Last week, as you'll recall, Doll was really annoyed by the Irish actor. Wonder if he improves with age? Guess we'll find out in today's episode! And don't forget to see what the other Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
The next morning, shortly after first light, we resume our
journey. I admit to being surprised that the actors are willing to rise with
the sun. I had presumed them to have a preference for sleeping in due to the
nature of their profession. But they seem as anxious to be on our way as we do.
I have given the matter much consideration and have decided
that once we reach the town toward which we travel I shall take Frederick and
begin my search for Vittorio. Just where I shall search, I have not decided.
Perhaps it would be wise to first find a map of this country we travel through.
That will give me a better idea of where to look, I think.
I had intended to confide my plans to my father, assuming I
would be traveling with him. But Fate has other ideas for me, I fear—sometimes
I feel as though I have become embroiled in a vengeful vendetta, one that is
determined to keep me from my love. I push such thoughts aside as serving no
useful purpose. Vittorio and I shall be together again, that I promise.
By the time I have cleaned up our campsite of all trace of
our passage, I find that travel arrangements have already been made. My father
is to ride inside the first wagon, Myron and Charlie and Mary in the second,
along with our provisions, such as we have. And I am given Frederick to ride.
At first, I am unsure of the wisdom of this decision. After
all, I have never ridden anything but my pennyfarthing, which is not the same
thing at all. Shaughnessy places a saddle onto Frederick, for my benefit, and a
pair of stirrups. But when he offers to help me up, my face grows warm and I
growl at him. I will mount the horse under my own steam; I do not need his
assistance. He does not seem offended by my attitude. He gives me an amused
glance and rides away.
I am not as naïve as some might think, and I can discern his
intentions toward me, which are not welcome. As far as I am concerned, he is as
alien to me as any of the creatures in a novel by the talented H.G. Wells himself.
Perhaps less so, if that is possible.
I think I know the theory behind riding a horse, so I decide
to put it into practice.
I slide my left foot into one of the stirrups, but when I
begin to add my body weight, the horse shifts and so do I and I end up flat on
my rump on the ground. Grumbling, I
rise, dust myself off and try again. And again I find myself sitting amongst
the nettle-like plants on the ground. They seem to have taken a liking to me,
adhering to my trousers and prickling my sensitive areas.
“The wee beastie seems to have a mind of his own.”
When did he return? I am as annoyed with myself for not
hearing his approach as I am with him for being here.
Without waiting for my permission, he dismounts from his own
steed and approaches Frederick. He strokes him gently and whispers something
into his ear, something I cannot hear. Frederick whinnies softly and shakes his
head, but he stands quietly, allowing himself to be soothed by the actor’s voice.
“Try now,” Shaughnessey suggests. Like I couldn’t think of
that myself. I keep my thoughts to myself, and place my foot in the stirrup
once more. Cautiously I place my weight on it. Frederick does not move, so I
throw my right leg across the saddle and settle into it with a relieved sigh.
“There you go.” Shaughnessey reaches up and hands me the
reins, along with a cheeky wink. But before I can respond, or tell him where he
can take his ideas, he has returned to his steed and mounted, riding quickly
toward the wagon train, which is already well on its way. I suspect if I do not
catch up quickly, he will return to check on my progress, and that I do not
wish to have happen.
I’ve seen enough western films to know how those cowboys
ride their horses, so I softly press my heel against Frederick’s flank, cluck
to him and softly pull on the reins. To my relief, he begins to move, in the
proper direction, and then he begins to canter, and I am happy to report that I
do not fall off.
The sun is well into the sky and it seems as though we have
been traveling forever, but I know that is not so, it only feels that way, when
Shaughnessey calls a halt and decides that it is time for lunch. That is a
welcome announcement. I’m more than ready to touch the ground again with my own
two feet. I have long ago lost any sensation in my hindquarters. I am grateful
for Charlie’s help in dismounting.
“Doll hurt?” He gives me a sympathetic look, and I nod at
him. Vati approaches, once the wagons have stopped, and he seems concerned, but
I reassure him that I am fine. My father does not need to worry about me, but I
am glad that he does, nonetheless.
I receive a pleasant surprise in that I do not need to cook,
as we are invited to be guests of the troupe. At the moment, I am grateful to
simply relax and let the blood rush back into my legs. Besides, there is
something I wish to talk to my father about... and Myron. Yes, I do need to ask
him something, as I’ve had an idea, so I must set aside my anger with him for
now.
Rather than randomly search for my Vittorio, it occurs to me
that perhaps they can harness the power of science and magic. That’s the least
Myron can do.
to be continued
Now see what's happening with our intrepid Briefers!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
♥ Julie
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