Beholden Read online

“’Tis a grand day for it,” Danny said loudly, trying to help. It didn’t work.

  “May I speak to you outside, Bridie?”

  My feet followed her outside, but my brain was still in the store.

  “How are you, dear?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’ve been on my mind since….”

  “Right.”

  “I thought you might come by and take Napoleon. Jack’s been asking.”

  “Has he? He just expected me to take a horse and look after it?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you loved Napoleon and wanted him.”

  “This was Jack’s idea. Not mine.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t feel you have to.”

  “I don’t feel anything at all, Mrs. Morris.”

  She put her hand over her mouth and her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Bridie. I feel responsible. If I hadn’t had that party, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “None of this would’ve happened if your husband hadn’t raped my mother. Are you still married to him?”

  “Life is not easy, Bridie. I have four sons who depend on me now, and I’m only a housewife. I gave all my savings to Jack so he could get away from here. It’s a bad situation.”

  “Yet another reason to be a spinster. They don’t depend on men to look after them. You’ve just confirmed that my original plan to never marry is the right one. I feel sorry for you, Mrs. Morris.”

  “You have every right to be angry, Bridie. If it helps, know that my husband is no longer the mayor. It serves him right.”

  “I don’t care about him. How is Jack, anyway?”

  “He’s living—”

  “I don’t want to know where he lives.”

  “He’s working.”

  “Which is more than I’ve been doing. Guys seem to cope so much better than us gals when it comes to romantic breakups.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. He’s—”

  “I don’t want to know. Sorry, I have to go.”

  I turned on my heel and walked back into the store. Danny and Hobbs had worried looks on their faces.

  “Was it terrible?” Danny asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  Danny looked around frantically, seized a candy necklace, and put it in my hand. “Here.”

  “I need baking powder too.”

  I told Gran about running into Diane Morris.

  “Poor Diane.”

  “She wondered when I was coming for Napoleon.”

  “How did Jack think you were going to manage a horse? We don’t even have a barn.”

  “I know, right? It’s a ridiculous idea.”

  She kept stirring her pot of stewed prunes. “You know who does have a barn?”

  “Who?”

  “Nell.”

  “Nice try, Gran.”

  At night I’d dream about Jack and I riding Napoleon. Sometimes I woke up thinking it had actually happened, only to be bitterly disappointed. Jack was lost to me, but a part of him was living and breathing down the road. The idea took hold that maybe I would feel better with Napoleon to look after. I was doing nothing with my life. This would fill the empty hours.

  But that meant approaching Nell.

  One morning I woke up, got dressed, and told Gran was going to see Nell about a horse.

  “Good luck.”

  Although it was only half a mile to her house, I didn’t think I was ready to walk past the cabin alone so I took the car.

  The cottage looked exactly the same. Still boarded up, empty and staring. My mother had lived there. My grandfather and grandmother had lived there. It belonged to me, by rights. But maybe it was haunted. Everyone associated with the cabin had met a terrible end. It was probably in my genes to live a miserable life.

  Too late, I realized I was getting upset. This was not the way to approach someone for a favour. Especially someone I was iffy about in the first place.

  When I pulled into Nell’s yard I immediately looked at the barn. It seemed to be in sturdy shape. Everything about the place was up-to-date and cared for. And she wasn’t relying on a man to help her. So, it could be done.

  Two dogs came from behind the barn and wagged their tails over to the car. I got out and reached over to let them sniff my hand. When I looked up Nell was on her back porch, holding a swatch of fabric.

  “I knew you’d come one day,” she said. “When you were ready.”

  “Can we just get it straight that I will never forgive you?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. I’m looking for a barn to board my horse.”

  “I didn’t know you had one.”

  “I don’t. It’s Jack’s. He asked me to take care of it, which was a really stupid idea since I know nothing about horses and don’t have a barn.”

  “I have two horses. One is a mare and the other a pony. They’re older now. Your horse must be a gelding if they are to get along.”

  “A gelding?”

  “Has he been castrated?”

  “I think so. I’ll have to check.”

  “Mine are in the field, if you’d like to see them. Let me get my coat.”

  While waiting for her, I looked down at her dogs. Mutts. The smaller one’s eyes were two different colours, one green and one brown.

  Nell walked across the yard with a jacket and gloves on.

  “What are the dog’s names?”

  “Dog and Dog.”

  “Isn’t that confusing?”

  “They’re always together, so it’s easier.”

  She walked me over to the fence. “This back field is very spacious. There’s more than enough room for another horse.”

  The horse and pony ambled over to the fence. Nell took two apples out of her pocket and handed me one. We held out our hands and the animals gobbled up the apples.

  “What are their names?”

  “Mare and Pony.”

  “Wow. You don’t put much thought into this, do you? That mare is definitely a Lucy and the pony is Shortbread. My horse is Napoleon. No calling him Horse if he ends up here.”

  “Right.”

  “May I see the barn?”

  “Surely.”

  We walked over to the barn, and she opened the door. A flood of memories came roaring back of Mama and Pops and playing with the collies at Nana’s house that summer. The stalls and the hay reminded me of a time when I’d had my whole family with me. I had to cover my face so Nell wouldn’t see.

  She pretended not to notice. “I can give you the space, but you will be responsible for your horse’s upkeep. His feed, hay, accessories, et cetera. I don’t ride. My horses are my pets. They help keep the grass down, along with my sheep, who are grazing behind the barn.”

  I gathered myself. “I suppose their names are Sheep, Sheep, and Sheep.”

  “How did you know?” Nell said.

  “How much to board Napoleon?”

  “No charge. Just make sure I never have to take care of him. I’m at capacity looking after my own animals. You can come and go as you please. You don’t have to check with me first, although it might be a good idea to give you a key to the house, just in case.”

  “What do I need before Napoleon gets here?”

  “Come into the kitchen and I’ll prepare a list.”

  Sitting in the kitchen being stared at by Cat and Cat was disconcerting. I realized now that my mother, Jane, must have spent time in this very room.

  Nell was prattling on about what I needed to buy, but I figured if she was writing it down too, I didn’t have to listen. It annoyed me that I still loved this space. Had my little mother loved it too?

  She passed me the paper. “That should do it.” She got up and reached for a key hanging by the door. “And here’s a spare key.”

 
“Thanks.”

  Nell sat down again. “Is there anything else?”

  “What was my mother like?”

  Nell smiled. “Jane was a sweet girl, but very innocent and unworldly. She lived alone most of the time, so she didn’t blend well with other children. She was sickly, too, because she wasn’t cared for properly. She missed a lot of school, and half the time I don’t think the teachers even noticed. It seems she was a forgettable child to everyone but me. I did my best for her, but it wasn’t enough. I’ll regret the day I sent her away until I die. It was all my fault.”

  I grabbed the paper and key off the table. “You can say that again.”

  Out the door I went.

  When I stormed into our kitchen, Gran looked concerned. “Did she reject the idea?”

  “No. I can board the horse for no charge. It’s a great place.”

  “Well, then. You should be happy about that.”

  “Right.”

  The rest of the night, I soaked in the tub with Hobbs keeping me company.

  Being angry with the whole world was tiring. I resented having to call Diane Morris to ask if she could somehow bring Napoleon over to Nell Sampson’s barn for me. She said it wasn’t a problem, which annoyed me. Why was she helping me? She was getting rid of her son’s horse. Didn’t that bother her?

  It irritated me that I had to use Nell’s barn and that she was letting me do it for free. I wasn’t a charity case. If she was trying to be my friend, she could forget it.

  Danny agreed with me. “She’s an evil one. What has this store ever done to her? I can’t imagine why she’s being so generous. She’s trying to trick ya, so she is. That sort always does.”

  “What sort?”

  “Spinsters. They’re always spinning.”

  Gran took a message one day that Diane’s neighbour would drop the horse off at one o’clock the next day, so I had to call Nell and ask if that would be convenient, even though she’d said to come anytime. I wasn’t planning on being her buddy, so I made sure to keep it formal.

  Nell said that would be fine.

  Sleep eluded me that night. What was I doing? Napoleon was a big horse, and I couldn’t ride him alone. Would I need lessons? What did he eat? This was a foolish idea, and yet the thought of seeing him quickened my breath, even though in my heart I knew there was no part of me that was prepared to see Napoleon again.

  One o’clock came and went and still I sat with Nell at her kitchen table. She kept herself busy snipping the threads of a hem. She had a basket of fabric in front of her. She nodded her head at it. “You’d be doing me a favour if you took that seam ripper and took out these hems.”

  Did I want to do her a favour? She was taking my horse, so I picked up the thingy and a piece of cloth.

  “You pull the seam apart a little and then take the hook and rip the stitch. Just go along and you’ll find it starts to rip easily.”

  It was actually kind of soothing. One thing I noticed about Nell was that she wasn’t afraid of silence. She didn’t fill up the air with empty words. I suppose since all her time was spent alone she was used to the quiet.

  The clock in the kitchen sounded off the seconds as we sat quietly. After a while it drove me crazy that she didn’t talk.

  “What’s this material for?”

  “I take the remnants of garments and use them to make dolls for children who need them.”

  “Oh.”

  “I made a doll for your mother once. It had a red velvet coat.”

  I looked at her.

  “She called it Bridie.”

  The seam ripper fell out of my hand and clattered to the floor. Neither of us said anything until, once again, I couldn’t take it.

  “How…why…?”

  Nell looked stricken. “Your mother must have lived long enough to tell George your name.”

  My head dropped and I stared at the piece of cloth in my hand. Nell got up from the table and fetched me a glass of water. Then she retrieved the seam ripper and placed it beside me before falling back into the chair. I drank the whole glass and started ripping. She did the same.

  The clock eventually struck three.

  “Where are these people?”

  “They might be having trouble getting the horse into the trailer. Sometimes horses can be brats about it. Especially if they’re high strung.”

  The words were no sooner out of her mouth than we heard the rumble of a truck and trailer slowly approach the barn. We went outside to greet Diane’s neighbour.

  The man who was driving the truck got out and approached us first. His helper looked about sixteen. He stayed seated in the cab.

  Diane’s neighbour was quite striking—if you liked a dark, broody look. And he sure was throwing daggers our way.

  “Look, I’m sorry we’re late but that horse did not want to come here, and I can’t say I blame him.”

  “And you are?” said Nell.

  “Mitch Curry.” He looked at me for the first time. “Bridie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t have a whole lot of time for gossip, but I gather my neighbour Jack wanted you to have his horse. A little thing like you isn’t gonna be able to handle this beast. What the heck was he thinking?”

  “He clearly wasn’t thinking, but that’s the situation we’re in.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I own a farm not far from here. Why don’t I take the horse for you? I actually know how to ride. I’ve ridden Napoleon before and he’s a stubborn beast.”

  “Well, so am I, and I want him.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “And you are a rude, insensitive jerk.”

  He shook his head. “Women.”

  He signalled for his helper and the kid got out of the truck. They both went to the back of the trailer and opened the doors. Mitch went inside and we heard Napoleon whinny his displeasure. The mare and pony in the field had wandered over by the fence to watch the fun. Dog and Dog were patiently waiting too.

  It sounded like a battle of wills was going on inside the trailer. Mitch shouted at the kid to get out of the way as Napoleon stomped his hooves. Eventually, ever so slowly, Napoleon backed out of the doors and stood in the yard, shaking his head in disgust.

  Nell stood enthralled. “Oh, Bridie, he’s beautiful. I can see why Jack loved him.”

  I fell to my knees. It was like seeing Jack standing there.

  Mitch held on to Napoleon’s reins and watched me. The kid got some equipment out of the back and put it in the barn. Nell went over to Mitch and said something to him. Then the two of them walked the horse into the barn and stayed there for quite a while.

  Eventually the boy went back in the truck and Mitch reappeared. He approached me and knelt beside me.

  “You need to pull yourself together if you’re going to be responsible for these twelve hundred pounds of horse flesh. This isn’t a pussycat.”

  “I don’t like you.”

  “I don’t like you either. But the lady in there said that she’d pay me to teach you how to ride and look after this horse. And I’m not stupid enough to turn down what she’s offering.”

  “She had no business telling you that.”

  “The first lesson starts tomorrow morning at six. I’m a busy man and that’s the only time I can fit you in.”

  He straightened up and walked back to his truck. I had to get up to move out of his way as he circled around the yard and disappeared down the laneway.

  When I got to the barn, Nell had already given Napoleon a feed of hay and fresh water. She was brushing his coat softly and speaking quietly to him. When I approached, Napoleon stretched out his neck and put his mouth near my cheek. I breathed him in.

  “Do you remember me?”

  The horse lifted his head as if to say yes.

  22
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br />   My very first lesson in horseback riding was spent in the barn, shovelling manure.

  “This is the most important job there is,” Mitch said. “You keep your horse’s stall clean at all times. It’s a never-ending task.”

  He was being paid to watch me break into a sweat.

  “Now do the mare’s and the pony’s stalls, while you’re at it. That lady has enough to do.”

  My determination to call his bluff made me shovel with the best of them. But when I went to pick up the handles of the wheelbarrow, I could hardly lift it.

  “Lesson number two. Never fill the wheelbarrow so full that you can’t manoeuvre it. Take some of that out.”

  “Why don’t you do it for me and I’ll remember next time?”

  “What are you, a baby?”

  I scowled at him, picked up a shovel of manure, and dumped it at his feet.

  “Keep going.”

  When that odious task was completed, he looked at his watch. “I have to go.”

  “But—”

  “See you at six tomorrow.”

  And he drove away.

  That first week I never got out of the barn. There were lessons on food, brushing, and learning the names of things.

  “This is a bridle. It’s part of the tack or harness of a horse. It consists of a headstall, bit, and reins.”

  “I know what a bit and reins are.”

  “Excellent. Now this is a saddle.”

  “I know that.”

  “But did you know that a saddle is made up of different parts? This is the fork, the horn, the seat, the cantle, and Cheyenne roll. We have the seat jockey, the back jockey, and the skirt. There’s the rear rigging dee, the flank billet, the flank cinch, the cinch connecting strap, the front cinch, and the stirrup. This here is the hobble strap, the fender, front rigging dee, the latigo, the front jockey, latigo holder, and the tee gullet. Now, are you going to remember that?”

  “I’ll remember the skirt.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Spoken like a true—”

  “Woman. Yes.”

  “You’re a baby. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-five.”