agreed. “But I expect, with a pretty daughter such as yourself, your father won’t relax until he has you safely married.”

  Katherine stared up at him, speechless. She was thankful Madame Landvoight arrived at that moment.

  “Eh bien, you have concluded your business?”

  When they assured her they had, Madame Landvoight said, “Please then, come to our store. I have made such a marvelous apple pie. But I must hurry now to take it from the oven.” She scurried off without waiting for an answer.

  The pie was hot and bubbling over with sweet, syrupy juices. When everyone was served, Katherine picked up her fork and sliced into the triangle of pie on her plate. A curl of vapour rose from it. She closed her eyes, breathing in the rich aroma. She tasted it and flavour burst into her mouth with such warm sweetness she closed her eyes again. “This is delicious!” she murmured, taking another bite.

  Katherine could have eaten the entire pie but forced herself to eat like a lady, which meant taking dainty bites and saying, “No thank you,” to a second slice when she really meant, “Yes, please.”

  Madame Landvoight winked at her and placed another slice on her plate anyway. Katherine nodded her thanks.

  While they ate, seated around a plank table in the small kitchen behind the Landvoights’ store, Mr. Roberts questioned Katherine about her family. She found herself telling him about their comfortable life in England, her family’s successful shop, how lucky she had been to have a tutor and then attend a girls’ school even if for only a year. “And then my father decided to sell the shop and move us to British Columbia.”

  “Why would your papa do
such a thing?” Madame Landvoight wanted to know. “Did your mama agree?”

  Katherine took a small bite of pie and held it in her mouth while she considered what to say. She must not reveal too much about her family’s personal affairs; that would be disloyal. How could she explain that Father was never content with what he had? Father had been convinced that the only way to better himself was to become a landowner. Of course he could never afford to buy a farm in England, where the landed gentry owned huge tracts of land passed down from one generation to another, so he dragged his entire family to this colony. If he pictured himself as a gentleman farmer collecting money from tenants who paid to work his land, imagine his shock when faced with acres of wilderness and no one but themselves to tame it.

  “My mother was happy enough in England,” she said at last. “And my brother too. They both longed to stay. But Susan and I were excited about moving here. We thought of it as a big adventure.” She put down her fork. “We even discussed plans to open a little country school one day, just the two of us. Susan thought she already had enough education to do so.”

  Katherine pushed away her half-finished slice of pie. Its sweet aroma now made her feel sick. “Nothing turned out the way we had hoped. We were horribly seasick on the steamship across the Atlantic, all except Susan and George. By the time we crossed the isthmus by train and caught a ship to San Francisco, the entire family was so ill with Panama Fever we thought we would die. We had to stay in a hotel and pay a doctor for expensive medicines. Even so, my sister never recovered properly.”

  Katherine hesitated. The room fell silent around her. She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. She took a quick breath. “Toward summer’s end my brother decided he couldn’t face a long winter on the farm. He thought if he went north to the Cariboo he could bring us back a fortune in gold. So Father gave him enough money for supplies and off he went.”

  She stumbled on for long enough to tell them about her father’s injuries and the reason she needed to fetch her brother. “And now we don’t have enough money to purchase supplies for winter,” she finished.

  No one spoke. Katherine could not look up, could not bear their sympathy. She could scarcely breathe around the painful lump in her throat.

  “I must say,” Mr. Roberts broke the silence at last, “my troubles seem minor compared to yours.”

  When no one responded, he continued on, making Katherine wonder if his words were meant to fill the void, giving her time to compose herself.

  “For some time now I have longed to escape this wild colony and travel to my brother’s plantation in Jamaica for a long visit. However, aside from the Landvoights here, who have a store of their own to run, there is no one in British Columbia I would trust to run my store and oversee my properties. It seems I’ll be stuck here forever.”

  “Ah, oui,” Madame Landvoight said. “Thousands of the young men have flocked to this land wit’ their big dreams to become rich. Sadly, most have not found the gold and have no money to return home. Such a rowdy group is not to be trusted.”

  “Too many men and too few women makes for trouble,” Monsieur Landvoight agreed. “What we need are more families like Katherine’s who will settle the land and spend their money in our stores.”

  “That may be true,” Mr. Roberts said, “but I’m afraid it doesn’t help me.”

  Katherine glanced up at him, a hint of an idea forming in her mind.

  A few minutes later, the men walked outside while Katherine stayed behind to thank Madame Landvoight. Her hand was on the door, her mind busy exploring this unexpected idea, when Madame Landvoight said, “Charles Roebear is a charming young man, yes?”

  Surprised, Katherine took a moment to consider. Charming? Maybe. He certainly was kind enough. But young? The man was well into his twenties. “I suppose he is,” she said.

  “Such a fine man deserves a good wife, no?”

  “Uh...I guess so.” Katherine scurried outside, pushing Madame Landvoight’s words from her mind. She had more important matters to consider.

  Monsieur Landvoight was heading for the stack of goods that had been unloaded from the sternwheeler. Mr. Roberts walked in the opposite direction, toward Nugget.

  Katherine trudged along behind him, fighting tears. This was no time for self-pity. There was little enough time to sort out her thoughts. So she swallowed, straightened her shoulders and walked a little faster.

  Mr. Roberts stopped several yards from Nugget, and Katherine scooted past him. She rubbed her knuckles against Nugget’s broad forehead and looked into those trusting brown eyes. “I’m so sorry, girl,” she whispered. She hoped Mr. Roberts would stay back, allowing her a few private moments to say her goodbyes.

  “Miss Harris, it’s time I settled my debt.”

  Startled, Katherine realized he was standing directly behind her.

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the money. She waited, looking up at him, willing him to leave and yet wanting him to stay. She had something to say, if only she could work up the nerve.

  Katherine shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Twisted at the money in her hands. Glanced over her shoulder at Nugget. Turned back to Mr. Roberts. Would he be angry? Men did not take kindly to a young girl offering suggestions of her own, she knew that, but Mr. Roberts seemed different somehow. He seemed...charming.

  He cupped his chin in his hand, rubbing his fingers over his mustache and looking down at Katherine as if wondering why she was still here.

  All right then. What was the worst that could happen? The man could say no. He could laugh at her. In truth she had nothing to lose. Katherine pressed her shoulders back and cleared her throat. “Mr. Roberts,” she said, “I believe I know exactly the right people to run your store in your absence.”

  Mr. Roberts listened carefully and even offered a few suggestions of his own. They discussed the plan at some length, standing next to Nugget under warm September sunshine, until at last they shook hands in agreement. Then Katherine returned to the store while Mr. Roberts walked over to help Monsieur Landvoight with the supplies.

  After paying Madame Landvoight what she was owed, Katherine left the store and once more climbed onto Nugget to hurry home. She took no delight in this unexpected final ride. Nugget was no longer hers and Katherine would just as soon have said her goodbyes and gotten it over with. But Mr. Roberts had insisted she take the horse and ride ahead to tell her parents they should expect company for tea.

  “And what could this Mr. Roberts possibly want with us?” her father asked when Katherine told him.

  “He has something important to discuss, but I’m not sure of the details. Perhaps we should leave it to him to explain.”

  Father’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Katherine, you do understand that one day, when the time is right, your mother and I will look into finding an appropriate husband for you?”

  Her mouth fell open. “Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, you think...?” Her cheeks burned. “Father, really, it is nothing like that. I’m only fourteen!”

  “Girls younger than you have been brought by brideships to Victoria to marry the ruffians hanging about there and begin a civilized colony.” He shrugged. “A wasted effort if you ask me, since those orphan girls are of the lowest class imaginable.”

  “Father, I have no intention of marrying, I assure you. If I had any choice in the matter I would continue my schooling – but of course that’s impossible with the nearest school being in Victoria.” There, she had done it, put the idea into his head just as she told Mr. Roberts she would do. Her father knew how much she had enjoyed her school in England, and it was his fault she couldn’t finish.

  Father winced and turned away. He limped toward the open door, looking so broken Katherine felt sorry for her words. “Father,” she called after him, “Mr. Roberts has a business proposal he hopes to discuss with you. He believ
es you will like it.”

  Father continued out to the porch.

  Mother was busy measuring flour, sugar, and salt. “This is such a surprise,” she said. “No one ever visits us out here. Katherine dear, would you run out and gather some eggs for scones?”

  As the sun sank lower in the sky, Katherine began to worry Mr. Roberts might not show up after all. Maybe he needed to catch a sternwheeler back to Yale. Maybe he had a change of heart. She filled a basket with potatoes and carted it to the root cellar beneath the lean-to kitchen at the back of their cabin. While there, she checked over the few buckets of apples she had picked earlier in the week from the young trees planted by the previous owners of this farm. There were also carrots, beets, onions, and turnips stored for winter. Not much was left in the garden now, but perhaps there would be enough food for one person to manage until spring.

  When she emerged from the cellar, Katherine heard voices. She followed the sound to the front porch and found Mr. Roberts perched awkwardly on the thick chunk of log George had cut and placed there as a seat for himself. Her father was settled in their one outside chair, carved out of wood, where he spent so much of his time these days.

  “Well, hello again, Miss Harris.” Mr. Roberts rose politely when she stepped onto the porch.

  She nodded at him and glanced at her father before settling on the top step, hoping to listen in, if not to offer any comments of her own. Her father would not be pleased if he learned she and Mr. Roberts had hatched this plan together.

  “Perhaps you will help your mother in the kitchen?” Father suggested in that tone he used when he really meant, Do as I say or else.

  Katherine hesitated. She glanced from Father to Mr. Roberts, who gave a slight nod of his head. Reassured, she stood up and slipped inside. Her mother was bustling about, her face flushed pink, making tea.

  “Katherine dear, everything is almost ready. Could you finish for me while I go outside and talk with Mr. Roberts? He has something important to discuss with us.”