Time Will Tell (Timeless Series) (8 page)

They discussed more of her past and Gus told a little of his.

He and Berta were immigrants who’d come from Norway as newlyweds eleven years earlier with dreams of prosperity. Gus originally worked with Colin Thorpe’s father soon after arriving in the US. “In the postwar years of the late 1860s and early 1870s, opportunity abounds for anyone willing to work hard enough to take advantage of it,” he said, ending his autobiographical spiel.

“You showed some real gumption today.” Gus grunted and took another bite. He chewed thoughtfully
, then swallowed. “Even still, you don’t look old enough to be on your own, boy.”

Libby’s chin lifted. “I’m old enough.”

He eyed her a long minute before nodding. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll try you out in other areas. I sure could use a hand who understands horses.” Gus shook his head. “Thoroughbreds are a touchy bunch—spirited and high-strung.”

“A fact I’m well aware of after spending plenty of time working with them,” Libby countered. “I’ve trained thoroughbreds for years.” Her voice held conviction. “I’m willing to work hard and earn my keep.” She couldn’t leave just yet, so why not try to get
a closer look at Colin’s prized horseflesh, as she was dying to do?

“I don’t know.” Gus let out an audible sigh. “This is foaling and breeding season and the work is brutal.”

“Gus, why not give him a chance,” Berta chimed in. “You’re working yourself to death, toiling seven days a week. At least try him out for a time.”

His gaze trailed to his wife’s before wandering to Libby’s, where it stayed. He appeared deep in thought. “You’re right.” He refocused on Berta. “Everyone needs a chance to prove himself now and again. That’s what this great country is all about, taking and giving chances. Besides, the boy proved his mettle earlier.” He broke off. His focus returned to Libby again and he silently observed her for another moment. Finally he nodded, saying gruffly, “We start early around here. Right now we’re working every day, even tomorrow, Sunday. Be in the stables at sunup and I’ll give you more than a try. It’s backbreaking work, and as you’ve already experienced firsthand, I don’t mollycoddle my workers. You continue to pull your weight
, boy, and you’ll have a job for as long as you want.”

Libby exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry.”

“I hope not.” Gus stabbed at a wedge of sweet potato and resumed eating. He took a few more bites, then glanced at her. “Libby’s a strange name. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone called Libby before.”

“It’s a nickname.” Libby shrugged.
“Short for Liberty. What can I say? My mom was patriotic.”

This answer seemed to appease him and he went back to his meal.

But Berta didn’t appear to be fooled. She just shook her head and clucked.

When the dinner was over, Libby leap
ed from her chair, intending to do her part to help clean up. While carrying dishes to the sink, she felt a hand on her arm. Libby looked over her shoulder to see Berta shaking her head.

“You best be getting ready for bed. This here’s woman’s work. You can bunk with Nathan tonight.”

“I can take him to the bunkhouse,” Gus said. “He’ll be fine there.”

“No.” A look of horror crossed Berta’s face. “He can bunk with Nathan. I wouldn’t let this child stay with those animals in the bunkhouse.”

“Now, Berta, if he’s going to be working here, he needs to be with the rest of the hands. They’re not animals. Just young bucks with wild oats to sow.”

“
Ja
—you say that, but I’ll not have this child corrupted by those young bucks. Keep them away from him. He’s too young to be around such hooligans.”

Gus heaved a resigned sigh. “
OK, but bear in mind, this boy isn’t our responsibility. He needs to earn his keep or he’ll be gone.”

Libby watched the entire exchange with interest, only too happy not to have to sleep in the bunkhouse with the other hands. They
were
a hardened bunch. Besides, she liked this family. She felt comfortable here. The Gundersons were good people. Maybe they were the reason she’d been sent here. To see how a loving family interacted with each other, and to discover what was important in a marriage, so she could apply it to her own life.

Berta grabbed her hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you where you’ll be. The house has three bedrooms on the second floor. The outhouse is right outside. We don’t have an inside bathing room like the big house does, but we have a tub with a pump that drains out.”

They climbed the staircase and were soon heading toward a bedroom, well out of range of her husband’s hearing, when Berta harrumphed.

“Men!
They can’t see what’s right in front of their noses.” She aimed her stare at Libby. “You, child, are no boy. But I will keep your secret. Whatever your reasons, it’s your business,
ja
? I’ll help you all I can. I only hope you’re as good with horses as you say you are.”

Berta stopped, opened a cupboard, sorted through it, and took out several items. Then she continued speaking while tearing up an old sheet. “You can wear these old clothes. Here’s an old hat that can help with your ruse,
ja
? Wrap yourself with the strips—they will hide your budding.”

Stunned, Libby grabbed the clothes, along with a hat that had seen better days and asked softly, “You’re not mad?”

“No, I’m worried.” Berta offered an apprehensive smile. “What’s a child like you doing out here on your own?”

Relieved, Libby bestowed her own smile and brushed aside the notion of her just starting to develop. Her buds were fully bloomed. Berta had obviously mistaken her age, assuming she was much younger than her twenty-three years. “It’s a long story.”

She should probably be incensed over the insult. Geez. Even in the past, women had to have a rack to be considered fully grown. “If I told you, you’d have a hard time believing it. I’ll do my best to help your husband with his work. I am good with horses.”

Berta shrugged. “
Ja
, well, time will tell. I’m a pretty good judge of character. Just don’t make me regret helping you.” Her voice held warning and Libby realized she never wanted to tangle with the woman. “Here’s Nathan’s room. There’s an extra bed since Christophe, his younger brother, is still in with us. Sarah, my oldest, has her own room down the hall.”

“Thanks so much.” Libby hesitated a moment, then stepped up and hugged Berta. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

The older woman cleared her throat and patted her back, offering a flustered, “
Ja
, just work hard and help my husband. That will be thanks enough for me. He works too much. Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?” Berta then turned and left her alone.

Libby quickly discarded her jeans and blouse, and wrapped the strips around her breasts, thankful not to have to rely on the hot vest any longer. She pulled the muslin shirt over her head. Amazingly, her shape disappeared. The old garments resulted in her looking more the part. She’d take her own clothes to the tree and hide them in order to keep them handy for when she tried to wish herself back to her own time. She’d already given it one attempt earlier and decided to try again tomorrow. If this was like her last experience, she would probably be zapped right back to within minutes from when she’d left. Or at least
, she hoped so.

Nathan came in and climbed into his bed, while she slid into the bed next to him.

“I’m glad you came to visit us, Libby.” His sleepy voice drifted to her ears. “G’night.”

Libby smiled in the dark. “Good night, Nathan. Sweet dreams.”

Though her muscles ached from exertion, too many questions kept her awake.

Her conversation with Nathan while fishing entered her thoughts as Bev and her dream came to mind. Suddenly a wave of homesickness washed over her. Hopefully, she would figure out what she needed to learn so she could return to her own time.

Libby closed her eyes and prayed for the means to get back home. She missed her friend. Sighing, she hit the pillow. She missed Dave. Heck, she even missed Dr. Bull.

Libby sprang out of bed eager for a chance to try out the trees. She followed Nathan down the stairs, rounded the corner, and was met with a scene straight out of
Little House on the Prairie
. In daylight everything appeared rustic. The countertops might fit in her century, considering they were honed hardwood that was all the rage, but the room lacked other contemporary amenities. Like a dishwasher, a microwave, or a refrigerator with French doors. A potbellied stove took the place of a cook top with oven.

Even Berta fit the part of the mom, who stood at the stove, hair tied back with a kerchief and wearing an apron over a faded calico print dress. “Privy’s out back.” Berta pointed to the door with the long fork she’d been using to
turn the bacon.

Libby sniffed the mouthwatering scent. Her stomach gurgled as she headed outside.

She had no trouble finding the BB, or bathroom in a box as she’d dubbed it. Libby made her way back to the house with a newfound appreciation for modern times. The toilet paper looked nothing like paper and there was no running water. She vowed never to take a flushing toilet for granted ever again.

“The washbasin’s on the counter,” Berta said. “Just fill it with fresh water.” The elder woman nodded at the sink and hand pump, which was better than having to get water from the nearby creek.

Libby noticed the bowl. Next to it was a cloth and small towel, along with what looked like a bar of soap. She moved to the sink, picked up the bowl, and started pumping. It was hard work pulling and pushing the handle up and down to get a decent flow. Even worse, it was ice cold. What Libby wouldn’t give for warm tap water.

“There’s a ladle to make it bearable,” Berta said as if reading her mind. Her nod indicated a bucket atop the potbellied stove. “You don’t need much. That bucket stays there during the day.” One by one, Berta added cooked strips of bacon onto a platter,
then poured what looked to be scrambled eggs into the hot grease. “All I ask is that you fill it up when the water gets low. Make sure you use a hot pad, though. Otherwise you’ll burn yourself. Also, I put out an extra toothbrush.” She grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the contents in the cast iron pan. “I cleaned it with lye soap, so it should do for now. The tooth powder’s in the tin right there.”

Libby nodded and murmured her thanks. The toothbrush in question looked worn. Was she supposed to use that?
Apparently so.

After washing, she did feel more human. Even the worn toothbrush and salty
-tasting powder weren’t too bad, especially since they did help to take away morning breath.

She emptied the basin of dirty water in the big sink
, then took in more of her surroundings. Despite the fact that there were few comforts from her century, the scene was cozy. The fireplace across from the stove wasn’t lit this morning, but in her mind’s eye, she saw how warm the room would be once winter set in.

Now done with the eggs, Berta added them to the bacon, set the fork down, and wiped her hands on her apron. With hot pad in hand, she bent to take biscuits out of the oven before placing them in a napkin-lined basket.

“All ready.” Berta smiled and picked up the huge platter containing bacon, ham, sausage, and eggs that still sizzled and smelled heavenly.

Libby’s stomach growled again. “Do you need any help?”

“No, child, I’ve been doing this a long time. You’ll be working hard enough in no time.” Berta’s smile softened. “You just sit there and enjoy a hearty breakfast.”

Libby pulled out her chair as the rest of the family filed in. Berta set the food on the table and joined them.

After a quick blessing, Libby ate with zest, preparing for the strenuous work ahead. She wasn’t willing to take any chances on not meeting Gus’s expectations.

When Gus finished his meal, he shoved away from the table. “Time’s a
-wasting. You best hurry, Libby. We have a full day ahead.” He proceeded to lean down and kiss Berta’s forehead. “We usually don’t work on the Lord’s day, but too many mares are in foal.” He grabbed his hat and strode toward the door.

Libby took one last drink of milk and jumped up. “Thanks
, Berta. Wish me luck.”

Berta shook her head. “Child, you’ll need more than luck. Now
, go on with you.”

Nathan stood too. “Can I help you, Libby?”

“Nathan—” Berta frowned. “You leave him alone. He has enough to do without worrying about keeping you out of trouble. You and your sister have your own chores. You’d do well to get busy with those. After that we’ll be going to church.”

“I know, but I was thinking ’bout later once my
chores’re done an’ after church. How ’bout it, Libby?”

Libby shrugged. “Sure.
If it’s OK with your mom.”

Nathan offered a lopsided grin.
“Okey-dokey.”

“
Okey-dokey, friend.” She returned his grin and then hurried out the door to catch up with Gus.

At the stables, she and Gus did the usual mundane tasks for the first couple of hours. There were at least six men she recognized from the day before, and a dozen she didn’t, all ranging in age from early to late twenties. As Berta had said, they were a tough
-looking bunch, appearing weathered and hard. They all looked mean enough to fit in with any gang in any bad neighborhood. All that was missing were the tattoos and the baggy pants.

One burly guy stopped to relieve himself barely a few feet from where Libby stood with Gus, who’d been giving her a more complete tour of the stables.

The guy then laughed and spit out a wad of chewing tobacco before buttoning his jeans. Watching him walk off, Libby sent up another prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to bunk with guys like him. Hopefully, no one would pay her any mind if she used the outhouse. Heck, hopefully, she would not have to stay here that long. Using an outhouse was the pits. Twice she’d used it that morning, walking past the trees and wishing her heart out. Both times nothing happened.

“Our goal is to produce the best thoroughbreds around, but we mainly breed workhorses right now.” Drawn out of her thoughts, Libby refocused on what Gus was saying. “The farm’s income depends on the sturdier animal. The need for racehorses dried up because of the war. Colin’s convinced the demand for Kentucky’s racehorses will pick up eventually. And when it does
, we’ll be ready.”

It dawned on her that Gus was talking about the
War between the States. If nothing else, Libby decided to enjoy the physical history lesson as he added, “Let’s go check on the mares in foal. That way I can see how you handle yourself around fidgety females.”

Thankfully, Colin Thorpe hadn’t made an appearance yet this morning. If Libby were lucky, he would not come by at all.

Gus stopped at a stall door and opened it. “We need to examine the horse to see if her bag has dropped and filled.”

Having done this type of work before, Libby nodded and proceeded to the first mare, then checked her teats. This was more Bev’s expertise and Libby tried to remember what to look for. She turned back to Gus with the question in her eyes.

“As a mare gets closer to her time, wax forms on their ends,” he said, pointing to one teat. “This mare isn’t ready yet.” He offered a slight smile.

They moved on.

The horse in the next stall was definitely closer to dropping her foal. “We’ll check her in a couple of hours. Now, let’s see how well you handle yourself in the saddle.” He entered another stall. Libby halted at the gate and watched as he harnessed a fine-looking gelding. He led the animal toward her and pointed to another stall with tack hanging on the post. “Go ahead and ready him up.”

Horses saddled, she and Gus led them toward the entrance just as Colin Thorpe walked through the stable door.

Libby tried not to stare, but there was something about him that grabbed her attention. She was again struck by how attractive he was. He wore similar clothes as the previous day—dark, formfitting pants that tapered down to fit inside worn riding boots, and a white muslin shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off well-defined forearms. Colin Thorpe looked every bit of what she imagined a Regency-era hero would look like.

He would have to pick that precise moment to glance at her.

Heat flooded Libby’s cheeks as their gazes locked. For too long, blue eyes held hers. That déjà-vu feeling washed over her as the strength to look away evaporated on the spot. Time seemed to stand still. Finally, Libby forced herself to avert her gaze. She resisted the urge to cover her flaming face. Damn! How on earth was she going to keep up her ruse when he flustered her every time she saw him?

Gus handed her the reins to his horse. “Why don’t you take them out to the pastures and turn them out. I’ll be with you shortly.” He indicated the horse Libby had saddled. “If you want to keep busy, you can start exercising that one.”

Eager to make a quick escape, she turned to leave. Hopefully, she’d find her way home soon. It was bad enough to have to be subjected to men peeing, passing gas, and making lewd comments all day long, but what worried her more were the thoughts bouncing around inside her own mind whenever she caught sight of Colin Thorpe. They definitely weren’t those of someone in a committed relationship.

~

Colin walked up to Gus and nodded at Libby’s departing back. “How’s the new lad doing today?”

“He’s coming along nicely. We can definitely use him with the mares.”

“Have you learned any more about him? Like where he came from?”

“
Ja
. Libby, short for Liberty, Edwards hails from Cincinnati. I’d think he’d rather be called Lib, but Libby suits him well enough. He wasn’t boasting when he said he knows horses.” Gus wiped the sweat off his brow with his shirtsleeve. “I’ve never seen anyone with such a calming touch. He seemed to understand the mares he checked out this morning. They quickly bonded with him.”

Colin nodded. Earlier, when he entered the stable and met the boy’s stare, he felt a tug.
A connection. Just like the day before. It was most peculiar…like the lad needed him. He turned to the stable entrance and stared at the spot the boy had just vacated. “Think we can use him for training the thoroughbreds?” They were short-handed as it was and time was of the essence if they were to be ready by spring. Experienced and effective handlers were hard to find, and those who were small enough to jockey even harder, not to mention expensive.

“Don’t know. But I plan to find out. The lad’s exercising Wild Black.”

Colin grunted. The aptly-named cantankerous beast was used for breeding until he got too hard to handle and had to be gelded. Wild Black had the potential to make a decent workhorse, but he needed more training before being sold. “My money’s on the boy. We can definitely use someone as talented as he appears to be. Keep an eye on him, OK?”

Gus smiled. “I’d already planned to spend more time with him today to see what else he’s made of.” He chuckled. “But you needn’t worry about him. Berta’s already taken him under her wing.
Says he’s too young to be in the bunkhouse, so he’s staying in Nathan’s room.”

“Really?”
Colin raised his eyebrows. Maybe Berta felt the same protective instinct he did toward the lad.

Nodding, Gus said, “Says our hands would corrupt a saint.”

Colin laughed. “She’s right about that.” He glanced back at the stable door for several more minutes, wondering about the child.

Shaking his thoughts, he remembered why he’d searched Gus out to begin with. “I’m taking the train to Louisville in the morning.”

“You were just there.”

“Yes, but another meeting about the racetrack has come up. The committee hopes to make their recommendation on whether to invest or not.”

“You don’t think it’s a good investment?” Gus glanced at Colin with a concerned expression.

Scuttlebutt in the river city concerning the proposed racetrack had spread. An idea was about to become a part of history. Whether good or bad, Colin was still undecided. “I’m still not convinced the public will support another track.”

Promoters were selling shares for a new jockey club at a hundred dollars each in order to build a racetrack for Louisville.

“It’s a perfect spot and I believe the time is right.”

Only three miles from the city limits, the flat sand and clay land packed and drained well. Unfortunately, that same parcel, used for horse racing years ago, now sat empty because of economic decline. In the past twenty years, two others had gone bust. “It’s only been a couple of years since Woodlawn was sold off and divided for homesteads. What’s to stop this one from going belly-up too?” He rubbed his neck and sighed. “Before I invest, I plan to check out a few more details.”

“
Ja
, information is good. It would be nice to have a track closer to home. Lexington’s twice the distance.”

As Colin grunted an assent, they moved out of the way of several handlers leading horses through the stable.

“The war changed people,” he mused. “Life’s tougher. Racing has fallen behind basics, like survival. Supposedly, this track is different. You know, similar to successful ventures, like the Metairie Club in New Orleans or the Jockey Club in New York.” He met Gus’s gaze. “Clark’s pushing for creating an event race that will bring in the masses,” he said, referring to M. Lewis Clark Jr., the main promoter. “Much like the Epsom Derby in England. Tomorrow’s meeting should finalize his idea. A committee is working on the articles of incorporation.”