The Horseman (3 page)

Smiling, however, Briney ventured, “Well, I
have decided to stay on here in Oakmont…at least for a time.”

“Oh, joy!” Mrs. Abbot explained.

Bethanne giggled. “Thank goodness!”

“I think that’s a right fine decision,” Mr.
Kelley interjected. “Oakmont has a lot to offer.”

“I hope you’ll stay on with us here at the
boardinghouse as long as you want, Briney,” Mrs. Kelley offered.
“You know we’d love to keep you forever, if things work out that
way.”

Briney smiled, feeling truly welcomed and
wanted. “I do want to stay on at the boardinghouse,” she admitted.
Then, inhaling a deep breath, she added, “And I think I’d like to
purchase a horse—my own horse—so I can ride out whenever I want to.
I’ve always wanted to ride.”

“Oh, that’s a fine idea!” Mr. Davenport
exclaimed. “There ain’t nothing in all the world as liberating as
riding out away from civilization and just being alone with your
own thoughts.”

“I love to ride,” Bethanne said. “Have you
ever ridden a horse, Briney?”

Briney nodded as she swallowed a bite of her
mashed potatoes. “Oh yes. Mrs. Fletcher made sure I was well
trained…although I was never allowed to ride astride as the women
out here do. Always only sidesaddle.”

“Well, riding astride is much more
comfortable…at least in my opinion,” Mrs. Abbot commented. “I too
was taught to ride sidesaddle, but after my late husband and I
moved out here, I never rode sidesaddle again.”

“I’ve always ridden astride,” Bethanne
explained. “And I have an extra riding skirt if you’d like to
borrow it until we can get one made up for you, Briney.”

“You mean, the split skirt kind…like
trousers, only…” Briney began to ask.

“Exactly!” Bethanne confirmed. “I’m sure
you’ve seen ladies around town wearing them. They’re all the rage
out here where we girls ride astride instead of sidesaddle.”

“You need to go on out to the Horseman’s
place,” Mr. Davenport suggested.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mr. Kelley emphatically
agreed. “Cole’s the best horseman in six counties…at least! He’ll
find you a mount that’s perfect for you and what you want,
Briney.”

“Cole?” Briney asked.

“Mr. Cole, the Horseman,” Mrs. Kelley
explained. “He owns a ranch just three miles west of town, and he’s
got so many horses, they’re practically comin’ out of his
ears!”

“I agree,” Mr. Davenport said. “Just skip the
livery altogether and let Cole set you up with a horse. He’ll do it
for a good price too…and probably board it for you.”

Excitement welled inside Briney’s bosom. A
horse! Her very own horse! The thought made her happier than she’d
felt in a very long time. She could just imagine the freedom owning
her own horse would afford her, and she decided then and there
she’d venture out to the ranch outside of town the very next
morning and talk to this “horseman” about a horse.

“I’ll pay the Horseman a visit then, first
thing in the morning,” Briney said, smiling. “Then maybe by the
time I sit down to supper with you all tomorrow evening, I’ll be
the owner of my very own horse.”

Everyone laughed and offered verbal
encouragements. Briney could hardly wait for supper to be over so
that she could get to bed. That way morning would be just a night’s
sleep away, and she would wake to the possibility of owning her own
horse.

Briney Thress had hardly owned anything at
all, in all her life, let alone something as wonderful and valuable
as a horse. Oh, certainly she had the fine dresses and even some
jewelry Mrs. Fletcher had purchased for her over the years. But
those were more for Mrs. Fletcher’s benefit than Briney’s. Mrs.
Fletcher had explained—on the very day she’d come to the orphanage,
chosen Briney to be her traveling companion, and taken her
away—that Briney must always be dressed in a manner that reflected
well upon Mrs. Fletcher. And so it was Briney had always been
dressed, if not lavishly at times, at least very well to do.
Therefore, until Mrs. Fletcher had passed away, Briney had never
even considered the clothes she wore her own. They always only
seemed borrowed somehow.

Thus the very idea—the hope—of owning a horse
caused boundless elation to well within Briney.

And so after supper and after a friendly
visit with everyone in the parlor, Briney took her leave of the
owners and other boarders and hurried upstairs to her comfortable
room.

As she readied for bed, Briney was so excited
at the prospect of what might transpire the next day that she
wondered how in all the world she would manage to settle down and
get to sleep.

“A horse of my own? I can hardly imagine it!”
Briney whispered to herself as she changed her day dress for a
nightgown.

As she climbed into bed and blew out the
flame of the oil lamp on the night table next to it, she whispered,
“Will it be a bay? Perhaps a chestnut or buckskin?”

Although Briney had never owned her own
horse, she had read about them at great length whenever she was
afforded the loan of a book of equine subject and therefore knew
somewhat about equine breeds, colors, and identifying marks.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Briney turned over in
her bed, closed her eyes, and tried not to think of horses—tried
not to imagine herself riding astride a beautiful horse all her
own—tried not to wonder what it would feel like to let the sun
freckle her face.

Almost instantly, however, Briney’s eyes
popped open.

“I’ll never get to sleep!” she moaned.

And then—then she wondered. As the clock
resting atop the chest of drawers chimed the half hour, Briney
strained her ears in listening—in hoping.

Several days before Mrs. Fletcher’s passing,
Mr. and Mrs. Kelley had offered Briney her very own room at the
boardinghouse. Briney and Mrs. Fletcher had been sharing a room, of
course, being that Mrs. Fletcher always wanted Briney at hand. Yet
when Mrs. Fletcher’s illness had begun to worsen so hastily, the
kind proprietors of the boardinghouse had recognized Briney’s
discomfort and inability to sleep for the sake of poor Mrs.
Fletcher’s being in the same room. Therefore, they’d offered her
her own room. And when Mrs. Fletcher had passed on to the next
life, Briney had asked if she could stay in the room the Kelleys
had offered her, paying board until she was sure of what she should
do next.

And it had been that first night in her own
room when Briney had heard his voice. While lying in her bed and
feeling a bit guilty in enjoying being alone, through the open
window Briney had heard a group of men begin a discussion.

The air had been just right to carry the
voices of the men up from the hitching post in front of the little
restaurant Mr. and Mrs. Kelley operated (located just beneath
Briney’s room) and in through Briney’s open bedroom window.

The men had begun a friendly conversation
over the weather. And although the sounds of all the men’s voices
intrigued Briney, it was one voice in particular that had served to
truly mesmerize her! This voice, belonging to a man the others
referred to as Gunner, was as smooth and rich as molasses. Deep but
not too deep, the man called Gunner’s voice served to somehow lull
Briney—settle her ragged nerves and chase away her anxieties.

Since that first night near to a week before,
Briney had lain in bed each night waiting for the men to leave the
restaurant and pause at the hitching post to converse. Sadly, the
men didn’t eat at the restaurant every night, but for four of the
seven nights Briney had been in her own room, they had—and she
hoped tonight would be another night that found the men, especially
Gunner, pausing at the hitching post to talk.

Briney’s heart leapt in her bosom as in the
very next moment, she heard one man say, “Hey there, Gunner. You
headed back to the ranch then?”

“I sure am,” the voice belonging to Gunner
answered. “My back’s achin’ like I’ve been sleepin’ on a board for
a month.”

“Oh, I hear that,” the other voice chuckled.
“I had me a heifer wander off this mornin’, and I spent half the
day huntin’ her down. Didn’t get much else done, so now I’m behind
all the more than I was when I woke up this mornin’.”

“Oh, I hear ya there, Ethan,” Gunner’s
soothing voice chuckled. “And now it feels like the wind is about
to come up, and I got chores to do back home before I can hit the
hay.”

“I sure don’t care much for the wind,” the
man named Ethan commented.

“Me neither,” Gunner said. “The way it gets
to howlin’ and moanin’ out at my place…it sounds like an old dog
tryin’ to outrun death, and it keeps me up at night. Know what I
mean?”

“Oh, I do, Gunner, I surely do,” Ethan said.
“Well, you have a good evenin’ all the same now.”

“You too, Ethan.”

Briney closed her eyes, smiling. A cool
breeze, fragrant with the scent of flowers and herbs drifting on
the air from somewhere, billowed the curtains at the window out
over her bed. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until she
awoke the next morning with the bright light of day lighting up the
room—having dreamt all the night long of riding her very own horse
as the invigorating sense of the wind in her hair and the warm sun
on her face cheered her.

“Cole’s place is about three miles down the
main road goin’ outta town this way,” Mr. Kelley said, pointing
west as he stood with Briney on the front porch of the
boardinghouse the next morning. “You just keep walkin’ west, and
you can’t miss it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want one of my ridin’
skirts, Briney?” Bethanne asked.

“Oh no, not today,” Briney assured her. “I
don’t want Mr. Cole to think I’m so assuming as all that…just
walking up to his property and expecting to ride a horse at
once.”

“But what if you do decide to ride?” Bethanne
asked.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be as easy as all
that, Bethanne,” Briney answered. “After all, I don’t have a saddle
or anything.” Keenly aware of her own disappointment in the
knowledge that it may be days and days before she would actually be
able to ride her horse—if indeed Mr. Cole, the Horseman, even had a
horse for sale—Briney forced a smile and added, “I’m sure I’ll need
a split skirt soon enough. But today I’ll probably just be talking
with the man about purchasing a horse.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Bethanne sighed with
obvious disappointment. She brightened almost immediately, however.
“It is a lovely walk, no matter what the outcome today, Briney.
Enjoy yourself, all right?”

“I will,” Briney promised her friend.
Frowning with concern then, she turned to Mr. Kelley and asked,
“And you’re certain it’s appropriate for me just to walk on out
there by myself…unescorted?”

Mr. Kelley chuckled. “Aw, hell yes, Briney!
Folks out here don’t have time to stand on too much ceremony with
things like that. You need a horse, and Cole is the man who will
have one to sell ya. So you just trot on out there and let him know
what you need.” Mr. Kelley paused, and Briney fancied he blushed a
little. “But I’d be glad to come with you if you like.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Kelley,” Briney
said, delighted by the uncharacteristic shyness in his countenance
at that moment. “But I know you and Mrs. Kelley have a lot to do
before the restaurant opens for lunch today. I’ll be fine, thank
you.”

“All-righty then,” Mr. Kelley said, looking
somewhat relieved. “Then you just follow the road out about three
miles, and when you see a big red barn loomin’ on the horizon…well,
that’s Cole’s place.”

Inhaling a breath of courage and
determination, Briney nodded. “Well, I’m on my way then. Wish me
luck!” she said.

Bethanne offered a quick embrace of
reassurance and said, “You’ll be fine! It’ll be an adventure—one
you’ve never had before, right?”

“Exactly!” Briney agreed. “I’ve never
purchased anything for myself in all my life, let alone walked
three miles all by myself.”

“Good luck,” Bethanne said.

“Thank you,” Briney giggled a little
nervously. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you will,” Bethanne encouraged.

Stepping down from the boardinghouse porch,
onto the town boardwalk, and then onto Oakmont’s dusty main road,
Briney began walking west. She was unsettled a bit by the way her
hands were trembling—by the way she still half-expected Mrs.
Fletcher to call out in scolding her for running off on her
own.

In fact, as her trembling continued—even as
she walked past the general store and the livery, the last
buildings on the west end of town—Briney wondered if she’d ever get
over the constant feeling that she was about to be scolded for
doing something she wanted to do—for thinking her own mind. Yet it
was something she certainly
must
get over if she expected to
truly enjoy living her own life. Mrs. Fletcher was gone—dead, to
think of it bluntly. The elderly woman would never be scolding
Briney at every turn ever again, and Briney knew she must train
herself to be confident, be wise, make her own decisions, and set
free aspects of her character and personality that she’d had to
keep hidden for the past ten years.

Just outside of town, several pretty finches
startled from a tree as Briney passed. Smiling as a peculiar sense
of delighted anticipation rose in her bosom at watching them
flitter about, Briney quickened her step in the direction Mr.
Kelley had indicated. Three miles wasn’t so far, and it had been a
long time since Briney had been able to meander at her own pace
anywhere at all—let alone along such a beautiful, rural setting.
Very quickly, she found the town was already far enough behind her
that the only sounds she could discern were the lulling warbles of
songbirds and the soothing breeze through the leaves of the trees
and grasses.

Briney inhaled a deep breath of purely the
freshest air she could ever in all her life remember breathing in!
The sweet perfumes of flowers and sun-warmed grasses mingled with
the softer scents of tree bark and soil to such perfection that
every inch of Briney’s body was all at once rejuvenated. She felt
as if the unsullied air were coursing through her arms, her legs,
her fingers and toes. The sensation brought such an impression of
newborn emancipation—an even greater sense of deliverance than
she’d experienced in the previous days since Mrs. Fletcher’s
passing—that she found her nervous trembling had stopped. Mrs.
Fletcher wasn’t there to scold her or to tell her to slow down her
pace or that she wasn’t walking as a proper lady should.