A Horse for Elsie Page 9

  Elsie shivered. She thought she had dressed warmly, but this cold, going at a fast clip against it, drove through her woolen coat and sweater, leaving her with goose bumps up her back and down her arms, her teeth clacking if she didn’t press down on them.

  “Cold?” Elam asked.

  “No.”

  Not really the truth, but oh well. What could he do if she told him she was miserable?

  “Want to drive?”

  “We’re almost at the singing. I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “My arms aren’t strong enough.”

  “Sure they are. Here.”

  Without further words, he presented the reins to her, held them out like a proffered gift, a challenge to see if she would accept. All right. She would.

  The first time her fingers closed around the heavy leather reins, she felt the magnificence. The power. It moved from those massive mouths, traveled through the steel bit and along the reins, tugged at her arms with every jingle of the harness.

  It was better than riding, better than flying above the earth, better than soaring through unknown heights like a falcon. Or an eagle. It was simply indescribable, perched high on this bobsled seat, knowing the whole magical harmony of those two horses was in your control. As if for the first time in her life, Elsie felt a sense of leadership, of being the one who was able to direct these beautiful animals, in control.

  She laughed out loud, a rich sound of pealing bells.

  Elam watched her face and felt the despair of her resounding “No” all over again. Well, there was a reason for the old-fashioned “courting.” It was the process of winning a heart. It didn’t always happen immediately and he certainly wasn’t about to give up that quickly.

  When had she become this amazing young woman? She’d been the skinny classmate that stood at the gate in her faded, patched dresses and glared at him with those big green eyes without lifting a hand. He’d felt like a prince riding by, someone far superior to her, with that perfect Shetland

  pony.

  The baseball in school was the beginning. She was the most graceful, coordinated girl in school, with the ability to throw a ball farther than the boys. Now she had blossomed into this beautiful girl, with so many God-given talents, he was in awe of her.

  “Hold them, we’re going downhill.”

  She nodded, concentrated on using her strength to its full advantage as the horses arched their necks, felt the slight push of the bobsled as they started down the gradual incline.

  The cold winter air rushed by, numbing her face. Her fingers were stiff beneath the woolen gloves, shaking like a leaf. But she wouldn’t trade the discomfort for any other sensation on earth. This was exhilarating, pure freedom.

  The last stretch to the barn was level, so the horses naturally slowed their pace. Elsie put both reins in one hand, shook the other to increase circulation.

  Immediately Elam offered to drive.

  “No. I’ll park them,” Elsie said.

  And she did so expertly, driving up to the circle of gray and black carriages, with dark figures unhitching horses or just standing in the cold winter night, talking, laughing together.

  The bobsled slid to a halt and Elsie handed the reins to Elam. She hopped off immediately, started unhooking the traces.

  “They’re barely breathing faster,” she observed.

  “No, these guys can go all day, although at a slower pace.”

  “They’re enormous.”

  “We want to do a six-horse hitch for the Ohio horse sale next year.”

  “Sell them?”

  “Maybe. We keep buying and selling. We’re always changing horses. You could come over on your days off to work with them. Learn how to braid manes, wash the fetlocks, get them in shape for shows, or whatever we need. Potential buyers or photographers are always coming around.”

  “You mean … ?”

  “We’d pay you, of course. My sisters don’t show much interest. They’re scared of anything bigger than Cookie.”

  “You still have him?”

  “Of course. He’ll die in our barn.”

  “You’re forgetting I’m new to the horse world. There’s a lot I don’t know.”

  “You’ll learn. You can do anything you set your mind to. And you really love horses.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, then …”

  Elsie smiled in the light of the battery lamps. Their eyes met and held. Her smile widened, and she laughed, a throaty sound of glad emotion that broke the spell. She stepped forward, clasped her gloved hands to his forearms. He felt the pressure, his heart beating so furiously he was certain she could hear.

  “I’ll do it.”

  The rest of the evening was a merry-go-round of lights and singing and faces. Colorful packages were exchanged, shouts of Christmas merriment erupted. There were Christmas cookies, meat and cheese trays, and hot chocolate. But all Elsie thought about was the huge barn filled with Belgian horses and the challenge it presented.

  Chapter Nine

  She drove those Belgians the whole way home, sitting on the right, in the driver’s seat, her back straight, her hands on the reins, with Elam beside her, allowing her the privilege of doing this on her own.

  They did not speak, leaving the wonder of this Christmas night to engage their thoughts with the quiet tenderness of the season. Distant lights shone across the white fields, the border of trees like a dark frame surrounding a magical photograph. The stars overhead seemed to wink at them, as if they, too, knew and understood the extraordinary spirit of the night.

  The whisper of the runners on snow sang the song of the ages when a young man’s heart turns to thoughts of love. Elam wondered if his father heard this song, his grandfather before him, and his great-grandfather before him. How did they know who was the one they longed for? From God, that’s who. The mystery of true love couldn’t always be deciphered, so you just took it, appreciated it, and didn’t try to make sense out of it.

  For Elam, there was no one but Elsie. Plenty of girls had let him know in the way most girls do that they’d be happy to accept him whenever he felt inclined to ask them for a date. But it had never felt right, till now.

  Skinny, unadorned Elsie, sitting in her desk with that old battered lunch box, ashamed of her food, her dress, her coat. And yet, when it was time to play baseball, none of it mattered. Intent on winning, her sportsmanship took over, as she turned into another person, the one who sat beside him now, concentrating on the handling of these horses that were powerful enough to run off out of control, spilling them out on the snow like corks, light and helpless.

  The jingling of buckles and snaps, the flapping of leather on the horses’ bodies, along with the steady, muted sound of the great hooves running across the snow filled the air. The smell of the horses’ warm bodies mixed with the fresh paint of the bobsled.

  Elsie’s laugh broke the spell.

  “The horse on the right is getting tired. He’s not pulling his share,” she exclaimed.

  “Really? How do you know?”

  “My left rein needs more pull.”

  He could not think of a sensible answer. If he hadn’t known her his whole life, he’d have thought her a much more experienced driver.

  “You can walk them.”

  “No, they wouldn’t like that.”

  He opened his mouth to ask how she knew that, but closed it instead, quickly deciding he’d allow her the confidence of driving. How did she know? She was a born horsewoman. The thrill of this discovery increased his need to step back, give her time to acknowledge this talent on her own. She did not accept flowery compliments well, the ever-present lack of self-worth raising its hideous, unwanted visage.

  Their arrival at her home seemed like a loss. He did not want this magical evening to be over, but was afraid to ask if he could come in for a cup of coffee. Besides, the dilapidated little barn wouldn’t hold these horses, and he was positive she’d say no.

  She hopped o
ff the bobsled in one swift movement, still holding the reins, then turned to hand them over as he slid across the seat to the driver’s side.

  Her eyes glowed in the light of the battery lamps.

  “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “May I thank the horses?”

  “Of course.”

  She went around to the massive heads, stroked and murmured as they obediently lowered their noses into her gloved hands.

  He strained to hear her words, but knew they were not meant for his ears.

  “They’re great horses. Like gigantic teddy bears. They’re filled with goodness, aren’t they?” she asked as she made her way back to the light from the lamps.

  “I never thought about it, but yes, they are. They would never hurt anyone.”

  Her happy laugh rang out, like bells.

  “I can’t wait. When do you want me to come over?”

  “You work at the bakery the last three days of the week, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why don’t we try for Tuesday evening?”

  “Will your parents approve of having me in the barn? They won’t think it’s odd?”

  “Why would they?”

  Flustered suddenly, she tried to erase the question with a shrug.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe your dad would think I’m too bold.”

  “He’s not like that.”

  “All right. I’ll be over. Good night.”

  The darkness swallowed her as she made her way to the house without further conversation.

  Reluctantly, Elam lifted the reins, chirped to the team, and they moved off smoothly. All the Christmas cheer disappeared like the puffs of steam from the horses’ nostrils.

  Now why did he feel like an amateurish klutz, suddenly? The left horse needs more pull. They wouldn’t like that. He felt the need to establish his own horse sense, make sure she’d know he was the one who would be teaching her about these huge animals. Not the other way around.

  There, she’d done it again. Amazed him. In school, it was no different. He’d never seen a girl throw and catch the way she did.

  He’d have to grasp his sense of superiority back as fast as he could if he meant to impress her.

  Dressed in her everyday chore clothes, without adornment, the way she’d been in school, she strode up to the barn with a purposeful step, a glad light in her eye when she spied him.

  “There you are!” she said, panting slightly.

  “Yup. How are you?”

  “Great. Excited.”

  “Good.”

  Her eyes scanned the long row of doors, the clean, wide aisle in between, the horses standing quietly behind their own partition.

  “Why didn’t you ride?”

  “I won’t ride when you … well, no.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’d be far too self-conscious to ride when you are watching me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged.

  “Well, then we won’t ride. We’ll work on getting the Belgians ready for the sale in Ohio.”

  Her eyes shone. She clasped and unclasped her fingers. The door opened, letting in the cold white light of the winter day. His father came through the door, rubbing his hands, shivering.

  “Why hello, Elsie. It’s good to see you.”

  “Hello.”

  “Elam says you’ll be helping out with the Belgians. Good. We’re glad to have you aboard.”

  He noticed a strange look on his son’s face and wondered.

  And so began the evenings that bound them together. Elam taught her all the ways of grooming, braiding, washing and oiling fetlocks, waxing hooves, all of it a labor of love for Elsie. The best times were the hours of hitching them to various wagons, learning the proper handling of these awesome creatures.

  Her favorite was the one they called Captain, or Cap for short. He seemed to take an instant liking to Elsie, responding to the slightest command spoken in her soft voice. She drove him in the high two-wheeled cart, alone, and with his partner, Caleb.

  When the weather was unfit for driving, they polished harnesses, trimmed manes and tails. She proved efficient in the art of braiding colorful ribbons into the heavy manes as well as grooming the bodies of the great beasts until they shone with a deep copper glow.

  Elsie and Elam talked as they worked, about everything and anything. She learned many things about him, including the insecurities he harbored about being what his father expected of him, which came as a surprise.

  “I didn’t think you knew what it felt like, trying to live up to someone else’s standards,” Elsie remarked, stopping midstroke to stare at him, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, the currycomb in her right hand.

  “You don’t know my father. He’s a very precise person. When you think you’ve managed to come up to his standards, he raises the bar.”

  She noticed the flicker of self-doubt in his dark eyes, the slight twitch of the corners of his mouth, as if he were remembering a past episode that brought unwanted emotion. His face was becoming a familiar map, one she scanned so often she was coming to know every contour, every flash of his eyes, or the softening of them. She knew by the sound of his voice when he was frustrated and when he was pleased. She knew when the pressure was on, like today, that he would always bring up the subject of his father.

  “We’re driving four at the horse sale. Four. Cap, Caleb, Doll, and Dominic. I want you to do it. He says I have to, but I know you’re better. He won’t accept it.”

  Elsie’s mouth hung open in disbelief, her eyes wide as she gazed at him.

  “You think I can?” she whispered.

  “You’ve done it.”

  “Two. Never four.”

  “Today, we’ll do it. I’ll show him.”

  His mouth was set in a determined line.

  The February weather accommodated the hitching up, the sun warm on their backs, a brisk wind in their faces. The horses were full of energy, prancing, sidestepping, lowering their noses to the piles of gray-white snow scattered across the wide area in front of the barn. Elsie’s skirt was tugged first one way then another, her headscarf threatening to leave her head. They worked together, calming the horses, fastening traces, checking and rechecking the harnesses, every buckle and snap.

  Elam told her the horses had to learn obedience perfectly, so they made them stand still, in spite of the wind and their own high energy. It was a thrill to be able to master these powerful animals’ will, to know that a spoken word would enable both of them to stand back, admire the clean silhouette of this amazing hitch.

  At the last minute, Elam’s father came out of the house, buttoning his coat, his walk purposeful, as if he regretted having allowed this without his supervision.

  “You didn’t tell me you were hitching four,” was his greeting.

  “I think I told you this morning,” Elam replied.

  He looked over the team with a trained eye.

  Elsie watched Elam’s face for any sign of fear, but there was none.

  “I thought Doll worked best behind Dominic,” his father said.

  “Behind? They’re a team,” Elam answered.

  “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

  With that, he strode off, leaving Elam with a flicker of doubt, a waning confidence. He turned to Elsie. “You drive.”

  For only a second, she sensed the little boy’s disappointment in him. He had not quite come up to his father’s expectation. Did he ever?

  To see this in the one who always showed absolute confidence, perceived as arrogance more than once, was astounding.

  So he was not as sure of himself as he would have the world believe.

  She took a deep breath and looked at the four massive horses, their flanks quivering with the cold and the eagerness to run. This wagon was no bobsled. It was twice as high and glossy, the wheels like wet pine wood, the color of caramel. The body
of the wagon was painted a deep burgundy, with the same caramel color repeated on the seat. The first time she’d seen the wagon, she’d gasped in disbelief. She had never imagined anything like it, didn’t know such beauty existed in the form of a horse-drawn wagon. It was borrowed from Bailing Springs Stables for the show.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know about this.”

  “You won’t until you try.”

  He handed the reins to her. She scrambled up the wide iron steps. He stayed at Captain’s head, watching intently as she took a deep, steadying breath.

  “You OK?”

  She nodded.

  He came around to the other side and was up beside her.

  “Gloves?”

  She nodded.

  She had never been so afraid in all her life. This was different than driving two, and that in itself inspired awe.

  When she loosened the wide leather reins and called the command to start, her voice was high. Her breath came in quick gasps.

  She did not feel the cold, or the warmth of the sun. Everything faded away, leaving only the backs of the horses, the black symmetry of harness, buckles, rings, and polished adornment.

  She concentrated on the four arched heads and necks with the intricacy of the woven manes, the red ribbon intertwined with the oatmeal-colored manes. Sixteen massive hooves crunched on gravel, the huge wheels moving effortlessly. They had moved off together in a perfect rhythm, which was amazing. But she knew they’d spent hours being trained for this.

  The road loomed like an insurmountable hurdle. Could she make the turn?

  Elam didn’t speak. He gave her no instruction, merely sat watching for traffic as if this were an occurrence that happened every day for both of them.

  All right.

  She remembered the softness of a horse’s mouth. She eased into the drawing of the reins, her hands light, but feeling the power and obedience.

  “Car,” Elam said softly.

  Her first impulse was to haul back on the black reins with all her strength, but she pulled lightly, concentrated on distance, the ability to stop before the car’s approach.