Taking the Reins (3 page)

Katherine stopped listening. She had important matters of her own to consider. Such as how to dismount without making a fool of herself.

Her legs were set in an awkward position, both on Nugget's left side, her right knee bent around a curved pommel. How was she supposed to swing that leg over Nugget's back and slide to the ground as she had become used to doing? She managed to free her right leg and attempted to twist in the saddle in order to face toward the horse's left side. But her leg got tangled in the full fabric of her long skirt. Struggling to free it, she didn't notice her left boot slip out of the stirrup, so was surprised to find herself dangling from Nugget's side. She grabbed for the saddle horn. Too late, she remembered there wasn't one.

The men stopped talking. Katherine felt their eyes watching, imagined their amused expressions. Her cheeks burned. How could she get out of this gracefully? Over Nugget's back, she saw George leap from the wagon, loop Duke's reins over a wooden bar, and start over to help her.

Katherine hated feeling so clumsy. She hated those three men. Imagined them puffing on their pipes, leaning back in their chairs, enjoying her plight. She hated George too, for being so free while she hung here as helpless as a harpooned salmon. Well, she would not wait for her brother to save her. She would slip to the ground on her own with as much dignity as she could muster. Katherine grabbed the pommel and twisted her leg free of the skirt.

If only the heel of her right boot had not caught in the hem of her skirt, if only Nugget had not taken a quick step sideways, everything would have been fine. As it was, Katherine landed awkwardly on her left foot and lost her balance, toppling toward the horse just as Nugget took a second step away. Katherine collapsed onto the road. Her hands broke her fall, but her face landed in the dust.

“Katherine!” George crouched at her side. “Are you hurt?” He helped her to a sitting position.

Nothing hurt other than her pride. “No,” she snapped, “I'm perfectly fine.” But there was dust in her mouth and up her nose, she felt the gritty taste of it on her tongue, and she was sitting on the road while three men stared at her with their mouths gaping open as if they'd never seen anyone fall from a horse before.

“Your hat!” George jammed the bonnet back on her head.

She had not noticed until then that it was hanging down her back, the blue ribbon still tied at her throat. The men must have noticed, even though her brother was quick to block their view. Katherine could tell by the feel of it that the bonnet perched at a ridiculous angle on her head. She realized that her hair, so carefully tucked in by Mother, now hung loose beneath the brim. She glanced up at the men, at their wide eyes and half open mouths, and suddenly pictured exactly how she must look to them.

The laugh caught her by surprise. Her mouth twisted into a smile that spread across her face so fast it could not be subdued. Then a chuckle formed beneath her ribs, a chuckle that grew and expanded even as she bit hard on her bottom lip to hold it back.

Her eyes flicked to George. That was a mistake. Little creases pulled at the edges of his mouth and crinkled his eyes. Katherine was lost. She doubled over, gasping, chortling, helpless with laughter. In the next second they were all laughing, Katherine, George, and the three strangers, not one of them able to stop.

Finally George wiped his eyes and helped Katherine to her feet. She turned to the men and gave a graceful curtsey, which made them laugh even harder. One slapped his hand against his thigh. Another tried to speak but snorted with laughter instead. All three clapped to show their appreciation.

Sometimes it's difficult to make a laugh go away, especially if you haven't had a good chuckle in a long time. Katherine couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. She tried to swallow the laughter, but it kept bubbling up and so she was grateful when George tied Nugget's reins for her. He took her arm, and the two of them hurried inside the store.

A woman of about Mother's age stood behind the counter. She had a thin, pretty face with clear, intelligent eyes. She smiled at the two laughing young people, her head cocked to one side as if hoping to share in the joke.

Katherine's laughter died. A memory threatened to overwhelm her. A memory of the last time she had laughed so helplessly and Mother had smiled in exactly the same way.

“Good Morning, Madame Landvoight,” George greeted the storekeeper.

“Oh, so it is you, Georges!” She pronounced both “g
”
s in a soft, pretty way that made his name sound so completely different Katherine didn't recognize it at first. “You have returned so soon to town?”

George nodded. “My family needed me.”

Madame Landvoight was a small and lively woman. When she turned her attention to Katherine, her eyes lingered for a moment on the large, crooked hat and the strands of short brown hair that hung down Katherine's neck and over her ears.

“And la jeune fille? She is your sister?”

“Uh, yes, my sister, Katherine.” George paused. “Do you know, she rode halfway to the Cariboo after me? She cut her hair short and wore breeches so she would look like a boy.”

Katherine glanced at George. For the second time today, he had spoken up for her. Might he actually be proud of her? She smiled at her brother, sorry for thinking she hated him.

“Eh, bravo, Katrine!”

Katherine turned back to Madame Landvoight. “Oh, but please, don't tell anyone else. You see, my parents don't approve of what I did.”

“They will be proud of your ingenuity, yes? A pretty girl must be always careful!”

No one had ever called her pretty before. Her face was too long and narrow, her straight hair an ordinary, mousy brown, and her eyes too dark and too close together. Nothing like Susan's golden curls and bright blue eyes.

“And what may I help you wit' today, Katrine?”

Madame Landvoight had a musical way of speaking. Her voice rose at the end of every sentence as if she were asking a question, and the way she pronounced her words sounded quite exotic to Katherine. She especially liked the sound of own name.
Katrine.
But she had come here for a purpose and mustn't put it off any longer.

“We need supplies.” Katherine glanced at her brother, who wandered away, his hands thrust into his pockets. She pulled a crumpled list from her pocket.

“C'est bon. You have come to the right place.”

“The problem is...” Again Katherine glanced at George, but he had become quite fascinated by a shelf of canned goods. She drew a quick breath. “The problem is, we are a bit short of money. So...” Her voice broke. She stared straight ahead, over Madame Landvoight's left shoulder. “I want to sell my horse, Nugget. She's a beauty!”

Madame Landvoight frowned. “I am certain that you have a very good horse, Katrine. Sadly, I do not need a horse. I am so sorry.”

Katherine stared down at the toes of her boots, coated thick with road dust. She pictured her face. It must be as dusty as the boots. She raised her hand to wipe it and the memory returned, slamming into her with such force she gasped with the pain of it.

She and Susan were at the hotel in Panama. They were exhausted, hot, and coated in a sticky layer of dust. Eager for a bath, Susan had poured some water into the huge tub. It was the colour of mud. She stared at the water, tears trickling down her dusty cheeks. She wiped at them but only succeeded in turning her entire face into a brown mask. Two weary blue eyes blinked out at Katherine. A huge mosquito landed on her sister's forehead. Without thinking, Katherine smacked it. Bright red blood mingled with the mud on Susan's face.

Katherine burst out laughing. Her sister looked puzzled until Katherine handed her a mirror. One glimpse of her reflection and Susan laughed as hysterically as Katherine. They laughed until their stomachs hurt and their mother walked in, head cocked to one side, wondering what could be so funny.

Now, this morning, only a few minutes ago, Katherine had laughed in that same way again. Her throat tightened, her eyes stung. How could she laugh with Susan lying in her grave?

Katherine's hand, clutching the list of supplies, fell to her side. She curled her fingers and crumpled it into a ball. George grunted. His heavy footsteps stomped out the door. It slammed shut behind him. Katherine turned to follow.

“There is one thing...” Madame Landvoight said.

Katherine stopped. “Yes?”

The storekeeper bent to retrieve a large book from under the counter. “There is a man who buys horses from all those poor miners who return from the Cariboo wit' nothing but rags to wear and their money all gone.”

She opened the book. “Every autumn he takes the horses to Victoria, where men are eager to buy them. Some of those rich gentlemen will pay much money for a horse who will win races for them.”

The storekeeper pronounced English words so differently from the way Katherine was used to hearing that she had to concentrate to understand.

“Nugget is very fast,” she said, “and she loves to race.”

“Ah, c'est bien.”

“How can I find this horse trader?”

“Ah, there is the difficult part. He does not live here.”

Katherine squeezed her eyes shut. If the horse trader didn't live in Hope, how could she find him and sell her horse to him? How could she get money for the supplies they needed right now?

“But wait, I have the idea.” Madame Landvoight flipped through her book, muttering to herself. When she found the page she was looking for, she ran her finger down a column. “Ah, oui! You must talk wit' him in deux semaines...ah,” she paused and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, “pardon, two weeks from tomorrow. He will visit our store on that day to deliver our winter supplies from Victoria.”

Two more weeks. Today she would ride Nugget back home. She would ride Nugget every day for the next two weeks. Beyond that, she refused to think. “Thank you,” she said. “I'll be here.”

Madame Landvoight measured some flour into a sack and added it to a neat pile of packaged goods she had already placed on the counter. “For today, I have these things ready for you, Katrine,” she said. She touched each package in turn. “Flour, sugar, tea, salt, bacon, and rolled oats for your porridge.”

“But...” Katherine objected. How could she pay? Her parents would never accept charity. They would rather starve.

“You will pay me soon, when you have the money from the horse.” Madame Landvoight handed a folded paper to Katherine. “I have written the amount for you.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Katherine stuffed the paper into her pocket and scooped up all she could carry of the parcels. “You will never be sorry, I promise.”

She hurried outside to find George.

3

N
ugget pranced along the trail, head held high, sniff
ing
the clean, crisp air and tugging at her reins. The horse wanted to run, but Katherine kept her reined in
tight. The faster they travelled, the sooner they would ar
rive in Hope, and the distance wasn't nearly great enough as far as Katherine was concerned. Not today.

For the past two weeks she had spent every spare moment with Nugget. Together they had explored trails Katherine never knew existed. Every evening she had groomed the beautiful horse until her coat shone. And she told Nugget everything, just as she had once told Susan. Katherine knew her parents didn't understand this attachment she felt to a horse, but they did realize how much she was giving up and never once objected to her riding off on her own. She felt grateful for that.

Even today she had been able to get away on her own, thanks to George. He seemed to understand her need to be alone with Nugget on this final journey together. So when Father suggested George accompany her into Hope, George refused. “With so much work to do before winter sets in, I can't take the time. Katherine is perfectly capable of managing on her own and Madame Landvoight is expecting her, so there is no problem.”

Katherine arrived in Hope to see most of the townsfolk gathered on the riverbank watching a sternwheeler pull into shore. She rode Nugget to a grassy area away from the crowd, where she dismounted and tied the reins loosely around the low branch of a young fir tree before starting back along the riverbank. The sternwheeler's bow nudged up against shore, ramps were placed against the bank, and men began to swarm ashore.

Standing slightly apart from the crowd, Madame Landvoight gazed down at the sternwheeler. Katherine started toward her. The storekeeper waved at someone below and Katherine turned to see. A man was walking up the ramp carrying a large parcel. There was something familiar about him...

Katherine backed away. Mr. Roberts! The storekeeper from Yale.

She scurried back to the far side of Nugget. “What is he doing here?” she demanded, leaning close against Nugget's side and absently rubbing her hand over the horse's powerful shoulder. “I may have been dressed as a boy when I met the man,” she confided, “and introduced myself as ‘Albert,' but I don't dare take the chance he'll recognize me.”

She peeked over Nugget's back. “He just keeps on talking to Madame Landvoight. Why doesn't he go away? Doesn't he have something better to do with his time?”

Another man joined them.
That's him,
Katherine decided.
He must be the horse trader.
The three wandered over to a stack of goods that had been unloaded onto the grass. They talked for a few minutes longer before Mr. Roberts and Madame Landvoight left the other man and started toward her store.

“Finally.” Katherine stepped out from behind Nugget.

Halfway to the store, Madame Landvoight stopped and glanced about as if looking for someone. She placed a hand over her eyes against the sun. Katherine slipped out of sight. After waiting for what seemed a long time, she peeked over Nugget's neck.

The two were walking toward her! But why? Did Mr. Roberts recognize the horse and want to take a closer look? Would he expect to take Nugget back now that her journey was completed?

“Katrine!” Madame Landvoight called.

It was too late to run away. Those two were almost upon her. How could she get out of this? Would Mr. Roberts recognize her? Perhaps not. Today she wore a dress and her mother's bonnet with her short hair tucked neatly inside. He would never guess. Would he?

Scarcely able to breathe, her heart fluttering like the wings of a small bird, she determined to behave like a proper young lady. Nothing at all like Albert.
Act like a lady!
Mother constantly reminded her.
Stand up straight! Don't walk with those great huge strides of yours! Don't interrupt! Don't argue about everything under the sun! Don't forget to smile!
And so Katherine squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and started toward them taking small, elegant steps. She smiled graciously.

All went well until her boot sank into something quite ominously mushy. The warm, acrid smell that rose from it left no doubt. She glanced down. The bottom and sides of her leather boot were coated in a dark, sticky mixture from which little pieces of brown grass stuck out.

Aw. What was she supposed to do now? Certainly not laugh. Katherine pressed her lips together, raised her chin, and wondered how a lady was supposed to watch where her feet were stepping if she could not look down.

“Katrine!” Madame Landvoight said. “We have been looking for you. This is Monsieur Roebear, who has come to see your horse.”

Oh. Madame Landvoight might pronounce his name quiet differently, but the man standing before her was still Mr. Charles Roberts, the storekeeper from Yale. If Katherine had known he was also the horse trader, she would not have come here today. She saw the surprise in his eyes and knew Mr. Roberts recognized her. He would be furious! This man had refused payment for Nugget because of Susan, and now here she was, trying to sell the very same horse back to him. He had every right to be angry.

Something else occurred to her then. Something that made her toes curl inside her boots. Mr. Roberts would tell Madame Landvoight about Katherine's visit to his store with William as her guide. Madame Landvoight would tell her husband and her husband would tell...well, it did not bear thinking about.

“I believe we have met before,” Mr. Roberts said, extending his hand. “It's a great pleasure to see you again, Miss Harris. And your beautiful horse as well,” he glanced down at Katherine's boot, “even if she is a trifle messy at times.”

Katherine shook his hand and attempted a smile, not a gracious one perhaps, but any semblance of a smile would do. Mr. Roberts was being kind enough to keep her secret. She tried to come up with something ladylike to say in exchange but could only think,
Please don't mention William. My father never approved of our friendship. If Father finds out William was with me for part of my trip north, he'll be furious at me. Even worse, he will be angry at William, and for no good reason.

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. Be
ing 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.”