Elizabeth Maxim has been drawing horses, flowers and mountains and sharing her artistic gift with friends and family since forever. Her favorite medium is pen and ink and watercolor, and her work captures the magic of the stories and settings of the authors with whom she works.
Published by Pondera Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or digital, photocopying, recording or otherwise – except for the use of brief quotations in a professional review – without the prior written permission of the publisher.
For information regarding permission, write to: Pondera Publishing, LLC
Attention: Permissions Department P.O. Box 204, Penns Creek, PA 17862 9876543
Hardcover: ISBN 979-8-9855986-7-4
Paperback: ISBN 979-8-9855986-5-0
Audiobook: ISBN 979-8-9855986-9-8
Library of Congress Number: 2023933488
To write to Liza or Libby: www.LizaandLibby.com (They would love to hear from you.)
Printed in the USA www.PonderaPublishing.com
This is the page of many important things. Now go off and enjoy the adventures contained within. Liza and Libby hope you have a wonderful time reading.
To the one true horse whose love continues to grow in my heart, where love shall always grow for ever and ever.
My Libby-girl, our love is everlasting.
“It tears at your heart,” Libby said, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” said Belle simply.
“As though your heart has ripped in two,” Libby continued. Liza heard her mare take a deep inhalation of breath then remained quietly seated in her saddle and listened to her mare exhale.
“Will the pain ever stop?” Belle asked. “What I mean is, how did you manage your grief when you had to walk away from Lila that day?”
Libby was silent.
DREAMS?
The beautiful sorrel mare named Libby didn’t know what to make of the midnight visit into her pasture. She had been dozing, standing upright, head drooped down, completely relaxed and yet aware of her surroundings. Not too far away stood a paint named Belle, and a dun horse named Dude. The sorrel was able to relax as she dozed occasionally, knowing that her pasture mates were aware of the night noises and nighttime dangers, fully in tune with one another. Their collective awareness allowed them to rest, even while each remained on guard.
Libby’s head bobbed slightly, moving as though she was catching herself from falling completely asleep. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, and watched as she both saw and heard the gate to this large pasture open and close, then heard the clink and clonk of the metal latch mechanism falling securely into place.
“Liza?” the mare called out to the young woman walking through the pasture in the direction of the horses. “Liza is that you?” the mare called out again.
There was a swish swish noise of horses moving lazily about in the pasture, and Liza could hear their movements, caught slightly off guard by her presence, each one walking
slowly to reposition itself. Then Liza heard the noises of horses chewing, almost in unison, and that made her smile.
The almost eighteen-year-old cowgirl named Liza walked over to her mare and as she got closer, she replied, “Yes Libby,” to her mare’s question.
Libby heard tension in the voice of her cowgirl mistress. This wasn’t the first time in the last few months that there had been a midnight visit like this one.
Libby had been a part of Liza’s life since the day she was born. Libby was two years younger than her cowgirl and had spent practically every day of her life with Liza.
They had competed in all kinds of Western equestrian sports together and had even attempted to jump obstacles a few times when Liza tried out an English saddle on her mare. Liza’s mother rode both English and Western and Liza always thought it was good to be proficient in both styles of riding. While her father primarily rode Western, he encouraged this multidisciplinary approach to riding in his daughter. “We have plenty of space in the tack room for all kinds of saddles!” he had told Liza one time.
Liza and Libby had been all over together and had shared stories and secrets and joys and sorrows with one another as they traveled in this world and in other worlds. Sometimes, Libby felt as though she and Liza were of one mind, because they were so profoundly connected to one another after all these years together.
Now, hearing the tension in Liza’s voice worried her. Libby felt Liza’s emotions instinctively this evening, even before she had gotten close to her there in the pasture.
“Nightmares again?” Libby called out.
She knew the answer before she had even asked the question. The mare had been having nightmares as well but had kept the visions and the details of the dreams to herself. She couldn’t say, in all truthfulness, that they were real nightmares. She didn’t really know what a nightmare was to be honest. But she knew about dreams and had not been
pleased at the frequency of the ones she had been having as well as the confusing messages they were sending. They were intense and vivid and sometimes frightening, she had noticed.
Libby did not like any of this whatsoever. She had tried to find an explanation in all of it but for some reason, she felt very much alone as she tried to decipher the meaning of her own dreams.
“We are all supposed to be connected to the others, so why don’t I feel the connection with the network of Travelers after I have these dreams?” Libby wondered. Over the past months, after each particularly disturbing evening of dreams, she had called out to the Traveler network, as best as she could, but had not received any help. Sadly, Libby realized she was alone in this and felt even more detached, because she had not told Liza about what she had been experiencing.
Liza approached Libby and threw her arms around her mare, nestling her head in and against the side of her mare’s head near her neckline. The cowgirl rested for a moment, arms draped around her mare’s strong neck with easy pressure, yet supporting herself while she held on.
“That’s almost four months of these dreams, Liza, isn’t it?” Libby asked.
Liza sighed.
“It is always about the same thing, the same visions, I mean, the same images, right?” her horse continued, a question contained in her comments to her mistress.
Liza sighed again. She shifted her weight in her boots as she stood there in the pasture and turned to look around, releasing her hands from her mare’s neck, and lightly dragging her fingertips down the side of her mare’s face where she ended her touches with a gentle pat on the side of Libby’s nose.
“Libby, I wish I knew what it all meant,” she said all of a sudden, sounding concerned. “I don’t know why I’m having these kinds of dreams,” she continued. “This isn’t normal for me,” Liza explained. “You know that girl, right?”
Libby exhaled and dropped her head to grab a mouthful of grass. She chewed as she ate, swirling her lips to catch the grasses into her teeth where she tore off chunks and then spent a few moments chewing on those blades of grass.
“We will have to go back, I believe,” Libby said after she had finished eating. Her tone was deliberate and earnest, and Liza wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard concern in her mare’s voice.
Libby felt Liza turn sharply to look at her.
The mare was thoughtful and wise, and usually took her time before she said what was on her mind. She rarely said something that wasn’t getting at the heart of the matter when she spoke. Her words were sensible, honest and pure.
“I feel as you do,” Liza said with an audible sigh. “I had wanted to avoid it, but I think there is no way around it. These visions I’ve been having are not pleasant ones. There is too much pain and suffering in them sometimes that confuses me,” she admitted.
Libby exhaled once again. It was time to tell her. “Liza, well, I must confess that I have been having dreams too. We might be sharing them, I think. Are you seeing lots of different pairs of horses with their riders? Are you seeing situations that aren’t very pleasant or are they good ones? Do you ever see multiple horses with their riders or just a pair that’s alone? Are you seeing certain colors…?” and before Libby could finish her sentence, Liza had cried out, “Yes! Golds and coppers and silvers. Like threads. Flowing in the air. And I see patches of white,” Liza continued.
“That’s right, the white tuft of hair, is that what you saw?” Libby asked, with a concerned note in her voice.
“Yes, Libby, but why are you asking me about that in particular?”
Libby did not reply. Instead, she absentmindedly took a few steps away from Liza, following the rest of the herd which had continued to walk towards the end of the pasture. There was a long incline that started just where the pasture
ended, at the base of a steep mountain, which was where the main trailhead began on Liza’s parents’ property.
Those trails went on for miles and the two of them spent many hours up there over the years.
Libby wasn’t certain how to answer her mistress. “Why did I just ask her that?” Libby thought to herself.
Dude and Belle were still grazing but had stayed close to Libby and had not spread out to eat as much as the rest of the herd. They could hear the conversation Liza and Libby had been having and while they felt a little guilty eavesdropping, their mutual concern for the well-being of their friend Libby, did not prevent them from listening carefully.
Both lifted their heads and turned to watch Libby, when they realized she had not answered Liza.
“Does Libby know?” Belle asked Dude very quietly.
Dude shook his head.
“How can she not know?” Belle queried her friend, murmuring her reply as quietly as she could.
Dude shook his head again and whinnied softly.
“Libby has to know that this next visit will put Liza in danger,” Belle said, sadness in her voice.
Dude whinnied again and ended with a comforting nicker.
Belle remained silent for a few moments.
Dude nuzzled her, pushing his nose along the side of her face, ending his nuzzle with a gentle yet determined bump that pushed Belle’s head a bit, as if he was trying to make her understand something important.
“I know, my friend, I know,” Belle said sadly, as she looked over at Liza and Libby.
CHAPTER TWO
MEMORIES
Looking into the distance, the woman turned in her saddle and did a little stretch as she twisted to peer over her left shoulder at the stunning sunrise. It was one of those sunrises that was spectacularly colorful with reds and purples and oranges, in addition to glorious shades of beautiful radiant light bursting upwards and outwards as the sun became ever more visible.
“It’s already a gorgeous day,” the woman said, still looking over her shoulder. “And I think those colors might just be more spectacular than I have ever remembered a sunrise to look in my entire life,” she added as she leaned forward and stroked her hand along the neck of her sorrel horse.
The horse made a subtle little rumble of a nicker that started down deep inside of her and yet only made the slightest of noises as if to say, “I agree. Today is beautiful.”
Turning to her right and giving her body another stretch as she twisted in the saddle, the woman made a sigh as she inhaled the crisp morning air deep into her lungs and then exhaled just as deeply.
As if to mimic her human mistress, the sorrel also inhaled and then exhaled deeply, this time, making a rumble of her mouth in that brrrrr noise that horses make when their lips sputter.
These two had been friends for a very long time, more than three decades in fact, and they knew one another’s moods well enough to know when to speak and when to remain silent. For this moment and for a moment or two longer, that’s exactly what they did.
No matter where the woman looked, she saw beauty. As she sat astride her mare, her heart swelled and something inside of her body warmed as she looked out over the stunning panorama that lay before her.
Was it the colors that pierced her soul, warming her, caressing her and enveloping her to make her feel safe and protected? Was it the fresh air that she inhaled in refreshing breaths, breathing in the delicate and intoxicating scents of the pine trees, a few needles of which clung to her jacket, that inspired her soul? Was it the stillness, those moments of deep and utter quietness, only stirred by the subtle squeaks she made when she shifted in the saddle that brought her back to reality? Or was it when she could almost hear her own heartbeat and feel her breathing which seemed to be in sync with the breathing of her mare that she knew she was alive.
The mare took another deep inhalation of breath and then exhaled audibly. She was relaxed. She was enjoying this quiet moment too.
Standing there, the woman felt a tear form in her eye, and she felt her throat begin to catch as she struggled to collect herself. She swallowed to prevent certain feelings and vivid memories from surging forward in a rush of emotions that she just did not want to feel as she stood here with her
best friend looking out over one of the most exquisite vistas she had ever seen.
She had been here before and this was one of her favorite spots. It wasn’t an easy ride to get up to this view, but she and the sorrel had made their way carefully in the early morning pre-dawn light, starting their ride up the trail when it was dark. They both knew they had to come to this exact spot, to stand here peacefully and to take part in the sunrise.
The sorrel was so very young-looking, with a build that was both lean and muscular. She had bright and clear eyes, strong hooves, a shiny coat and stood there that morning on the mountainside with a flowing mane and tail that fluttered a bit when she would shake her head occasionally. Her age was timeless; her mistress never thought about her age and the decades they had spent together but regardless, she looked and acted like a very youthful horse, truth be told.
Her mistress did a final twist there on her mare’s back, and then swished her body a little bit to settle deeper into the saddle. She wore comfortable jeans pulled down over her leather boots. Her jacket was a heavy one, appropriate for this pre-winter weather in the mountains and she had a scarf tied around her neck with heavy sturdy gloves on her hands and a warm cowgirl hat snug on her head.
She wasn’t wearing her long hair in a ponytail today. Instead, the sun shone down onto her long blond hair that flowed down her back, dusted occasionally with little flecks of tiny snowflakes that melted even as they tried to stay formed on her hair, hat, jacket and on the neck and back of her mare. The ground was still warm enough that the snowflakes melted on impact, but sooner than later, these high rugged mountains would be piled higher than high with snow.
The woman looked around her and pushed aside a discomforting reality. Everywhere she looked was indeed beautiful, but it was also dangerous terrain. She knew that the snowcapped mountains could be very treacherous, and she shuddered at the thought of the many people before her who
had become trapped, with or without a horse, never ever to be heard from again.
But for now, this morning’s trail ride was free of any worry of becoming snowbound.
The woman heard a rustle in the tree line beside her and she looked over to see a young girl emerge from the pine trees. She was astride a pretty palomino and was also dressed quite warmly.
“Whew, Mom, we made it too,” the girl cried.
The woman smiled as she pulled a little snack from her saddlebag and opening it, handed some pieces of chocolate to the young girl.
“Git on up there,” a male voice called out, as another figure on horseback emerged from the trees, clearly playful as he admonished his horse for being a tad lazy during this part of their early morning ride.
The man was tall and rode astride a big dark colored horse that whipped his head in a playful little toss as he walked up into the clearing and stood next to the sorrel.
Even bundled up against the cold weather, one could see that this man was a lean and wordly equestrian. His legs rested in the saddle comfortably, his spurs away from the body of his horse, with his gloved hands holding the reins both gently and yet also ready for action. He sat tall in the saddle, with a perfect yet experienced riding posture.
He adjusted his cowboy hat over his dark slightly wavy hair, then crossed his hands against the saddle horn, clearly comfortable in the moment. His horse relaxed as well and settled itself with an audible exhalation of breath, a slight steam visible in the cool morning air. Then the horse calmly shifted his weight and bent one hind leg, almost resting that hoof on tiptoe as it curled under.
The girl was watching the sunrise.
“Mom, I love this. I love every moment here with you. Thank you for making me get up so early to climb on up here with the horses,” she cried, mesmerized by the look of the
colors of the sunrise, still brilliant even as the sun continued to rise higher into the sky.
As she spoke, the man had walked his horse up closer to the woman and as he reached her side, he stretched his hand out to lay it gently on her shoulder, then ran his hand along her back a little bit in a comforting motion. He held it there for a little while, and the woman felt the warmth of his touch begin to radiate through her jacket, even as the brisk air made her nose turn a little red.
Then she felt that funny kind of pain that starts in the nose on a cold morning when a person begins to cry, and the woman decided she didn’t want to hold it in any longer.
“I understand how you feel,” the man said. “I’m so very sorry,” he added, continuing to rub the woman’s back making soothing movements of his hand. She lowered her head and tucked her chin into her colorful woolen scarf and felt teardrops fall down her face, making a little wet spot where they fell.
“Mom,” the young girl said gently but distinctly. “Mom?” she said again quietly. She gave a gentle nudge to her horse, and they trotted up over a rotted and decaying log and stood on the other side of the woman.
“Mom, thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for sharing a part of this world with me. I understand it all so much more now that I’ve come here with you,” she added.
The woman looked up and turned to look into the eyes of her daughter.
She smiled.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said tenderly.
The man nodded and asked his horse to step a little bit away from his wife, then turned his horse to look down into the valley.
He saw a number of buildings down below and could see the steeple of an old church. He took a deep breath and pursed his lips a bit in sorrow.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” he mumbled. “I’m glad I got to meet her, even at the very end. I finally understand your connection to her,” he added.
The woman swung a leg up and over the saddle and dismounted, dropping to the ground almost cat-like.
Holding the reins, she walked to the front of her horse then wrapped an arm up and over the neck of her companion.
The horse turned and nuzzled her cowgirl and held her head back against her side to face her mistress, almost cradling the woman in a tender embrace using her neck and head.
“My friend is gone now too,” the sorrel said.
At this, the woman’s heart and soul opened up, and grief poured into and throughout her entire body, as she sobbed.
IS IT YOU?
Laura tentatively reached out to pet the filly's nose. She gracefully reached her hand forward, and as the filly leaned her nose closer to Laura's hand, Laura felt a kind of static electricity in the air, and the shock of it made her draw her hand back. Lila, however, did not withdraw.
Instead, the filly inched her way even closer to Laura, stretching her neck out as far as she could and leaning forward, balanced herself on her four long legs which were awkwardly preventing her little body from toppling forward into Laura's lap. She looked deeply into Laura’s eyes. Her little tail flopped all around revealing her excitement.
“You don't have to be worried, ma’am,” Lila said. She was slightly timid for just a moment, but then Laura saw Lila's countenance shift into the look and posture of pure confidence. “I'm not scared and I'm not sad,” Lila continued. “Perhaps I should be, perhaps I might become so, but right now, I am concerned for you ma’am, and I want to be certain you are happy now, and very content,” Lila said, her words sounding moderately squeaky as she spoke in that very small voice that everyone imagines a filly might have.
Laura's next sentence almost came out in staccato form, wavering slightly with each word she uttered. “You're, you're worried about me? About me?” she asked, looking Lila right in the eyes, returning the little filly’s gaze.
Laura became frightened for just a moment when for a split second, she thought she saw a vision of her beloved horse Layla as she looked into Lila's eyes. It was something about the way Lila tilted her head for that tiny moment and then turned and looked up at Laura, almost out of the corner of her eye, that Laura thought she saw her mare, Layla.
Laura held the filly’s gaze, the intensity of the moment only slightly broken as each one of them blinked.
“Layla?” Laura whispered, almost quivering as she spoke her mare’s name.
Lila remained silent and straightened her body and turning slightly, she arched her neck again and continued to look straight at Laura.
“Is that you, there within Lila; is that you, Layla?” Laura stuttered, a tear forming in her eye and a sudden shaking in her body beginning first as a slight tremble before it quickly morphed into gentle spasms of grief.
Lila kept looking at Laura. There was such love emanating from the horse at that moment that Laura suddenly noticed that there was glow coming from Lila and she saw the hair on her body stand up, almost as though the little filly was fluffing herself against the wind in the dead of winter. Something was radiating from Lila and the more Laura's eyes remained locked on Lila's the more the glow intensified, and the warmer Laura's body felt as well.
“What am I feeling?” Laura asked herself. She felt pain and sorrow and joy and love all at once, during these intense moments of looking into Lila’s eyes.
“No, ma’am, I'm Lila,” the filly said, and she pushed her nose into Laura's neck and nuzzled her and breathed her filly breaths onto Laura as she nuzzled her new mistress.
Laura reached out a gloved hand to stroke Lila on her small but long and lean neck. She quickly removed the glove and tucked it into the hidden pocket of her long skirt. She stroked Lila, feeling her coarse hair that would soon turn silky smooth as she got older. The filly jumped a little and repositioned her small hooves on the cobblestones, feeling the excitement from Laura’s strokes.
Laura nearly jumped back from the connection she felt, but she did not move, and she did not stop petting Lila. Instead, her strokes along the filly’s neck became more tender and quite determined, as she felt the warmth from
the sweet little filly. They both felt the electricity that was connecting them and bonding them forever.
Lila looked at her new mistress and said, “Ma’am I think Layla kind of asked me to come to you, so here I am, and I mean to stay right by your side for ever and ever.”
Laura burst into tears of such joy and melancholy all in one that she wasn't certain her tears would ever cease.
She bowed her head almost down to her lap, and just as quickly, before Laura could be completely overcome, Lila stepped so close to her and nuzzled her so urgently that Laura began to focus more on the encouraging movements of her filly than she was on her own grief. Lila was eagerly twisting her body against Laura, almost in the manner of an excited dog exhibiting the ultimate joy of greeting its master after a very long time apart.
“All right, Lila. I think I understand now,” Laura said, her sobs quickly subsiding as her face and body relaxed. She felt Lila wiggling against her and then found herself smiling and beginning to laugh at the silliness of Lila’s sweet antics.
She petted Lila on her neck again and then scratched down her little body, as Lila turned and leaned the length of her own body into Laura's scratches.
Behind her, slightly off to the side, stood her husband. At one point he had begun to step forward, wanting to rest a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder, but he had paused, worried that by interrupting his wife interacting with Lila that he might be intruding.
He steadied himself and stood straighter, observing the scene with joy.
A tear was in his eye as well.
ARRIVAL
Lila was excited during each moment she spent with Laura and her husband as they made their way back to Massachusetts. After the heartbreaking moments on the side street in the large city in Switzerland, saying goodbye to her mama and to Liza, yet finding joy in her newly found bond with Laura, Lila had looked forward to her new life and each of the voyages she had to take to get to Laura’s estate outside of Boston.
First, they had to leave the city in Switzerland, then travel over land to the port in France to catch the boat to England where they had to travel on an even larger boat to the port of Boston. This was going to be quite the journey for young Lila.
Lila was still so small that Laura and her husband had simply brought her right into the carriage with them, rather than subjecting her to walking along behind them tied to the carriage. The groomsman had sniffed at this new development a little bit, it being a rented carriage and all, and was delighted when many miles outside of the city, his passengers and the horse had transferred to an overland coach to get to the port.
Other than a little horsehair inside the carriage that he had to clean, he had found the entire incident amusing, now that he thought about it, and during his drive back into the city, smiled at this ‘first’ for him as a carriage driver. “I had a foal in my carriage,” he chuckled as he made a kissing noise with his mouth to hurry along his matched pair of horses up into a little jog to head back to the city.
During the long journey, Lila found herself both excited and exhausted with each step of the way. The exhaustion she felt was quite the contrast from how her body had perked up
when she had first traveled into this world on the quest with Liza and Libby to save Abby. The longer Lila had been here, she more she grew wiser and calmer and the stronger her body felt. Liza had noticed that Libby’s young foal was both growing and maturing and had commented on this multiple times after Abby’s rescue and later on during their journey to the big city.
It was as though once Lila had found Laura, that the biggest expenditure of energy was over, and now it seemed that Lila had to rest and recuperate somewhat. Lila didn't understand why she suddenly felt so sleepy these days, but she didn't begrudge it. She wanted to stay awake to experience everything, but in fact she was so tired, that she either slept or dozed whenever she could.
Even in the hold of the two ships, after the noises and smells and experiences became routine, she curled up in her little pile of straw in the corner of her stall and slept. Once, she noticed the mare next to her straining her neck to look in to check up on her. Lila had cried, “I'm okay ma’am, just sleepy,” and fell right back to sleep, grateful for the tender concern for her well-being by the mare in the other stall.
In Boston however, she was wide awake and excited to see and smell and listen to positively everything.
She stood tall and proud and trotted almost on tip toe from time to time with her joy at what she was experiencing with Laura as her new mistress. Once they had disembarked after their ocean voyage, it was decided that Lila would trot along tied behind them, since the journey to their estate wasn’t too far. They would stop to spend the night with friends to break up their trip however, and not make it all too exhausting for Lila.
Tied behind their carriage, Lila kept looking about at everything around her, and trotted to keep up. Even though the lead rope was long enough, each time she turned to look at something, the rope tightened as she faltered and as the carriage continued on, Lila would feel the tug on the halter
against her face and then hasten to trot a few steps more quickly to keep up.
There were many horses on the streets of Boston, and as they left the city, she tried to say hello to each and every one of them. Most however, were sad and tired creatures, many of which were terribly overworked and underfed. None called back to her however, and with blinders on their harnesses, could barely turn to look and see her even if they had heard her.
Lila had seen similar overworked horses in the cities on the Continent but had been so excited for her journey, that she had not taken much notice of it.
“I guess I am very lucky to have Laura for my new mistress,” Lila had surmised, realizing she was headed for a life of relative leisure compared to the lives of these larger draft horses that she saw in the fields and of the elegant, matched teams of Cleveland bays or thoroughbreds that she saw pulling carriages everywhere she went.
The streets were compacted and easy to manage for the many carriages and work carts and even for the experimental mechanized vehicles she had seen, while she trotted tied to the back of Laura’s carriage. But she remained aware of how she placed her feet as she trotted along behind, lest she trip or stumble into a hole and injure her leg or hoof.
During her long journey, she had noticed something else. She had observed the love between Laura and her husband, and she saw with equal importance how kindly he treated her as Laura's new horse. He didn’t seem jealous of the love Laura was bestowing upon Lila, knowing that now Laura had found her, they would be inseparable. Lila recognized all of this, and she knew instinctively to give affection to the man Laura called Gaston, which he returned very kindly.
When Lila learned his name, she was surprised. “That's a French name,” something inside Lila had cried out the first time she had heard it. “So how did he make his way to Boston, I wonder?” Lila had thought.
Lila watched as Gaston had loosely tied her to the back of the carriage, as he and Laura made their way through the streets of Boston and into the countryside slightly north and west of the city. She had noticed the expert way he led her and spoke to her and handled the lead rope and how he had taken care to ensure the rope wasn’t too short and wasn’t too long.
Lila had looked at him, and when he looked back, she saw the smile in his eyes even before she saw him break into a smile.
“Gaston is a good man,” Lila had observed, and she nuzzled him as a thank you for the light but precise touch he had with her.
When they finally passed through the beautiful treelined entrance to the estate, Lila gasped and almost tripped and stumbled when her rope had tightened as she lollygagged.
“Careful there young Lila,” the groom had said, with a smile on his face. The man was astride a large horse and rode slightly behind the carriage and on Lila's right, both as an escort for the carriage and to watch over Lila.
As they had passed through London, Laura and Gaston had sent word by telegraph to their estate in Boston, telling the butler of their arrival and the need for a groom to attend them. The butler had smiled at the thought that Mistress Laura had returned from the Continent with a horse. He was an older and kindly man, named Stanley, and thought back to the day when Laura had first arrived into their lives and recalled how she had cried out in the night for someone named “Layla”.
At first, the butler had worried that she had lost a child. Gaston had confided in him regarding what had happened and with that news, the butler had worried for Laura and took extra care to ensure her tray of food and tea was always properly prepared and presented to her.
Today, he held a new telegraph message in his hands, as he looked over at young Master Adam who had come into
the hallway, when he had heard the doorbell ring moments earlier.
“Master Adam, your mother and father are coming home this day,” he announced to a grinning Adam who nodded then turned to leave. “Sir,” the butler added, “they have returned with a horse.”
Adam spun back on his heels and walked quickly towards the butler, a wild but happy look on his face. “Mother has brought a horse home with her?” he asked giddily.
“Yes, sir, a filly it seems.”
Adam clasped his hands together and wrung them with joy. “A filly,” he cried.
“Yes sir,” the butler replied. “The name is Lila,” he added.
“Right, thank you. I must saddle my horse and ride out to greet them,” he said excitedly.
“Shall I notify the stables, sir?”
“No, Stanley, I will head down directly.” Adam decided he didn't care what anyone thought, so he ran through the house, down the stairs, out past the kitchen and through the back door, taking the shortcut to the stables. His horse was just being shod, and Adam had come back to the house for the coins to pay the farrier. Their stables were so large that they had a full-time farrier but occasionally needed the services of a second one. This one was passing through but had come highly recommended.
Adam liked the way this farrier had interacted with all the horses, and especially with Admiral, his tall black thoroughbred. The farrier spoke kindly to Admiral and had stroked his neck and body in a pleasant way each time he had asked the horse to lift a leg or to step to the side.
“Easy,” he had said, and never pushed or whacked at Admiral, even when the horse had stomped a little bit, confused about where to place his body in spite of what the farrier had requested of him.
After Adam had dashed back to the stables with the money, he slowed his pace as he entered.
“That's a good boy,” Adam said, stroking the neck of his horse. His strokes were both soothing and comforting and Admiral nickered and began to raise his head up, straining at the lead rope. Admiral always did that. Something about the way Adam stroked and massaged him on the neck felt so good that Admiral would lift his head up to the sky, almost like he was stretching his muscles or something Adam thought, not being willful or disrespectful.
Adam watched as the farrier tidied up after himself, cleaning the hoof and metal bits that had fallen all over the stable floor as he had trimmed and shod horses, and Adam watched for another moment as the farrier put his tools and supplies away. The young man saddled Admiral as the farrier worked, making ready to head out to meet his father and Laura.
“Your parents … are they home from the Continent, sir?” the farrier asked, wiping his hands on a cloth he kept tucked into his apron. He removed it as Adam finished readying Admiral for their ride.
“Indeed, and my mother has returned with a young filly, I understand,” Adam said.
“Always a good thing,” the farrier replied. “Never hurts to have another horse,” he added, walking closer and giving Admiral a pat.
“Your horse and I had a good visit together, you know,” the farrier said quietly, rubbing Admiral's forehead. “He said he'd like just a little less off at the heel.”
Adam expertly snugged up the cinch and pulled the stirrups down into place. “Did he now?” Adam joked, fiddling for the coins in his pocket.
Turning to face the farrier, Adam nodded and thanked him for the fine work he had done. Placing the coins in his hand, Adam asked casually, “What did you say your name was again?”
The farrier replied, “Frank, sir, my name is Frank. I'm from Arizona sir, headed to the Continent tomorrow.”
YOU HAVE A BROTHER
Two little black colts raced around their pastures, each one storming through meadow grasses with beautiful mountain scenery as a stunning backdrop for what had turned out to be a beautiful day for them.
“Mama,” each one cried, “I’m running and running and running, and I’m racing faster than the butterflies and the bees right now.”
Careening to a stop, tufts of grasses were scuffed out of the pasture as the little hooves of each horse dug into the ground for their sliding stops. One colt, however, tumbled over and rolled and got very dusty. The other managed to stay upright and avoid slamming into the rump of his mother.
Then each took off running like the wind one more time. Their legs were long and strong already and they ran in an unencumbered colt-like gallop that displayed their eagerness to run over long stretches of their pasture. They weren’t timid either. Each of them knew the far ends of their own pastures and never hesitated to venture out as far as they could go to test their running skills and sense of independence.
Theirs had been healthy births to mares that were wise and kind. One, a sorrel, was an experienced mare with another foal of her own from several years earlier. The other mare, a buckskin maiden mare, was not experienced in the ways of motherhood, but had the benefit of many years on the rodeo and barrel racing circuit and had heard the stories from numerous other mares about their experiences with foals. The buckskin had a doctor for her cowgirl mistress and although she took care of humans there in the mountains where they lived, she also spent time helping animals and was well versed in all kinds of birthing experiences.
The two colts were both born on the same night under the perfect kind of sky where every star above them was so bright and visible a person got the feeling that they could pluck one of them down from the heavens with their two fingers.
One was named Galilei and the other, Gabriel. The two mares hadn’t coordinated the names of their colts so it was ironic that one was named after an observer of the stars and the other, it could be said, was named after one who lived with the stars. The mares simply knew that their foals should be named in such a way as to honor the world in which they lived.
Galilei loved his home on the large ranch in Colorado. He had never known the ranch in Virginia where his dam had spent so much time. Instead, after the sale of the ranch in Virginia, while pregnant with him, his mare had been brought safely across the country with the rest of the horses. It had taken several trips to transport the horses and the contents of the ranch and home from Virginia to the new one in Colorado. Now, he lived in Colorado, and he loved it. Not that he knew any other way of life, but he loved his home here just the same.
His first winter was an exciting one with tons of snow it seemed. And that meant lots of hay to eat as well. The horses spent nearly all their time outside and had spacious
run-in sheds with plenty of fresh warm water during the winter and extra hay for them to eat. He was still young during that first winter of his so on especially wicked days, he and his dam were given the choice of being inside the stable, or outside with the others.
However, his dam usually felt that this colder weather and the endurance of it made for a stronger body in the end, so while she stayed outside most of the time, he would stand beside her for warmth and nurse from her teats as often as he could, snow falling on his mane and back.
Today, as he ran all over the pasture, he enjoyed this second summer of his in Colorado and after he skidded to a stop, he looked at the pastures around him and at the beautiful aspens and fir trees that dotted the hillsides. He stood still and took a breath of fresh air. “Mmmmm, this smells so good,” he cried as he inhaled deeply then exhaled. He took off running again.
Far away, Gabriel was doing the same thing as Galilei only he ran up a small hillside to take a look at the mountains and valleys around him. Everywhere he looked, he saw beautiful snowcapped tall mountains with pretty chalets dotting the countryside, many with shepherds and their sheep in pastures beside them. He looked down at his mama, standing in the sunshine, the sun warming her body as it warmed his, standing up there on the hill.
“Mama, watch me!” he cried, taking off at a full gallop. Just like Galilei, he felt he needed to run and so he showed off for his mother, coming to a stop that looked both dignified and ridiculous all at once.
It was dignified because he executed his stop perfectly. It was ridiculous because although it looked like his legs came to a stop, the momentum of his body pushed forward even after he stopped as he catapulted over himself landing splat in and amongst some alpine wildflowers.
In spite of his size, this two-year-old still had the antics and spirit of a youngster and sometimes it was
hilarious to watch the larger body of a young horse respond to the youthful brain it still had.
Gabriel stood up and snorted and made a funny little whinny that sounded like a squeak. “Uh, Mama, it’s weird but I feel something tingling inside of me,” he said with dismay, a slight sound of concern in his voice.
His mother looked at her stud colt and walked closer to him. He bumped his nose along the side of her and then dropped his head to the ground to graze. He was long past needing to nurse but instinct and shyness from time to time had this colt sticking close to his dam, occasionally mimicking what he had done as a young foal.
“Does it hurt Gabriel?” she asked.
“Nope,” he replied, nonchalantly. “It just tingles. Like something is tugging at me, so it kind of hurts but it’s not unpleasant. Ooooh, a bird!” he cried, turning his head quickly, distracted from the tingling sensation.
The mare looked towards the mountains on her left, up past the village, in the direction of the small path that led to trails climbing deep into the mountain range.
“It’s time to tell him,” she thought. The mare named Abby took a deep breath and called her colt over to her.
“Yes Mama?” he said, a question in his voice, wondering what she wanted to say to him. There was an edge in her voice that made everything seem as though she had something important to say, and he wanted to appear respectful and kind to his mama today, and to listen carefully.
Gabriel felt the tingling once again.
“Gabriel, you have a brother,” the mare announced. The youngster looked astonished.
“A twin?” he asked, excitement showing on his face. He did a little hippity hop and danced a bit around his mother.
These movements annoyed his dam somewhat. “When do they grow out of this phase?” she wondered. “These are the antics of a young foal, not one of his age,” she exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” Abby replied. “But close to it. But there’s more to the story, Gabriel,” Abby continued. She noticed she had piqued Gabriel’s interest as she looked over at him.
Somewhere far away, in another world, the colt Galilei had also felt the tingle, and had walked closer to his own dam, a sorrel mare named Libby, who said those very same words to her youngster.
“You have a brother,” Libby had said, standing in her pretty pasture at the base of a steep range of mountains in the heart of Colorado.
And once the mares told their colts the news, it seemed the tingling subsided within each of them.
But something replaced the tingling sensations they had each felt that day.
What replaced that feeling was a glowing bond, a special connection, that formed deep inside of them. Both young horses felt something ethereal connecting them to the other in a way that could not be described, not even to their own dam.
Instead, it had to be felt and their two bodies knew there was something important that was going to happen. Each one of them knew it independently from the other, and yet connected across the worlds through this glowing bond, they knew about the other and what he felt and saw and experienced. They felt wiser, stronger, and more confident, and each felt a shared memory that seemed deliberate and inexplicable.
But in the meantime, for now, they each decided that what they were feeling was meant to stay a secret in each of their hearts until the time came for the purpose to be revealed. It took an evening in their respective pastures, to come to that understanding, across the miles and across the worlds. It was a shared evening sky, dark and bountiful, luscious in the rich blackness, with luminescent energy zinging through the air it seemed. Galilei had looked up
suddenly, and saw the brightness of a streaking comet, moving from one side of the sky to another.
And in another world, at night, looking up into the depths of the heavens, Gabriel saw the tail end of that comet, as it streaked towards the horizon, and disappeared into the rising sun.
CHAPTER SIX
BELLE’S DECISION
Belle took a deep breath and exhaled. The paint looked up into the trees on the hillside behind the large pasture where many of the horses on the ranch lived. Belle didn’t really understand what the word ‘Virginia’ meant, instead she knew that this pasture of theirs was on a ranch and that ranch was located in a beautiful place called Virginia. Soon, all of them would be moving to a place called ‘Colorado’ and she was just fine with that. She knew all about that place, Colorado.
Liza’s mother, Bianca, was Belle’s human and just like Liza and Libby both Belle and her mistress were Travelers. Theirs was a complicated story that included making an extraordinarily difficult decision, but they were a team, and they had made that decision together.
Today, as Belle sniffed the air, she had a moment of sorrow rise up inside of her. She had felt the calling for some time now, had felt it murmuring soft, soothing, and reassuring words to her. “Please let her go,” the voice had said. “She is needed here,” the voice had urged her one night.
She wasn’t certain, but she felt that her own cowgirl mistress had felt the voices too, though probably in a different way.
Belle turned to look at her pretty filly, Beata. Beata was about two years old now, a young paint horse with long legs and a lean strong body. In spite of getting ready for the big move to Colorado, Liza had started working with Beata, getting her ready to be ridden. Liza had put a saddle on her a few times and had gotten her used to a bit. Throughout Beata’s young life, both Liza and her mother worked with her, but it was Liza who did most of the training. She got Beata halter broke, worked on desensitizing the youngster and began to get her used to standing politely for various lengths of time.
Belle looked over to the house when she heard the front door close. Her mistress was walking slowly along on the sidewalk as she began to put on her cowgirl hat. She was looking down at her boots momentarily then would look up into the hills.
Belle watched as Bianca stopped and turned her face up towards the sun, closing her eyes and then quietly stood there, with the sun shining down on her.
Then she studied her sorrel mare friend, Libby, now pregnant with her second foal.
Belle then turned to look at Beata, lying peacefully in the field. Her rib cage was rising and falling in a calm rhythm and Belle took comfort that on this day, of all days, she and her filly had already had a nice morning together.
Earlier, they had taken a little romp around the fields, each of them kicking up their hind legs in a show of spirited energy. Mother and daughter ran and clearly enjoyed themselves and although young Beata was growing more independent, she still nuzzled her mother respectfully. She had turned into a lovely young horse, ready to be ridden.
“I’ve taught her well,” Belle sighed, recalling that moment, earlier in the day after their romp when the two of them had gone nose to nose, nuzzling one another.
“Come on, Belle,” her mistress called solemnly. “You too, Beata, let’s go,” she added, giving a whistle to attract the sleeping filly’s attention.
Beata lifted her head quickly and looked all around in a lackadaisical sort of way. Her head was tilted up to show curiosity, but the rest of her body stayed stretched out in a lazy position, making it clear she preferred to snooze.
When she heard the whistle again, she lifted herself up, scrambling with her legs. Shaking herself quite a bit, she started off at a little trot, then gently loped up to the gate to join her mother.
“Where are we going?” she cried out. “Training? Are you loading me in the trailer to practice hauling me to another arena? On a trail ride? What’s the plan, Mama?”
Belle looked over at her mistress then at Beata.
“Trail ride, my Sunflower.”
“Okay Mama! Will I walk along with you, or will someone ride me?”
“You’ll be walking,” her mother replied. “On a lead rope however, because we need to practice that.”
Beata shook her head with a twisted wave of her neck that indicated this was not her favorite thing to do, but she stood at attention and said, “Yes, Mama,” in a demure voice.
Once in the stable, Belle noticed that Bianca was silent as she curried her then tacked her up. The silence continued while she curried Beata and picked her hooves. “Good girl,” she told the young mare.
“She must want Beata to look her best,” Belle thought, leaning over to give her mistress, Bianca a nuzzle.
“It’s okay,” Belle said.
She saw tears in the eyes of her mistress form and then slowly run down her cheeks.
Beata was rubbing her leg against her face, trying to scratch herself through the halter and then rebalancing herself when she started to fall, caught herself and repositioned her feet.
“Can she do what is needed? A lot will be expected of her,” Bianca asked in a hushed voice.
“I’ve trained her. She’s ready. And you and Liza have trained her too. She’ll be ready to take on whatever is asked of her,” Belle replied earnestly.
Bianca nodded and taking Beata’s lead rope, she got on Belle, and they headed off onto their trail ride with Beata trotting beside and a little bit behind them.
All was still and quiet in the woods, with the exception of the occasional explosion of rustling and cracking noises as deer left their hiding places and ran through the woods seeking safety while jumping over logs and racing through the brush. Belle always thought it was funny that the deer didn’t just remain lying down, nestled in their hiding places. “Why did they think a horse walking by meant danger?” she had thought, each time she had heard noises like this.
Belle observed the lush varieties of moss below her hooves there along the trail near a tiny little stream that trickled down the hill to the lower parts of the hillside. The moss was like a rainbow of greens in all shades with hints of blues, yellows and blacks within the various greens of the moss lying here and there. Thrusting upwards to the sky, were tiny little lichen and red bits of something that Belle always thought looked like little flowers blooming up through the deep sections of moss.
“Beata, do you recognize this spot on the trail?” Belle asked as they walked along.
“Yes, Mama. This is the place where Lila and I hid in the underbrush lying concealed on the moss, right over there, and then Liza and Libby walked through two leaning pine trees into the other world and Lila ran after them,” Beata replied.
Belle turned to the right and saw the two pine trees already leaning in towards one another.
Suddenly, light appeared between them, and Belle felt the voice inside of her say, “We are here, and we will take care of her.”
“Beata, listen to me,” Belle said quite suddenly and deliberately.
Beata stood straight and tall and appeared very brave. Something was happening, and she could feel it. She felt a warmth and a wisdom of the ages course through her, and she saw images of horses and mountains and trees and fields that rushed through her head all at once. Beata felt electricity in the air, and she lifted her head, as though trying to catch the scent of whatever was out there.
“Mama, I already know. I felt it too,” she replied, looking over at the trees. “I’m ready.” Belle listened to the voice of this young filly, practically a mare, trying to sound confident and mature, but maintaining her youthful innocence at the same time.
“Beata, you are going to be all alone, you know,” Belle said. Belle felt her mistress shift in her saddle, but she also noticed that Bianca had remained silent. Belle realized Liza’s mother was going to allow this decision to be all hers and wasn’t going to intervene.
Belle looked over through the trees. There was the light. She wasn’t sure how this was all going to work. No one was on Beata; how would she pass through? This was new for Belle. She had always been told that Travelers passed though as a pair during some kind of important moment in their experiences together. For some Travelers, they passed through to another world during a moment of joy or even sorrow, but they were always passing through as a team. This was the first time Belle had been aware of a horse going through on her own. This wasn’t just a horse that was going to become a Traveler however, it was a young mare no less.
She walked towards the trees, nudging Beata ahead of her just as Bianca had tossed the lead rope to land gently draped over Beata’s neck.
Beata walked forward, a mixture of confidence and trepidation coursing through her. Beata looked back at her mama; then took a few more steps in the direction of the two pine trees. Belle watched her filly take those careful steps, and also felt her mistress take a firmer grip on the reins. Belle had subconsciously begun to follow Beata.
“Steady,” whispered Bianca.
Then they both heard Beata cry out.
“I see someone! I see two people and two horses. Can you see them, Mama? Who is that?” Beata cried breathlessly. “Mama, I don’t recognize them. Is it safe?” Beata turned back towards her mother, and then turned herself around and stepped forward towards the dimly lit images of the people and horses on the other side of the two pine trees. Beata took tentative steps, almost willing herself forward even as she felt drawn towards the light between the trees.
“Mama, I think it’s going to be okay. I just know it. He’s calling to me, Mama, I feel it. He needs me. I can do this!” Beata cried, all the while calmly stepping closer to the bright light between the trees.
Beata felt the glow and the warmth and the secure comfort of this special light that was enveloping her.
Then, she saw a hand reaching out towards her. It was a man’s hand, and Beata saw the outstretched fingertips wiggling earnestly, as if to imply, “It’s okay, come forward.”
Beata took one last look at her Mama and cried, “Goodbye, Mama! Mama, I love you. But he needs me too. Goodbye Mama.”
Beata looked back towards the light, and reaching her head forward, and taking another step into the warmth that she could feel from between the trees, the tip of her nose touched the outstretched fingertips of the hand.
And just then, Beata passed through into the other world and safely into the arms of the man called Balthazar.
“M
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIBBY AND BELLE
ama,” cried Liza. “I didn’t know you and Belle were also out on a trial ride today. Isn’t it a perfect day? It’s so pretty. We’ve been loping on most of the trails and then I brought Libby down to a trot for this last part,” Liza cried. “I mean, you know, we’re moving soon, and I just wanted to get some nice time on the trails again here with Libby before we left for the ranch in Colorado. We won’t have many more chances before we get all packed up to leave Virginia,” she explained.
Libby’s nostrils were flaring, and she had a sweat lathered up on her neck and across her chest. Liza made a mental note to wipe down all the tack and give it a cleaning after she untacked Libby and had rinsed her off.
Liza was so caught up in her own story and was rather excited to have met up with her mother and Belle on the trails that she had not yet noticed their combined demeanor.
As they walked, Liza reminded her mother about some new trees that were coming up along the property line, trees that they had planted a few years ago. They had gotten over a hundred pine trees from one of the local tree nurseries and Liza and her father had carefully planted them.
“We can’t water them all out here, Liza, so it’s a bit risky what we are doing. This might be a waste of our time and money, but I still think it’s worth trying to see how many can make it out here on their own,” her father had told her.
Libby stopped suddenly and when she did, Belle stopped right alongside of her. Libby turned her head and leaned over towards Belle, touching her gently with her nose. Instinctively Belle turned as well. Liza looked at her
mother and then out of an instinct of her own, reached her hand down along Libby’s neck and patted her.
Her mare was pregnant and while still able to be ridden, Liza took extra care when riding her.
“Girl?” Liza said.
Her mother patted Belle’s neck as well. The cowgirls were quiet as though they were witnessing something incredibly tender that they had never seen before and might never see again.
“Mama, wait a moment. What happened?” Liza asked incredulously.
“Beata…” her mother replied sadly looking back at the two pine trees.
“Oh,” Liza replied affectionately.
There was a rustling in the underbrush and the gentle breezes made some branches sway, but other than that, the woods were still.
“It tears at your heart,” Libby said, breaking the silence. “Yes,” said Belle simply.
“As though your heart has ripped in two,” Libby continued. Liza heard her mare take a deep inhalation of breath then remained quietly seated in her saddle and listened to her mare exhale.
“Will the pain ever stop?” Belle asked. “What I mean is, how did you manage your grief when you had to walk away from Lila that day?”
Libby was silent.
Liza looked at her mother who then held her daughter’s gaze. Bianca empathized with what the mares were discussing and understood the concept of pain. Liza had not ‘left the nest’ as it were, for her mother to feel the pain of true separation, but those feelings were still in her heart, knowing that some day, Liza would leave home and start her own life. Parents knew that kind of pain better than their children would ever know until they experienced it for themselves.
Liza’s mother had the added complication that other parents didn’t have which was knowing that her daughter was a Traveler, and that she would never know when Liza would feel compelled to leave once again and go to another world. That is, she also knew it wasn’t just about her daughter feeling the need to Travel, but also that Liza, perhaps unlike others, felt compelled to Travel to another world. And that was a painful fact for Bianca to process.
So yes, she understood what the mares were feeling. “Belle?” she asked her mare.
“Yes,” came the solemn reply.
Bianca slid off her mare and tossed the reins onto the saddle horn.
“Belle, my wonderful mare, oh Belle!” And as she cried those sympathetic words, Bianca held her mare with arms wrapped around her neck. Libby nuzzled Belle once again and Liza sat in her saddle watching. She hadn’t seen her mother express love towards Belle this tenderly in a long, long time. Her mother was always a bit private in the way she loved on her mare.
Then Bianca stepped back, releasing her arms from her mare’s neck.
“Belle, you know the drill with foals. They get weaned as they grow up and they get trained, and they go off to be with new owners who we hope will love them forever. You know that Belle, right? That’s how we got you. Some mare somewhere said goodbye to you, just like you have said goodbye to your filly, Beata.”
Liza was stunned. Her mother had captured the situation perfectly. But yet, this situation was different. This had all happened suddenly and without any warning. There had to be more trust involved here, since Beata had headed into the unknown. This situation was definitely not the same, but Liza did not want to argue with her mother.
Then, her mother said something slightly shocking.
Her mother had added, without looking at Liza, “And someday I will have to say goodbye to Liza.”
Belle lifted her head. She had dropped it lower and lower as her grief became more evident and now, hearing these words from Bianca, had stood taller to listen attentively.
“It’s different for you and Liza. It always will be. Liza is a human, and she can come home again after she leaves,” Belle said. “On the other hand, I will never see Beata again,” she said reproachfully.
Bianca closed her eyes. It was no use trying to argue or explain anything further to her mare. Belle understood, she was certain of that, but Belle needed time to process everything even as she struggled with this new and sudden reality.
“Mama?” Liza murmured. “How did Beata go through the leaning pine trees? No one was riding on her to have traveled through with her. To be a Traveler, there is supposed to be a human with their horse passing through as a pair. So, this is very unusual, Mama. How did Beata go through on her own? I mean, and where did this take place? Was it really back there at the pine trees where I once went through with Libby and Lila? Or did Beata pass through directly from the pasture? Where, Mama? It was through the pine trees, right?” Liza asked, a sense of curious urgency in her voice.
At the mention of Lila’s name, Libby lifted her head up from where she had had her neck curled closer to Belle. Her ears flicked forward and backward.
“We never discuss Lila, you know,” Libby said. “I wish we would sometimes,” she added tenderly.
That sentence dropped through the conversation like a rock onto a thin piece of ice in a pond.
Lila. Beautiful, wonderful, independent, Lila. Indeed. Liza rarely spoke of her anymore and yet, perhaps it was wrong to ignore the fact that Lila had become a Traveler as well, by accident admittedly, after running into Libby’s rump as Liza and Libby were passing through those same pine trees not too long ago.
They never discussed the fact that Lila had voluntarily stayed behind in that world to become the horse that Laura, herself a Traveler who was trapped back in time, needed to complete her. After desperately searching for many years for a new horse for herself, she found sweet, young and innocent Lila. And having found her, Laura now had her forever horse and a connection back to this world, if she wanted one that is.
Libby missed her filly. That much was clear.
“Mama, how exactly did Beata pass through? Please tell me. You haven’t really answered my questions,” Liza pressed her mother once again.
“The three of us went to the pine trees,” her mother began to explain. “There was a light between two trees.”
“Did you see anything? Other than the light? Did you see light there Mama?” Liza interrupted, almost impatiently.
Her mother thought back to what had just taken place only a few moments ago. “That’s right,” she recalled. “There was something else other than the light.” She thought for a few moments, unsure of how to explain what she had seen.
“There were people. I remember people,” her mother said.
“And two horses,” Belle added.
People and horses. Liza was thinking rapidly and trying to process all of this and what it meant. She was shaking with excitement, as she contemplated everything she was hearing.
Who else knew about that opening? Other unknown Travelers? Her mountain friend Meia knew, her doctor friend Anna knew but who else? Was Anna there? It must have been Anna then, Liza concluded. Probably not Meia. Her horse Marcel barely climbed those mountain trails the first time. Liza could not imagine that Meia had asked Marcel to climb a second time.
So, who else knew? Who was the other person on the second horse?
Liza became both excited and alarmed at another possibility. “Did Anna ride Abby to the opening between the worlds and show someone else how to pass through? No, not possible. Anna would not do that. She’s too aware of the code of the Travelers not to interfere and not to change things too much,” Liza reasoned.
Then her mother added to the story.
“Just a moment. I remember now. It all happened so fast. Beata called out a name. There was a hand that reached through. She stretched out her nose to touch it and then she was gone,” her mother said.
“Beata wasn’t frightened either,” Belle said with remarkable calmness.
“Does the name Balthazar mean anything to you?” Bianca asked, saying the name as though it popped into her head. “Well, that’s right, what am I thinking? How silly of me. That was the name. The man on the other side said his name. Or Beata did. I can’t be certain. It happened so quickly and so unexpectedly,” her mother said.
“Mama, Balthazar is the longer name for my friend Balthis!” Liza cried. “If that was Balthis on the other side, then it makes sense. Beata has connected with Balthis. She is his Traveler horse now. For some reason, when they connected through the pine trees by touch, he has stayed there, and she went though. Mama, I know him. Beata will be safe,” Liza reasoned.
Turning to Belle, Liza said, “Belle, Beata will be okay. You don’t have to worry at all,” Liza cried, pleased with her conclusion.
Her mother smiled, stroked Belle’s forehead and petted her mare on the neck with a longer more soothing stroke. Then collecting the reins, put one foot into the stirrup and hopped up onto her mare’s back once again.
Liza had presented her opinions so simply and with an air of such calm confidence. Her mother was proud of her young teenage daughter’s perspective. But how could she
know that each moment of Traveling has its own good aspects to it as well as experiences coupled with peril?
Bianca began to worry a little bit because she knew from her own experience that being a Traveler can be fraught with danger. What had Liza experienced so far? Had she not told her everything? Bianca tried not to worry about her daughter but in her own mind, she wondered if Liza was holding back secrets of her experiences in the other world.
Bianca felt her mare relax and in doing so, Belle gently pawed the ground.
“I’m ready to keep going,” Belle said. As Belle began to walk, she felt her mistress loosen the reins to allow her to walk freely. Liza’s mother stroked her mare’s withers and ended with a little pat.
Liza knew this had not been easy for Belle. She also noticed that Libby had been rather quiet through all of this but had nuzzled Belle a few more times and snorted gently through her nose.
Belle turned briefly to look at the pine trees, then looked back at the trail, as she plodded methodically in the direction of the ranch. Libby noticed her hesitation and let out a small nicker of comfort.
“Well, that’s two, Mama,” Liza called out suddenly, surprise in her voice, with a hint of contained sarcasm as she said what they were all thinking.
“It’s just too ironic,” Liza thought.
She and her mother were Travelers with their own mares. And, here they were in the woods, riding the same two mares whose fillies were now living in the other world all alone with their new owners.
All six of them were interconnected and there seemed to be forces at work that Liza wanted to try to understand.
After Liza’s observation, her mother had paused Belle there on the trail. She settled down into her saddle, trying not to sound sarcastic with her next words.
“Well you know, that’s exactly right,” her mother replied, heaving a sigh. “At this point, we will lose money year after year if all our horses pass through to other worlds whenever they feel like it,” Bianca said, shaking her head.
Liza thought about Libby’s newest pregnancy. She was fascinated with her life as a Traveler but there were some aspects to it all that she didn’t really like that much, the more she thought about it.
“I wonder what’s going to happen when we get to Colorado?” she thought to herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE LETTER
Anna was surprised to see the little entourage walking down the trail from the mountains that led to her village. Her pretty little farm, with its large chalet, was nestled in this alpine valley at the base of a steep group of mountains that seemed to go on endlessly.
She was a strong, tall and slim woman, with long blond hair that today, was tied carelessly using her own ponytail to fashion it into a bun. She wore trousers and had on a light jacket over a carefully embroidered white shirt. Her blue-green eyes watched carefully, not missing a detail.
“That's interesting,” cried her mare, Abby, who had walked calmly towards the chalet itself, eyes riveted on the approaching group of riders and their horses, keenly aware that her mistress, Anna, was watching them carefully as well.
“Yes, it is,” Anna said slowly, drawing out each word as she spoke. “I wonder what this all means? I never saw them ride through the village initially. What are they doing coming down from the mountains towards us from that direction?” Anna pondered.
Balthis was astride a horse, walking towards Anna's farm, and prancing behind him, on a loose lead line, was a very pretty filly with the clear markings of a tobiano paint. Anna wasn’t certain, but the filly, probably a young mare appeared to be roughly two or so years old, and she seemed alert and curious about her surroundings as her head looked this way and that, nostrils flaring, ears actively moving left and right, then forwards and backwards.
“Hey, who's that?” Abby blurted out, doing a little step or two this way and that, showing her excitement at the approaching horses with their riders.
“It's Balthis,” replied Anna, completely deadpan.
“No, I mean behind him, tied. Who is that?” Abby asked again, pacing the fence line while she anxiously anticipated the approaching group.
“That,” Anna said laconically, “is a complication. This is most unexpected if that young mare is who I think she is,” Anna continued.
“What?” Abby cried. “Do you mean...?” she asked incredulously, her voice trailing off.
Behind Balthis, riding astride a black young stud colt, was a tall, yet petite, rather slim woman, sitting perfectly relaxed in her saddle. She was dressed in a long dark tan riding skirt and wore a brown felt jacket with detailed embroidery all along the edges of her collar and wrists. On her head was a riding hat that tipped to the side which was pinned to her thick brown hair with an enameled bird on the end of the long hat pin. Anna waved, recognizing Geta and the horse she was riding. Abby became excited, suddenly realizing what she was seeing.
“My boy!” Abby cried out to Gabriel, it finally dawning on her that her own colt was approaching the farm carrying his mistress, the diminutive Geta. “But what's going on here?” Abby cried out again. She was confused. They had agreed that Gabriel should live with Geta and her family for his early years, and after Anna had given him his initial foundation training, Gabriel had gone to live further down the valley with Geta and her family.
But what was he doing back up here, in the mountains, and coming from that direction? And then, stunned, Anna realized what had happened.
After a moment or two, as she watched the little group get closer to her farm, Anna walked over to her wooden outbuilding with the tall roof, built to withstand the endless snowstorms winter after winter, and put her tools away. She walked back to Abby to wait for the group to approach. After a pat on Abby's check and giving her a stroke down her neck
to her withers, once the group was within earshot, she said, “Balthis, feel free to put your horse up here in the pasture with Abby. Gabriel knows the drill already of course, but I'd like to take a look at this youngster if I may.”
Geta turned sheepishly to Balthis, who looked tongue-tied, yet determined to remain calm and collected.
He had some explaining to do he realized and after nodding to Geta, knew that he had to reveal everything to Anna. There was no way around it. This was a secret he could not keep. Geta’s smile gave him the encouragement he needed.
Balthis was astride a horse he had borrowed, a friendly and sturdy gelding, who only knew the simple pleasures of eating, sleeping, and being ridden occasionally. For him, the ride up and into the mountains was nothing special per se, and he had remained relatively nonplused when Beata had arrived through the pine trees. The gelding had of course given a little startled jump at the appearance of another horse, yet gave her nose a little sniff of greeting, then resumed his job of getting Balthis up and down the mountain trails.
After dismounting and the exchange of kisses on the cheeks and pleasantries were complete, Anna ran her hand down the neck of the young paint mare a few times with supple strokes of her hand and looked deeply into the filly's eyes. Anna said, “I know you,” a shiver of energy running through her, as she maintained eye contact, and rubbed the young horse carefully looking for any signs of duress from the journey she had already taken.
“Yes ma'am, I expect you do,” the polite young horse replied somewhat demurely.
“Lift your leg, please,” Anna said, having walked to the back of the young horse, and running her hand down one of the filly’s legs. Beata lifted her leg obediently, as Anna examined the hoof, then lifted one leg after another as she did the same for each of the other legs and hooves.
Walking to the front of the horse, after a quick look in her mouth, Anna said calmly, “I expect you are named Beata, aren't you?” Then Anna thought, “How did I know that?”
“Yes ma'am, I am,” Beata replied confidently.
Anna looked over at Balthis, who had removed the tack from his horse and from Gabriel and after quickly currying each of them, had turned them out into the pasture with Abby. The horses had greeted one another with excited greetings between Gabriel and his dam, then with tremendous excitement, all three had taken off down the length of the pasture, heads tossing, and tails flailing, enjoying the freedom to run and move about unencumbered.
“I wanted to come,” Beata said. “My mama knows and so does Liza and her mama,” Beata added.
Anna sighed, giving a reproachful look towards Balthis, then shaking her head in earnest concern she said to him, “You couldn't wait, could you?”
“I found the letter,” Balthis said contemplatively.
Anna pursed her lips, then looked up at the sky and taking a step forward, dropped her head dramatically, and placed her hands on her hips, looking all at once both concerned and annoyed. She shook her head in exasperation.
“Liza told me she had written a letter to your mother, years ago, just after she first came to this world,” Anna said thoughtfully.
Balthis was silent.
“What did it say?” Anna asked tenderly. She stopped looking at the ground and removed her hands from her hips. She looked at Balthis with compassion, her annoyance softened into a look of concerned wisdom.
“I think you know, Miss Anna, or at least I think you can imagine,” Balthis said. “I believe Liza was trying to do a good thing, innocuously sharing some basic but important bits of knowledge. She was young and kind and innocent and also hopeful when she wrote what she wrote, I imagine,”
Balthis explained. “I probably would have done the same if I had been in her shoes,” he added.
Anna looked down at the ground once again, and shaking her head, placed her hands on her hips for a second time and seemed concerned, as though something had deeply rattled her. She looked frustrated, angry, sad and worried all at once. Balthis had never seen Anna like this before and he was almost sorry he had stopped by her chalet on their return trip down from the mountains.
“You visited with your parents, of course, right?” Anna asked, a flat tone to her words. “So, they know what you did?” Anna added, as she looked up and into the eyes of the handsome and optimistic young man standing before her. He wasn't nervous and he certainly did not look guilty. He had made a big change in his world with the simple act of bringing Beata here, and he had broken a number of rules that all Travelers knew not to break.
“Of course,” Balthis replied, with a sudden look of concerned anticipation flashing across his face. “What have I done?” he cried to himself, silently.
“My parents told me not to change anything,” Balthis continued. “Geta is safe because she has Gabriel. But I could not keep Geta truly safe, however, unless I had…” Balthis paused when his voice began to crack. “Unless I had a horse to ride as well,” he confessed.
Anna looked over at him tenderly.
“He's so worried,” Anna thought.
Then Balthis stood up straighter and with a wavering voice, he admitted, “It's not for me you understand, Miss Anna. I didn’t do this just for me,” he said, trying to clarify and defend his actions in one simple sentence.
Anna nodded. She saw the love between Balthis and his young bride Geta and she understood why he had done what he had done.
“Everything is different for me now that I have Geta. My family could have prepared and withstood whatever was
thrown at them. But I had to know that no matter what, that I could protect her.” He looked over at his bride, petting Gabriel, who was still breathing heavily after his run with his mother and the other horse. Geta turned to look at Balthis, a tender compassionate look of joy and delight in her countenance. It was clear how much she loved this young man.
Anna sighed.
In her sigh was the awareness that Balthis did the only thing he could have done. He had prepared an escape plan for himself and Geta. His was a dramatic gamble of course. He and Geta and the two horses would have to be completely in the right place at the right time to be rescued, and their leap into the unknown would come with tremendous risks, heading into whatever world that leap would yield.
But surely, Balthis and Geta must have believed that anything would be better than staying here during war. And that is what this was all about. Liza’s letter from years ago had explained everything in concise and simple terms.
The letter had outlined the horrors of upcoming wars. Liza had described everything in her letter written a long time ago. She had laid out the future in simple terms, in a passionate letter to the mother of Balthis and Meia, not knowing that anyone other than the intended recipient might read it. Written in haste, Liza had been innocent of the impact of the condemning words that graced the pages of that letter, written on that early morning before her departure.
Liza had come into this world unexpectedly and had been frightened, not understanding what had happened to her.
When she and Libby had passed through the fog bank into this world, they had meandered their way on Alpine trails and had found the little hamlet where Balthis and his sister Meia lived. Liza had been grateful for the kindness that family had bestowed upon her, confused as she was, desperately trying to understand what had happened to her and to Libby. But she had wondered how to have returned that kindness.
Liza wrote of the pain and suffering that was going to happen in the future during not just one but two world wars. She urged the family to prepare and to take care of one another. But in her desperate attempt to keep people out of harm's way, Anna could see now that Liza had unleashed a chain reaction that could not be contained any longer, unless Anna took steps to end the damage that had been done.
She looked at Beata, whose beautiful eyes looked right back into Anna's. Anna felt a warmth and a sense of peace and contentment even knowing what she must do, yet as she stroked Beata, she felt that warmth intensify the longer she stroked the filly’s body.
“Don't do it,” Anna heard a voice say. Shocked, she trembled, knowing that her thoughts had been heard.
“I won't let you undo what he has done, you know,” Anna heard again. She looked at Beata more intently. “You know what I am asking of you, Anna,” she felt the voice say.
Anna almost began to cry. She thought of the love she had had for her own husband before he had died many long years ago. She thought about the intense passion and dedication that they both had for one another, knowing that they would have done anything to have kept the other safe. Anna looked over at Geta, tenderly standing with Gabriel, and then she looked at Balthis, who was beaming with pride at his young wife with such intensity that Anna's heart nearly burst.
Anna looked back at the young mare, standing calmly and confidently before her.
Beata was gorgeous, standing here in the sunlight. She glowed it seemed, and Anna could see the glow all around her and could almost feel a kind of electric warmth emanating from the body of this beautiful horse. This was intense, scary and exciting all at once.
Beata made a little snort through her nose and shook her head gently. She took a few steps, shifting her body weight from one leg to the other. Then she stood still.
What happened next, came as a surprise. Beata almost whispered these next words and Anna found herself standing very quietly to hear what Beata had to say.
“Anna, I won't let them change anything else, I promise.” Beata's eyes never left Anna's. “I know the rules. I am ready for whatever comes our way. I can guide him you know, better than you realize,” Beata whispered, nuzzling Anna gently. “And Gabriel agrees with me, you should know.”
Anna whipped her head to look over at Abby's colt, who had turned, she noticed to look directly at Anna and Beata.
“I see,” said Anna, suppressing a laugh.
This entire topic wasn't funny, but it was, when she realized that these horses were plotting and planning and making pacts to do this and that. She was quite certain that Gabriel had already told his mother, Abby, what was going on just as she was certain that Beata had probably told her mother, Belle, what was happening before she had left her world.
They were all living in crazy times it seemed.
Even here in the middle of nowhere, with mountains and pastures and sunlight gleaming down into this beautiful valley, Anna knew that while they would be protected somewhat, for many, the world was changing so dramatically and would have both positive and negative effects on millions, who all had no idea what was coming.
“Did you destroy the letter?” Anna asked simply.
Balthis had walked over to her after storing the tack. Geta was now by his side. They looked earnestly at Anna.
“Of course I did. I wasn't meant to find it and when I did, I realized it was a letter that should not have been saved in the first place.” Balthis paused. “I think my mother wanted me to find it, however. A mother's love is keen. I think she knew she could never tell me what was in the letter, but I think she also knew it would be better if I just found it one day and learned about everything on my own.”
Anna nodded. She wondered if he had told his sister.
“Nothing in the letter is really that shocking to me by the way,” the young man said wisely.
Anna gasped when she heard Balthis make this simple, yet very powerful statement.
“Miss Anna, with my engineering work and with the travel that Geta does, we both see changes already. Personally, I see and feel the winds of descent and the aggravation and suffering of so many and in reading as much as I do, I can see that what Liza wrote in her letter is not that surprising. What surprises me though now is the waiting. Knowing what is coming and feeling powerless to change any of it. I feel hopeful in one sense and horrified in another.”
Anna reached out her arm to steady Balthis. He seemed to have a powerful connection with everything that was happening to them. Geta saw Balthis begin to tremble, and her hand moved over to his hand, and she intertwined her fingers into his and stepped in closer to her husband.
“They are as one,” Anna thought. Beata took a step forward.
“I'm here too, Balthis,” she said. “I think you did the right thing, you know,” she added. “I felt you calling to me. So, it was an easy decision for me to come through alone. I knew I would not hesitate,” Beata said adding a nicker after she spoke. “And my mama understands and knows this was needed.”
“Dearest,” Geta said gently, “my love, we are disturbing Miss Anna. Let us help her with chores before the day ends.” Geta's smile was magnetic and energizing. Balthis stood straighter and taller and suddenly held himself with the confidence of a man who had his entire life before him.
He turned to look at Geta, and gently took Beata's lead rope from Anna.
His smile radiated something that Anna knew before he said it. It was in the way he looked at his young wife.
“Everything changes when you are about to become a father, you know,” he said earnestly. Anna nodded and watched as Balthis walked towards the pasture holding Geta’s hand, leading Beata behind him.
Anna shook herself, as if she wanted to snap out of a reality that did not seem real. She knew that his mother had lost a child several years ago, so the family certainly understood heartbreak.
She looked over at her own horse, her beloved Abby, and smiled. No matter what was coming, she and Abby had one another.
And they would face the future together.
CHAPTER NINE
EVERYONE LOVES HORSES
“M
ay I pet your horse?” the man asked, approaching slowly, but with a clear mission on his mind as he made a bee-line from his truck cab over to the side of the horse trailer, where the young teen stood with a flake of hay in one hand.
They were at a large truck stop somewhere in the Midwest, Kansas perhaps Liza thought after waking up from a quick nap. As her father, Dmitri, got out to fill up the tank with diesel, Liza got out of the dually as well and walked to the side of the trailer.
She dropped the safety bars down from each of the windows to toss some hay in to the horses that were being hauled cross-country in the family’s large horse trailer with a long living quarters.
As soon as Liza had dropped the bars down, each of the horses had immediately stuck their heads out as far as they could, leaning forward against the padding of the manger in front of them there in their individual stalls inside the trailer. Each of them sniffed the air and moved their ears all about, listening to the familiar noises of the truck stop then turning to look down at their cowgirl mistress as she carried flakes of hay in their direction.
These horses were experienced at hauling and were pretty easy keepers. They ate their hay and drank plenty of water. None of them fussed and kicked at their stalls. But they each knew what it meant to stop at a truck stop. Perhaps it was the noise of the plaza or the scent of diesel in the air, but they knew that meant more hay and pets and scratches from Liza.
As Liza leaned up and tossed a flake into the manger area of each horse, one by one they pulled their heads back inside and began to eat.
They grasped bits of hay between their teeth, yanked and pulled up to separate the hay from the flakes in front of them, then munched contentedly.
Two of them stepped back inside a bit and dropped their heads, making a loud blow through their noses, clearing out their passageways before lifting their heads back up once again to grab a mouthful of fresh hay. There were differences of opinions on whether to tie a horse in their stall while hauling or not. Liza’s family left them untied. While the truck was moving, the horses leaned forward and rested on the edges of their mangers inside and they also leaned against the dividers that held them safely upright. When stopped, they could step back, drop their heads, and clear their air passageways with a loud blow through their noses.
The family had cameras pointed on the stalls there in the trailer, so Liza and her parents could keep an eye on their horses and watch out for their safety and comfort.
“Come on over and meet Dude, Belle and Libby,” Liza said to the man.
“I used to rodeo,” the driver said, smiling broadly as he reached out to pet first Dude then Belle as he made his way from horse to horse, his mind running through decadesold memories of his youth. He explained that his family had owned quarter horses and shared a few stories with Liza about his carefree days riding them.
“Oh, we’d run up along the creek where I lived, racing about as fast as we could,” the man explained, as his hand finally rested on Libby’s soft white nose, giving her a little scratch as he told his stories.
“I have an apple here. May I share it with them?” he asked, eyes focused on Libby.
“Absolutely,” Liza said.
She watched as the man carefully carved up the apple he had pulled from his pocket. Three pairs of ears all moved forward as each horse watched the man carve the apple into pieces. Libby tried to wait patiently even as she craned her head out as far as she could, not wanting to miss out on an apple slice.
The man told stories of hauling his horses around Texas as he gave out a portion of the apple to each of Liza’s horses. He shared stories of the time the rodeo needed a clown to get down into a barrel when one of his friends had volunteered him on a dare. He told Liza how scared he was that day when a bull hooked his horns on the barrel and tossed him around, but that his work had saved the life of a rider who had been thrown in the arena. The bull became more interested in the barrel and less interested in the downed cowboy who was quickly rescued by the rodeo pickup cowboys and carried to safety.
“Oh, that was so much fun, but I always preferred to be on my horse,” he said, thanking Liza for the trip down memory lane. He tipped his trucker’s cap to her and with a, “Thank you Miss,” hurried back to the lane where his rig had been idling as he waited his turn at the pumps. Now that the rig in front of him was pulling forward, he hopped in his own cab to pull ahead and fill up at the empty pump.
“Safe travels,” Liza called out as the man gave a little honk on the horn and tipped his cap once again.
“Liza, we are moving out,” she heard her father cry. And quickly putting up the safety bars to each stall window, Liza replied, “Ready Papa,” as she scampered to the truck and jumped in.
“Where’s Mama?” she asked her father who started up the truck, put it in gear and moved ahead to the yellow line, forward of the pump he had just used. Liza saw in the side-view mirror that as her father moved forward, the big truck behind them had moved up to the pump and already that driver had gotten out to begin fueling his rig.
“She hopped into the living quarters to make us some sandwiches while I got diesel and while you fed the horses,” he said to Liza. “We’ll wait here a moment for her to finish up,” he said.
Liza told her father about the nice driver who had come over to see the horses. “I love sharing our horses with people when we are on the road,” Liza said. Her father smiled at his daughter. “I love their stories. It seems that everyone who comes over and wants to pet the horses, well, they always have such interesting stories of how horses were a part of their lives for so many years,” Liza explained.
“I expect so,” her father said. “You bring a lot of joy to some of these drivers, that’s for sure,” he added. “Letting them pet the horses, you realize that for some of these guys, that’s about as close as they’ll get to a horse anymore.”
Liza nodded. “I can see it in their eyes when they pet our horses,” she cried. “It sure does make people happy to pet them,” she said, with a big smile on her face.
The door opened, and Liza listened to the noises of the big rigs at the truck stop as she watched her mother climb up into her seat, hands full of drinks, snacks and plates of food.
“A little help please Dmitri,” she cried, as her husband leaned over and took the water bottles from his wife.
“Perfect,” she said, handing a sandwich to her husband and then turned and handed an apple and a plate with a sandwich back to Liza.
“Awesome. I was hungry,” Liza admitted.
Her father reset the miles on the dually and reached out to hold his wife’s hand. Looking over at her he said, “Just over two hundred miles to go. We’ll be there with plenty of daylight left.” Then he leaned over to give his wife a quick kiss.
“We are going home,” she said.
“We’re absolutely going home,” Liza heard her father say, a joyful note in his voice.
Liza was excited and at the same time, she felt a little flip in her stomach at the thought of all the new things she would encounter at their ranch in Colorado.
“One good thing about our new place,” her father said, “is that it’s move in ready. Fences are up, the buildings are solid for winter, and the barn is full of hay. I made sure of that,” he added.
For the past several months, her father had made a few trips out to the new ranch, hauling supplies and some of the other horses, leaving them in the care of the ranch hand who was staying on. Liza was curious about this man. Her father hadn’t said much about him, only that he knew the place from one side to the other, and would be very helpful as the family settled in. “Sam is old and wise,” was about the only thing her father had said about him, so Liza was more than curious to meet him.
Liza saw the glance that her mother gave to her father. It was one of pure love and devotion. She watched as her father smiled and leaned forward to turn on some music for the ride and could not help but notice that he extended his hand to his wife, clasped her hand and after raising it to his lips gently kissed it.
Liza rolled her eyes a little bit then settled back and put on her seat belt. She dug into her sandwich and looking out the window, waved at the friendly driver as her father spun their truck and trailer back around and headed for the exit.
“I’m on a new and exciting adventure, that’s for sure,” Liza said to herself. “It’s not quite like traveling back into another world, although I suppose at first, it might feel like that when I get out here to Colorado,” she thought.
She wanted to get Libby and the other horses settled as soon as she could. She knew she would have plenty of time to unpack her own things, so her focus was on Libby, her pregnancy and the other horses. What would the pastures be like? Was there plenty of grass? Were there trails out from
the ranch and would she be allowed to go out on her own? Were there mountain lions and wolves to worry about? And bears, what about bears? They scared her the most the more she thought about it. Her family had an all-terrain vehicle that Liza was allowed to use but would her parents let her go out right away to explore on Libby or would they make her take the ATV instead for a while?
What was her room like? Did it have a view? Did the house have a garden and was there anything in it this time of year? What about the apple orchard? She had heard there was a large enough one and this time of year, Liza couldn’t wait to get out and pick apples to make applesauce and apple pies.
And what about the mysterious waterfall her parents had told her about? Where was it? Was it close to the farmhouse? Was it easy to find?
Liza got a thrilling feeling inside of her the more she thought about the waterfall.
“Patience, Liza,” she heard. The voice was quiet and calm. “There will be plenty of time for the visit to the waterfall,” she heard again. She felt a slight tingle inside of her, which subsided almost as quickly as it had come on.
“I have to be patient,” Liza told herself. “There is so much to do, so much to see, and so much to explore,” she thought. “Naw, I don’t feel patient at all. I’m gonna get right on Libby and head on out to explore,” she decided, with a firm look on her face as she dug into her sandwich again.
Then she looked up into the rearview mirror of the truck and saw that her father was looking at her.
“Patience, I said,” Liza heard the voice say for a second time.
“Wait, that’s odd. Papa didn’t move his lips, so he didn’t say that just now,” Liza thought. Her mother was eating part of an apple, so Liza knew she hadn’t said anything either. “I wonder who is telling me to be patient?” Liza pondered.
She looked out the window and off into the distance. After they got to Colorado, they had to go around Denver and head north, she knew that much. Off on the distant horizon, she was quite certain she saw a falcon caught in the updraft there between the mountains of the interstate where they drove. She watched it swoop and drift effortlessly.
“That’s right,” she heard the voice say, “I know you see me,” it said calmly.
And then, just as quickly as Liza’s desire to head off onto the trails had popped into her head, she fell fast asleep leaning against the window of their dually. Just like any passenger on a long-distance journey, if they have the chance to grab a snooze, they do. And while Liza slept, there were visions of mountain trails and vistas swirling in her mind.
CHAPTER
TEN
DECISIONS
Geta was troubled. She was troubled because she was facing an awful dilemma. She had encountered that type of conundrum so many young women had faced which was to consider either her career or her love for a man.
In her day and age, it was simple. A woman had to choose one path or the other. It seemed there was no in between; there was no compromise. Between societal pressure, pressure from families and even from the men themselves, women too often could not make a decision they wanted to make and had to give in. Too many did not even consider another way to look at the situation but just did an about face in their life and that was that.
But Geta’s decision was easier than she ever could have imagined. There was no need to have been troubled not that long ago, when she had first become worried she might have to give up her career. But today, as she stood near her bed, packing up her few possessions, she remained grateful for the man in the other room who had entered her life so unexpectedly. She listened to him humming as he packed up his engineering books and other personal items from his office and standing there, listening, she looked down and rubbed her growing belly.
It was now a few weeks after Beata had entered their lives. As Geta packed her trunk for her upcoming trip, she smiled at the thought of her good fortune even as she recalled the disconcerting issue that had once faced her regarding her career as a concert pianist.
As this moment, she was comforted that she and Balthis had successfully accomplished their main goal for that urgent journey up into the mountains which was to find Beata. On their return trip, they had stayed for a few days at his family’s
homestead and continuing on, they had visited with Anna to confess to her what they had done. Oddly, that was the most difficult part of their journey, and they knew that Anna had not been pleased. She understood their reasons for what they had done, for sure, but she had urged them that making changes in this world would always have consequences, some more severe than others.
That part of Anna’s lecture to them had left Geta a little bit unsteady, the more she thought about it. Balthis on the other hand did not waiver in his confidence for their plan, but Geta was worried none the less.
That trip into the mountains had given her some cause for concern, though right now she smiled as she stood here, packing her trunk, thinking back to other important decisions that she had made in her young life. She may have been troubled at one point during this exciting part of her life, but she was troubled no longer.
As she continued to pack, she thought back on how Balthis had courted her steadily since the day they had first met there on the sidewalk in front of his shop. She had been thinking about a piece of piano music she was composing, and he was sweeping and tidying the area in front of the woodcarving shop he and his family had just opened there in the city.
While it was true that it had been love at first sight Balthis’s nature allowed him to be a patient man and he wanted to take his time with this elegant young woman who he knew, had fallen in love with him at their first meeting as well.
“Mama!” she had cried when she had returned to the flat she and her mother had rented. “Mama, I met someone!” she had cried even more exuberantly once she had gotten her mother’s attention.
That cry of joy had almost altered her mother's plans. After many years accompanying her daughter for intensive piano studies, Geta was going to be allowed to live on her
own and travel for her work while her mother was finally going to return home to be with her husband.
With this news, she had immediately written to him and proclaimed that it would be impossible to leave Geta without an escort. But there were insurmountable reasons for her mother to return home, so Geta remained on her own as originally planned.
In between a few short concert tours, Balthis had courted her properly and in the traditional manner for the time. Later he had met her parents when they came into the city to see her. First, they had met in a pastry shop, since her father loved sweets, and later, they had met for dinner and the theater.
While Balthis managed to steal a kiss or two during their courtship, he resisted the urge to immediately sweep Geta into his arms and whisper into her ear how much he was falling in love with her. He knew to be patient and so their deeper kisses came later.
As for his own family, living far up in the mountains, his parents had invited Geta and her parents to visit them at their chalet in the pretty hamlet. Theirs was a proud family, and it never occurred to them to feel any differently simply because they were mountain folks, as compared to Geta’s more sophisticated family hailing from a town in the valley.
As for meeting his younger sister Meia, it was more difficult for Balthis to introduce her to Geta, however. Inspired by the time she had spent with Liza and Anna a few years earlier, Meia had moved to Germany to open a shop of her father’s work and to coordinate the export of his woodcarvings to wholesalers in other countries.
Meia’s curiosity and industriousness had been ignited that day on the mountainside, years ago, when she, Liza and Anna had taken their horses out for a ride. Meia had been relieved to learn that anything was possible for her and was inspired by the goals Liza had set for herself and especially by Anna’s achievements.
After her time with Liza and Anna, when she returned home, Meia had taken a keen interest in the family business. Her hard work and her studies had taken Meia all the way to Germany, where she had gotten right to work to expand the family business.
One night, Meia sat and closed the heavy ledger book in front of her and leaned back in her chair and yawned. She stood up and with her hands in front of her, stretched carefully, twisting her body this way and that. Meia had spent the day on her feet and then cramped here at her desk, worked bent over for hours, filling out the forms and paperwork for all the sales and inventory and finances of the network of stores that she and her family had built.
“I can’t believe we have six stores now,” she thought. She looked at the ledger before her and placed one hand on it. Expanding the woodcarving business was a good idea. Her parents had initially sent her older brother into the city there in Switzerland to open up their first shop.
But it didn’t take long for the family to realize that there was a big market for their carvings, and they expanded rapidly with Meia’s help. Balthis sent word up to their mountain village that he needed more woodcarvings as soon as possible and that they would be remiss if they didn’t decide to expand. It took a little while, but with careful planning, and the hiring of eager employees, their trade flourished.
Looking back over the excitement of the past few years, Meia thought about how she had understood the opportunities right away. She had been helping her father with all the paperwork, shortly after her brother had opened the first shop in the city. Pulling down leatherbound legers from the shelf in front of her at her father’s desk, she taught herself bookkeeping and how to keep inventory, and had studied hard to learn French and proper German.
“Papa, I’m ready to open a store for us,” she had announced one day. “I can disguise myself to look older and wiser, so you don’t have to worry about me. I can even wear
Mama’s wedding ring, so no one bothers me if you’d like,” she had told her parents.
In spite of her parents’ concerns for her well-being, nothing could change Meia’s decision to leave the farm. She had made her way to Germany, and soon after her arrival, she had gotten word of an intricate network of families who carved figures and wooden animals for toymakers, and she wanted to try to profit from this new and growing demand for woodcarvings.
“Papa, they are asking for all kinds of carved animals for a toy called ‘Noah’s Ark’,” she had cried one evening, when she had come home for a visit. With her cunning sense for business and her hard work and dedication, Meia convinced her father to hire on a few more young woodcarvers to prepare and make some of what was needed for the toy companies. Soon afterwards, trade with America was booming for Meia’s family.
However, while Meia was in Germany, Marcel, her beloved sturdy mountain horse, stayed on the family farm where he worked hard for them, hauling heavier loads of various things up and down the trails in between the villages and towns there in the mountains. Admittedly, he missed his friend Meia terribly, and wondered why he could not be with her in Germany.
“I’m strong enough to walk all the way,” he had said proudly one day to no one in particular as he ate his hay, secure in his stall for the night.
Sadly though, he realized that he missed her more and more as each day passed. “One day,” he thought. “One day Meia will come for me, and I will be ready.”
And while Meia worked hard in Germany, and the family hired woodcarvers, Balthis continued his passionate and devoted courtship of Geta. During the day, he kept the shop, opening not just this one, but several more in other cities as well. At night, nearly exhausted, he continued the studies he had commenced in engineering and mechanics.
Balthis might have been in love, but that didn’t dissuade his ambitious nature of helping his family while working hard to achieve his goal to become an engineer. And at that age, like most young people, he really could do it all it seemed.
This ingrained notion of setting goals and working hard, is probably why Balthis did not begrudge his fiancé’s desire to continue with her own musical career as a pianist. They had talked about it, of course, and Geta was somewhat surprised to learn that her husband-to-be was neither jealous of her fame nor demanding but instead, was supportive and encouraging. They each had certain compromises to make, but theirs was an exciting life, a delightful whirlwind of music, engineering, commerce, travel, and romance.
Now, as a married couple, the two of them had Gabriel and Beata, who would keep them safe. They had their devoted families. They had their careers, and they had their hopes and dreams and their entire lives ahead of them. And with all this excitement, Geta had learned she was pregnant.
She didn’t need to worry about baby clothes and furniture; she allowed her mother that excitement, who was very glad to fuss and prepare. Likewise, Geta was thrilled to learn her father-in-law was making a stunning cradle for the baby.
Tonight, listening to Balthis in the other room, Geta packed both for her own concert tour and for their move to a place north of London where Balthis had secured a position as an engineer for a shipbuilding company. The stores he and Meia had built were flourishing, her career as a pianist was intact, and the move to the London area would be good for the two of them they had decided.
They had found a charming little farm, the perfect location to bring the horses and to start their family. She could still have her piano career and Balthis could continue with his engineering studies and his new job.
Life seemed idyllic for this young couple.
CHAPTER ELEVEN IT’S ALL SO BEAUTIFUL
Mountains and more mountains were everywhere on the horizon and it was breathtaking. Liza had never seen such beauty, or so she thought for that split instant when she and her mare had come around the corner of the trail and discovered the unique vista.
“Oh Libby, this is so beautiful that I don’t even know how to explain how much this means to me to see this here with you and that when I tell you about it, you can understand me, ” Liza cried. Sometimes Liza was in awe of the fact that she and Libby had become Travelers, because that time in the other world meant that her horse could speak to her and she cherished that.
The sorrel mare with the white nose stood quietly as the young cowgirl on her back tried to explain the impact that the view in front of her was having on her. As Liza continued on in her explanations to her mare, the sorrel stood quietly, ears moving slowly forward and backward and up and down, listening carefully to each word and expression of joy that was coming from her cowgirl mistress.
“…and that was when you began to tell me how much you loved grass and you were so glad I had stopped and I was so surprised that I fell back onto the ground smack onto my bottom there in the mountains of Switzerland, remember?” Liza exclaimed excitedly. The cowgirl continued to recount stories of their adventures and Libby was content to stand and look out at the mountains in front of them. If it made Liza happy, it made Libby happy too, so she listened patiently.
It had been a few years since Liza’s family had left the safety and security of their ranch in Virginia, to move west to Colorado. This place in Colorado held a special meaning for Liza’s parents and the longer she lived here, the more she
came to understand and respect her parents’ decision to uproot their lives and move to this beautiful ranch. It was a complicated story and Liza was glad to be a part of her parents’ stories now and relieved to know the truth of it all.
As she stood here with Libby on a wildlife trail, looking out at her surroundings, she realized that in fact, both of them had seen vistas that were similar to this one, vistas full of endless mountains - sharp and tall - covered with snow and ice, with valleys full of pine trees and meadow grasses and flowers and sunshine. Nearly six years ago, and then a few years after that, they had twice traveled to another world, a world full of chalets and valleys and mountains and hardworking people living high on the mountainsides, or down in the valleys in little villages or in larger cities.
In that world, they met fascinating people and had incredible new experiences, but mostly, they realized that Libby could speak and understand all of Liza’s words. For sure, the two of them enjoyed every moment they spent together riding and competing and walking on trail rides or simply standing beside one another in Libby’s pasture. But being able to fully communicate in Liza’s language, well that was something super special for them. Even so, they had promised one another to maintain their non-verbal communication skills, making sure to watch the other carefully and to read what their movements meant.
“This looks like the first set of mountains that we saw when we went through the first time, Liza, remember?” her mare asked finally, once Liza had stopped talking and had taken a breath.
“That’s right. It sure does,” Liza said, a broad smile spreading across her face. Sunshine was everywhere and the skies were blue and intense. The deep snow in the higher mountain ranges sparkled in the sunshine and almost looked like diamonds. At this elevation, with the sun beaming down so powerfully, Liza could hear droplets of moisture fall from the trees to the ground as some of the snow melted. Even so,
she knew that while this was a precious time to spend with her mare on the trails this day, she needed to be mindful because the weather here could change wickedly.
It almost didn’t matter that she had taken this trail ride with a pack on the back of her mare, full of supplies and warm gear. If a storm came up, they would be in trouble. Liza took a moment to pull out a piece of radio equipment attached to her belt, turned some dials and said, “Base Camp, this is Liza calling to Base Camp. Come in Base Camp. Over.” She smiled. Her parents always got a kick out of the fact that Liza called their ranch in Colorado, “Base Camp.”
Liza and Libby stood a moment longer, even as Libby made a stomp with her front right hoof and readjusted how she stood, then made a loud exhale through her nostrils that somehow came out as a little whirl of noise, much like when a person purses their lips and blows out.
Liza smiled. She knew Libby was a little bit impatient, simply because she wanted to keep walking and not for any other special reason. Libby enjoyed trail rides with Liza as much as Liza enjoyed hitting the trails with her mare. But in spite of her impatience Libby had heard Liza try to connect with her parents on the radio and knew they would stay in this spot for a few moments longer.
“Liza, come in Liza. You hearing us okay?” It was her mother. “Mama, I hear you, loud and clear,” Liza replied. “All is well up here. How is the weather? We have clear and blue skies. Over.”
There was a tiny bit of static then her mother said, “Looking good here but there is a storm coming up suddenly so let’s get you two back down to the ranch right now and get Libby safely back into the pasture. Over.” There was a pause. “I mean it,” her mother added. “No dawdling Liza,” her mother emphasized.
“Right, Mama. Over,” came the reply. Liza took a breath and exhaled. She could be stubborn and willful sometimes, but she never ever went against her
parents when they discussed the weather. Bad weather anywhere was something to be respected and even having the proper gear was no match for the horror of being stuck out in sub-zero temperatures.
“Liza, do you copy?” her mother urged.
“Yes Mama. Roger that. We will turn and head down immediately,” Liza replied. “Over,” she added.
“Roger that,” said her mother.
Libby waited until she heard that Liza had secured the radio to her belt and then felt Liza relax into her saddle and twist around just a bit as a little stretch.
“Well, you heard Mama, Libby-girl. Down we go.”
Just as Liza began to put a leg onto Libby’s side as a cue to turn slightly and walk on, Libby knew from intuition what Liza was going to ask of her and she had begun to make a little step then picked up the pace from Liza’s light leg pressure.
The return journey was arduous but worthwhile. There were switchbacks and some larger stones on the trail to deal with, but the snowy descent was manageable and lovely. Part of the trail was on the edge of the mountainside itself, winding along the edge of it, and part cut through a bit of the forest there, and they passed over logs and through mossy areas peeking through the snow that were beautiful to behold no matter what time of year it was.
The trail came out in one spot where Liza was able to look down into the valley to see the family’s ranch. Home. “Base Camp” by her nickname, but it was home. It was their incredibly beautiful ranch and their place of heavenly beauty, and it was a place that would stay in the family forever now, her father had made sure of that.
Liza thought back to the telephone call her parents had received a few years ago, letting them know that the offer they had put on this place had come through. She thought of the moment, shortly thereafter, when her parents had told her, finally, why this ranch was so important to them. And even after learning their secret and learning that
some stories had been kept from her, Liza simply could not begrudge her parents’ choices. At first it was all hard to hear and difficult to comprehend but the more they shared with her, the more Liza was able to understand the pieces of the puzzle that had finally reunited her parents with this land.
“Easy girl,” Liza said, as she felt Libby take a little misstep on the trail. There was a lot of snow up here already and Liza was anxious to get off the mountain before more fell.
She heard her mare blow through her nostrils as she exhaled and then felt her placing her feet more carefully, even as she heard the metal of Libby’s hooves scraping over rocks as she walked down the mountain.
The last part of their trail was through unfenced as well as fenced sections of the family’s pastures that at any other time of the year was full of cut hay, waiting to be bailed, or had pasture grasses growing for forage for the many horses that were on their ranch. This time of year, it was blanketed with snow and yet the trail was kept open by the animals that lived on their property and roamed the forests and lands all around their ranch. Elk, mountain lions, deer and bear all seemed to use some of same trails that Liza and Libby rode on which kept them trampled down. She also knew that packs of coyotes and wolves used the trails out here too. So even with the deep snow all around, the trail was fairly wide open.
“Let’s keep our eyes peeled, Libby. I’m not in the mood to run into anything mean today. I’d like to get us back before that storm comes up, that’s for sure,” Liza stressed.
In the past, on trail rides in Virginia, before they had the kind of bond that allowed them to really understand words between them, Liza would have to read Libby’s body and listen to the sounds she would make to understand how Libby was feeling out there on strenuous trail rides.
One time on a ride, Libby came to a dead stop and simply would not budge. Nothing could get her to move forward. Liza was much younger then and although she prided herself on being able to read horses pretty well, she
found herself frustrated that Libby would not walk on. Finally, though annoyed, Liza had stopped being upset that Libby would not continue, and she started to look around. Off to the right, she finally saw what Libby had noticed. There was a mother bear and two cubs. This was back on the East Coast, and it was a black bear so Liza wasn’t too worried yet knew to keep her distance none the less.
She remembered thanking Libby for coming to a stop. It was never a good idea to get in between any kind of wild mama and her cub or fawn or whatever. Many people had been severely injured or killed from doing just that. Moose could charge and then stomp and kill a person simply for inadvertently separating the mother from the calf if it was on the other side of a hiking trail from its mother for example.
As Liza brought Libby up into a slow lope, she held the reins lightly in her hands and kept her eyes peeled for any signs of dangerous wildlife on this last part of the trail before it neared the ranch itself. Just in case she carried a sidearm. As for bears, she always had a large can of pepper spray at her side. Out West, you had to be smart, careful, and prepared. Those were the rules.
She turned and looked at the sky behind her. It was darkening and the bright clear blue had turned to a whiter, darker, and more scary color. “Let’s move, Libby. I’m starting to see snow falling heavier and the temperature is dropping fast now too.”
Libby’s gait changed into a full lope as they made their way back to the ranch. With the heavier snow the footprints they had made in the trail on their way out that morning were already covered by a few inches. Liza could see the ranch and wasn’t too worried, unless everything turned into a sudden whiteout. Then she could be in real trouble even that close to home. The snow was falling even faster now, and her nose was cold, and she was suddenly uncomfortable that this morning’s trail ride had taken them out so far. Although she had survival gear with her, she did not want to be trapped in a whiteout.
“Come on girl, let’s move,” Liza said urgently.
Coming around a stand of trees, Liza breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the stables and later brought Libby back down into a trot as she broke one of her father’s rules and rode Libby right into the aisleway of the stable without dismounting.
“I don’t think Papa will mind,” Liza said as she swiftly hopped out of the saddle once inside. Libby was breathing heavily. Liza debated taking her into the covered arena to walk her a bit to cool her down. In spite of the cold, she was lathered up quite a bit. It was wrong to just untack her and turn her out into the pasture. She scrunched her nose then sighed, “You know what? Let’s get you properly cooled down.”
But first, Liza grabbed the radio once again and said joyfully, “Mama, I’m home safe and sound.” Liza smiled when she heard the reply.
“Thank you, Pumpkin. I saw you coming through the fields. I have soup and hot cocoa for you. See you inside. Over,” said her mother. “I love you,” she added.
Liza brought Libby into the arena, where she walked her around inside for about ten laps, nice and slow. Then returning to the stable and dismounting, she gave Libby a pat on the neck a few times as she loosened the cinch then began to remove the bridle and reins, breast collar, splint and bell boots as well as her saddlebag of gear and put everything in its place. Funny thing was that Liza did not bother to put a halter on Libby as she did this. With any other horse, she’d have to. But years ago, once Liza and Libby realized they could speak to one another, they rarely used halters anymore. Libby would never run away, even if she spooked. But Liza used halters with all the other non-speaking horses that was for sure.
“Now it’s time for a thorough curry job on you. Ah wait, you’re still really wet from these last few miles of riding. Let me toss the cooler onto you to wick away the moisture before I put you into the pasture,” Liza told her friend.
Liza ran the curry brush across Libby and noticed how moist she was from their ride, even after the walk in the arena
to cool her down. If Liza had put her out in the cold pasture just now, that would have been all wrong. Liza draped the cooler over Libby’s back and secured the straps in front across her chest.
“That feels nice, Liza.” Libby said, closing her eyes as she stood patiently in the aisle. The cooler draped across her back like a large sheet was made of a special material that wicked the moisture away from Libby’s body and into and through the special material of the cooler itself. As Liza did other chores in the stable, she looked over at the cooler and saw it was already full of millions and millions of droplets of moisture on the outside of the cooler blanket. The fabric was doing its job.
It took a while for all the moisture to wick through and once Libby was dry, Liza removed it and brought the blanket into the heated tack room to dry out.
“You’ve got a big run-in shed for shelter, girl, so you’ll be going back into the pasture with the others now,” Liza said, grabbing a few flakes of hay as she walked with Libby out to the pasture. Her colt Galilei was there, waiting at the gate Liza noticed. He had trotted over to say hello, or perhaps to steal some of the hay in her hand she thought, laughing to herself.
“I was starting to worry about you, Mama, up there with Liza when the snow began to fall heavily down here,” he said hurriedly. “But I figured I would have gotten a sense if you weren’t safe,” he admitted nervously.
Libby playfully grabbed a mouthful of hay from the flakes that Liza carried, grabbing just a bit then lifting her head up and away from the flake in Liza’s hands, enough to tear off a mouthful of hay on which she crunched and munched. Liza listened to the crunching noises of her friend as they walked across to the entrance of her large pasture.
Liza brought Libby into the pasture, closing the gate behind her, and walked over to the covered area where horses had access to ample quantities of hay. She knew there was already plenty of hay out here, because her parents gave extra amounts to the horses during big storms to keep their body
heat up, but out of habit, she still liked to toss the horses an extra flake or so during storms like this one. As they walked deep into the pasture, Libby stayed by Liza’s side, sneaking in a second nibble from one of the other flakes in Liza’s hands.
“Silly girl,” Liza said.
“Mmmmmpf mmmmmmpf,” Libby replied.
Liza gave her mare a pat on her withers. Her body heat was warm but not that overheated warmth from a workout. She was warm and fluffy and full of hair to keep her protected from this winter storm that was already really kicking in. The snow was falling and beginning to get deeper as they walked. A few of the other horses nickered a greeting to Libby, especially Dude and Belle, but went back to eating hay or drinking water from the heated water tubs.
Galilei, she observed, had run up to his dam’s side. He no longer needed her, but he was protective of her. However today, he was being playful, a little aggressively so. He tried to take a playful nip out of Libby’s side, but she squealed slightly and bared her teeth.
“Lila was never like this,” Libby sighed. Liza stiffened the moment she heard Libby mention Lila’s name. She rarely mentioned her filly anymore.
Libby noticed and said, “It’s okay Liza. I’m all settled in the belief that Lila is out there, safe and sound. I would know otherwise, I’m certain of it.”
“Good girl,” Liza said, stroking her mare.
“Thank you for a nice ride today, Libby,” Liza added, giving an extra pet on her mare’s nose that was now wet from the falling snow.
“You’re welcome,” Libby said.
“Brrrr, it’s cold,” Liza said.
“Munching hay keeps me warm!” Libby replied and turning to look back in the direction of the stables, she watched as her beloved cowgirl mistress walked back to the house and went inside, all safe and sound.
“L
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FIRST TIME
ila, has anyone ever put a saddle on your back?” Laura asked. It was early morning on a spring day and riders were just warming up their horses. The groundskeepers were pruning hedges and a few in white, long aprons could be seen clipping flowers to display in tall, elegant porcelain vases in the showroom of the main stable.
Laura was wearing a full skirt over a pair of trousers. The skirt only came to just below her knee, providing a shocking sight for anyone who saw her. But perhaps people were used to this interesting woman because no one paid any curious attention to her on this day.
Laura had just come out from the main house to get Lila from the pasture and bring her into the round pen. As she placed the halter on her filly, that’s when she spoke to her mare.
“A few times,” was Lila’s reply. This young mare was excited to use words with her mistress and pranced a little as Laura tried to put on her halter.
Lila was growing up even faster now, and Laura felt it was time to begin to ride her. Her legs were long, and her body was muscular and filling out. She still had the mind of a young horse, but she also had the appearance of one that was ready to be ridden.
Laura had never asked a horse before about saddle time. Instead with her experience she could tell by the movement of a horse, its age, and the look to its body whether it was time to begin to saddle up and try to ride. Laura had been working with Lila in the round pen often enough and had spent time with nonverbal cues. Like Liza, Laura wanted to focus on her relationship with her horse and not rely on
using words. Lila however, often tried to talk her way through a training session, but Laura usually just ignored her.
“Did you want me to turn in this direction?” Lila asked one time, confusion rising in her voice as she struggled to understand the cues Laura was giving her while on the lunge line in the round pen. Laura had remained quiet but turned her body in a certain way and repositioned her hands then made a cue with her mouth, asking Lila to move. Laura’s cues were slightly different from Liza’s and Lila was confused. That had been a frustrating day for the two of them.
On this pretty sunny day, however, Laura was going to try to work with Lila once again, just a few days after that previous session. But after she had asked Lila about being saddled, Laura remained silent, quietly walking Lila into the round pen to work with her.
Today as they worked, the young horse was frustrated yet again and getting even more confused. She tugged at the lunge line and backed away from Laura yanking on Laura's arm until she felt resistance from her mistress who all the while, kept her arm firm yet supple, bumping the rope with her hand to encourage Lila to cease resisting. Yet in her frustration, Lila turned her body away from Laura, and began to step back from her, yanking even harder on the lead line. Lila pulled and struggled and at one point, shook her head with that classic move that a frustrated horse makes, wagging her head left and right multiple times while pulling up and away.
Laura in the meantime, remained calm and tried to soothe Lila by saying, “Whoa, girl, whoa.”
“I don't know what you want from me! What do you want me to do?” Lila cried piteously, utterly frustrated and practically begging Laura to speak to her as she tugged and wagged her head even harder. The last twist of Lila’s head was the hardest, which unsettled Laura's stance and she stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing. Laura yanked hard on the rope in sudden and equal frustration, as she
lunged forward with quick steps to prevent herself from falling over.
Seeing Laura falter, Lila suddenly felt guilty and ceased all her antics and stood still. She was breathing heavily and with flared nostrils, breathed in and out as she stood, lather around her neckline from the workout and her tension and confusion over today’s lunging session with Laura.
“Well, I think I am failing you right now, Lila,” Laura uttered, frustration clearly audible in her own voice as she spoke to her horse.
Lila kept breathing hard, watching Laura intently. Laura had stopped moving, and her posture was relaxed and calm. After a moment, Lila took a tentative step towards Laura, who, in seeing Lila’s movement, said instinctively, “Good girl.” Laura stood still, and Lila took yet another tentative step towards Laura, nostrils still flaring, but with her breathing becoming more relaxed. Laura lifted her right hand, still holding the lead rope, and gently leaned over very slightly and looked at Lila's hind end. Lila stepped to her left and began to walk forward, making the beginning of a circle around Laura.
“Good girl,” Laura said once again, arm still up and out to her side, as she kept her eyes on Lila’s hind end. Lila walked calmly and stayed loose on the lunge line, walking confidently now, as she made her circle around her mistress. Laura stood up straighter, her own frustrations beginning to melt away as she began to enjoy her training session with Lila.
Switching hands, Laura bent a little and looked again at Lila’s hind end, and her mare nimbly changed directions, with only one slight misstep as she turned. Then as she regained confidence, she hopped as she turned and began to walk in the other direction a little bit too fast. “Whoa,” Laura said in a low voice, and Lila slowed her quick steps to a walk instead.
They repeated this for a few moments, Lila walking circles a few times then responding nicely to Laura by turning beautifully to head in the other direction. Lila was silent now, focusing on her own efforts, and Laura remained
quiet as well, with the exception of the occasional words of praise coming from her.
Finally, Laura gave Lila a different cue and a gentle tug on the lunge line, barely perceptible, which encouraged Lila to walk straight into the middle of the circle, right over to Laura. Lila’s breathing was calm now, and she had the light and gentle appearance of a contented horse.
In her mind, Laura debated whether to say anything at all to Lila; whether to speak to her like a friend or like an animal. Frankly, during her time with Lila so far, they had not been together that much, between all the days of the boat crossing when Lila was down below, and the final trip back to the estate. Then, Lila had been placed in a pasture while Laura and Gaston tended to business matters and got caught up with everything after their long time abroad.
The more Laura thought about it, the more she realized that the stable boys were spending more time with her own horse than she was. And since none of the staff knew the true story about Lila, the young horse knew to remain silent, and she had not spoken with any humans since she had arrived.
Mistress and mare stood there beside one another, as Laura debated the next steps. She listened to Lila’s soft breathing. Inside her own young brain, Lila continued to debate whether to remain silent or to say something, anything, to this woman standing before her.
“I think she wanted me to quiet down and just do some training with her, here on the lunge line,” Lila thought quietly, her breathing becoming steadier. “Although I answered her question about saddle time, she didn’t reply, so I don't know what to do or if I should say anything more,” Lila thought to herself. “I think I’ll just stand here quietly,” the filly concluded, her thoughts all in a jumble.
Laura stroked her young horse and made soothing noises to her using tones and words that Lila noticed were completely different from the way Liza had ever interacted
with her. Lila's only experience with humans so far in her young life had been with Liza and her mother. Now, she was trying so very hard to understand the body movements and gestures and tones and mouth noises that Laura, Gaston and the groomsmen and stable boys were using with her.
“This is all very confusing,” Lila thought. “I have so much to figure out and I have secrets to keep as well,” she muttered in her own head, as her thoughts tumbled over one another while she stood patiently with Laura. Lila inhaled and exhaled then licked her lips and noticed that her breathing had matched Laura’s as they remained standing beside one another in the round pen. This session had ended well.
Lila’s ears swished back and forth, as she picked up noises from other horses there on the property, though she remained pretty well focused on Laura. This was a private estate but also a working one too. Horses were kept on the estate and people from the city came out on weekends to ride them. During the week, the staff took care of the horses and rode most of them, keeping them tuned up and ready to ride. There were many thoroughbreds here from fine European or even Arabian bloodlines and their owners expected a level of service that defined the word ‘perfection’. Laura and Gaston and their staff provided that.
For the most part, the estate was run by a kindly manager who ran an efficient facility with an attentive and loyal staff including young boys who lived there on the property as well as a few hardworking men and their families who lived in small apartments near the stables. It wasn't tradition to provide luxurious conditions for employees in the 1890’s, but their rooms were spacious enough and they were clean, furnished and comfortable.
But there was something about Lila that created a nearly ethereal experience for those who came in contact with her. She had a warmth and an aura that made you want to get close to her and to know more about her. You wanted to pet her and stroke her neck and look into her eyes. And
although Lila's bond with Laura was something extremely special, she was willing to share her kindness and love with others who were kind and loving to her as well.
There was one young stable boy who made sure that he was the one to catch Lila and groom her and hold her for the veterinarian or for the farrier.
His name was Liam, and he was an orphan boy from Ireland, whose parents had died on board the ship that had brought the family to Boston. In those days, steerage class travel was fraught with all kinds of maladies that taxed even the healthiest of passenger yet too frequently killed many of those who attempted the crossing when they were on the verge of starvation as they fled the famine and poverty of their lives in England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland.
Liam was very young when he lost his parents and had been taken under the wing of a young couple who had survived the journey. They were headed to an equestrian estate on the outskirts of Boston to look for work and brought the boy along with them for their initial meeting with the estate manager.
“He might be good to jockey some of the horses that need to be kept tuned up,” the manager had said. “Young man, can you ride?” he had asked the skinny youngster.
And with that magical question, young Liam landed what over the years ultimately became his dream job and led him to his special stable time with Lila.
“Steady lass,” he murmured to Lila, when he brought her over to the exercise arena one day, where several mildly high-strung horses were being worked. “Steady,” he said. Though young, he had not acquired a Boston accent, instead maintaining his own Irish accent, which sounded like a melody to all who heard it.
Liam found it easy to work with the young mare and it was the kind of work that he enjoyed. He was always happy when Lila was assigned to him for the week. He felt comfortable with her and she with him. He spoke soothing words to her and treated her as if she was his own.
As for Lila, there were times that she was dying to speak to him when they were alone together. She wanted to tell him how lonely she was, and she felt that Liam would understand. However, Laura had made it very clear that this was not to be, not ever. Lila had grown up around people who used words with her, and she had been especially pleased to speak with Liza whenever they were together. Here, it wasn't like that.
She interacted with the other horses in her pasture of course, and especially when they were in their stalls. In the stable, Lila noticed there was plenty of conversation, especially with one sassy bay mare who Lila felt made too much of a fuss every day. But she really missed using words with humans and Lila felt very alone.
“I may not have thought this through,” Lila muttered to herself one day, standing out in the pasture near the fence line that overlooked a very pretty, wooded area. “I got so excited to help Laura, and I know that I made the right decision, but I feel so lonely,” Lila said, deep in thought. She dropped to her knees and laid down, perched upright as she lay overlooking the woods, contemplating her situation.
“I miss Mama,” she said, very upset about everything finally. “I miss Liza, I miss Belle and I miss Beata,” she cried. “Why did I have to be so stubborn? Why did I have to disobey and go into the woods and follow Mama when she had specifically told me not to? I’m so lonely,” Lila cried.
Lila was miserable and, in her sadness, she simply continued to stare out into the woods, as though she was searching for something or someone.
“Mama where are you?” she wailed. “I miss you, Mama,” Lila cried again.
The trees rustled a bit, as the branches of tall maples, oaks and other soft and hardwood trees swayed in the gentle breezes that came through the woods on this part of the property. In some places, Lila saw new growth pine trees trying to grow, reaching their branches out for any available sunlight in this denser part of the woods.
“I’m lonely,” Lila cried out piteously, as she flopped her head down to the ground and stretched her neck out in a very un-horse like posture.
“Whoosh,” went the breezes through the tree branches.
Lila lifted her head suddenly. “Whoosh.”
Lila’s nostrils flared as she laid very still.
“Shhhhhh,” Lila heard very distinctly, her ears moving forward and backward and then flopped and fluttered as she strained to listen. She put her legs forward awkwardly bent in such a way that she looked like a horse that was deciding whether to get up or to remain lying down. Her head looked left and right, and her nostrils continued to flare, searching, testing the air for a familiar scent. Her ears continued to move, and she looked all around her.
The sunlight broke through the trees closest to her, and the beam of sunlight coming through caught Lila's eye and kept her mesmerized for a moment.
And then Lila saw it. It was silver and copper and gold all mixed together, and she wasn’t certain, but she thought it was almost beginning to take shape. Lila began to feel a warmth in her belly that moved up through her, warming her and comforting her.
“Mama?” she cried tentatively, her little voice wavering. “Mama!” Lila cried once again. “Is that you, Mama?” she pleaded. What was happening here, not ten yards in front of her, there, in the sunlight? Was it a shape? Was it moving closer to her or staying where it was? Was it friendly? Dangerous?
Lila decided to get up and to get up quickly. If this all meant danger, she wanted to be up and ready to run to another part of the pasture. What was she seeing there?
“Lila,” she heard, the voice warm and mysterious. “Lila,” it said again, “please don’t cry,” the voice said kindly.
Lila pranced in place, clearly both excited and agitated all in one. Then, with a little stutter to her paces, she began to run, kicking up her hooves and twisting her head as she ran.
After she ran a few circles and then paralleled the fence, running hard and fast in a straight line, she looped back to where she had been lying down just a few moments earlier and stood, nostrils flaring once again from her efforts. She strained her eyes to look into the forest, looking for the sunbeams and the copper, silver, and gold shapes.
There they were again, moving towards her, floating in the air, unsupported by anything and yet moving towards her as if propelled by a life form.
“What is that?” Lila thought, her young brain searching her memories to see if she could decipher what she was seeing.
“Is that…?” and as her gaze realized what it all meant, she stood straighter, swishing her tail calmly, but with curiosity mounting inside of her. She was stunned and shocked all at once, knowing that if she had not stayed back in time with Laura, she never would have experienced what she was experiencing right now, at this very moment. She felt utter joy.
As the shape slowly crossed the cleared area between the woods and the pasture, Lila took a deep breath and held it, uncertain how she was supposed to greet this guest who was approaching her pasture.
“What do I do? What do I say? How should I react?” thought Lila. Lila solved her conundrum by doing the only logical thing that she could think of. She bowed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CAN YOU HEAR US?
Liza woke up drenched in perspiration for about the fifth or sixth time that month. What she was experiencing was getting worse, and what she had been seeing in her dreams was move vivid than ever before. It had begun to frighten her. What she wanted to do, was make a midnight visit into the pasture again, to talk it all over with Libby. But she feared her mare would guilt her into telling her parents and that was something Liza was not ready to do.
Instead, she poured her energy into her studies. She was taking pre-med veterinary classes in addition to her advanced high school classes all of which was preparing her for early entry into med school. She was young, but academically ahead of many other students and her teachers encouraged her to study hard to get into the advanced classes and ultimately into her preferred university.
There were times when she wanted to see if studying abroad was possible, to give her a chance to immerse herself in a different culture, and to use some of the language skills she had acquired. She knew that the approach to medicine was a bit different overseas, and she was keen to understand the various methodologies.
She couldn’t figure out a way to accomplish that dream and still enjoy time with Libby, so the compromise was more immersive online courses with occasional monthlong studies first in France, then in Germany and Italy, with shorter visits to study in Poland, Romania and Turkey.
But no matter how she tried to distract herself, the disturbances at night did not abate; instead, they intensified. It was almost as though someone or something was trying to
urge her to take some kind of action on what she had been experiencing. But what? What was she supposed to do?
In all her years since her first experience as a Traveler, she had never been tortured like this. It was like a form of subtle agony. She was resisting, yet the dreams were persistent and relentless in their cruelty.
“I don’t understand,” she would cry out in the night. “What do you want me to do?” she would ask. “What are you trying to tell me?” she finally cried out urgently, after one particularly difficult night.
Then there were the headaches. Subtle but relentless. “Maybe I have a brain tumor or something,” she concluded, finally realizing that she needed to tell her parents what was going on.
“Papa, I have something important to ask of you,” she declared one morning at breakfast.
Noticing Liza’s determined urgency in her words, her father not only put down his fork, but what she said made him sit back in his chair, relaxing with his hands on the table in front of him. Dmitri looked stiff however and could not hide it from his daughter.
“He looks like he knows what I am going to say,” Liza thought, puzzled. She looked at him, then looked down at her plate, then looked back at her father, the silence in the room growing deafening.
Clearly, he wanted his daughter to say something but also just as clearly, he was not going to break the tension of the silence to be the first one to speak either.
“Papa, I think something is wrong with me,” Liza said abruptly, worry in her voice. “I think there is something in my head that’s all wrong. It feels like it’s pressing on me, but mostly, I’m having nightmares and I’m waking up in the middle of the night all perspired.”
Liza paused. Her father said nothing yet kept his eyes riveted on her.
“Papa, did you hear me? I think I’m sick. I might need to see a doctor. I should have said something about this sooner. I guess I was being stubborn.”
Liza crinkled her mouth, somewhat ashamed now that she had not trusted her parents enough to share what she had been experiencing.
“That wasn’t smart at all,” she thought to herself.
“No, it certainly wasn’t,” Liza heard clearly and distinctly.
“What?” Liza cried.
“What?” her father replied.
“Papa, did you say something just now, other than ‘What’?”
“No, Liza, I didn’t. What did you hear?” he asked her, tenderly.
Liza got flustered and thought she was going to cry.
“Papa, I feel like someone is trying to speak to me. I know you’re going to think that’s crazy or weird or odd or impossible, but I am hearing voices. And at night, I am seeing things, disturbing things, and I don’t know what to do about any of it,” Liza continued. “My head hurts too,” she added.
Liza’s father slowly pulled his hands off the table, sat deeper into his chair, and crossed his arms in front of him.
Before he spoke, he sighed deeply, worry on his face. “Liza, what you are experiencing, what you are seeing and hearing, Liza…” and he paused. “Liza, it’s almost impossible for me to explain any of this to you. Unfortunately, you will have to find the answers on your own. I can’t help you. Your mother can’t help you. Even Libby can’t help you. She can be with you, and she can guide you, but neither she nor your mother nor I can help you through any of this,” he explained sadly.
“What’s going on here?” Liza thought. “He’s not taking me to a hospital? Not taking me to a doctor? Nothing? What’s going on?” she thought, confused by her father’s inaction.
“I keep trying to tell you things, but you won’t listen,” Liza heard.
“Papa, surely you said something just now!” Liza cried out.
The silence was deafening, and a look of sorrow passed over her father’s face.
“What’s happening to me?” Liza cried. It was almost a scream; it was nearly a cry of terror and fear all in one. “Papa, what’s going on?” By now, Liza had stood up with her arms flat by her sides. Then she put her hands to her head and her father thought she was going to tear at her hair.
He quickly got up from the table and cried, “Bianca, come here now!” Then to Liza, he cried, “Breathe. My little girl, Liza, breathe. Just breathe sweetie.”
Her father was at her side, and he took her in his arms and held her. Liza knew that was exactly what she needed; and she nearly fell to the ground from all the worry and concern and exhaustion she had been feeling for these past months, but her father held her fast and kept her from falling.
“Papa, do you know what is happening to me?” she cried, looking up into her father’s eyes.
He wanted to die just then. Dmitri wanted to push everything to the side and force it out of the house, into the fields and if he could force it all back into the mountains, or back through the waterfall or through the fog bank or through the pine trees, he would have done so right then and there. But all he could do at this moment was hug his daughter and try to see if he could pull some of the nightmares out of her body and drag them into his own heart, just to give her a moment’s peace.
“Oh no,” said Bianca, who had hurried into the kitchen. “Oh no,” she said once again. Looking into her husband’s eyes, she saw a slight nod of understanding and she slumped as she stood in the doorway. And then, as though she had been touched by an invisible force, she stood straighter and taller and suddenly had the strength of ten mother bears, and walking quickly to her husband’s side, she said softly, “Let me.”
Bianca opened her arms wide, just as her husband turned Liza towards her and literally rolled his daughter over into the arms of his wife.
“Liza,” she said softly. “Liza, listen to me,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s time, my Pumpkin. Your father and I weren’t certain when this day would come, but we always knew it would come.” Bianca looked at her husband, and they both nodded to one another, with a look of resolute determination, sadness and encouragement all in one.
Then, pushing Liza back from her arms, she held her daughter’s face in her hands.
“She looks like me,” Bianca said to herself. “No, like her father, no, she has my eyes, no…stop it,” she berated herself. “I have to be more than a parent here. I’ve got to remember her purpose and I have to let her go,” she realized sadly.
Bianca and Dmitri exchanged glances again and almost frantically, Liza looked first at her mother, then back to her father, then she looked into her mother’s eyes and finally, she relaxed, watching her mother’s face, trying to read her emotions.
“Mama, are you trying to tell me that I have to go back?” Liza said apprehensively. As she asked this question, her mind cleared, and her body relaxed, and it was as though a million stars of light had settled into her soul and tried to burst out from her. Bianca saw the glow, and so did her husband.
“Liza honey!” her father cried urgently. “Liza, look at your hands! Bianca, let go of her.”
Stepping back, Liza saw the glow that was radiating from her own body. She felt the call of the mountains and the trees in the woods, and she heard horses and people calling to her, almost singing songs of joy and peace and with a calm feeling of serenity all at once. It was dreamy, magical and enchanting and the feeling went on and on.
Liza looked at her hands and then at her arms. She held her arms out in front of her and then looked over and
saw the calm peacefulness on the faces of her parents and as she turned her arms this way and that, she saw the glow shining through the room, casting shadows on the walls of the kitchen.
“I know what I have to do!” Liza cried suddenly. “I know it all now. At least I think I do. Thank you. I hear you. I’m coming!” Everything became clear to her, and it was all so obvious. Why had she resisted and made this process of understanding everything so difficult?
“I’m coming!” she cried once again. Then Liza fainted and fell to the floor.
THE WATERFALL
Looking out over the countryside, while doing her studies, Liza thought clearly about what she was going to do. Her parents had effectively given her their permission when they described the location of the waterfall in great detail.
Liza thought about it all, trying to find another explanation as to why both of her parents had not admonished her even once for wanting to try to find it. “I think they want me to find it,” was the conclusion that kept swirling around in her head day after day after day. After that intense experience in the kitchen, Liza knew that no matter what, now she had to find the location of the waterfall.
As she did her studies, sometimes she would look up from her work and give her mother a tender smile. It was hard to be upset that her parents had kept their story from her for so many years. Now, however, with each passing day, she realized her next move was an easy decision for her. After packing up a large saddlebag and laying in some provisions including medicines and extra horseshoes for Libby, she simply got on her mare and walked out onto the trail leading to the location of the waterfall.
Her mother saw her leave. She nearly ran into the yard to forbid Liza from going, but her husband had laid a hand on her shoulder and said, tenderly, “If she goes, it will be her third time.” And with that, Liza’s mother slumped her shoulders and, feeling slightly defeated, fell to her knees in agony.
“Make wise choices, my Pumpkin,” her mother said, putting one hand on the glass of the large floor to ceiling window. Her fingertips traced the outline of Liza and Libby in the window as her daughter and the mare walked away. She noticed that Liza never looked back. She also noticed that Liza had not taken the radio with her, that all important connection that was the lifeline for any of them when they went into the wilderness on horseback. She sighed and then burst into tears.
It was for the best, and she thought that if she kept telling herself that, then she wouldn’t feel so horribly that she was possibly losing her daughter forever.
Her mother bowed her head and turned to lean into her husband. “It’s her third time,” he said once again.
“I know,” said his wife, “and that’s what makes this so hard.”
It wasn’t that difficult for Liza to find the waterfall and in finding it, she was surprised that in more than a century, no one had clear cut the area and put a house nearby or something. People were always finding beautiful places and then trying to change what they found to awkwardly morph it into the embodiment of what they thought was beautiful instead of simply leaving it all alone. Instead, here, completely
natural and unadulterated, the little area with the waterfall was exquisite in how untouched it was after thousands of years of its existence.
“Liza, are you trembling?” Libby asked. The two of them had been talking quite a bit for the middle part of their journey but as they both realized they were getting closer to the waterfall they had become quiet.
“Yes,” Liza said simply. “I am. I suppose all of this has me nervous somewhat,” she added, her tone of voice flat and yet shaking. “I’m glad I left a note for Mama and Papa,” she said. “Like you suggested,” she added.
“No,” Libby said, stretching out that word, “I suggested you tell your parents you were going to search for the waterfall, not leave a note about your decision. I told Galilei and he understood. I also spoke with Belle and Dude, and they told me some things I needed to know to help us on this journey. But what I told you to do was…” Libby paused. This was not the time to admonish Liza and it was not the time to be right about something. This was the time for courage and for a sense of adventure.
“They all watched us leave, you know,” Libby said. “Galilei, Belle and Dude that is. And none of them tried to stop us,” she added.
Libby heard Liza make a sigh. She sounded remorseful but Libby did not feel a leg cue to turn back to the ranch. “I half expected Galilei to follow us,” Libby admitted.
Liza tugged slightly on the reins and said, “Whoa.” Libby stopped and stood very still.
“Maybe this is a bad idea, Libby. Maybe I should have said goodbye to Mama and Papa.”
She sat in her saddle and turned to look back in the direction of the ranch. “I mean, they know I have to go, right? They want me to go but they also don’t want me to go. This has been very confusing for me, Libby. All I know is that once we all talked about it in the kitchen that morning, the nightmares subsided. It’s been calmer for me and there hasn’t been any
pain. I think they, whoever they are, well, I think they know I’m coming, and they are just being patient,” Liza explained to her mare.
“I’m with you, you know,” Libby said. “I mean, you know what I mean. Physically I’m with you but also mentally. I understand what you are doing, and I understand your reasons, Liza. So, you know, I am on your side with all of this,” Libby emphasized.
Liza leaned forward just a bit and stroked Libby’s neck and withers. Libby made a gentle nicker in reply.
Liza heard some noise up ahead.
There it was.
It wasn’t the tallest or the prettiest waterfall Liza had ever seen yet something about it had a spiritual quality to it that was especially precious. She felt it as she approached. The atmosphere was almost electrified, and it all felt as though she was supposed to ask permission to get closer to this special place.
Liza shivered a bit but didn’t feel cold. “This is it,” she thought. “Are you ready, Libby?” Liza whispered.
Libby was quiet.
“Girl?”
“Yes.”
“Are you, you know, are you ready now?” “Yes.”
Liza swung her leg up and over the saddle horn and carefully hopped down into the moss that was lying like a carpet before her.
It was hard to grasp what was happening, but suddenly sunlight broke through the treetops and there, on the ground, the sunlight illuminated what looked to be a narrow path. It led away from the waterfall and towards a small cliff side next to it.
The sunshine made a path, Liza could see that, and she decided to trust what was happening.
“Do you see what I see, Libby?” Liza asked her mare.
“It’s not edible,” Libby replied.
“Ah, you’re joking,” Liza said with a smile.
“Of course I am. Liza, I know we are leaving and might not come back. I’m ready. I told you that and I meant it. So here we are and I’m just trying to make light of this very important moment. I don’t know, perhaps I’m supposed to be more serious about everything, now that we are here.”
Liza turned and looked into Libby’s eyes. Libby was standing there quietly and looked so pretty. She had a calm yet confident look to her and at the same time, had a demure looking quality. Liza petted her once again.
“Let’s go over here,” Liza said and the two of them approached the rocky hillside.
It was a cave, that much was clear to Liza as soon as she got closer. Not only that, but it looked undisturbed. They had followed that little mossy carpet path and found this cave and it was feeling magical and full of electricity the closer they got to it. Liza shivered. This time Libby shook her entire body too and the stirrups noisily thwacked against the saddle.
“I feel something,” Liza said.
“I feel it too,” Libby stated, with a slight hesitation in her voice.
“Here we go,” Liza said in reply, and stroked her mare along her neck, feeling the warmth under her mane.
Liza held Libby’s reins in her hand as they entered the cave. The entrance was just wide enough for the two of them as they walked beside one another. Liza had a moment of dread and hesitated.
“Don’t be scared, Liza,” Libby said. “I’m here with you.” Liza took a deep breath and stepped even deeper into the cave.
It was bright inside. Liza couldn’t see how this was possible, but the interior was glowing. She looked all around to see if there was some kind of special reflective rock formation or something. She looked about to see if there were any holes
in the upper part of the cave to permit this much light inside but did not see anything unusual to explain the glow.
There before them was a pool of water. How deep was it? Who knew. But along the side of the pool was a wellworn path that encircled it. Those words stuck in Liza’s head as she thought them. “Well-worn. This place is undisturbed but the path around the pool is well-worn,” Liza thought.
Over on the opposite side of the entrance to the cave beyond the pool, she saw several objects. Both were carefully wrapped in what she determined was a kind of canvas-like oil cloth.
She walked over to the objects, with Libby walking carefully behind her. Then she unwrapped the heavier longer one and gasped.
It was the Henry rifle her father had once described to her. The engraving was precise and delicate in its details and simply perfect. It had a masculine look to it, not feminine and for a moment Liza had a whim that she wished there was even one little flower engraved in it.
“I like flowers,” she thought as she held the rifle in her hands. When she turned the rifle over, however, she grinned. There it was.
One pretty little engraved flower and it looked like an anemone. Anemones! Her mother had planted tons of them around their ranch in Virginia. Both of her parents loved that flower. Is this why they had planted so many back home?
She levered the action of the rifle and chambered the round. Looking down, she saw two boxes of ammo, quite a lot of it actually, and immediately thought that it must be ruined. Certainly, it would be destroyed from all the moisture in the cave and the passage of time. She reached down. The boxes were bone dry. No mold or mildew in sight and when she opened the boxes and looked at the ammo itself, not one sign of rust or decay. Had some kind of magic protected it?
She put her thoughts aside and opened the canvas bag beside it and gasped.
Gold! It was full of gold. Formed into little bars with a stamp of some kind on each piece, the gold was piled high into neat stacks inside the canvas bag. And there were so many of them! It was a small, no there was a seriously large fortune in gold right here before her.
So, her father had been prepared. He must have brought these and perhaps other things with him when he came forward in time, but yet also left these particular items here, hidden in the cave.
“Why had Papa done this?” Liza wondered.
“Your father must have known you would come here, Liza,” Libby said. “Your family has been in Colorado now for nearly two years. I’m not very good with the calendar, but it’s been two winters for sure. He’s had all that time to come retrieve these things and yet he hasn’t. He and your mother must have known that someday you would come here to collect them and use them. That’s what I think,” Libby said solemnly.
Liza took the rifle and expertly slid it into the leather scabbard on the side of her saddle.
Her father had it made for her one day last year and pronounced that she would need it someday soon. They had gone hunting on horseback with Dmitri’s long rifles, but she had never had one of her own.
Today, for her own safety, just before Liza had left the ranch, she packed the set of Vaquero .45s she had been given as well as some ammo for them. One was securely on her hip in its holster while the other was packed in a saddlebag for easy access.
But she hadn’t thought about a rifle. Yet here was one right before her, almost asking to be taken along. She nodded and smiled as she thought about her father’s foresight. Now she had finally had her own rifle to go into the scabbard on her saddle.
Liza turned to look at Libby. Her mare had been quiet these last minutes and Liza saw that Libby was looking into the water.
“I think I know what we have to do, Liza. It’s not about the waterfall, it’s about the pool, here in the cave. Walk with me, my young cowgirl mistress. Walk into the water with me,” Libby said.
Liza checked the rifle once again and opened and closed the flap of the saddlebag to secure the canvas bag of ammo that had been lying, untouched for over a century.
She packed what she hoped was a proper amount of gold into one of the pouches as well, and even slipped a few into her pockets. “How much was enough?” she wondered. “And would it be useful wherever we are going?” she wondered again.
She stood there quietly and looked around.
This was not like the other two times. The first time, she and Libby had been having a glorious time running through the hills of Arizona when they went back in time. They were pretending a game about bad guys in the Old West and went into a fog bank and never came out until weeks and weeks later.
The second time they had passed through to the other world by walking in between two tall leaning pine trees right there on the ranch in Virginia. Something from the other world had caused a stabbing pain inside both Liza and Libby and created a sense of urgency to make them find a way back. Turns out they had to save a friend who was dying.
And now? Despite the many confusing and disturbing nightmares, and except for those mysterious voices, nothing specific was calling out to her to give her a precise reason to pass through. Not at this moment that is. There was no sense of glory or joy in the air accenting their everlasting bond to give them encouragement to pass through. This was about a simple choice. Stay here in the cave and walk into the water or go home.
Deep down, she wanted to go back into another world just one more time, but she was scared.
Liza said, “I’m frightened Libby. I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she cried.
“Don’t be Liza. I have a feeling that this time will be extraordinary. I’m not frightened. I’m with you. I will always be with you.” Libby said tenderly. “We are a team. We are together. I am yours. Let’s go, Liza, I want to go.”
Liza thought about what Libby just said to her.
She knew Libby was curious about Lila, her beloved foal. Yes, she was certain Libby wanted to see her again, to be certain she was safe. Liza also knew that she herself wanted to see her beloved cowgirl mentor, Anna once again. She also knew she wanted to have more adventures, and one of the ways to have adventures was to become a Traveler all over again.
But mostly, she wanted to understand the purpose of the many dreams and the awful nightmares. She had to understand the reason for the pain and the other unusual things that had been happening to her.
Liza took a step forward, and in doing so, gently fiddled with the sign of the Traveler that was on the necklace she wore today.
For years, she had worn it, always wondering when she might need again. Lately, she had left it on her dresser, uncertain if she even wanted to be a Traveler ever again. But after the experience with her parents in the kitchen that day, she had begun to wear it. She knew she had to have it with her just in case.
Suddenly, Libby nuzzled Liza backwards, preventing her from stepping into the pool. She kind of pushed her and Liza cried, “Ooomph, hey!”
“Wait!” Libby said. “I was being pushy a moment ago when I told you my thoughts,” Libby added as she hung her head. Then she lifted her head up high and whinnied so loudly the cave echoed with the noise of her piercing cry.
“Liza, we are a team. If you want to go, I will go with you. If you want to stay and turn around and go home, I will too. It’s up to you,” Libby announced wisely. Then the sorrel mare stood there quietly looking at Liza.
The noises of the waterfall outside were not deafening as much as they were rather calming. It was beautiful and exhilarating all at once. As for the noises of the moisture inside the cave itself, the water dripping into the pool, it was all coming together like a small symphony of happy sounds that were comforting.
Liza looked once again into Libby’s eyes. “Libby,” she said, “I want to go. I’m not scared anymore.”
After a moment, her mare replied, “All right then.”
Taking the sorrel’s reins into her right hand more securely this time, Liza touched the talisman around her neck with her other hand.
Then the two of them took a few steps into the water and suddenly, they were gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHAT NOW?
h no, what did we just do?” Liza cried, when she realized that they had come through into a desolate place, with no sign of human activity anywhere in any direction. Moreover, as she looked all around her at the steep mountains and treacherous rocky terrain nearby and looked over at the tall mountains in the distance, it occurred to her that these did not look like the Alps. It still looked like the mountains of Colorado. Either that, or her mind was playing tricks on her.
Weren’t they supposed to go back through into the Alps somewhere or other, just like the other two times? She looked around again. Nothing felt right this time. What if they had come back and stayed right here in Colorado? Liza decided to fix what she had done; she wanted to return right now.
“Maybe we can go back, Libby, you know, go back home,” Liza suggested to Libby. “My head hurts,” she added.
“We can’t,” Libby said. “I can’t explain how and why I know this, but we can’t go back this way,” she said with a bit of remorse. A chill ran up and down Liza’s spine but not from the cold water of the pool. She and Libby weren’t wet at all she noticed which was odd. No, rather, what Libby had just said to her was very disturbing.
The last two times, the way she came through to the other world was the way she was able to use to return home again. What did Libby mean just now that they could not go back this way? If Libby was correct, this was bad, no, this was very very bad news. Rather slowly, Liza said, “Girl, what do you mean, ‘We can’t go back this way’?”
Libby pawed at the ground, scuffing the stones and pebbles and looked around her. She lifted her head and looked this way and that way. She sniffed the air, and dropping her head, she sniffed the ground in front of her, deep in thought.
“There’s no water here,” Libby said simply. Liza looked around her. She felt silly now, noticing the awful truth of their predicament. This was very real and rather serious what was happening right now, and a chill ran through her again. They came through by walking into a pool of water inside a cave with a huge waterfall outside of it. If there was no water here, it stood to be true then that this was a portal that was now closed to them. She looked around and tried to have a positive attitude in spite of her concerns.
The terrain was off. Where was the waterfall? Where was the cave? There was no water anywhere. She realized they were in some kind of a gully high up on a mountainside. Were they in a wash that flooded from time to time? Was that the trick? Perhaps there wasn’t any water now, but there might be water at other times of the year. Was that how her parents had traveled back and forth?
Looking carefully and examining the geology of the area, her hopes faded. No water was ever here recently.
She thought back to the other times they had passed through. She was younger then and logic suggested that now that she was older, she should be less scared of her situation. But as the reality of her situation was settling in, it was precisely because she was older, that she was frightened. The stakes were higher; she knew more about potential danger, and now she was really scared.
“Okay, breathe cowgirl, breathe,” Liza said to herself. Libby nuzzled her.
As Liza stood there, looking all around her, she put her hands on her hips. That was her thinking stance, and Libby could see that, so she waited patiently.
After a few moments however, the wise mare felt she had to speak. “Liza, well, actually, I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat while I can,” Libby said as she took a few steps forward, dropped her head to the rocky terrain and began to munch on some tender grass that she found here and there.
This was a sight that made Liza laugh. As she giggled at the simple truth of her mare’s need to eat, she smiled and shook her head and decided that being scared and worried was of no use and was no good whatsoever. What purpose would it serve? It was time to make a plan.
“You know, Libby, we haven’t come back here with any kind of a reason to be back. I got excited and I thought I had felt a purpose to everything, so I wanted to explore and come back. The more I think about it now, I think it was impetuous curiosity that got us both to go through this time.”
Libby mumbled as she ate.
“It was kind of reckless, you know,” the sorrel admitted nonchalantly. Libby kept eating and mumbled occasionally about this and that. Chewing and eating, lips swirling as she brought grasses to her teeth to bite and tear from the ground, she kept her head low, eating as quickly as she could.
Then she lifted her head and chewed. Swallowing, she said, “We need to explore and see where we are and what time period it is. And we need to try to understand why we are here. The Traveler network has allowed us to come through, so something important is happening or will happen. And we have to figure it out. We need to go out and explore and meet people and have adventures and try to understand why we have been brought here, or sent here rather, if that’s the case. That’s what I think,” Libby said wisely.
“We need to find drinking water, and we should get off these mountains if we can,” Liza admitted. “The idyllic beauty and relative safety that we have experienced in the past might be a lure for us to not be on our guard, but something tells me that we need to be extra careful here. Something about this place feels wilder and more untamed than anything we have experienced. I’m glad I have the Vaqueros and the Henry with us this time,” Liza said with finality.
The sky was blue and gorgeous. There was no snow where they were, and there was no evidence of bad weather on the horizon. Though quite a harsh landscape, the idyllic
nature of their surroundings almost caused them both to let down their guard, but some of the noises around them caught Liza’s attention and caused Libby to remain alert and to focus more intently on their surroundings as well.
Libby did not try to eat any more and instead looked all about and stood there quietly. She felt Liza step up into the stirrup and swing herself back into the saddle. Libby knew intuitively that Liza’s head still hurt.
This was dangerous country. It was pretty and it was gorgeous. But this was wild country and everywhere Liza looked, she saw the potential for danger. Which way to go? North or south? East or west?
“What have I done?” she thought as she tried not to panic. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We are here and there is no way around it or out of it. We have to press on and we have to find water and shelter and decide which way to go,” she concluded.
Liza did not have to say a word and she did not have to squeeze her legs into Libby’s side. Libby turned and began to walk. After locating a wildlife trail, they decided to follow it down the mountain, each of them hoping to find some indication of where they were and each of them hoping not to run into anything dangerous that might harm them.
“Step carefully, Libby. We both depend on you to step carefully, you know. And eyes alert too,” Liza added, almost in a whisper. Liza got a sick feeling, thinking of how wretched it would be if Libby stepped wrong and hurt herself. She shuddered at the thought.
Libby continued to descend carefully, and a thought popped into her head. Ironically, just at the moment when Liza was scared as she faced real fears, Libby’s perception of her mistress was slightly different.
“Liza is becoming a true young lady now. She’s approaching her situation like a real cowgirl. I know that she is very worried but somehow, I also know that we are going to be just fine,” she concluded, hoping she wasn’t mistaken.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FEAR
Libby’s conclusion wasn’t exactly correct, unfortunately. Liza was terrified this time, more so than ever before in her entire life and definitely more than she had ever been before as a Traveler. She was on the verge of being petrified and that was frightening her too because she knew that once the mind moves into that state of fear, it takes a lot of energy to convince oneself to leave that conscious feeling and shift back into a sense of calmness.
She had seen a grizzly on the distant horizon that day and while she and Libby had discussed it, with Libby insisting that the bear was headed in a direction different from theirs, Liza was keenly aware what that meant for them. Judging by the mountains, they could be anywhere really, but with the sighting of the grizzly, Liza was even more concerned because now she had an inkling of where they were. These mountains, this weather, the flora and fauna they had observed. This was all familiar yet not. Where were they?
It took a while, but finally she reasoned that she was back in time in the Wild West of the United States, and there was no kidding around about any of this. She was not going to come across a quaint civilized Alpine village with happy dwellers working in their gardens and she wasn't going to come across a nice watchmaker and his shop or meet a pleasant shopkeeper in her store selling chocolates and pastries.
This was truly the Wild West of the United States she had only read about, and it frightened her. She suddenly had some mad respect for her mama as a Traveler.
Making a small campfire for warmth provided little comfort. Were there people nearby who would see the smoke or smell it wafting through the valley? Would animals
come or stay away? She searched her mind to think how to make a proper fire that did not smoke so much but her mind failed her. This campfire of hers was providing as much or more smoke as it did warmth and she was grouchy about it a little bit.
She looked over at Libby who was grazing. “I bet she is giving me time to figure out how I am going to feel about what I've done this time,” Liza sighed, realizing that her emotions were starting to get the better of her. “I bet she is wondering if I am still wondering if this was all a good idea,” she sighed again.
Libby looked up, kept on chewing, grasses dangling from the corners of her mouth, then bent back to the ground to forage.
“Good girl,” Liza said. Libby made a muted blow and a snort through her nose, and Liza knew her mare had heard her. Liza smiled.
After a little snack on some of the food she had brought with her, Liza settled down into her bedroll and tried to find a comfortable position for her head. She sat up, reached under the blanket, and removed an errant stone she had not noticed before, rolled her eyes and laid back down to try to get some sleep.
Sleep, of course, would not come. She sighed.
She thought about how impetuous she had been to run away from her parents and insist on finding the waterfall. She knew they had seen her leave the homestead; why hadn't they come after her? What had stopped them? Surely, they had seen that she had the bedroll tied onto Libby's saddle. They must have known she was leaving. Why hadn't they stopped her?
Liza turned to lie flat on her back, looked up at the dark sky and placed her hands behind her head. She mumbled a short but earnest little prayer for their safety and said a polite thank you for this nice place they had found to sleep for the night.
Liza frowned. Her mind was racing. She thought back once again to the first time she and Libby had passed through and become Travelers. That was purely by accident. They had literally run through a fog bank while on a trail ride in Arizona innocently enough and found themselves back in time.
The second occasion, she and Libby had felt a connection with the other world, and along the wooded trails on their property in Virginia, found a way to pass through, and commenced their next adventure, leading to the rescue of Anna's dying horse Abby. That trip also led to the painful separation from Libby's foal Lila but yet, that trip had had meaning and purpose.
“Why am I here this time?” Liza thought, as her mind swirled with the memories of the last five now almost six years. There, she felt it again. Since they had come through, Liza had felt something at the back of her head. It was a painful itch and when she rubbed on it the first time while gathering some kindling, Libby had looked up from grazing and had watched her for a moment. Liza rubbed the back of her head innocently enough just now and got some relief. “I must be sore from the stone I finally chucked to the side I guess,” she surmised.
Looking up at the sky, once again she could not believe how perfect it was at this moment. The stars shone so brightly, even brighter than on the darkest of nights at their ranch in Virginia and even more than on their ranch in Colorado. The stars were positively brilliant this evening.
There, she could see Orion and a few others but as for their names, tonight her mind was blank. No wait, Orion was only visible in the wintertime. Liza was confused. She could not name any of the stars or planets that she saw this night.
“Whoa, that's interesting,” Liza gasped. “I wonder if that means anything for this adventure Libby and I are on?” She chuckled. “I'm not going to try to find meaning in the stars right now,” she thought. “I guess, it's making me think of course, since I see meaning in everything,” and she laughed again, “but I sure do enjoy seeing them all up there.”
A snap of cracking wood jolted her out of her silent moment of gratefulness and back to reality.
Her right hand moved down to the rifle beside her and casually touched the pistol as well, making sure each was perfectly situated for any quick reaction she might need.
“Certainly, that must be Libby,” Liza sighed, relaxing, as her eyes searched the woods for any sign of danger.
Liza heard a snort, and realized that Libby was on her left, while the noise she had heard was on her right. Her body chilled with a sudden realization that danger was near, and she knew right away that she had to be brave.
“Libby,” she whispered, as quietly and as bravely as she could. Liza’s heart was pounding, and she almost felt nauseous from fear.
Silence.
“Libby?” she whispered once again, equally as quietly but with a tiny bit of panic rising from the pit of her belly into the back of her throat.
Her right hand tightened around the pistol. It was a .45 caliber and at this close range, would do the damage needed if this was going to be a dangerous encounter.
Liza heard Libby crunching and eating, with the other sounds no longer audible on her right. A wave of relief passed through her, starting from the calmness in her mind and running down to a little tingle of warmth in her toes, just as suddenly as the panic had risen up through her only a moment ago, which had left her cold and frightened.
Libby was calm and still eating, Liza realized. Had there been danger, surely Libby would not still be eating? Liza kept her grip on the revolver but relaxed a bit.
Then she heard the rustling of Libby's legs coming through the little pasture just here at the edge of the forest. Libby stopped when she reached Liza's camping area, and she nickered a tiny little greeting of hello.
“Scared?” Libby asked simply. “Nope.”
Libby was quiet.
“Yes, you were,” Libby said as she made a second tiny nicker.
“Not anymore,” Liza confessed, and Libby could hear the smile in the voice of her cowgirl mistress as she spoke to her.
Libby dropped her head and gave Liza a gentle nuzzle. Liza reached her left hand out and rubbed Libby's cheek.
After a quiet moment, Liza asked, “Libby, do you know why we are here this time?” Liza was puzzled and Libby wasn't certain how to answer. Of course, she knew. All horses in the Traveler network are connected across the worlds, knowing things, feeling things, realizing things of importance. Some horses, like Libby, prefer to wait to see how things unfold before they blurt out to their riders what was on their mind. Libby decided to wait to share what was on her mind.
“I might, but I can't be certain,” Libby said, answering about as honestly as she could, without betraying what she knew, or thought she knew, about this particular journey back in time.
“Would you prefer that I stick closer to you tonight, Liza?” Libby asked. Silence.
Libby took one step closer then Liza could feel the awkward movement of her beloved horse falling to her knees then flopping her butt down to the ground a moment later. She heard Libby make a grunt, not once but twice, then heard her mare blow through her nose to clear her passageways.
Libby laid her head down and moved her head a little bit forward and got herself settled on the ground of Liza's camping area. Resting there beside her mistress, Liza felt Libby's breath on her. It was warm and calm and measured and comforting. She felt each breath. In, out, in, out, in … and after a while, Liza fell fast and deeply asleep to the comforting sounds of her wonderful mare.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE GORGE
In the distance they could hear it and almost feel it before they saw it. The sounds were deafening and so much water had been stirred up that there was a fine mist all over everything. So, while they heard the rushing noise as much as a half a mile away, it didn’t take long before both Liza and Libby could also feel evidence of what they were approaching.
The sounds they heard had to be from a massive waterfall rushing through a mighty gorge. Was it her waterfall that had disappeared perhaps?
While the sounds her ears were processing told her what she needed to know, the moisture on her face and on Libby’s neck and mane confirmed everything.
Liza felt cool droplets of mist form on her eyelashes as well. And as the moisture began to drip off her, she imagined what this place would look like on the coldest of days. With all the mist, everything would look like a winter wonderland and for a poignant moment, she was sorry to be witnessing this beautiful spectacle of nature in the fall and not in winter.
Then Liza shivered.
She imagined the harsh reality of what nature was throwing at them right now. If it had been colder weather, not yet frozen, she guessed that all this moisture would pierce even the stoutest oil coat. She also imagined some poor soul who didn’t know the path around such a marvelous natural creation wandering aimlessly close to this harsh wilderness.
With no way to dry off, this work of beauty could kill. Thinking quickly to imagine what she would do if she found herself here in winter, wet to the core, she imagined trying to make a fire to dry her clothing. This close to the gorge, surely any stick of wood or kindling would be wet. So, a fire would be futile. But what if someone found themselves soaked through to their bones? Could they survive long enough to get away from this mystical frozen area to a location without wet wood where they could start a fire?
What did people do back then? Liza found herself startled. As a Traveler, she and Libby were back then right here and now.
Liza quickly thought back to something she had just learned in her home schooling. It was about the survivors of the Titanic, the massive ocean ship that had its side ripped open by a submerged iceberg in 1914. After it finally began to go under, those that weren’t sucked down into the depths forever by the surge of the current as the ship sank had
slowly frozen to death in the icy waters, waiting for a rescue that never came.
“That’s what would happen here,” Liza thought, shivering subconsciously as she imagined a horrible death from freezing in water, needles of pain searing through the body before passing out and dying.
She picked up the wooden disc there on her necklace and rubbed it, feeling the delicate carvings throughout its surface. She felt the warmth coming from it which cleared her mind and allowed her to focus.
The more she thought about it all, Liza realized that’s why sharing information about the wilderness was so vital. It’s why people shared campfires or stopped into a tavern for a meal. Engaging in conversation could mean the difference between life or death. Surely, everyone knew about this place and would know to avoid it when it really got cold. No shortcut was worth losing life, no matter how many miles it saved.
She heard muffled screams and she felt Libby stiffen. Liza’s hand went to her rifle then paused when she heard the screams again. “Help,” she heard. It was bloodcurdling and desperate yet sounded weak.
“Let’s go, Libby,” Liza urged. “Straight ahead then down to the left. Someone needs help.”
Soon, Liza saw the reason for the cries. The horse was standing there on the edge of the trail, unable to help its rider caught up in an odd swirling riptide like vortex down below. Liza could see the man’s struggles and could not understand why he did not immediately shed his heavy fur skin and canvas coat which sure enough was beginning to drown him.
“How long had he been in the water?” she wondered. As quickly as the thought occurred to her, she surmised even more quickly that he must have been headed west just as she was headed east.
“That’s right,” she thought. “We are going east. It’s the longer distance of the two for us to travel, but something
about heading to the West Coast just didn’t seem like the right decision,” she recalled, as she relived the decision she and Libby had made on which way to head.
Looking into the water, Liza deduced that this man was alone, or he had been left here to die alone perhaps. Who knew out here. Everyone had their own story, and many didn’t want to share what they were leaving behind or what they were headed to find.
“How odd it is that he’s crying for help, here, in the middle of absolutely nowhere,” Liza thought. Then she immediately sprang into action as these thoughts quickly ran through her mind. Instantly, she was in survival mode and was determined to help this man. She leapt off Libby and grabbed a length of rope from her saddle horn and made her way to the edge even as she absentmindedly fastened the loop with the horn knot and began to call out to the man at the same time.
“Calm yourself, sir,” Liza cried. “Look at me as I throw you the rope,” she urged. “Stay calm. Focus on me.”
The man’s eyes were pleading even as they bulged with surprise. Liza had thought it was odd for a person to cry out for help when they were in the middle of nowhere, and yet also knew that it was an absolute human instinct to survive by any means, even if it meant an absurd cry for help.
Yet in this case, that notion to cry out wasn’t absurd at all. It had worked, and Liza began to think that was why the man looked so surprised.
“Miss, help me,” the man cried again. “Please, Miss. Help me.”
Liza brought the rope over her head and began to make the quick swirling motions with the rope above her, the way her papa had taught her. She twirled the rope in two circles to get her aim and then whoosh, she let it fly.
In spite of numbed fingers, the man got the rope over his head and past his shoulders then grabbed on so urgently, Liza nearly fell towards him.
“Don’t make that mistake again,” she chided herself.
She didn’t know how the man’s horse was trained so she had wrapped the other end of the rope over her own saddle horn and gave Libby several commands as she turned to face the water to watch the man’s progress.
“Easy girl, back up, back up, back up,” Liza said in calm measured tones with staccato-like pauses between each command. She wanted to give the man a chance to get some footing as he was pulled up to safety.
Libby stepped carefully yet most determinedly backwards. Her butt was tucked underneath her as she strained to not only back up on the wet ground, but to pull close to three hundred pounds of man and gear and wet clothing out of the water and up the hillside. He felt like dead weight, but the man was very much alive. Libby only had a moment to look over at the man’s horse, standing there patiently on the bank, useless and helpless.
“We have saved you too, you know,” Libby muttered somewhat angrily, looking at the man’s horse from the corner of her eye. She knew that if the man died, the horse would be easy prey what with carrying a heavy saddle on its back and wearing long reins and bit and bridle with no way to escape them. “The grizzlies would be eating you for dinner tomorrow,” Libby scowled, “probably eating right through some of your pretty leather saddle too,” she admonished.
Once out of danger, the man rolled over on to his side, coughing and sputtering water as he leaned on his elbow to both prop himself up and also drag himself further away from the edge. He was exhausted and now that he was saved, the adrenaline had left his body and a true sense of his neardeath experience was weighing on his soul, Liza noticed.
“How on earth did he fall in?” Liza was thinking. It just seemed so surreal that a man out here in the wild would have been careless enough to lean over for water at this unlikely location, or to have tried to fill his canteen or something then lost his balance, thereby making him fall in.
“Fool of a horse,” the man breathed. “New to me, that horse,” he added. “Not like the one I had as a cavalryman.”
A thought popped into Liza’s head. “Are we in the 1870’s then? Late 1860’s? How can I learn from him what time period this is? Calm yourself,” Liza thought as she mulled over what the man had just said. The veterinary technician in her and pre-med nature of her compassion and helpfulness was balanced against a need to remain cautious and standoffish, for the sake of her own safety, what with being out here in the wilderness. She kept her distance from the man, once she had retrieved and stowed her rope, in spite of her curiousity.
The man rolled over and raised his knees, looking calmly out over the gorge.
“I got off, just for a moment,” the man began hesitantly. “I needed to get a stupid piece of stick out of my boots. I have no idea how it got in there but for miles and miles it was irritating me,” he continued. “Fool of a horse,” he spat for the second time.
Liza looked over at the poor creature and took a guess at what happened next.
“She got spooked and turned, slamming right into me,” he added.
“And you went in,” Liza finished.
The man was silent.
“Yep,” he drawled. “I don’t even know why I became obsessed to get that stick out of my boot!”
The man had a Virginian accent she could hear, or perhaps North Carolinian. She wasn’t sure. She didn’t feel the need to get to know his story, what with her going east and him obviously going west, something she had deduced when she saw his tracks ahead on the trail they were both using.
“I should have died today,” the man said, looking out into the distance, speaking in a melancholy hoarse whisper.
Liza was trying to read him. Was he a kind man? Violent? Dangerous? Caring? She backed away a bit when he
stood up and cautiously moved her hand to her gun there at her waist. She wanted to be ready.
The man walked over to his horse.
“Oh no, I don’t want to watch this,” Liza thought, terrified that the man was going to beat his horse for nearly killing him. She had seen competitors kick and hit their horses in the arena after a mistake they themselves had made. Too many riders took their anger out on their horses, and she was glad to see most producers and organizations penalized or even ejected competitors who acted like that.
Instead, she was very surprised as she watched what he did next.
The man tenderly held the neck of his mare as he leaned his head into her mane. His hands were on her mane as well then one hand moved over to her face and down to her nose. The man then moved his head until his own forehead was able to press in against the forehead of his mare. He stroked her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs. Liza heard a gentle snort and delicate yet almost silent squeaky whinny from his mare.
“You didn’t know any better, did you girl,” the man said. Liza was astonished. “You heard that crack in the underbrush and did what you knew to do which was to get ready to run from danger, didn’t you girl.” The man murmured some soothing tones to his horse. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for this young cowgirl, and that means you’d be dead too by tomorrow, I expect,” he added. He kept talking to his horse and petting her. She leaned into him, and Liza could see that something very special was happening to this pair.
“I don’t think his mare will ever step into his space and knock him over like that again, do you Libby?” Liza asked, absentmindedly petting Libby’s neck and scratching around her ears.
“No, she won’t,” Libby said. “I think both of them know they should have died out here this day,” Libby explained. She
looked over at Liza who rubbed her own neck and shoulder. “I guess I’m sore from all of this,” Liza said, chuckling. “We saved that man’s life, and his horse’s life too that’s for sure,” Liza said solemnly.
Libby wasn’t certain what to think and remained silent. She was hungry and wanted some grass, but she stood patiently, watching the man with his mare. What did this all mean? Why did they find him, here, in the middle of nowhere? The odds of any of this happening were extraordinary.
“There must be a reason, a purpose, for all of this,” Libby surmised.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A LIFE SAVED
The man watched as Liza used her piece of flint to expertly start the campfire that was now keeping him warm. He had discretely changed from his wet clothing and propped it up on sticks near the fire so they would dry. Occasionally, he spoke soothing tones to his horse as he stood beside her to get the dry articles of clothing he needed from the pack attached to the saddle.
The mare moved over next to Libby, and they stood there watching Liza prepare the fire.
Something about this young cowgirl made the man calmer even as he acknowledged to himself that he should not be alive to take part in any of this.
Who was she and why was she there, just at the exact moment when he was supposed to die?
He thought back to the last moments in the whirlpool when he had feebly called out a final cry for help. Why had he called out for help, he wondered as he rearranged his wet clothing once again on the sticks propping them up.
Liza looked over at Libby, who was standing there, statue-like, just looking at Liza.
“This is a very wild country,” Liza thought, “and I don’t know him,” which explained why she did not loosen Libby’s cinch very much and certainly did not remove her saddle and other tack. During other journeys as a Traveler, in the mountains of Switzerland, she had not hesitated to remove Libby’s tack each night. Here? There was too much danger. She noticed the man had not loosened the cinch of his mare that much either.
The man was quiet, and he stroked his mare one last time then sat down by the fire across from Liza. He noticed
that she was not very talkative. “She’s probably still sizing me up,” he thought, as he noticed that she kept her rifle near her and occasionally touched the revolver she wore at her waist.
That was normal and he knew it. His rifle, on the other hand, he kept in his scabbard on his mare. His instincts told him that here in the wild, he should have it handy, but he didn’t want to worry this girl who had been his savior.
“What an odd thought,” the man pondered carefully. “My ‘savior’. Is that what this girl is to me?”
He had felt lost for many years and yet right now, he was beginning to feel a sense of rejuvenation. “Is that what happens when someone knows they should have died but didn’t?” he wondered.
He noticed that the girl had pulled out some food to share. He got up and walked back to his saddlebags and pulled out some as well. His portions were meager and dull. Dried hard tack and venison and some lumpy hard bits of dried bread.
The cowgirl, he observed, had an assortment of dried fruits and nuts which when she offered to share, he almost ashamedly yet hastily accepted.
He had offered up some coffee which they enjoyed and sitting there quietly, he wondered what he should say to this young cowgirl.
“I’m from Virginia,” he said finally.
Liza nodded. “Sure,” she thought, “you can tell him you are from Virginia as well. That will fix it all just nicely,” she thought sarcastically, and she laughed to herself.
“And you?” he asked politely. “I have no family left, it’s why I have headed west,” he said sadly.
Liza looked at him over the dented metal coffee cup he had shared with her. She was doing math in her head.
“I’m going to take a wild guess his reference to being in the Cavalry meant the Civil War and he lost his family in any number of ways,” she surmised. “But I think I remember
that it’s not polite to pry here on the trails. People will tell you what they want to tell you in their own time,” she concluded, still keeping a wary eye on him as they sat.
“Oh what the heck,” she thought. “Were you in the war?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes Miss. Fought for the Union, not the South in case you’re wondering. Some people don’t care; some do.”
Then, quite unexpectedly, he began to share stories of his life. He spoke about his wife and their children and as he fumbled about in his pockets, he pulled out a locket and shared the photos of his family, tucked neatly into the frame of the locket.
Then he began to share stories of the beautiful horse farm he had in Virginia, and the trails in the mountains there at the end of the pastures, and how looking up at the stars, one of the peaks of the mountain range, with the last of the sun’s rays peaking over the mountaintop, gave the impression of the skull of a crouching mountain lion or something like that he explained.
Liza’s blood ran cold.
“This can’t be. It can’t,” she thought, trembling at the direction her thoughts had taken.
“With me not there to protect her, and with absolutely everything burned to the ground after my family had been killed, as soon as the war was over, I found myself with nothing. Nothing to live for,” he rambled. “I tried to start over. I even married again and built a small home there, away from the rubble of the first home.”
Liza felt a tear form in her eye.
“Don’t,” she thought. “Stop it,” she urged herself.
“Then she and the baby and my eldest died of something I never understood, and I felt that I had to leave and start all over again. So I have been wandering for about five years now. And then I fell into the water, and you rescued me.”
Liza did the math and finally realized they were in the 1890’s or so. Mid? Late? She wasn’t certain and didn’t want to ask.
He paused and looked wistfully at her.
“I think there is a reason for all of this,” he said almost prophetically, and Liza heard a crack in his voice that made his words waiver and stammer until he cleared his throat and tried to collect himself.
Liza thought about her friends who lived in the valley next to hers back in Virginia. She thought about how she and Libby would ride up and over the mountain behind their property, over to the neighbor’s place and then at night, all the kids would sleep out under the stars.
And she thought about how one night, as dusk was giving way to an evening of starlight, how one of the kids had pointed out that way up there on the mountaintop, if you looked at it all just right, the rock formation up there looked like the head of a mountain lion.
Liza blinked her way out of the trance she was in, when the man stood up, straightened his trousers and pulled down his coat. He tipped his hat, thanked Liza for saving him once again, and unrolling his bedroll, turned in for the night.
But first, he strolled over to his mare and stroking her gently, kissed his horse good night. Then turning to Libby, he patted her and thanked her for helping to pull him out of the water. She nickered a gentle reply.
In the morning, Liza quietly packed her things, deciding not to wake the man who had suffered so much and who, it seemed, was finally sleeping quite soundly.
Many years later, she finally understood why, that day, in the early morning light, she had pulled out and neatly tucked ten small pieces of gold bars into the man’s saddlebag with a note tied to them.
The note said, “I’m sorry I never asked you your name. But please go live a good and just life. You deserve it. Your friend, Liza.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IT’S WHITE
The scream was blood curdling. The scream was loud and piercing and never-ending. Was it a dream? No, it couldn’t be. This pain felt very real. This was not a dream she was having, not right now.
But yet she had just been dreaming and it was a nice dream of being deep in the mountains on her horse and everything was so pretty and beautiful and then all of a sudden, she had fallen off.
How had she fallen off? That was odd. She was seated on a horse and simply fell off.
And then she saw herself, there in her dream, rolling around on the ground in agony and she was screaming. She saw a girl, almost a woman, on the ground rolling back and forth and screaming from the pain. But then she woke up and realized that she truly felt the pain. She was actually in real pain.
“Help,” she cried. “Help me!” she cried again. “What is wrong with my head? It hurts so horribly. Please help me.
Why does it hurt so much?” she screamed, hands clasped at the base of her neck, rubbing almost violently at her skull.
She shook her head, trying to shake away the pain, and realized where she was. She had been confused for a moment but then it came to her all at once. She was in another world, in the middle of nowhere, with no one to help her. She had to take care of herself but oh the pain and the agony. “Help me!” she screamed again.
The screaming continued. She didn’t stop. It didn’t stop – the pain that is – it just wouldn’t stop. So, she cried for help again and again.
But this time, a nose was nuzzling her cheek and then bumping her head and shoulders and there was a firm and rather urgent nudge into her back.
“Liza, stop screaming. Whatever you do, I’m begging you to stop screaming. Listen to me please,” Libby pleaded. “You absolutely must stop screaming or we will both die. Liza, stop screaming now!” Libby begged.
Liza heard the urgency in her mare’s voice and in spite of the pain, she stopped screaming at the expense of biting the inside of her cheek.
Libby was very worried. She was concerned for her young mistress of course, but practically speaking, she was terrified that Liza’s piercing screams had just alerted every predator in all directions, both two-legged and four-legged and she urged her mistress to remain quiet.
Far away in fact, predators had heard the screams. But there was something about the noise that dimmed their curiosity. A cry in the night like that was usually from a creature crying out for help or was in pain and that signified weakness. Or it was the victory cry of a predator that had just killed some prey.
But this was different. Libby was justified to be concerned, yet on this night, no predator came closer. This specific cry did not encourage a wolf or mountain lion to come closer. They knew what it meant and they stayed away.
By now, Liza had rolled out of her bedroll and onto the soft ground and lying there, kept her hands pressed against her head. But it was something at the back of her skull, near the nape of her neck that was so tender and painful and finally, after a moment, her left hand began to rub on that area.
“Now it’s burning. Libby, why is it burning? I feel like my neck is burning up. Is it some kind of tick that’s embedded in my skin or did something bite me? Can you see fang marks? Do you see a snake, or can you sense something? Or is it a tick that burrowed right into me?” Liza wailed in horror.
Libby did not hesitate. She put her nose right there on the spot that was so painful and with her soft breath, she blew a gentle snort from her nose as she nudged Liza. Soon warmth radiated over Liza’s neck and at the base of her skull.
Libby knew what had happened but wasn’t certain how to explain it to Liza. After debating with herself for a moment or two, the wise sorrel mare decided not to tell Liza right away. Rather, she wanted to console her cowgirl mistress and try to comfort her.
“It’s not a tick. It’s not a snakebite either, Liza. My sweet cowgirl, it’s not either of those. Calm yourself. You’re not a child. Stop crying, please,” she said as Liza’s sobs of fear shifted into easier breathing. “Liza, just calm your fears and rub on the area right now,” Libby urged.
Libby’s nuzzle and her breath was comforting, and Liza began to breathe more easily. She was frightened and frustrated all at once. The pain was horrific and so complete that it felt like someone was drilling into her skull.
She kept rubbing on the area until her frantic rubbing became more soothing.
“I’m a careless idiot,” Liza hissed into the darkness, not from anger but from embarrassment. “Every creature and human in all directions will know exactly where we are,” she whispered. “Oh no, Libby, what have I done?” she said hurriedly but quietly. “I think we need to pack up and find another location to finish out the night,” she said in a panic
as she quickly grabbed for her things with her right hand, while her left continued to rub and soothe the painful spot on her neck.
“Liza, just breathe again for me, my cowgirl. Are you feeling better, even just a little bit?” Libby asked tenderly. Although Libby had been standing quietly, half asleep, not far from Liza, she had lifted her head immediately and then loped over to Liza’s side so suddenly at Liza’s first screams, that she had skidded to a halt, spraying dirt and twigs and debris all over Liza’s bedroll.
Liza was now standing straight up and shaking the dirt off the items of clothing that she had picked up. She lifted the bedroll and shook it out too. “I can barely see to pack everything up, Libby, but I’m pretty sure I can tack you up almost blindfolded,” Liza said, remembering the hundreds and hundreds of times she had tacked up Libby over the years. Fearing for their safety, at this moment she was annoyed that she had taken pity on Libby and removed all her tack tonight. Now she had to waste valuable time and she was worried.
Libby nuzzled something closer to Liza that had been lying on the ground that she had neglected to pick up and as Liza grabbed the item and put it into one of the saddlebags, Libby stood guard while Liza tied the bedroll to the cantle of the saddle and quickly packed up some of the other items that had been on the ground near her as she slept.
Libby stood with her head alert and ready. Liza knew that if there was any danger within a hundred yards Libby would sound a warning. Well, Libby could simply tell her actually, but she was still a horse and would alert Liza with a snort or whinny as well.
“Where are we going to go?” Liza asked casually even though, in the pit of her belly, she was somewhat alarmed. She had scouted out this little area as being a safe place to bed down for the night for the two of them, and had even removed Libby’s saddle on this night, but the thought of having to walk in any direction in the pitch dark worried her.
“We are headed east, and I need to find the mountain pass or we will become utterly lost,” she mumbled to herself. “Remember the directions the man from the gorge told us? I don’t want to miss my marks and miss the turn,” she sighed.
Libby looked all around and pronounced, “I can see well enough, Liza. I know where you want to go. This area is not new to me. I know where we are,” she added.
What Libby did not reveal, is how and why she knew where she was because that might have frightened Liza. Some things about the Traveler network were a little worrisome to Libby as well. She herself was still learning how deeply connected the equine portion of the Traveler network was. How could she explain to Liza that it was as if she had had memories implanted in her mind once she came through this particular time with Liza? How to tell her that some memories seemed shared with other horses? How could any of her newly acquired knowledge make any sense to Liza? It would be very hard to explain.
Libby shook herself as she stretched her neck out and made a vigorous shaking motion beginning with her head and running down the length of her body to her tail.
“Liza, we won’t go very far. If any predators come looking, they will have our scent whether we stay or move on a little way, but we don’t need to make it easy on them. So, let’s go about a mile or so and then bed down once again for the rest of the night,” Libby urged.
Liza had tacked up Libby in a hurry and lifting her foot up into the stirrup, nimbly hoisted herself onto Libby’s back. She checked her .45s to make sure they were secure, one packed and one at her waist, then double-checked that the rifle was pushed down correctly into its scabbard.
“Okay girl, lead the way,” Liza said quietly. “You’re in charge,” she added, rubbing her neck near the base of her skull one last time.
Libby started off at a steady but slow pace, walking as quietly as she could while she picked her way through the underbrush.
“Do I tell her?” Libby thought urgently. “Do I tell her that I’ve seen that kind of pain before but on someone else? What do I do; should I share what I know? Will she worry? And what good will it do for her to know what happened to her just now and what that searing pain was all about?” Libby thought.
Liza was alert and calm and back into cowgirl mode, looking all about her in the darkness and trying to help guide Libby towards certain landmarks which she knew were there in front of them.
Libby looked up at the stars.
“Where are you, Galilei? Can you help us?”
But Libby sighed realizing that she did not know a thing about the stars and their importance for navigation. However, she did know about the importance of the sun and the moon and the winds, and she understood the noises animals made as they indicated moments of peace and calm versus noises to alert other animals of impending danger.
“I’m not going to tell her,” Libby concluded. “I won’t.”
Yet Libby’s heart was in distress somewhat at this very moment because she knew this would be the first time, the first time ever, that she would not be forthcoming with important information for her beloved cowgirl.
As soon as Liza revealed she was in pain, Libby knew it was connected to the rescue at the gorge. Even as Liza made the rescue, Libby knew that the miraculous event would have consequences. “Yet we couldn’t just leave him there,” Libby sighed, concern swirling through her mind.
Tonight, she knew the truth behind the pain. Libby felt the truth flowing into her from the equine Traveler network. She could feel the wisdom of dozens of other horses flowing into her mind telling her everything she needed to
know, even as they spoke to her with one voice in one moment, and multiple voices in the next.
“Don’t allow her to do that again,” the network urged. “You cannot allow it. You just can’t,” the voices called to Libby. At first the voices were shocked and strident in their urgency then once the voices knew that Libby would listen to them, they calmed.
“I hear you all,” Libby said. So, there it was. It was suddenly all very clear. Libby knew she had an important task ahead of her. She knew she had to keep Liza safe for this evening, and for every evening of their journey. Part of her wanted to keep Liza on her back for all the next days and weeks and months of their journey.
“If Liza is on my back, she is safe. No predator can harm her. If I can just keep her in the saddle all the time, my wonderful cowgirl will not come to any harm.” Libby’s demeanor brightened as she thought of this important role of hers, the incredible job of keeping Liza safe. Then she exhaled a long breath as she realized that idea would be impossible to accomplish. Staying in the saddle forever was a foolish thought. Libby knew she could not completely protect Liza. Instead, she knew that her job was to guide her in the decisions she would be making from here on out.
And that meant it was important to guide her mistress as wisely as possible. And yet, Libby knew that she could not simply intervene whenever she wanted. She was not Liza’s parent. She was just her friend.
“Even though Liza is still a teenager, and she can make smart choices,” Libby thought, “I will guide her,” she decided.
All the while that Liza tacked her up, Libby could not stop thinking of her role as Liza’s friend and of her role as Liza’s protector. The funny thing was that being a horse with the natural instincts of an animal that is considered to be prey to another animal, if Libby kept herself safe, she would automatically keep Liza safe as well.
After a long while of making their way through the darkness, Libby had another realization.
Libby thought back to the moment she had nuzzled Liza’s neck. In the darkness, with her keen vision, Libby had seen it.
It was white. A pure and radiant white that almost shone brightly at nighttime. Libby had noticed similar whiteness on another Traveler once before and at the time had not really understood its meaning.
But there it was now on Liza, and Libby knew it was permanent.
She might not want to explain to Liza what had happened to her with the pain she just experienced, not just yet. Liza would find out soon enough what it meant.
Liza would soon see the little tuft of white hair at the nape of her neck, just underneath all her blond hair back there. Oh yes, Libby recalled sadly. She had seen a stripe of white like that before, except that the Traveler Libby had met had four tufts of white and not just one.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MUSTANGS
It was a type of intense wild energy that Liza felt and it had come on suddenly. She and Libby had been walking and occasionally trotting and slow loping along with the sun on them and an occasional friendly little breeze blowing across the landscape. Liza looked all around her at the scraggly looking trees and scrub brush and flowers and heard birds and whistles of marmots. It was shaping up to be a magnificent day.
It was dry and dusty here, and the entire area lacked the lushness of the region near the gorge. As they made their way further east, the landscape was changing. The mountains were different, the trees were different and everywhere she looked, she saw wide open space. Were they in the plains?
But it was the whoosh and energy that she felt suddenly that concerned her. Libby had stiffened.
“Girl,” Liza said. “What is that?”
Liza pressed her legs into Libby’s sides and urged her up into a fast lope, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency to get out of the open area they were crossing.
“I feel it Liza,” Libby cried. “Loosen the reins and let me run!” Libby pleaded suddenly. “I know what’s going on. I need to be free to run.”
She ran as though lightening had struck nearby and Libby quickly made her way out of the clearing and galloped towards the safety of a stand of trees. Liza was almost hyperventilating with fear. She had felt something pressing down on her and she had felt the tingling in her body and the rush of memories flooding through her before she even saw what was happening.
A cloud of dust had flown up into the air and the ground beneath them was shaking and rumbling. It was an exaggerated sense of movement that she felt, but it was all very real.
Something was running towards them, and the rush of air is what had first alerted Liza. Now she felt the rush of the wind on her face as Libby raced for the safety of the trees.
“Mustangs! This won’t be a fun encounter Liza, not like meeting up with the ponies on Chincoteague. This is a huge wild herd that was spooked. Allow me to run and don’t let up. Go ahead and kick on my sides because we need to run for our lives and get to the trees or we will get caught up in the stampede!” Libby urged.
Liza had been to the beaches of Maryland where the wild ponies wandered freely throughout the park. Libby had not been thrilled, at first, about walking into the ocean. There was something uncomfortable about the way the waves moved the sand all around at her hooves. The noise the receding water made against all the shifting grains of sand sounded like a crunching rush of gurgling terrain. That made her mare feel like the earth itself was moving underneath her and the optical illusion of the sparking sunlight against the sand confused Libby and what she was seeing and feeling beneath her hooves.
There on the beach, everything was shifting. But Libby’s reaction to it all made Liza laugh at the time, because Libby kind of tiptoed away from the shifting sands, then snorted, dipped her head to the foamy water, sniffed it then
noisily snorted again as she pawed at the sand and the waves.
She also remembered Libby’s first reaction to the wild ponies. Libby wouldn’t walk close to them and kept her distance instead. Liza liked that because she also wanted to give them plenty of room.
She actually found the wild ponies kind of annoying because their aggressiveness was a little disconcerting. They certainly were not timid, and Liza had watched unsuspecting riders get too close to the wild ponies, which was against the rules, and watched them bare their teeth and try to nip at the tame horses. She and her family and friends had had a nice day riding on the beaches that day and she recalled the fun they had afterwards, their horses safely tied up at their trailers, as everyone sipped on homemade hot cocoa and nibbled on sandwiches.
But here on the plains, Liza was scared. What did Libby mean about the encounter not being fun? “I thought meeting up with a herd of mustangs would be fascinating and fun,” Liza cried. Secretly, she was enjoying the rush she was getting from riding so hard and fast on Libby’s back, but she was also concerned by the urgency in Libby’s words.
“Quiet Liza and get the rifle ready in case you have to fire off a shot to turn the herd! Liza, get ready, this is serious!” Libby urged once again.
“Okay Libby, I’ll get ready,” Liza replied stoically.
The reality of their situation was finally sinking in because it had just occurred to her why Libby was in a near panic for their collective safety.
Libby was in estrous at this moment or shortly would be. Where there were mustangs there were wild stallions, and Libby would be in danger, which meant Liza was in danger as well.
Liza kept one hand forward on the reins and leaned to give Libby the freedom to run faster. Carefully reaching back she nimbly slid her right hand down the length of the
rifle, grabbed ahold and pulled it out. She had debated whether to wait to reach the stand of trees first to pull it out, but she didn’t and instead, after frantically levering it, had the rifle securely in her hand and at the ready.
“It’s okay, Liza, I’m running unencumbered. Keep that rifle ready now, and just stay balanced in the saddle in case I have to weave or dodge any holes in the ground coming up,” Libby stated.
“Take a deep breath, cowgirl,” Liza told herself.
This was not something she had studied or had heard discussed ever before. In any movie she had ever seen about mustangs, there were often aerial shots of the horses running free and it all looked so magnificent.
That was the complete opposite of what they were about to experience. She had once seen a round up from the safety of a helicopter, but it was nothing like being on the ground in the face of an approaching herd.
They could die right now, and Libby knew it. It’s why she was running so hard. Moreover, even if the herd stopped there in the clearing, the stallion might come over to try to take Libby as his own. The ensuing scuffle would likely get Liza thrown and then trampled. It’s not as though Libby could tell the stallion to back off. Now Liza was quite concerned and finally understood Libby’s urgency. These were wild creatures, and nothing would stop a stallion that wanted a mare.
She could see the herd, powerful legs charging forward, the cloud of dust rising in front and all around as they approached.
The horses were muscular, agile, elegant and ragged looking all at once. Their healthy look notwithstanding, Liza could see that many had scrapes and scars from life in the wilderness and from living within a herd all fighting for survival.
Had a wolf clung to the rump of the pale colored mare to make the scars she had? Had that dark bay horse brushed
too close to a thick tree branch during a scuffle between mares and gotten that long scar along her ribcage? She saw ragged ears on a number of mares, evidence of bite marks from the stallion.
Then Liza saw him when she heard his scream into the air as the stallion signaled his herd to stop. She heard the snort and watched as his body arched and as he pranced and pawed and snorted again and again.
“Liza, stay calm,” Libby pleaded.
Libby was Liza’s friend, but Liza knew that Libby was a wild creature as well.
Would urges overcome her mare, almost compelling her to try to join this herd? Liza had heard of things like that happening before. She had some friends in Utah who were out on a trail ride, seeking a wild horse encounter. The trails were clearly marked telling riders to keep their distance, both to keep diseases away from the wild horses and to keep horse and rider safe. The power of the herd mentality and the magnetism of it all surrounding these mustang herds frequently drew even the tamest horse into the herd and riders were thrown sometimes by their own horse as it clamored for a wild life.
“I don’t want to have to shoot into the air,” Liza said. “It will announce our position for anyone to hear in all directions and right now, we are still riding anonymously,” Liza explained.
“I’m ignoring him and also telling him to leave me be,” Libby said. She pawed the ground and laid her ears back and Liza was certain that if she had been standing on the ground watching Libby, she’d have seen bared teeth as well. Her mare was making it very clear that she wanted to be left alone.
Liza tried to relax but checked how she sat in the saddle, shifting silently to improve her seat and adjusting her reins in her hand.
Many horses in the herd were breathing heavily and a few had dropped their heads already and begun to eat any available grass. Liza saw all shapes and sizes and colors of mustangs. Mares and youngsters alike were eating then lifting their heads to watch the strange horse and rider standing along the tree line. They were curious yet wary of the pair.
Liza was mesmerized. She knew she would not get an experience like this ever again and she was enthralled.
But something happened she was not expecting. The stallion had calmed down dramatically and was walking over to them. Libby had relaxed too and had taken a few steps forward.
“You can put the rifle away Liza,” she heard Libby say, as her mare took a few steps closer to the approaching stallion.
Liza was overcome by the beauty and the muscular strength of this great stallion and was shocked to see that up close, beneath the dirt and rugged nature of this horse, beneath the scars he bore and the tangled appearance of his mane, that this was a horse that had once been well taken care of.
“Hello,” a voice said.
“Hello,” said Libby.
“This can’t be,” thought Liza.
“I can’t stay long, or it will confuse the mares,” the voice said.
Liza looked at the stallion. He had spoken.
“I see that you are confused,” he stated plainly. “You see, in my case, it was a grizzly and I spooked, and my rider fell off and hit his head on a rock. So I cannot return,” the stallion said simply. “But I wanted to say hello and to say that my home is here now.”
Liza stayed silent.
“That is what you were wondering, right?” he continued. “You heard me speak to you and you didn’t see a
human with me, and you wondered how this all came about, isn’t that right?”
This was a first for her.
This horse was a Traveler, that was obvious. But Travelers were supposed to remain as a pair. Their lives were in sync. They came through into a new world as one.
Years ago, she had been stunned and horrified to learn that Laura had lost her horse, trapping her here in this world all alone. Now Liza was meeting a horse who had lost his rider, which trapped him here all alone in this world. Liza had never thought about that possibility. This was a new experience for her. She tried to imagine how Libby’s life would change if she was trapped by herself.
Liza shook her head in horror.
She wanted to ask the stallion to stay and tell her more. She longed to hear about his story and where he was from and to learn about his dead rider. Most importantly she wanted to know where the pair had come through. Where was their portal she wondered? But Liza noticed he kept looking back at his herd and then made a terrifying cry into the air when he saw one mare begin to stray.
“It really is exhausting work,” he said, “trying to keep all of them safe,” he continued. “People always think stallions are just trying to procreate, which is true, but mostly we are trying to keep the herd safe,” he explained.
He began to paw the ground and prance a little, tossing his head several times in that wild circle of head and neck movements that horses make sometimes when they are feeling frisky.
“You are in estrous,” he said simply, looking at Libby. Liza noticed that Libby had begun to make little stepping movements from side to side in agitation and was beginning to fling her head about, snorting then pawing the ground.
Then, unexpectedly, she leaned her nose forward to the stallion. He leaned forward as well, stretching out his
neck and touched Libby’s nose, taking two careful and calm steps towards Libby as he did.
Both horses had arched necks and stood there for a few seconds. Libby urinated a bit, stepping her hind legs wide apart.
“Oh brother,” Liza groaned.
It was Libby who moved first, breaking the tension of the moment when the two horses had stood like statues assessing one another.
“Liza, we need to leave,” Libby said abruptly.
“But…” Liza began. “I have questions,” she cried.
The stallion reared and whirled and began to trot then lope back to his herd. His head was held high, mane flying in the breeze, tail stretched out as he ran.
“Stay safe my friends,” he cried.
Libby stopped prancing and snorted through her nose, then stood calmly watching the stallion gallop back to his herd.
“What just happened?” Liza asked.
Libby began to walk along the tree line.
“We will be safe for many days now Liza. He told me the routes to take as we travel east and told me what to avoid,” Libby said. “Put the rifle away and let’s move on.”
Liza thought she heard sadness in Libby’s voice for a moment or two. “Perhaps Libby needs more freedom from time to time,” Liza wondered.
Libby stayed along the tree line until she was well past the herd. Mares could be mean too and she wanted none of that nonsense.
Then, turning slowly, she looked behind her to observe the gorgeous mustangs one last time. The stallion was standing on a small outcropping of dirt and rocks, looking all around him. When he saw Libby, he whinnied so loudly Liza had to hold her ears.
“We will follow their tracks for a few miles then turn south,” Libby said simply.
Liza thought about everything for a few moments, and even though she was dying of curiosity, she held her thoughts inside of her. She knew Libby had learned something from the stallion, but it was obvious to her that Libby wasn’t ready to share it or she would have said something already.
Liza knew that sometimes she had her own secrets she wanted to keep, even from Libby, and now she learned that horses have their secrets too.
She would not pressure Libby to tell her what the stallion had told her. However, when Liza looked back, she could see that the stallion was watching them and that he never removed his eyes from them long after they had made their way past the herd and were far away.
It was a few miles later, when they began to follow a wildlife trail to turn south that Libby said something very curious.
“You saw the tattoo, on his neck,” Libby said, “didn’t you Liza?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DON’T GO
Belle made a noise in the pasture that was a call of tremendous urgency. The colt Galilei paced anxiously upon hearing the cry. “What’s wrong?” he cried. “Why is Belle so upset? What’s happened? Is it my mama?” he wondered, fear coursing through his thoughts.
The pretty paint was eating grass and then suddenly felt something horrible was about to happen and she made the kind of noise that no horse owner ever wants to hear. It’s deafening, like a death call, and once heard it’s impossible to ever forget.
She galloped to the pasture gate and stood there rearing and pawing at the ground repeatedly, her cries echoing throughout the valley. Galloping away from the fence, she turned back to face it, ran as fast as she could and with measured accuracy leapt gracefully over the pasture gate.
No sooner had she done it, then Belle looked and saw Liza’s mother running from the house, arms akimbo, struggling to get them into her jacket as she ran. Belle saw Liza’s father standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, looking unsure of his next steps.
“Belle!” the woman screamed. “Come to the old tree! Now!” Trotting easily, Belle made her way through the yard to the large tree stump and stood anxiously.
“It’s Liza and Libby, isn’t it,” the paint said to her mistress.
“Yes,” Bianca replied. Looking back at the house, she saw her husband then cried even louder, “I have to stop her this time!” Making a quick decision she called out, “Dmitri, we can’t let her go! We should have stopped her!”
Nodding, Dmitri cried, “Wait, I’m coming with you,” and as he finished his words, he placed his fingers into his mouth and made a piercing whistle.
Dude had already run to the gate, after witnessing the antics of Belle. Dude was the most loyal friend a cowboy could ever have. His devotion to his cowboy was a true test of love and respect and right now, he was ready to assist. Neither he nor Belle had stopped Libby from leaving with Liza, and at this very moment, they both regretted not intervening. Sensing this, Galilei felt his regrets as well.
Dmitri’s coat was on before he got to the gate and opening it, Dude quickly ran by him, nearly knocking him over, and as he closed the gate behind Dude, the horse turned and stood ready. Dmitri called to his wife, “Run, Honey run! Go on ahead! I’m coming too. Go stop her!”
Grabbing the dark mane of his powerful dun, Liza’s father easily swung himself up onto Dude’s strong muscular
back. His wife was already off galloping as fast as she could on Belle, having grabbed her mane and promptly jumping onto her mare from the tree stump.
He watched his wife surging forward on Belle as they ran through the meadows, headed to the only place they could both think of. He saw her take the shortcut and, in an instant, he was urging Dude forward. They ran, Belle’s head start keeping them ahead of Dude for a short while but then the stallion’s longer legs caught them, and they ran side by side for a while.
“Stop her! You and Dude are faster, go stop her,” cried Bianca. Dude did not wait for any commands. He could not speak in the way Belle and Libby could, but he understood. He surged forward, his powerful legs running hard and fast galloping to the location where they knew Liza and Libby were headed. They had to reach the waterfall first.
As they approached, they saw the fresh tracks in the grasses. “We might just catch them!” Dmitri cried and after he squeezed his legs, Dude surged forward even more powerfully, closing the gap between them and the waterfall.
Suddenly, they heard a whinny, one that seemed to reverberate from an echo chamber.
“Oh no,” he said. “That sounded like Libby!”
Jumping off Dude’s back, he ran down the mossy path, nearly slipping as the heels of his cowboy boots dug in and slid against the moisture of the narrow path. Running hard, he quickly made it to the mouth of the cave and dashed inside.
Moments later, Belle arrived, out of breath and frantic. But before Bianca could dismount, Dmitri came out of the cave, a serious and concerned look on his face. Bianca watched as her husband removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, sighing heavily.
“She took the gold, the ammo and the rifle. Liza and Libby are gone.”
And with that, Liza’s mother looked to the heavens and cried a scream of such anguish that every creature nearby stilled, as though in mourning for the human who was clearly suffering through something unbearable.
Bianca had made a mistake. These last five or six years, she had coddled the notion in the adventuresome nature of her daughter, forgetting to remind Liza of the dangers of being a Traveler.
Why had she allowed herself to believe that anyone else knew better what it would mean for Liza to travel back one more time? She was crazy to have let it happen. She should have smashed any notion that Liza had of traveling this one last time.
Bianca screamed a primal scream that shook the edges of the cave and echoed deep into the recesses of the cave itself, causing ripples in the water of the little pool of water there inside. What had she done?
“No, Bianca, stop,” her husband insisted. “There was nothing either of us could have done, you know that.”
His wife stopped crying and looked down at him. Her long golden-brown hair had come undone during her frantic ride on Belle and now fell loosely around her face, already betraying her anguish.
“This was all meant to be, Honey. Liza will be okay; I can feel it.” He listened to his wife’s hyperventilating soften. Stepping closer to her, he reached up and stroked her forearm as she held on to Belle’s mane, sitting all slumped forward in despair, then ended by holding his wife’s hand. Bianca looked at her husband tenderly and began to realize that Dmitri was telling her something very wise.
He continued. “Our daughter is going to be tested. She is going to have challenges, and she is going to have to be brave. She’s your daughter, Bianca. She is as strong and as brave as you were. As you are. You and I raised a beautiful, intelligent, strong and compassionate young woman. We did the right thing. This is what Liza was meant to do and she will survive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TOO LATE
He had his arm wrapped tightly around the young boy and his horse was galloping so fast, the fluid movements of his own body appeared as though he was gliding and in sync with the movements of his horse. It was as though he barely touched the saddle.
The man was strong and powerful, dressed for the elements and for stealth. The leather of his jacket was supple, handmade, and study enough for rough riding.
He turned to his right and saw the woman. She was astride her horse, not in a sidesaddle, and her skirt flew out behind her, tattered in places where the twigs and branches of trees and such had torn large holes in parts of the fabric. Sadly, her skirt looked just like the tattered flag waving in the wind before the fort was taken over, and the man winced as he thought about the moment when she had first sewn it and had shown him the pretty fabric she had gotten at the mercantile. She was so proud of that sewing job, he recalled.
He shook his head and snapped himself out of it and back to this horrible reality before him.
Looking at the woman, he realized that there was sheer panic written all over her face, and he could see in the whites of her eyes that she was almost ready to give up. Fear was consuming her. She had lost the ability to think rationally and as the man watched her, he was glad that her horse was simply following his own stallion, running hard and fast.
Her mare was running as though her life depended on it too because in a way, it did. If they were caught, she was as likely to have been slaughtered as was her rider. They were all running for their lives.
The horses were foaming at their mouths, and yet they kept running and ran harder and faster, their riders kicking repetitively and begging for more speed.
Behind them, their attackers made screeching whoops designed to induce fear. With so much noise, it encouraged the horses to run, yet the chilling nature of the sounds sometimes left both the couple and their horses nearly frozen with fear.
The woman was panicking, even as her horse ran fast for her.
“Run, Louisa, run,” the man cried to the woman. “Don’t give up. Kick her! Run! They are gaining on us. Run Louisa!” he cried, holding the boy more tightly in his arm, grateful that the child remained calm, did not cry, and didn’t seem to pick up on his own fear. The child was stoical, silent, and obedient. It was as though even he knew there was no time for tears.
“I can’t,” the woman cried. “We’re slowing down!” Fear was in her shrill cry, and as she screamed, she felt a sense of doom.
Arrows whizzed by her, one catching the fabric of her outer garment, tearing a hole in it and nicking her arm. She screamed, and her mare surged forward urgently, as if she knew that the panic in her rider meant something important, so she too ran out of fear.
Suddenly, though, there was a whoosh, and the man was hit, and he lurched forward in the saddle, nearly making a forward whiplash with his body, almost knocking the child out of his arm.
“Oh no,” he cried, as he looked down, and saw that the arrowhead had penetrated through the front of his jacket. He felt warmth running down his chest and he felt thirsty all at once. It had missed the child fortunately, but the man slumped, knowing that the end was near for him.
He heard his wife scream and looked over. Her hand trembled yet still held the reins, even as he saw that an arrow
had penetrated her as well. They had to make it to the stream. On the other side, was relative safety.
“Louisa, kick her! Ride!” he screamed, but he almost began to choke, as he felt blood fill his throat.
Still running, his stallion reached the stream and jumped, even as the man both heard and felt the arrows hitting his horse. That scream wasn’t just his own, but the scream of his horse as well. Another scream echoed; Louisa and her horse had been hit as they jumped.
“Oh no,” he said again, futility in his voice as he felt a magnificent surge of energy rush through him and his stallion almost as quickly as he felt life leaving his body. He turned and saw his wife’s mare in the air, jumping the stream at almost the same time as his stallion had jumped.
In an instant, everything changed and became quiet. The boy still clung to the front of the saddle even as he lay on his side in the soft earth. He pulled his leg out from under the dead weight of the horse and struggled to stand up.
Standing there, he was silent as he looked to his left and then to his right. His mother’s horse had made her last breaths already he noticed as he looked on at the tragic scene before him. He could see that his mother was not moving and that her eyes were closed in a sad look of pain and sorrow that told the entire story of the last horrible twenty minutes of her life.
Looking down at his father, the boy stared for a moment, even as he stood scanning for signs of life in his father’s dead body. In this agonizing silence, the boy realized that his eyes were moist.
He reached down and tenderly removed the leather pouch that was slung over his father’s shoulder. As he gently removed the pouch, careful not to bang on his father’s face with it, he reached over and picked up the pocket watch neatly tucked inside his father’s vest. He wasn’t sure what to do; did he need to run to safety? There was no noise. Was he in a dream? Where were the sounds of the war whoops?
Where was the noise of attackers? And where were the arrows? Why had everything gone silent?
Almost in a trance, he walked over to his mother. Bending over, he delicately removed the necklace from her neck and as he did, he realized he still felt warmth from her. She had been carrying a purse-like satchel slung over her thin shoulder and he removed that from her body as well. He stroked her hair and touched her face.
In a bizarre yet tender motion, he bent down and picking up some of her hair, now with a tangled mess of twigs, leaves, and mud through it, he solemnly breathed in the scent of her long hair.
It was a tender yet odd thing to do. But he was in shock.
He looked all around him. He looked up towards the sky and looked at the branches of the trees above him.
He didn’t know what to do, but what he did, in picking up the personal belongings of his parents, was methodical and looked almost like the scene had been choreographed and that he had been receiving instructions to do this next or that, one step at a time.
He stood and looked at his dead parents. He heard voices and saw movement. Instinct kicked in, as he reached for his father’s musket.
“No, young man, no. Stand very still,” he heard.
And then he collapsed at the knees and fell down hard onto the ground, hitting his head against a rock.
Looking over he saw that the eyes of his father’s young stallion were open and alert yet frightened at the same time.
But then his world swirled and turned, and all the noises around him became peaceful and calm, and suddenly, lightness turned to darkness.
Young Adam was out like a light.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WHAT LIBBY SAW IN THE MOONLIGHT
Liza was fast asleep in her bedroll, which she had nestled into the leaves to make a kind of wilderness mattress for herself. She had gathered up a pile then laid her bedroll on top before it had gotten too dark that night. Once the rustling noises of the leaves went away, she found herself oddly comfortable lying there while listening to the crackling noises of her little campfire.
She woke up once when she realized the fire had died a bit, and heard chomping and munching from Libby, patiently gobbling and nibbling at the grasses she had found. Liza felt comforted when she could hear Libby’s tail swish a few times.
“It’s nice here,” she thought, as she got up, stumbling a bit, and tossed another broken branch of dry wood onto the fire. She did a little stretch as she ambled back to her bedroll, the nighttime chill already nipping about her fingers and nose. Feeling the chill, she hustled to climb in and pull the blanket over her and then fell asleep once again.
Libby lifted her head suddenly and stood stock still.
Her tail did not move. She had stopped chewing, and except for one ear that moved forward and back and then to the side, she did not move a muscle. She looked over to where her mistress was fast asleep. She noticed the red, orange, gray and black embers of the dying fire and then blinking her eyes to refocus, turned to look out into the blackness of the night.
Her nostrils flared for a moment, because the mare had noticed something. Both of her ears moved forward. She
had definitely heard something. Libby took one step forward, quietly and with stealth.
“What was that?” she thought. Her nostrils flared again as she breathed in the very essence of the nighttime, trying to discern if she had indeed noticed something wild and dangerous or perhaps only something wild and nonthreatening. Her ears continued to move about, trying very hard to listen for any evidence of what she was sensing.
Her skin quivered, as though a fly had alighted, and she wanted to encourage it to move off her body. Horses could pinpoint the lightest of touches, even from a tiny insect, and knew exactly which part of their body to force into a shiver-like movement to get the creature off of them.
Except nothing had landed on Libby, or had it?
The skin near her shoulder at the base of her neck shivered on the opposite side of her body this time.
“Warmth,” she thought. “I feel something warm, as though it’s landing on me, but what is it?”
Libby quietly yet rapidly whipped her head backwards, the way horses do when they want to bite at a horse fly that has begun to sting, as she tried to nibble at this invisible, unknowing thing that was all around her.
Nothing. She felt the warmth again, but this time when she looked backwards, she saw a mist of copper, gold and silver covering her tail, then her butt, then her haunches and finally watched as it began to cover her back. How to describe the way something that shimmers actually feels? It was impossible in fact. But that was what Libby was experiencing. She stood very still, watching and waiting.
The shimmer of colors continued to cover her body, and Libby felt a kind of paralysis that wasn't exactly unpleasant, and the way it made her feel was difficult to put into words.
“I feel lighter, wiser, and calmer,” she thought. “Who are you?” she asked into the nighttime air. No answer.
The breezy mist of vibrant metallic colors continued to envelope her and looking cross-eyed at her own nose, she
could see that it appeared her entire body was covered in a cloak of these metallic shimmering colors.
“Do you feel it?” Libby heard. She remained silent.
Libby felt powerless to reply, but she tried not to worry what this might mean.
“Are you able to see what I am trying to show you?” Libby heard the voice say, this time, slightly louder yet still, spoken with a pleasant calmness.
Libby's mind began to whirl. She saw many horses and most were running, both majestically and occasionally quite fearfully. She saw battlefields, from across all times and places, and there were flags and banners waving, men and beasts falling to the ground, as well as valiant charging steeds all caught up in some kind of fierce battles that had clear victors and aggressors.
She couldn't discern the clothing of the men and she couldn't get a grasp of the tack she was seeing on the horses; some were ridden bareback, some with barely any kind of saddle or bit, and some were fully tacked up in a more conventional manner.
Who were these people and why was this mist, this thing, showing any of these images to her?
“What am I supposed to do with these visions?” Libby asked, her throat no longer paralyzed, and her body feeling warmed and brighter and more cheerful. The mist was still enveloping her, but she noticed that it was moving off her body, leaving her tail, then her butt, then it swirled beautifully from her haunches up high into the air. When she went wide-eyed to watch it, Libby saw another part of it swirl off her nose and then form a flowing mass in the air in front of her.
“I wonder if Liza can see any of this?” Libby thought. She looked at the mist that was beginning to take shape right in front of her. Was the shape hovering or standing on the ground? Libby could not tell.
Then Libby almost gasped, when she saw what the mist was finally beginning to reveal, as it continued to form into a shape, the coppers, silvers and golds all binding together into a whirl of legs and arms and bodies and even wings.
“Now I wonder if I am really seeing all of this?” Libby thought again, this time, as though she was having a debate within, trying to convince herself this was both a dream and something real all in one. But then she knew the answer.
“I see you,” Libby said, slowly and reverently she realized, once she finally deciphered what was happening. Libby had not been forewarned exactly, but she was now convinced that her experience right here and at this moment had been foretold to her many years ago. Libby simply hadn't understood the meaning of the message she had received a long time ago across the ages. Libby suddenly had conflicting emotions just then, finally understanding the challenge that had been placed before her, and the urgency of the request that had just been made of her.
“I understand,” Libby murmured, “and I think I am up to the challenge,” she added. The mist was no longer on her, yet she felt that mysterious warmth once again, and it truly felt wonderful.
“And you want Liza to be a part of this?” Libby asked suddenly, somewhat worried and scared for the safety of her cowgirl mistress. “I just don’t know if I want her to take part of this!” Libby said stubbornly.
Then she felt a sting. It hurt.
“Ouch,” Libby said indignantly. “You didn’t have to do that. That’s not how to get my attention,” she cried.
The spot where she had been stung, if it was a sting, suddenly felt warm and comforting and Libby almost felt as though she was receiving an apology from the life force in front of her.
She saw the wings. Were they from the beast or the figure? Was there one set of wings or two? Two! Libby saw them. They each had a set of wings. Oh this was wonderful
and marvelous all at once and out of reverence and a deep sense of respect, Libby bowed, legs forward with one bent and one straight as though she was making the kind of bow meant for a queen.
Then Libby stood up straight, and timidly stepped forward and reached out her nose. The creature in front of her reached its nose out too, and Libby felt the warm breath of this outer worldly creature breathing out something delicious and comforting.
“I can do this,” Libby replied. The creature stood straight and tall and glorious once again, and no longer had its neck stretching towards Libby. It stepped side to side in a little prance while it stood there in place, then snorted.
As Libby looked at the figure in front of her, astride the creature, its features became clearer even as it remained difficult to comprehend. Was that a sword or a staff that was being held in its right hand? Libby wasn't certain how to feel about it all, but she stood calmly as the figure stretched out its arm and the staff or sword fell forward, gently touching Libby on her shoulder.
Something tinkled throughout the crisp evening air, as though the sparkles of billions of diamonds and the dancing of snowflakes would make noises if anyone could imagine the noises they might make. Libby heard it as the creature began to walk away.
“Wait,” Libby cried. “I have questions,” she said. “I think I know what you want me to do, but I need to know if she will
be safe,” Libby begged. “I need to know,” Libby begged again. “I think that’s a fair question for me to ask.”
The figure turned and the creature turned as well. Finally, Libby heard the voice, melodic and soothing and lovely all in one.
“Are you asking me if Lila or if Liza will be safe?”
Libby was horrified. She hadn't thought to think of Lila at this moment. She had only thought of Liza.
She was saddened by this reply to her question. It almost felt for a moment as though she was supposed to choose and that made her extremely uncomfortable.
Ever the very calm horse, Libby however felt a panic rising inside of her, and her throat constricted, and she became horribly sad. She bowed her head and all of a sudden, felt an unbearable burden.
“Lift your head, you glorious mare, lift your head and stand proudly. I will never force you to make that choice,” the voice said, and then it turned and walked into the night.
Libby lowered her head, then stood and watched the apparition disappear. She looked over at the location of Liza’s bedroll and knew what lay before them. She exhaled and made a slight flutter of her lips.
After a few moments, Libby dropped her head to the ground, and ate the delicate and nutritious patches of fresh grasses that had appeared in the imprints of the footsteps of the majestic creature that had stood before her, only moments earlier. She stepped forward to nibble slowly and reverently from these patches and her mind calmed and yet became resolute all in one with each step she took.
She lifted her head and looked back at the bedroll for some reason, then, distracted by the grasses in front of her, resumed eating.
“So this all involves Lila too,” Liza said secretly to herself, the bedroll wrapped up and around her head, her eyes barely visible as she watched the creature and its mistress disappear into the chilly evening air.
THE BOARDINGHOUSE AND GOOD FOOD
About the only thing Liza could do was try to fit in to the reality of their surroundings. For several weeks, she and Libby had crossed through horrifically wild country and these last days in particular she was ready to rest up a bit. Her surroundings had been breathtaking, and she was glad to traverse her beloved country on horseback. But she was tired of hunting for small game and patiently trying to catch fish with a rod she had fashioned. She was exhausted and needed respite.
Even though they were encountering more and more signs of life and had passed by a tired looking wagon train recently, each day she hoped and prayed that when she awoke, it would be to the comforting sounds of Libby chewing on grass and not to be looking into the eyes of a wild creature or an evil human being intent on harming her. Some nights she was truly frightened, and this had all exhausted her.
Knowing she had Libby was comforting, because at least she could talk to her. Libby provided another source of comfort because her senses were keener than Liza’s. Had she
ever noticed something awful, Libby would have alerted Liza immediately.
One night, after Liza had removed Libby’s tack and stowed it in that special way that she did to speedily saddle Libby back up in case of an emergency, Liza wrapped her arms around Libby’s neck and breathed in her scent and just stood by her side. As far as she could tell, nothing was stirring in the evening noises that was troubling. Birds and creatures made their normal sounds and movements in the brush so that was comforting somewhat.
But something in the nighttime air still didn’t seem quite right. It’s not like there was an odd noise and dangerous sounding movement in the underbrush or some kind of a sudden silence or anything like that, indicating the presence of a predator, two-legged or otherwise.
Yet it just didn’t seem that all was well this evening. Libby was puzzled by this too and decided to ask Liza what was on her mind.
“What’s troubling you, Liza?” Libby had asked. “We are having a good crossing, just the two of is. Everything is going well. No snakebites, no attacks, no hoof cracks or breaks or abscesses or torn tendons, there has been plenty of food and water for me, no grizzlies or wolves attacking us…”
“Yet,” Liza interrupted.
“As I was saying,” Libby continued, with a kind of “harrumph” to her as she cleared her throat. “What I meant was, that we are doing just fine. We are taking care of one another. You know, when you were fourteen, you seemed more confident than you are right now, Liza. Remember all your training as an intern with the veterinarian and how you helped save Abby when we passed through the last time?” Libby paused for emphasis.
“You acted very mature then. But now, too often you seem to waiver between being a confident young woman versus acting like a very young child who wants someone else to be taking care of her. I feel as though lately, you’ve
been seeming a little discombobulated, and out of sorts. What’s really troubling you, my wonderful cowgirl?”
Liza had to think about this. She reflected back on that one time when she had listened to some adults at their new home in Colorado discussing all of the responsibilities that came with age. They also alluded to some of the risks they had stopped taking as riders in the arena. One of them joked that when you knew the price of a visit to the emergency room at any hospital and knew how long it took to heal from a major injury, you kind of stopped taking certain kinds of risks.
Liza had mulled it all over in her mind after she heard the conversations and had vowed to always feel comfortable feeling free and to take risks.
But now? Here she was, all on her own and older and wiser for sure. She was nearly eighteen and felt more mature than she did the last time she had traveled, but Libby’s words resonated with her. It wasn’t enough to be afraid; now that she was older, she knew the consequences of poor decisions out here in the wilderness, and some of these facts and concerns had weighed heavily on her mind these last weeks.
She was grateful that Libby had brought up this topic, frankly. They had a good talk about what it means to feel responsible and what it means to be scared and what it means to simply decide not to be frightened but to take life in one’s hands and run with it.
So that day, looking out on the horizon, after weeks and weeks of travel, she was comforted to finally see signs of civilization. From the distance, she could see buildings of all shapes and sizes but mostly, what stood out, was the relatively tall spire of the prairie town’s church. It seemed to be at the one end of town along the main street from what she could see, and she took that to be a good thing. Where there were churches, there were women. Women meant children. And children meant families and in theory, families meant law and order and relative safety.
Nevertheless, she was certain that being a young woman and traveling alone on a fine-looking mare was no way to come across as fitting in. On top of that, they carried themselves with a confident manner about them, the kind that often drew attention in its own way. Realizing that, it occurred to Liza she could feel stares burning into her back as she dismounted after walking Libby into the small town. She didn’t want any attention here, but she felt uncomfortable suddenly. Liza was an outsider, and she knew there would be questions. She wanted to fit in.
Liza tried to think about all the cowboy Western movies she had seen and all the books she had read about moments just like this. In the movies, some kind of friendly person would offer to take her horse safely into the town’s livery and curry Libby then give her grain, fresh water and hay. She was expected to pay that person to help, or even pay a small child who, in the movies and stories at least, would come over with a happy smile on their face to offer to take her mare off her hands.
“This is so weird,” Liza thought, then quietly murmured her thoughts to Libby, whispering into her mare’s ear.
“Quiet,” Libby hissed, politely. “I don’t think this is a friendly place. Look at everyone. This is a town that has struggled and won’t make it for much longer.”
Liza tried to seem casual about the way she had dismounted and then loosened Libby’s cinch just slightly. Now she wasn’t certain she wanted to stay here in this town, because frankly, Libby’s keen observation seemed accurate and the desolate look to the town was giving her the creeps. Admittedly, the town looked larger than she had thought initially, but it also looked chaotic somehow and disorganized.
Looking down, on the pretense of checking the cinch once again, Liza tried to hide her face so she could speak safely with her mare.
She could feel the eyes of curious townspeople burning into her back once again, and that made her even more uncomfortable.
“Should we leave?” she asked simply.
“No,” replied Libby. “That would draw more attention and if you left now, we would certainly be followed,” Libby explained calmly.
Liza fussed with the saddlebag for a moment then heeding Libby’s wise advice, unhooked it and threw it over her shoulder, a clear indication that she would be staying. As casually and as expertly as she could, she removed the rifle from its scabbard. She slowly but calmly slid it out in a professional manner. As she did so, she kept her cool and out of the corner of her eye, she was quite certain she saw someone, some disreputable cowboy she concluded, take a step backward from where he had stood lazily nearby watching her every move.
No one wanted to mess with someone who was properly armed, she hoped, and while Liza did not present herself as a troublemaker, she also did not want to come across as a naïve damsel in distress either. Both demeanors could cause their own kinds of trouble.
“Stop hanging your head, cowgirl,” she told herself. She lifted her gaze and met the stares of anyone who looked at her. She smiled at friendly faces, and kept a firm look and a scowl on her face when she saw potential troublemakers. After a few moments, Liza was pretty certain that anyone looking at her and assessing the newcomer soon concluded that it might be a good idea to just leave the stranger alone.
Liza’s nerves calmed a bit, so she walked Libby closer to the entrance of the livery. There was a whinny from within and Libby made a low and calm whinny back to the other horse deep inside the building.
“I will be safe here,” Libby said quietly. “The other mare just told me the owner is generous with the grain and hay, regardless of the state of the town, and that the water is fresh here too.”
Liza looked into her mare’s eyes and nodded.
“Miss, may I take care of your horse?” a little boy asked. He had come out from behind a wall of the stable and had surprised Liza a bit. He was dirty but wore the clothes of someone who had parents or family of some sort to mend what he wore. His hair was a bit long and had straw in it. He seemed friendly.
“Certainly,” Liza said, smiling at him and after taking a small coin from her pocket, she gave it to him. Not too much, and not too little, and she made a mental note of thanks in her head that she had been able to change some gold into coins. In this town at least, she did not have to flash any gold in front of anyone.
“This is Libby,” she explained. As the boy shyly took Libby’s reins from Liza’s outstretched hand, Liza listened as he spoke kind words to Libby and walked her slowly into the stable, guiding her carefully to avoid some debris on the ground. Liza relaxed when she saw that the boy stroked Libby’s neck. She watched her mare walk along with him, long tail swaying back and forth as she walked with the confident yet contented movement of a happy horse.
Determining that Libby was in good hands, and that frankly, she would have to have faith that the young boy knew what he was doing, Liza took another look at the town.
From what Liza could see, she thought Libby was correct in her initial assessment of this town. The streets were deeply rutted and the boardwalk through town was falling apart.
But as she looked around however, while the boy had untacked her mare, she quickly reassessed her initial impression of the town.
Not only was the town larger than she had thought at first, but there was a train that ran on the outskirts, there on the south side of town.
It wasn’t a boomtown, but it was growing not dying. Homes and other buildings were being built and she saw carts of freshly hewn lumber passing through the town. In truth, the
rutted streets were signs of use, indicating a vibrant economy even though the condition of the streets made passage difficult. As for the boardwalk, she noticed a pair of men with tools and new boards stacked in a cart beside them making repairs and extending the boardwalk down several new streets.
There were people going about their business who did not look unfriendly even as they did have a wary yet curious eye for a newcomer like herself.
Liza decided to head for a boardinghouse, if there was one, for a meal and to secure a safe place to sleep. Every fiber of her being wanted to go ahead and just eat and then return to the stable and bed down in the straw to be close to Libby. But frankly, she was eager for something more comfortable after weeks of sleeping in a bedroll on the ground.
She smiled when she recalled a conversation she had once had with her cowgirl mentor, Anna, about the misery of sleeping on the ground. She had told Anna something along the lines of, “Trust me, children don’t like sleeping on the hard ground either!”
As her eyes scoured the town, she saw what she had hoped to find. “Ma’s Vittles” was there on a plucky handpainted sign, hung neatly over the doorway of a modest twostory wooden building.
Vittles meant food, and suddenly, Liza realized she was very hungry. But a boardinghouse meal meant encountering people probably full of questions. Was she up to it all?
She hadn’t had to explain herself that much over all these weeks of travel and she hadn’t been scrutinized by anyone that much at all either.
But she knew that the more she headed east, the more she would encounter multitudes of people. She sighed. She didn’t want to have to explain herself all the time. Why were people so curious? She wanted to be left alone.
She sighed again. She struggled to think up a story to explain her presence here and moreover, to explain why she
was all alone and headed east when it seemed that the entire population of the United States was headed west.
It wasn’t so much that people in a boardinghouse gossiped. It was that this was a central place to exchange information in a world where high speed internet, cellular phones and other information devices simply did not exist.
In this time period, out here, newspapers were hard to come across and using the telegraph was still expensive. No, the best news was still spread by word of mouth. Liza was going to have to invent a story and would have to take part in the mealtime gossip or risk sticking out and causing trouble.
With a name like “Ma’s” Liza hoped this establishment had a friendly lady at the helm, providing a clean and comfortable place to stay, with a somewhat nutritious if not filling meal.
Liza took a deep breath, put her hand on the wrought iron doorhandle, pushed it down, then opened the door and stepped inside.
A woman looked up and seeing the rifle said firmly, “Leave it at the door,” and Liza obliged. Her .45 was tucked inside her jacket and she wasn’t letting go of that for sure.
“I’m looking for a meal and a place to sleep,” she said simply. The woman looked her over, nodded, explained the prices and the options for Liza then handed her a heavy key. She pointed towards the stairs and described where Liza’s room was located. “It’s clean,” she added with a nod.
“Hot baths are out back,” she explained. “Food is ready when you want it,” she added.
A young servant girl gave her a towel and pointed to the back door.
“Five minutes?” Liza asked simply. The girl nodded and headed to grab a pitcher to fill with hot water from a large pot sitting there on the stove. This wasn’t going to be a truly hot bath, Liza realized, but it would be fresh enough water she hoped. No matter what, it sure was going to be refreshing
though. Liza regretted that her clothing was so filthy from everything, despite the care she had taken to try to stay clean.
The girl pointed to a sign indicating the prices to have clothing washed. “I can have it all ready for you Miss before bedtime,” she promised.
Her bath in the large metal tub was glorious and she was delighted that they even had a bar of soap. She soaked until the water chilled, then she returned to her room. After changing and giving the girl her clothes then leaving her valuables in her room, she locked the door behind her and held her breath before she returned to the dining area. “How secure was this room anyway?” Liza thought. “This would be the perfect scam. A fantastic little game to play on unsuspecting guests,” she thought even more deeply. She frowned. She was going to have to trust her instincts. She pocketed the key and headed back down the stairs towards the scent of home cooking. At some point, she knew she had to trust her instincts.
The clientele seated there in the eating area was a motley collection of people from all walks of life in all manner of dress. Liza had arrived at the perfect time; the evening meal was just being served.
A preacher was seated alone, and near him was a father, mother and two children. Attempts had been made to clean their faces, but Liza saw the dirt behind their ears as she nodded to them. At another table was a man who looked like a gambler, with worn clothing, slicked back hair and two guns on his hips. She nodded yet again then continued to look around the room. “No women,” she realized, except for the woman in the family group who, she noticed had sniffed a bit when Liza had walked by.
“Great,” she thought. “People judge you no matter what point in time you are in,” and Liza laughed a bit at that realization.
There was another man seated in the corner of the room, who kept his eyes on her but not in a way that seemed intrusive, merely curious. Somehow, he seemed both
hardened and kind and Liza nodded to him at the same time as he nodded to her, politely touching the brim of his wellworn hat. He appeared to give a little flick of his head and glanced to the empty place setting near him, then returning his gaze, softened it. Liza made a snap judgement and climbed over the bench and sat down across from him.
“Bud,” he said, extending his hand. “Liza,” she said simply, offering hers and shaking his. She felt the callouses there on his right hand but didn’t look down and stare. This was a cowhand and someone who had been all over and worked hard, she deduced. Nothing wrong with hard work as she knew, and something about him garnered her respect even before she knew his story.
“Heading east or west?” he asked.
Well, she wasn’t ready for that question. She had not yet formulated her story. The small talk in the room seemed to quiet down when he asked his question, she noticed, as though everyone in the room wanted to hear the answer.
“Lie or tell the truth,” she wondered. Half-truth she decided. “South,” she said, and watched the man smile.
“She’s playing it close,” he surmised. “Smart young woman,” he thought again. “I shouldn’t have made her choose,” he thought, suddenly realizing an innocent question like that to a woman traveling alone could lead to harm. He decided not to put her on the spot with any more probing questions like that. “I’ve found that saddles are safe over at the livery,” he said. “In case your horse is there,” he added. “No need to bring it in here with you in case you are wondering,” he said with a smile.
Liza looked at him and nodded. She was dying of hunger and everything from the kitchen smelled so good. Where was the food?
“Let us pray,” she heard the preacher say.
Liza sniffed the air and felt and heard her stomach growl loudly. The two children laughed quietly and as soon as the preacher had finished, made from scratch biscuits were placed on the table and a thick hearty stew was ladled
into the ample sized bowls in front of everyone. There was butter and small crocks of jam to accompany the steaming hot biscuits, a ceramic pot of black coffee and some kind of bottled ginger drink was placed at the end of her table. Liza smiled when she thought of the words “made from scratch” that had flashed through her head. Everything was made from scratch here!
“Dig in,” Bud said. “Don’t be shy. There’s plenty more for your money,” he added.
Liza was famished and began to eat quickly. Then she realized she needed to slow down, or she’d get sick. She chewed slowly and savored the flavor of it all. She had been so hungry that when the food first came into her mouth, she had that little pain in her jaw line that a person gets when they are really hungry, and their brain realizes that food is here finally. She hoped Libby was enjoying her grain and hay in the stable. She also hoped her sorrel was safe. If her saddle was safe, according to Bud, Liza would have to presume that her beloved mare was safe too.
Bud spoke about the places he’d been to and the ranches where he had worked. Some of the stories he told allowed Liza to realize that her late 1890’s deduction had been accurate because at one point, he referred to celebrations being planned in a few years to commemorate the new century. As he spoke, he made a point of telling Liza some of the best ways to get east. There were multiple routes that would get a person there safely and he emphasized that there was a new kind of train that hauled horses even more comfortably than ever before, as he encouraged her to investigate catching it the next day.
“South, Bud, I said I’m going south,” Liza said, smiling, politely correcting the cowhand as he ate his pie.
He nodded. He knew which way she was going. There could be no doubt. He had seen her come into town earlier and watched her put her mare up at the livery. “Don’t cause trouble for her, Bud,” he thought. “She’s trying to be brave, but I can see that she’s just being cautious. Teach her what she needs to
know, and don’t make her feel uncomfortable anymore,” he chided himself.
Liza kept her story brief, dull and believable. She recounted that she was heading to find family that lived in Florida and wanted to rest here for a few days. She let the other people believe that story as she listened to all of theirs. She had noticed that people liked to talk about themselves so when there was a pause, and she worried someone was going to ask her something about herself, she merely asked another question to get them talking about themselves once again.
Bud watched her closely. “She good. She’s smart and she’s careful. She’s going to be alright. I told her about the train, and that should get her a good part of her journey closer to where she needs to go,” he thought, smiling as he sipped on his coffee. He had more questions for her, that was certain.
But the next day, Liza was nowhere to be seen. The servant girl was disappointed to find that the young woman had gone but was delighted to see that she had made her own bed and kept the room perfectly tidy.
After breakfast Bud grabbed an extra biscuit and walked outside to eat it. Standing there, he slowly leaned against the wooden pole of the roof support, looking off into the distance at the train that was pulling away from the station, a sorrel mare peering through the bars of the livestock car. He had hoped to see the young woman again but seeing the sorrel on the train made him happy.
“Good luck, young Liza,” he said quietly to no one in particular as he flipped a wooden coin in the air, the sign of the Traveler clearly visible as it landed in his calloused palm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE NASTY CHESTNUT
Liza stood by Libby as the train came to a halt. It wasn’t a smooth stop, not like the kind of stop her father made while he was driving the dually and hauling the horses in the trailer. This was an awkward and rather quick stop that made all the horses in the livestock car stumble and scramble to maintain their footing, smashing into their dividers as they struggled to find their balance again.
“Easy girl,” Liza said.
“That one mare,” Libby scowled, “that one chestnut mare,” Libby continued, drawing out her words to emphasize her displeasure. “Liza, that mare…she was not nice at all, you know. Not to me and not to any of the other horses,” Libby said, practically hissing. Liza could tell that a fair amount of this recent journey had not been pleasant for Libby. So Liza was glad she had snuck into the car to ride with Libby for these last
few hours. Sneaking in wasn’t easy but a trainman at the last stop had helped her with a friendly wink and said, “My daughter loves her horse, so I understand.”
Liza petted Libby on her neck down to her withers and then stroked her back. She rubbed down along the muscles beside her mare’s spine and ran her fingertips on Libby’s rump in such a way that her mare tucked her haunches and stretched.
“I finally kicked her, Liza, I really did,” Libby said. “I asked her enough times to stop her nonsense, so finally, I took my left hind leg and just kicked her.”
Liza gasped. “Not too hard I hope.”
“Not at all, but she deserved it, and my kick really shocked her, that’s for sure.”
Liza stifled a laugh and tried to keep a straight face. It must have been unbearable for Libby, being a horse that was so easygoing that she rarely needed to pin her ears back at another horse.
Libby continued her story. “Now she won’t even look at me, but she’s mellowed ever since my kick, that’s for sure,” Libby admitted. Liza listened patiently and looked at the guilty chestnut from the corner of her eye.
Libby continued her story. “I tried asking her nicely, you know. Then I reminded her, you know, like when you are training a new horse in the arena. You ask and you remind the horse. Well, that’s what I did with the chestnut. At first, they had us all tied here together on a long line and it’s not like I could get away from her. I put up with as much of her nonsense as I could stand, then I just kicked her and told her off that way,” Libby said sheepishly. “Then they switched us over to this special horse railcar with the stall dividers at one of the other train stations as you recall and that improved things a bit. But she is a wicked thing,” Libby hissed.
Liza noticed that her mare flattened her ears and started to bare her teeth when Libby noticed the chestnut still trying to give her the side eye.
“There’s no reasoning with this mare!” Libby sighed. “I had to deal with this the entire trip. I’m glad we are almost at our destination,” Libby said, relief in her voice. “We are almost there, aren’t we?” Libby asked, clearly desperate for this train trip to be over.
They had come a long way so far. Liza was admittedly feeling a little bit guilty because her accommodations had been much better than Libby’s. She had a comfortable berth in the Pullman sleeper car and was able to sleep and freshen up for her portion of the trip. She had enjoyed the rhythmic noises of the wheels meeting the rails and the gentle sway of her car helped her to get a good night’s sleep. She was glad for Bud’s idea of train travel; this saved many days of riding.
But Liza decided not to explain how much she was enjoying the trip to her mare. Libby’s trip had been miserable and all she wanted to do right now was console her horse.
“I promise to give you a good rubdown when we get off,” Liza said. “When are we getting you off?” Liza added, irritation rising in her voice. “They sure slammed on the brakes. We’re here, at least I thought we were,” Liza said, clearly puzzled.
Liza nearly jumped when she heard a massive explosion of the release of steam from the engine way up front, nearly eight cars ahead of theirs.
“I can see buildings,” Liza exclaimed, peaking through the slats of the side of the equine rail car. “I think we’re here,” Liza concluded. She caressed Libby in the area of her halter that had nearly rubbed some of Libby’s cheek raw during their days of train travel. Liza felt guilty about this and made a mental note to pull out some salve to sooth the sore that had cropped up on one of her sides as well.
“Seriously, mare, stop it,” Libby said to the chestnut, as Libby laid her ears back once again at the troublesome mare who had danced and pranced a little closer to Libby’s partition in an attempt to position herself to deliver a double kick to Libby. As Libby raised her voice, the chestnut
straightened her posture, and rearranged herself, stepping away from Libby.
Liza watched all of this, keeping her own body out of the way. Nothing uglier than a fight between angry mares and she did not want to innocently get caught in the middle of it.
After the sounds of steam being released subsided, Liza heard voices outside, the sounds of men calling to one another to get doors open to allow passengers to disembark and to open up the livestock and various sliding cargo doors.
The horses knew what was happening too and became restless. There were whinnies and stomping and pawing from many of the horses. It was noisy. Every one of them wanted to be off of this train.
Suddenly the main doors to their car slid open and Liza listened to the movement of stomping horses as they became agitated again, some clearly ready to disembark.
“Whoa there, young Miss. What are you doing in here?” a loud voice said. Liza had already unhooked Libby from the tether, and with the saddle and tack in one hand, and saddlebags over her shoulder, she was ready for the stall dividers to be removed. Liza was anxious to get off and continue her journey on horseback.
“We are ready to disembark, sir,” Liza said, holding a set of papers in front of her. The man raised his eyebrows not expecting such efficiency and also a little doubtful that such a young woman would be the owner of this fine mare. He looked at the paperwork, showing ownership of Libby and payment for her passage. He looked at Liza’s own ticket, reading it quickly then motioned for her to lead her horse onto the ramp to get out into the muddy street below.
Before she left, the man scrawled his initials as an approval and handed the papers back to Liza. He tipped his cap and said with a smile, that surprised her, “There you go Miss. Just head straight out and down the street. You will find a boardinghouse and a livery nearby if you are so inclined to stay in town a while,” he said kindly.
Libby wanted to answer but Liza made a hush noise and pretended to clear her throat.
“Thank you, sir, but we will be on our way. We both need some exercise.” Taking the papers back from the man they walked down the ramp.
Liza tacked up Libby just off to the side and secured the saddlebags, bedroll and other items, then put her rifle into the scabbard. A crowd had gathered to watch the arrival of passengers coming from out west. They craned their necks and some surged forward to help those with heavy travel trunks and bags. She could feel that people were staring again and turned to look at the crowd. A young girl strained at her mother’s hand as she leaned closer to watch what Liza was doing.
“You can be anything you want to be in life,” Liza whispered to her as Libby nickered.
To be honest, Liza was surprised at the numbers of people coming east. She had always thought that travel in this age was somewhat mostly one way: everyone wanting to head to the wide-open areas of the Wild West.
Some of those returning east were haggard looking women with tired children. Out West, if a woman died from disease or in childbirth, the widower frequently looked to remarry. Yet when a husband died or was lost and presumed dead, the outlook for his family was varied. Some women just wanted to come back home with their children to the safety and security of family they knew and trusted.
The western frontier wasn’t for everyone. Some of the passengers were thin and had an impoverished look to them as though they had returned back east to relatives to admit defeat that the stark realities and conditions of living in wild unforgiving country had beaten them down.
This was all a difficult reality for Liza to witness. Getting into the saddle, she asked Libby to move up into a fast walk, wondering if she could survive living here permanently if she ever became trapped in this world.
THE TOW PATH
They were in a bustling part of Pennsylvania now, and no matter where Liza looked there were numerous towns and cities with warehouses, factories, shops and farms absolutely everywhere. There was a hustle and bustle here the likes of which she had not seen before since she started this journey from the wildest part of the country on her way to the tamer east.
It was clear now where they were going. Liza and Libby had both felt it in their souls. They had to get to Massachusetts to see if they could find Lila.
At first, Liza only knew that they had to get out of their predicament of coming through to this world into such wild country. Once they were on their journey she and Libby had wondered if they needed to get to the leaning pine trees on their former ranch in Virginia. Perhaps that was a way to return home?
But it had become clear to the two of them that they first needed to see if Lila was still alive and then that they
had to continue even further east to get to Anna to try to find an explanation for their visions and nightmares and more.
That meant they would have to cross the Atlantic Ocean. How on earth would they accomplish that? Liza had no idea. She had no idea whatsoever. Until now, it had seemed like something was pushing her on this journey, pushing and pulling her she realized, and after the long train ride, she felt it was time to get off and get back on Libby to continue riding. She needed to think quietly.
Liza was still confused by what her role was in everything ever since she had passed through to this world. This wasn’t simply about seeking adventure; there just had to be a reason to everything. Of course, it was exciting and tremendously exhilarating to witness this vibrant period in the history of the United States with its rapid growth, in spite of the good and the bad and the ugly aspects of this era.
As she looked around, it did seem that hard work paid off. New industries were sprouting up everywhere, factories were being built, there were stores catering to every need and people looked busy.
Depending on where they were, Liza saw homes that were built on a glamorous scale, and she saw hovels that held so many family members, it seemed the wooden sides of those buildings would burst at the seams.
Liza had wanted to witness everything that she could; she was living through history and did not want to miss a thing.
One reality that shocked her in particular however was the decimation of the landscape, particularly the trees. Logging in Pennsylvania for example had nearly wiped out every single tree. At least that is how it appeared to her. She was used to lush landscapes in her own time; here before her the hillsides and mountains looked like stretches of a barren moonscape, completely denuded of trees, peppered with the sad sight of millions of rotting tree stumps.
And that created its own environmental issues that were not obvious to anyone it appeared. Erosion was taking place on a massive scale, flooding the rivers with silt and valuable topsoil. Smoke from hundreds of factories belched into the air and poured debris and refuse directly into the rivers and streams.
“They have a lot to learn,” Liza thought sadly.
But Liza was particularly interested in a part of commerce that didn’t seem to be so strident. The canal systems! They were everywhere, connecting cities and towns and one state with another.
Canals were used to move coal and timber and all kinds of supplies. For the user, it was a relatively costeffective method of moving goods over long distances. But they were often subsidized and didn’t always turn enough of a profit for their owners. While they lasted however, they were a much used and much needed method of commerce.
Hardworking mules towed the boats up and down the canals. Most of them seemed in good health which made sense because even the most careless of owners knew that the mules were the key to their livelihood. She heard the drivers calling out to them, “Get on mule, get on,” and watched as the teams strained to tow their burdens up and down the canals.
Liza and Libby walked along from town to town along the tow paths, enjoying the scenery and looking at the back sides of the buildings of the towns and cities lining the canals along their way. However sometimes what Liza saw saddened her. The messes and the filth and the irreverent ways that factory and warehouse owners kept their property was astonishing and it was hard to look at sometimes.
However, the views of the farmlands were stunning. Field after field of agricultural splendor went on for as far as the eye could see. But she noticed that working in the fields were struggling farmers, using equipment that was evidence of a very hard life. Yet, they owned their own land, and that was
more than could be said for their counterparts on much of the Continent, many still living and working on farmland they didn’t own.
After the pair abandoned their journey using the tow paths, they turned north, and headed towards their ultimate goal of Massachusetts.
By this time, however, as they stumbled their way through New York and Connecticut, they were both getting tired of their journey. What was the point of it all? Why were they here really, and what were they sent here to do?
Liza secured safe places for them to spend the night, and she was shocked to notice that the prices of rooms and stabling had gone up significantly the further east they had gone. There were no bargains to be had anywhere, and sometimes Liza was certain she was being cheated.
One day, Libby blurted out, “Liza, I had a visitor in the night weeks and weeks ago. I meant to tell you.”
They were both so tired of this journey, lately during their conversations, they got right to the point with little small talk. They were exhausted and sometimes it just seemed easier to keep the conversations brief.
“I did too,” Liza replied.
Liza had dismounted and was walking beside Libby for a few hours. She was saddle sore a bit and needed a break. Walking beside Libby was comforting and gave Liza a chance to appreciate the hard work Libby had been doing for the two of them all these weeks and months.
“I miss Mama and Papa,” Liza blurted out.
“I miss Galilei,” Libby replied.
Exhausted, they both walked in silence, each of them thinking about their respective interactions with the mysterious gold, silver and copper mist-like figures that had appeared to each of them in the night over these last months, and wondering what it was all supposed to mean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SOMETHING IN THE WIND
She lifted her head and took a breath. Her eyes and ears were alert and her nostrils flared. A gentle breeze that had been stirring grew brisker and her mane and tail fluttered in the wind. With the sun on her back, she was glowing, yet today, the mare shone even more beautifully. She felt it, the calling that is, and as a result she glowed.
Standing proudly and beautifully, she let out a whinny that wasn’t typical for her. It was loud, long, and strong, and definitely ear-piercing. It was neither a call of danger nor of warning. Instead, it was a call as if to say, “I’m here! I’m over here!” The mare whinnied again and again and again.
Horses near her and in other pastures lifted their heads and stopped what they were doing. They stood still and turned their heads in the direction of the cry from the mare. She was younger than many of them, but they all looked to her for guidance. Something was happening and they each turned to watch their lead mare.
The mare lifted herself to stand as tall as she could and then magnificently, she arched her neck and began to paw at the ground. She was in a large pasture that was framed by four board high wooden fencing that was painted black. With the green grass, trees, and pine trees, the black boards and the color of the hair on her body and her stance, an equine portrait painter could not have asked for any better combination of color, light, background and subject. It all had an iconic look to it and it was stunning to behold.
The mare pawed and pawed and then dipping her neck towards the ground and arching it again, she swirled her head down and into a circle and lifted her head again. Her hind legs danced as she moved about in an anxious yet
purposeful circle. She stopped, lifted her head once again, and whinnied. Something was happening and she knew it.
In the other large paddocks, a few of the horses lifted themselves even higher to stand tall and proud and alert. Several danced and pranced slightly. Two trotted up to the mare and maintaining their distance, stood and sniffed the air as well. Workers nearby became noticeably concerned.
“What’s going on in the main pasture?” the groom named Davis, asked his colleague. They both turned to look and stood mesmerized.
“I don’t know. I have never seen her like this,” young Liam replied.
“We’d better tell the mistress, I expect,” Davis said, slightly concerned.
“I’ll do it but first, perhaps let’s check out the pasture and make sure nothing is wrong,” Liam suggested.
Nodding his head, the first groom joined Liam who had put aside his rake and had begun to walk in the direction of the troubled mare’s pasture.
“This is extraordinary,” Davis murmured. They kept their eyes peeled for any sign of danger or physical distress in the mare. From a distance they saw no evidence of colic or injury. At one point, one of them covered his ears from the cry of the repeated whinnies as they walked closer to the pasture. “I’ve never seen her like this before,” repeated Liam. “This is so unusual for her,” he added.
There were a few riders out on the course who had stopped their horses on the trail that went by the main pasture. One was a woman riding sidesaddle on her gelding and the other a man on his stallion. A third who was by himself, rode over to the couple and asked, “Any idea what is going on?” As if in reply, their horses moved closer almost in unison and then walked slowly toward the pasture with the mare, all three side by side.
“This is odd,” said the woman, but did not stop her gelding. Something seemed important in this moment and
without any need for an explanation, the three riders allowed their mounts to continue to walk towards the mare.
In spite of her prancing, this did not cause a disturbance with the other horses, rather, it suddenly made them calmer.
“I’ve never seen behavior like this,” the man on the stallion cried. “It’s almost as though my hands can’t stop my horse from walking toward that mare. It’s as though I don’t even want to stop him. I feel like we are being drawn to her.”
From a distance, the scene almost looked elegantly choreographed. One mare proudly dancing in a rhythmic swirling prance, others standing and watching, and others walking towards her.
There was something in the wind for sure.
“She’s coming,” Lila finally announced, when her movements stopped. “She’s coming!” she cried even though no one else understood her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIBBY KNOWS
Libby stopped and stood up straight. She simply stopped and stood in the road and did not move. Liza was daydreaming a little bit and although she was looking into the distance to ascertain how much further they had to walk, she barely noticed that Libby wasn’t walking any longer.
They were passing through a town on the outskirts of Boston, coming up from the southwest and all around them were brick homes with modest wooden ones interspersed. No trollies were out this far from the city and Liza saw a mixture of carts and riders on horseback as well as the occasional motorized car, if you could call it that. Some were odd looking, and the drivers sat in the middle of the front seat astride a long steering column, wearing thick goggles and caps, as well as gloves and heavy driving coats. One vehicle seemed to be run on steam propulsion and occasionally spurted out hot water.
Yet there were wide-open spaces around them, with some land part of larger estates, and some tilled as farmland, with other land clearly used as pastures for farm animals and for well-kept horses.
Further on, Liza had done the math in her head and knew they were close to their destination when she finally noticed that Libby had stopped moving.
“What’s up, Libby?” Liza asked. Libby did not say a word.
There was something about the way Libby had stayed silent that made Liza remain silent as well.
Yet as Libby stood there, Liza noticed that her mare began to tremble. Liza felt the tremble in Libby’s body that felt like a shiver at first and it was as though her legs were
moving up and down rapidly in a shiver and shake that Liza could feel up through her saddle causing her to shake in the saddle as well.
Liza didn’t know what to say. She knew Libby wasn’t sick or injured. So what had caused this unusual movement from her mare?
“Liza, I sense …” Libby began to say.
Suddenly, Liza felt it too. She felt a warmth that was inexplicable, and it made her hands tingle, and she felt an odd warmth at the tip of her nose which not only felt warm but had that odd tingling sensation like she might have felt after she had been outside in the cold then came quickly into a very cozy home.
“Liza, you can tell surely as well, isn’t that right?” Libby asked slowly.
Now it was Liza’s turn to be contemplative.
“Liza…?”
Silence.
It had been a few years since that fateful day on the streets of the city there in Switzerland. The sorrow that both Liza and Libby had felt had coursed through their bodies for days after they had continued with their own journey, leaving young Lila behind. There had been doubts too, wondering if they had done the right thing by allowing the little filly to remain. Heck, the filly wasn’t even supposed to have been there with them and that had been the irony of it all.
In the end, Liza and Libby each knew that they had to leave without Lila, even though it had been heartbreaking.
But now, they felt something special in the air, a sense of joy and peace wrapped up in a comforting sense of wonderment. Was Lila still alive? Was she on this estate? It had taken Liza months back home to track down where Laura most likely lived, but did she even still live here any longer? The tension was almost unbearable for them.
“I feel it too, Libby. She’s closer than I realized. Oh Libby, I think we’ve found her! Lila’s here!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
IMPOSSIBLE TO DESCRIBE
How could anyone have anticipated what the greeting would be like or that it would have ever been possible once again after the heartbreaking goodbye on the city streets a few years ago?
Lila turned and did a fast trot away from the tall four board fence and when she rounded back to face it, she took off at a wild gallop, leapt into the air and soared over the fence, landing gracefully on the other side. Then she tore off across the fields.
“What just happened?” cried the riders.
“What the …?” cried the grooms.
Lila raced off and away from her pasture as fast as she could, clearly focused on a single purpose. Anyone watching must have determined that this was a mare with something on her mind, as though she had a plan of sorts. Any observers could see that nothing had provoked the jump and the race across the pastures. The only reason for running like that was if the horse had some sort of a goal or a plan in mind.
The only person who understood what might have had happened was the woman who had run out of the stable, eyes locked on the pasture of her mare. She had heard the whinnies and she had seen her mare pawing at the ground. She held a pair of slender black gloves in one hand and thwacked them against the palm of her other in a repetitive motion.
Laura had felt that something was happening while she was in the stable and had run outside to get over to her mare as fast as she could. But in her anxious desire to jump the fence, Lila was not patient enough to wait and see if her mistress had noticed her anxiety. Instead, Lila had beaten
her to it and had jumped the fence, running as fast as she could towards the western boundary of the property.
Laura’s mind scrambled. What would Lila do there? There was traffic and people and a tram line and cars, or so she thought. Geography had always confused her; what was over on that side of the property? Was Lila in danger?
Laura tried to remain calm. Lila was her connection to peace and sanity, and frankly, Lila was an escape for her from this world if she had ever needed one.
As a Traveler, although she had initially been trapped back in time after the death of her horse, Layla, she had found peace here and had started a life with Gaston. It was a good life, a loving and fulfilling one, but she had always missed the bond of love with a horse. She had searched for years to find the right connection. Then she had found Lila.
She was surprised at how calm she was at this precise moment, however. Davis and Liam were running towards her, presumably to grab horses from the barn to chase after the mare. Lila was racing so quickly, and her actions had happened so fast, that the three riders who had been out on the course watching it all unfold were initially so surprised they had not acted.
Finally, the two men cried, “We’ll follow her,” and nodding at the grooms, had both turned to race after Lila.
Laura slapped her gloves in her hand once again but found the movement to be soothing even as she pursed her lips and shook her head back and forth in frustration.
As she stood there, her gaze turned to the right and Laura saw Davis and Liam approaching the stables. Next, she turned to look at the woman riding sidesaddle who had finally spurred her horse and had taken off to follow the men.
Finally, Laura calmly looked off to the left, her eyes following the blaze of color, tail flying in the wind, as her mare raced to the edge of the property.
“I’m surprisingly calm,” she whispered to herself.
Then as though it was in slow motion, in the distance, she saw her mare come to a skidding halt.
There was no reason to worry about her getting caught up in any traffic on the roads outside of the property.
Instead, she saw a horse and rider, standing next to Lila and now she fully understood the reason for the mare’s anxious dash across the fields.
She recognized the pair.
Incredible as it was, there was no doubt about what she saw there before her in the distance.
There stood a young cowgirl riding astride a beautiful sorrel horse with stunning white markings on her face. Liza and Libby had finally arrived.
CHAPTER THIRTY
PERFECT BLUE SKY
It was the kind of day with a sky so blue that it would have taken a poet to describe the perfect way the sky appeared to anyone who simply looked up from what they were doing and looked out their window. For those already outside, they basked in the exquisite sunshine beaming down onto the earth, with a brightness that was breathtaking. In every direction, there were treetops of greens so vivid that someone might want to pluck off a leaf to save it forever to remind them of that glorious day of perfection.
Mother Nature was at her best today, a combination of God’s touch on this world, giving Nature her chance to bloom and grow.
Liza stretched a dreamy stretch lying there in her comfortable four poster bed then shoved the quilted covers aside and sprang out, landing on the soft carpet.
She splashed water on her face that she had poured from the porcelain pitcher into its matching bowl that sat atop the mahogany bureau across from where she had slept.
Taking a pretty embroidered tea towel from the top of the bureau, she patted her face then rubbed her neck. She washed her hands, enjoying the scent of the homemade soap
resting in a little dish festooned with painted dainty little flowers. The Industrial Revolution was in full force, she knew that, but she noticed that so many things in this world were still made at home, and all by hand.
Liza had a friend in Montana who made soaps. She was so impressed with the care her friend gave to each bar she made. There were goat milk soaps and olive oil based soaps, and other plainer scented kinds, many embedded with rose petals or pieces of lavender. These soaps were individually packaged in brown paper wrapping, and then tied with a silk ribbon. Sometimes, on top of each package next to the bow, her friend embossed the paper with a little stamp of the logo of her growing soap making shop. Liza loved the attention to detail and the artistry of her friend.
As she stood by the wash basin, inhaling the scent of the bar of soap in her hand, she looked out her window at the scenery.
There, she saw it. The blue sky. It wasn’t going to rain after all. They could go riding.
Pulling on her clothes, after a quick trip to the water closet, she dashed downstairs to join the family for their breakfast.
“I must have accidentally overslept,” Liza exclaimed apologetically. “I’m so sorry to be late for breakfast,” she continued. “I guess I was really tired,” she said, pushing back a wisp of hair that had fallen across her face. She noticed moisture still on the edge of her hairline and nonchalantly wiped it off with her hand. She was certainly in a hurry this morning.
“Ma’am, was I supposed to dress up or something, you know, do you want me to dress as though I am, I mean, you know, from this time period?” Liza timidly asked Laura.
Laura was buttering a freshly baked piece of bread and gave a warm smile as she gently shook her head.
“Liza, you need to feel as free here as you would like. This is a house of a Traveler, as you well know by now, and
although all the staff don’t know the details, they no longer ask questions or look askance when I say something or do something or wear something that seems out of place,” Laura said, a twinkle in her eye.
“Frankly,” she added, “I think it’s because of all the business trips and such that each of us take that makes the staff pause from being too curious. I believe they think we just bring something home from a distant country that’s newfangled and then shake their heads.”
Liza nodded. “You removed the labels in some of your older clothing too though, right? Because that’s kind of a giveaway, isn’t it?”
Liza thought about the manufacturing locations of some of her articles of clothing. So many countries of today had names that did not exist in this time period, or if the name existed, the country was more likely called, “The Kingdom of Such and Such” as so many at this point in time were still governed by monarchs.
Laura shook her head. “I decided not to do anything like that. It would have drawn further attention to me. Instead, I just let people think what they wanted to think. It’s not so easy to track down some kinds of information in this world, as you can imagine,” she noted.
Laura contemplated something, then continued. “I just don’t bother with trying to hide who I am. Plus, so many years have passed, most of my older clothes I just never wear any more. Although,” and she laughed here, “I really miss some of my riding pants. They were so comfortable,” she lamented.
Liza nodded in agreement then poured herself some juice and asked for some eggs from the housemaid who was by her side with a pot of tea. She wanted to go into the kitchen to cook the eggs for herself, but with the way she was settling into the comfort of this home, she decided not to make waves regarding the way things were run here. Laura’s home wasn’t run like one of those large English manors from this time period, but she and Gaston had servants and attendants who
all had their own work to do, and Liza didn’t want to upset the apple cart.
Then she looked at Laura and caught her eye when Laura finished with the butter.
“Laura, I noticed a boy’s bedroom on the landing when I came down. Do you have a son?” she asked.
“Indeed, that’s Adam,” Laura replied. “He’s a little older than you. Oh good morning Gaston,” Laura said to a tall handsome man who had just entered the dining room, her face lighting up as he entered. He was dressed for meetings, Liza determined, as she noticed his high collar and fancy tie as well as his perfectly tailored suit with a long gold watch fob hanging from an upper pocket. He had placed a walking cane with a horse head for a handle there by the door as he entered, she noticed.
“Good morning, my love. I’m headed into Boston for the day. Liza, how very nice to see you again finally. But I’ve no time just now to visit. I will see you this evening.”
He gave Laura a quick kiss on her forehead, held her hand in his for a moment, grabbed his cane then left the room.
“He’s Gaston’s son actually,” Laura continued with a smile, “but I’ve adopted him too. To be honest, his story is a little complicated. Gaston adopted him first.” Laura’s voice trailed off. Then she added, “I don’t think he will meet you this week while you’re here. He’s living in Boston just now, working on a big project that is, and I think he’s determined to finish it. I sent word to him, but he won’t make it home, I don’t think.”
Liza nodded. Her friends certainly lived dedicated lives, that was for sure, but she was disappointed she would not have the opportunity to hang out with someone her own age. That would have been nice, she realized.
“Laura,” she began to ask hesitantly. Laura’s gaze was kind and relaxed, as though she knew what Liza was going to ask. “Laura, don’t you miss some things, you know, living here? Staying here? Being here forever?”
Laura relaxed her hands and slowly placed the piece of bread down onto her plate. One wrist stayed on the table and the other one she gently placed into her lap. Her posture was like a ballerina’s; tall and upright. Liza sat up straighter and made a mental note to work on her own posture.
Laura inhaled then exhaled audibly. She seemed to want to take a moment to answer Liza’s thoughtful question as carefully as possible.
“Of course, I do, Liza. I left family there. You would not have known that. When we first met on the streets of the city in Switzerland, when I first found Lila, you and I barely had time to get to know one another. I was so excited that Lila and I had found one another, and you were so accepting of the fact that I was a Traveler, trapped back in time, that you didn’t ask me any details, and I did not reveal much either.” She paused and noticed that Liza had dropped her gaze.
“I was trying to comfort Libby,” Liza whispered. “We knew what was happening, but we also knew we were powerless to intervene,” Liza said, looking up at Laura. “We weren’t ready to say goodbye to Lila,” she said, as a small tear formed in the corner of her eye when she remembered the intensity of their parting a few years ago. Liza wiped her eye and looked up and sat straighter in her chair.
“I mean, Laura, you know how that works,” Liza continued. “If you have a mare and a foal, there is a time to separate them and if you are selling the foal, well that’s usually part of a plan. You get to know the new owner and you decide if that foal is going to a good home. Lila left us so suddenly. We didn’t really have enough of a chance to say goodbye. We didn’t have a chance to get used to not having her with us, even though we knew it was the right thing to do for you both. I know that now, of course,” Liza added, gently pounding her fist onto the table.
She didn’t do it out of anger, it was done more in the manner of someone who had taken time to process a difficult situation and had come to a conclusion about it all. Then she
added, “But it was extremely difficult to walk away. Libby was in shock for a while I think.”
Laura nodded sympathetically.
“Liza, I had been through the most severely traumatic experience of my life, when I lost Layla. I don’t know if you have experienced loss like that, the loss of a creature who is your beloved friend. But I can say that until you do, you simply can’t imagine the state of mind that you are in. It’s like a wildness comes over you, a frantic state of helplessness, and you don’t know what to do with your sadness, anger, frustration, worry and utter gut-wrenching and profound grief.”
Laura, Liza noticed, had looked out the window into the pastures, which at that moment Liza realized had been strategically placed so that Lila’s pasture came up close to the house.
And there she was. Lila was standing right there outside the window. She was looking into the window from the edge of the pasture, and she was gazing directly into the breakfast room. It was just like at Anna’s chalet. Whenever she and Anna were discussing something important about the horses, somehow, their horses knew. At Anna’s they could walk right up to the side of the chalet and poke their noses in through the window. Here, a small grassy yard separated the house from the pastures. On the edges of the yard were all kinds of flowers and bushes with delicate little flowers blooming and abuzz with pollinators.
Liza was startled. Libby was there too, right beside her Lila. They were both looking in at their mistresses. Could the horses see them? Wasn’t there a glare?
Laura smiled as she looked at Lila.
“I was crazy with grief after I came through to this world, and Gaston was the man who carried me away and attended to me. He was so gallant and tender. Mostly, he was kind. I liked that and I remembered that first impression of Gaston very distinctly. I remember thinking that it was as though he knew very specifically what had happened to me.
Later, of course, I learned his story and his experiences. Of course, he knew what had occurred.”
“What did that mean?” Liza thought. “How did Gaston know what had happened to Laura?” Liza was confused and she had so many questions right now. She was bursting to ask each and every one of them. She would have to remember what they all were because Laura was revealing so much right now, but even so, Liza was curious about everything and dying to know more.
“Liza, I was trapped here,” Laura said solemnly.
Liza gasped then got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought. “Of course, that’s right,” she replied quietly.
She wasn’t certain how to ask the next question so she just kind of blurted it out.
“So, you left family and friends behind, and you never looked back?” Liza asked timidly. This was one question she had to ask. This seemed like the right moment.
The next comment however left Liza stunned.
“I was trapped here Liza. Remember that. I didn’t choose to stay here. But I did send word to my family to let them know that I was fine and that I was safe and happy. And I also let them know I would not be returning, even after I found Lila.” As she said these words, Laura reached out to touch Liza’s hand.
The touch was electrifying. It was a warm feeling and there was a tingling sensation as well. But mostly, it was a feeling of electricity and Liza felt a bolt of lightning fly through her entire body.
“What? What did she just say?” Now Liza’s head was screaming thoughts in her mind in utter confusion with rapidfire questions burning in her mind. “Laura had sent word? How? Who? Where? How was this possible?” Liza’s head was no longer screaming these words, her head was spinning. She thought she would fall out of her chair. Laura had
communicated information forward in time somehow. How was that possible?
“Are there Travelers who are also messengers? Are these messengers special Travelers who help those who are caught in one world or who have decided to stay in another world?” Liza thought quickly as her head swirled.
Images flew by inside of her head as she sat there in silence. Bright colors flowed through her mind as well. Laura had not removed her hand from Liza’s and for the duration, Liza had images of men and women, and of children and teens, some on horseback, some standing with their horses and some who were near a pasture full of horses. They were dressed in contemporary clothing, and in clothing from various time periods in the past. Liza recognized some clothing as being Western and recognized that some were dressed in clothing from the Continent. She also thought she saw images of equestrians who were clearly dressed in royal outfits from distant lands. There was a mixture of time periods, and that was disconcerting for a moment.
“Who are all these people?” she thought. “And why are they in my head? I held Laura’s hand, and then all these images began to appear. But why is any of this swirling around in my head at all?” Liza was perplexed.
Laura removed her hand from Liza’s, and while the images still swirled in front of her eyes, the intensity of them seemed less frightening and more like images of people who might easily be her friends.
“Liza, did you see them?” Laura asked, casually.
“What?”
Liza nonchalantly touched the shock of white hair at the base of her own neck.
Laura’s eyes followed Liza’s fingertips. Observing her movements, Laura realized she was instantly startled somewhat. There it was. She noticed the lock of white hair as Liza had innocently touched the nape of her neck.
“So it was all true,” Laura realized.
Then, speaking aloud she asked, “Did you see them, Liza? I think you know what I am asking.” Laura paused then turned in her seat to face her young friend. “I have only seen a few. But I think you just saw many many Travelers, am I correct?” Then, in a swift but non-threatening motion, Laura leaned forward and moving her hand quickly past Liza’s cheek, discovered for herself the shock of white hair that Liza always tried to keep hidden.
At first, Liza tried to pull away but then she stopped. Sitting there quietly, she allowed Laura to take the strands carefully in her hand, and then listened as Laura spoke to her in a motherly-like tone when she asked, “Liza, has anyone explained to you what this means?”
Liza was stunned. How could anyone have explained what it meant? She herself didn’t know what it all meant. Liza had barely seen the white hair during these months of travel. She remembered the incident and the first time she felt the pain there at the nape of her neck. Now she knew that had to have been the moment when the cluster of white hair had first appeared.
“I saved a man, months ago, and it might have appeared just after that, I think,” Liza said. “But no, Laura. No one has noticed this and if they did, and if they understood the meaning, no one ever said anything to me,” Liza whispered. Her head was clear now. And Liza noticed that she felt rather refreshed. She looked out the window at Libby and Lila.
“I felt it too,” she heard a voice. “Liza, I saw all of them too,” she heard the voice say again. “Don’t be frightened, Liza. I will be with you for every step of our journeys together,” the tender voice said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TWO GLORIOUS STREAKS OF LIGHTENING
The revelation at breakfast was startling. Liza and Laura talked about it for a little while, and what it all might have meant, then got up to head out to the pasture. Liza noticed that when Laura stood up, that she was wearing a special kind of trousers that had been custom designed for her. Well, Laura had designed the special trousers herself Liza had learned and had several sewn up for riding.
As they walked to the stables to grab some halters, Laura explained that she refused to ever ride sidesaddle. First, she did not want to bother to learn something new. Second, she felt that the balance of the horse was compromised, no matter the skill of the rider, and third, the one time she had sat in one, she hated the numbness in her leg that followed after even a short ride. No, she explained, a sidesaddle wasn’t for her. Not ever.
They didn’t have to walk far to collect the horses. Libby and Lila were already at the gate, and ready to go. It looked like
mother and daughter were competing with one another to show how eager they were to be with their mistresses, and Liza and Laura got a kick out of the energy level of their horses. “I’m grateful for the ability to tell Libby what I’m thinking right now,” Liza said. Looking at her mare, as she placed the halter on her and as she secured it on the side near her mare’s cheek, she said, “Girl, use this energy in a good way today please.” Libby energetically tossed her head in reply.
Walking to the private stable with their horses, Laura explained to Liza that she had finally begun to work with Lila on the three disciplines of eventing: dressage, jumping and cross country. “It’s going to take a long time, but Lila is really getting the hang of it all,” said Laura. “Sometimes I think about what it would be like to compete with her back in your world. She is so strong and fast and talented. We could be a formidable winning team there for sure.”
As they tacked up their horses, Liza was surprised at Laura’s offhanded comment and couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. For just a moment, a dark look had come over Laura’s face that caught Liza off guard. “Surely Laura wouldn’t try to come forward for personal gain?” Liza thought.
They warmed up their horses in the main riding arena. As they walked various patterns throughout, Liza looked over at the parking lot if it could be called that. This was a very different type of parking lot than anything she had ever seen. There were horse-drawn carriages of every shape and style. There were early versions of motor cars and even a prototype of a motorcycle. Liza noticed it looked like one of those old-fashioned bicycles with the huge wheel up front. And there were bicycles too. There was even a horse tied up to a hitching post. Seems that someone rode a horse to get here to ride their other horse. Liza got a big kick out of that. Liza was wearing her jeans. She was glad for the spare pair that she had brought with her in her pack. Many times, she had wanted to wear this pair, when her other two had gotten filthy and torn. But she knew she would be in situations where
she would need to be more presentable, so she kept this one packed away. Today, was one of those times to pull out her super clean pair of jeans for sure.
With Laura in her trousers and Liza in her jeans, she noticed that people on their horses were trying not to stare.
“Liza don’t worry about what people are thinking. Remember that. Just ride,” Laura said gently.
Where had she heard that before?
Of course. Anna had said just about the same thing the first time Liza had come into this world. But this visit here, to the Boston area, was more important for Liza. This was a part of the world that she actually knew, and she was in an area that her family had previously visited. Well, not precisely this area but close by.
For her home-schooling section on the Revolutionary War, her family had come up to Lexington and Concord and had gone into Boston to walk the Freedom Trail. This current experience, however, was all surreal for Liza. She was walking on ground that not one hundred twenty years earlier had likely been a battlefield. Surely there were still muskets buried somewhere or perhaps an ancient cannon was stuck in the woods hidden under a pile of rocks or something.
This was living history for Liza, and she wanted to soak it all up. Her father would get a real kick out of these stories and Liza made a note to get into the parking lot to sketch some of the experimental vehicles as well as the carriages she saw parked with their horses tied to metal poles.
After they left the arena, the horses became a little antsy with the anticipation of what was to come.
“Mama, want to race?” There, Lila had said it. She wanted to race her mother. Liza and Laura looked at one another, shrugged and with a nod from Laura, Liza leaned forward to one side of Libby’s neck and said, “What do you think, girl, your daughter has issued a challenge to you!”
“I’m ready Liza! Ready to run. I’m willing to try some of the smaller jumps and a few of the water hazards. I was
listening to some of the riders discussing their rides today and heard that the fourth one has a bit of a hole on the other side so Lila, be careful!” Libby said.
“Ah that’s not good,” Laura exclaimed. “No matter how much I try to get the riders here to tell us about hazards, they take it as some kind of badge of honor to try to ride through whatever forms from bad weather or overuse of the course,” she sighed. “I’ve been trying to get them to report things. I don’t want any horses to ever go down on these courses.” Liza noticed that Laura got a sad look on her face, evidence of a painful memory, but then quickly perked up when she realized that her mare, Lila, was feeling a little feisty.
“Lila!” Laura said reproachfully but then gently added a graceful tug of her pinky fingers on the reins.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lila replied, quickly ceasing her prancing and pawing at the ground. Then Lila shifted her own energy into stepping gracefully at a collected walk.
Liza laughed.
Libby snorted, “Good. She didn’t spend that much time with her mama, but my girl has her manners.”
“Liza, it took me a while, but Lila grew fast and strong here. The more time I spent with her in the saddle, well, she encouraged me to take risks again,” Laura admitted. Lila blew one of those gentle and contented little snorts of happiness. Liza was right by Laura’s side and glanced over to look at her. Libby walked at a pace to match her daughter’s, as they approached the entrance to the cross-country course. Laura asked Lila to stop, using her seat and light hands on the reins.
“You have no idea how fearful I was of getting back into the saddle ever again. Lila helped me through each challenge. She was kind and understanding and though clearly very strong, she never tried to show off or take risks with me. Everything she has ever done with me was with the full understanding of my concerns. I told her everything. Every moment I was in the stall with her on the ship coming back to Boston, and then here when I spent several nights
with Lila, I talked to her and told her my story and of my love for Layla. Lila never suggested that she would ever replace Layla, only told me quite simply something I never thought I would hear.”
“What was that?”
“Lila told me she would never ever leave me. And I believed her.” After a moment, Laura added, “I still believe her.”
With those poignant thoughts out in the open, Laura said quite briskly, “Okay let’s go, shall we?”
Mother and daughter began to race across the field, heading to the first jump. Their mistresses held them back a bit, and at first, the pair responded dutifully. They ran at a gentle lope, their riders giving their horses more time to loosen up their muscles and ligaments to allow the synovial fluid in their joints time to warm up and flow.
Laura looked over at Liza who was smiling. “I’ve never been on a proper cross-country course before,” Liza cried. Laura smiled broadly and replied, “Well you are in for a treat today! During races, we have so many people here to watch that we must rope off the entire course to keep back the spectators. I wish you could see that here. It’s incredible. Okay now, come on, let’s go!” Laura cried. “And watch your horn.”
It was Libby who first kicked it into high gear. Stretching out her front legs long and lean, she surged forward, her powerful hind end engaged perfectly as they raced across the fields. Perhaps Lila was being respectful of her mama, perhaps Laura was giving equal weight to the grateful feeling she had that Libby had given up Lila those years ago, but it took a moment for Lila to pick up her pace to match Libby’s.
“Lila, you already know what to do, so you don’t have to show off at all today. Let’s just run at a nice pace and enjoy this. It’s not every day you get to run with your mama you know,” Laura whispered into Lila’s ear, as they came up to Liza and Libby from behind.
“This is fun,” cried Libby, nostrils flaring from the exhilaration for what was about to come. Libby and Lila had
been discussing this cross-country strategy stuff the night before, and Libby felt ready. Lila had explained that there were obstacles on the course that were very high, and they would not see over to the other side. “Watch me, Mama, and listen to my instructions and you will be just fine,” Lila had said the night before. She knew where to place her feet, when to jump, and how to land. Laura had been an excellent teacher, and Lila, strong and independent, knew to rely on her own instincts as well as those of her mistress. Laura was, after all, a champion rider, even though it was many years ago.
Libby ran confidently and without much exertion. For sure, she was in impeccable shape from the crossing they had experienced from Colorado to Massachusetts. They had some moments when they weren’t certain about their food supplies, but in the end, Libby had been well nourished during her long journey with Liza and her muscles were lean and strong.
But more than that, Libby was in shape from all the proper training Liza had given her over the years of their partnership. Liza watched Libby’s nutrition and knew exactly what supplements to give her mare.
She also gave Libby massages and occasionally brought in a doctor who performed acupuncture on Libby. That was a skill that fascinated Liza and so she took courses and trained with a veterinarian in Colorado who specialized in this kind of equine care.
Libby was a bit of a goof during massage time with Liza. She would lick her lips and drop her head when Liza performed effleurage movements on the body of her mare. With each stroke and subtle pressure from Liza’s hands, Libby would close her eyes more deeply and completely relax, sometimes falling asleep.
“You silly mare!” Liza would cry when her mare fell asleep then caught herself in a startled movement, standing up straight and tall as she woke herself up.
Lila caught up to Libby, with Laura leaning into the sleek motions of her young mare, matching the movement of
her body with the movement of Lila’s strides. Liza was hovering ever so slightly above her saddle, her heels in their proper position, reins light but at the ready to cue Libby for the upcoming obstacles.
“Here we go, Mama,” cried Lila, as they approached the first obstacle.
It was a thick log across the pathway, not much of a challenge, but the perfect easy jump for each of them.
“Good girl,” Liza cried, as she adjusted herself for a proper landing. “That felt great,” she added. Libby kept running.
Over the next few moments, both horses expertly navigated the jumps and obstacles that Laura, her husband and their groomsmen had created on their estate. Some of Laura’s ideas were certainly new and creative for this time period, and there was one moment when their head groom, Davis, had remarked, “Madam, these ideas of yours, how do you know what to advise us? They are so creative. I’ve never seen or heard of these before.”
Laura was careful in her replies, once simply commenting that it was from her world travels that had given her the ideas. Which was in fact, the truth. The only thing was that it was from her other world travels, that gave her the knowledge and the skills to introduce new concepts for their cross-country course.
At one point in their long ride today on their mares, there was a figure eight kind of obstacle in place, where horse and rider would execute multiple jumps in a row in a circle, then switch leads in the middle and begin a similar series of jumps in the other direction.
“I want to watch Lila,” Libby stated plainly. “Let’s stop for a moment right here in the middle, Liza. Would that be okay?” Libby pleaded.
“Of course, Libby!” and urging Laura to continue, Liza brought Libby down into a trot, making it easier to watch Laura and Lila.
The beauty of the effortlessness of Lila’s lope and her jumps was like watching the efforts of a dolphin in the sea frolic and jump and swim easily through the water. Lila’s moves were smooth and strong and confident and not once did she hesitate or misstep. She took to the course with poetic effortless movements of her body, and she looked like she was enjoying every minute of her time with Laura.
Liza was in awe of the confidence that Laura had regained during her partnership with Lila. There seemed to be no stopping them as a pair, and Liza thought back to the tragic story that Laura had shared of how she had lost her first horse after having, quite literally, jumped into this world. “They must have been unstoppable,” Liza thought to herself, imagining what life with Layla must have been like for Laura.
And yet, watching Laura on young Lila, Liza truly admired what this duo was displaying on the course today. Liza had watched cross country events in person, back east, when her family had lived in Virginia. She loved going over to the large equestrian center with her family to watch the excitement of all the trailers arriving and unloading the magnificent horses, and then watching all the riders tack up and warm up their horses. But the real fun was watching the cross-country event itself from the sidelines. Liza could feel the energy passing through the air as the horses rode past her.
Just then, Liza’s heart almost stopped for a moment. She watched Laura and Lila move around the course and an unpleasant thought had popped into her head again that she could not push aside. “What if Laura and Lila … well … what if they were practicing being able to … well … to come forward and compete back in my world?” Liza had chills. Was Laura going to try to move back and forth between the worlds for her own personal gain? That wasn’t right. But would Laura try to do that? Didn’t she know about what was right and what was wrong for Travelers? Didn’t she know about the code?
Libby’s ears perked up the moment Liza began to have these thoughts, Liza noticed.
“Don’t intervene,” a voice said. “Laura is fine.”
Liza patted Libby on her neck. “Good girl, I won’t intervene,” she said.
“What do you mean Liza?”
“You told me not to intervene,” Liza replied. “As I was watching them jump, I wondered if they were thinking of coming forward to race again and it worried me. You told me not to intervene.”
Libby was quiet for a moment.
“I didn’t say anything, Liza.”
Liza almost cut her mare off as she spoke. “Well, you thought it then,” she replied.
“No, I didn’t,” said Libby. “I did not think it and I did not say it,” she argued.
Liza was puzzled. She sat down in her saddle and took a deep breath and exhaled, confused.
“Was it that voice again?” Libby asked politely.
Liza was quiet. Then she cried out a cheer of joy, as Laura and Lila finished the figure eight and gracefully loped back into the middle of the circle to rejoin them.
“Let’s race back,” Lila cried. “Laura, let’s race again, can we?” Liza nodded affirmatively to Laura.
“I’m game, Libby. Are you?” Liza asked. Libby snorted, pawed at the ground and said, “I want to do to this.”
Simultaneously, both riders gave a squeeze into the ribcages of their mares.
Like glorious streaks of lightening, they raced across the fields, each rider cheering and laughing and calling out with glee, as they felt the power of their mares beneath them. What they were feeling as they raced their horses back to the stables was a feeling that riders all over the world, and across the worlds, know to be a feeling that is completely glorious, and yet totally indescribable. That sensational feeling was the embodiment of the perfect harmony between horse and rider.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AFTER THE CONCERT
Relaxing in the drawing room of Laura and Gaston’s townhouse, Liza took a moment to collect herself, as she thought about the irony intertwined within the series of events that she had experienced so far: finding the rider in the gorge, meeting the stallion from the herd of mustangs, her good fortune in meeting Bud at the boardinghouse, as well as a host of things that led her to this very moment in time.
The poster advertising this evening’s concert had been a shock to read when Laura had first shown it to her a few nights ago. But there it was, in black and white. In addition, the banner in the newspaper recited glorious accolades for the young Swiss pianist who had come to America to perform. It was Geta, of all people, the watchmaker’s daughter, who was to give a performance at the Boston Music Hall playing with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. And Liza knew her.
Liza was perplexed. Why did she keep randomly running into people that she knew each time she came back in time? She had already seen Geta perform in concert in Switzerland several years ago. What was the connection, rather what was the reason why they should run into one another yet again? And what exactly were the odds of this meeting happening in the first place?
Even more disconcerting, Laura seemed to know Geta. How was that possible? Not only that, and this was even more bizarre for Liza, but she had learned during the intermission that Geta’s husband, Balthis, had crossed the Atlantic to be with her for this part of Geta’s tour of East Coast cities.
Geta had married Balthis? That was a surprise. Then Liza took her thoughts a step further. Where did Beata fit into everything?
And they were all coming here, tonight, after the concert, and would all be gathered together for a light supper in the large parlor of Laura and Gaston’s Boston townhouse.
Liza’s visit with them at their estate had been a delightful one and she was grateful for the opportunity to finally get to know them both. Libby and Lila had spent plenty of time with one another, each realizing sadly that their time together was coming to an end.
Liza had been troubled to learn that Lila was having some of the same dreams and nightmares that she and Libby had been having. Not only that, but she had told her dam about visions of riders from other worlds, with their horses, who seemed to be in harm’s way. Lila could not elaborate on any further details; she only knew that there was some kind of evil in her dreams, and she had wished she could have helped whoever it was that was in such distress. As a result, Liza was somewhat unnerved.
However, upcoming plans distracted Liza. The day before, Liza had taken a train into the city with Laura and Gaston, then caught a carriage to the townhouse. A dressmaker had arrived to fit one of Laura’s elegant, beaded, evening dresses to suit Liza, and there had been time to stroll through the streets and to visit some of Boston’s beautiful parks. They had admired the stunning brick architecture of the many elegant townhouses, and enjoyed the view of the Boston Common and what Liza called the Public Garden, taking tea in a little shop nearby.
This evening’s concert had been perfect and wonderful. The patrons were a sight to behold and the excitement of it all was spectacular. But throughout the evening, Liza had been troubled yet again. This wasn’t like the last time when her concert visit had been a carefree time for the cowgirl, where she enjoyed everything with childlike wonderment.
Instead, a kind of gloom had overcome her, as though everything was like a living breathing puzzle, where the pieces of something important were being placed in front of her, while
being maneuvered at the same time by forces as yet unknown to her. What did any of this mean?
Liza washed her face, gently brushed her long hair, straightened her dress, put on her long evening gloves, then composed herself and came down the carpeted stairs to join the guests. A maid greeted her at the bottom of the steps and directed her to the festivities.
This home had been modernized, with electric lights on the walls, even as beautiful candelabras laden with tall candles provided much of the light for the room where the food was being served. When Geta and Balthis entered the room, there was a murmur of excitement from all the guests and a small cheer took hold, gloved hands clapping a muted applause for the guest of honor and her husband.
“I must speak with you,” Geta whispered, as she greeted Liza while kissing her gently on both cheeks.
“I feel dizzy all of a sudden,” Liza replied, as she held Geta’s hands in hers.
“Liza, my dear!” exclaimed Balthis, leaning over to kiss her gloved hand.
“Wow, he’s handsome,” Liza thought to herself, as she looked up into the eyes of the man who had, the last time she saw him, been heading up into the mountain pastures with a herd of sheep and a leather pack full of books.
“This is confusing,” she whispered to him.
“I agree,” he said. “Come, let’s have some food,” and placing her hand on his arm, she followed him as he escorted her towards the table where the banquet had been laid out.
She peppered him with questions about Meia and Marcel, about his parents and about his life there.
Then she asked him about Beata. Was she safe? And why had he taken her?
“I’d like you to meet my son, Adam,” Gaston announced, interrupting before Balthis could answer Liza’s questions.
“Whoa,” thought Liza. Standing before her, was a tall, very good-looking man, with dark eyes that transfixed her.
She noticed his dark, slightly wavy hair, which seemed to give him a swarthy appearance. He was smartly dressed in expertly tailored eveningwear yet had the enticing appearance of a man who worked for a living and didn’t lounge about. Liza had spent enough time with people to be able to tell who relied on wealth and who created wealth with their own hard work. Adam was one of the latter and she liked that.
Liza wasn’t quite certain what to do. Does a girl nod or curtsey or bow or blush and flutter a little fan in front of her face when she is introduced to someone? She decided then and there that she totally did not care one bit what was expected of her. “Just be polite,” she concluded, “and nothing else matters.”
“I’m Liza,” she said, extending her hand to Adam. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. Laura had told him about her houseguest. She had mentioned the guest would attend the little soirée this evening and had urged him to take time away from his work and studies to come and meet her. Adam was loving this moment.
“She’s so pretty,” Adam thought. “I love how she hasn’t really spent time on her hair,” he kept thinking, enjoying the relaxed easy beauty that radiated from Liza every second she stood before him.
Taking her gloved hand to politely raise it to kiss instead of shaking it, he was stunned to find himself slightly electrified by her touch. He looked up at her halfway through his kiss on the back of her hand, even as he had continued to bow forward. He saw her looking down at him, mid-bow, also stunned and he smiled.
“I’m Liza,” she said again, nearly stuttering. A few people standing beside her smiled and laughed politely, mostly enjoying the charm of what they were witnessing between these two young people.
Adam finished his polite greeting, stood back up, and barely releasing her hand, he nodded as he held her gaze and said, “Thank you Mademoiselle. I’m Adam. At your service.”
The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of meeting the other guests and trying to find a private moment to speak with Geta. Liza had learned that they were leaving early in the morning for New York City and knew that if she didn’t find the time to speak with her tonight, there would never be another opportunity to get answers to her many questions.
“Come into the library,” Geta whispered. “Laura will provide a distraction so that we may speak.”
Closing the tall sliding wooden doors behind her, their large panes of glass revealing the party continuing in the other rooms, Geta whirled around, grasping Liza’s hands in hers and walked closer to the windows on the other side of the room for privacy.
Then, in a tremendously excited movement, she swept Liza into her arms and hugged her exuberantly.
Liza was startled when she heard Geta explain, “I have been dying to do that all night!” she cried.
Hugging her deeply in return, Liza stepped away momentarily and said, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“Four more months,” Geta said. “So I’m glad to get this tour in now, before I have to stay home and be a proper young lady. I’ve worried my parents enough.” They both laughed.
“Liza, I wanted you to know that we have Beata,” Geta admitted, bluntly, out of the blue.
“I know she went through with Balthis. But wait. She’s here? Are you saying she’s here? In Boston?” Liza cried.
“No silly,” Geta said. “I just wanted you to know what you probably had guessed. Beata came through to be with Balthis. I have Gabriel. Both are with us at our home. I will go on to New York and Balthis will return to London in about a week or so. I don’t think you two will be on the same steamer unfortunately.”
Liza looked puzzled. How did Geta know all her plans when she barely kept everything straight.
“That’s right,” Liza said. “My crossing is in a few days.”
They both looked at one another and hugged for a second time.
“Liza, Balthis is worried. He knows that awful times are coming,” Geta said matter-of-factly.
Liza frowned. “I knew I shouldn’t have written that letter. Did he find it?” Liza asked.
“Yes, Liza, but it’s okay, even though now he’s worried like any man would be for his young family. But there’s more to it. He wants to do something to be useful in this madness that will befall all of us,” Geta explained.
“He’s not going to try to change the future, is he?” Liza asked. She was wild eyed. This could jeopardize everything and even put her own life in danger. Oh, why did she ever write that letter!
“No, my friend, he won’t do that. He respects everything too much. But here’s what I wanted to tell you. Rather, what I want to ask of you. Listen closely. It’s important.”
Liza was frightened for just a moment. She wasn’t completely understanding her role in any of this. Why did she go back to this world a second time a few years ago and why did she come back now for this third time? She already had everything she could have ever wanted. She had had all her amazing experiences. She had met wonderful people. Libby could speak with her using words. And their lives together had become more alive, more invigorated and more joyful. Her life with her family and Libby and with the other horses was nearly perfect. What did any of this mean?
“Liza. Liza dear. My friend. This is what I want to ask of you. I need to know how and where to pass through to get to your world. I want to learn about all the other places, each and every one.” Geta stood there, calmly, even though she had just asked a complicated question, the answer to which Liza was uncertain. Geta looked at her earnestly now.
Liza frowned. “They already knew about the place up high in the mountains there in the woods on their side. Why does Geta want to know about other places? Even I don’t
know about any other way to travel, not really. Why is Geta asking me these questions? Why not ask Anna? Why ask anyone, frankly? This isn’t right,” Liza thought.
Geta looked at her friend and was concerned.
“I feel used,” Liza thought for a moment. “All they want from me is to know how to pass through and take advantage of the Traveler network. It looks like Laura wants to use it to go back and forth to compete in eventing competitions. Now it looks like these two want to go back and forth for who knows what reasons, and pretty soon, I’m guessing Adam will probably try to get some kind of future knowledge out of me to use for his own personal or professional gain. That’s the only reason why he was being nice to me. That’s the only reason why any of them want to be my friend.”
Liza was hurt. She was angry and hurt so she turned from Geta, pulling away from her outstretched arms and ignored her friend’s pleading eyes.
Geta nearly tripped on the carpet as she leaned forward to console Liza, and noticing this, Liza quickly turned back towards her friend and leapt forward to catch her before she fell.
“It’s funny, isn’t it,” Liza said finally.
“What is?” Geta said, a confused look on her face.
Making sure her friend was standing safely, Liza turned and began to walk around the room, placing her hands on her hips, just like her mother would do when she was concerned or angry or frustrated.
“She looks like Anna right now, standing there with her hands on her hips,” Geta thought. Oh, the irony had they both known what the other was thinking.
Liza continued. “Anna was very strict with me about what it means to be a Traveler. Some of her words were agonizing for me to hear and some of the lessons she tried to teach me were very painful.” She walked in a little circle, trying to make sense of everything. Her skirts swished each time she took a step.
“I am quite certain that I am being tested,” Liza stated plainly. “I am pretty sure that this trip of mine is more meaningful than any of the other times I have come back. I am being tested in strange yet very important ways.”
She walked in another circle, fingers tapping at her hips as she paced, and Geta kept looking at her, analyzing the look on her friend’s face. Liza had a defiant look for sure.
“I have to stop talking to anyone about what it means to be a Traveler. I have to stop thinking about it and I have to stop making any changes. I have to work hard not to expressly do or say anything that has an impact on the worlds as we know them or especially as I know them. And that might mean something very negative happens as a result, or it even might mean that something very good might happen. I just don’t know. But I can’t be a part of anything that might change the future. I’ve already changed the future, I’m certain of it. But that all ends right here and right now. So Geta, my answer is no.”
Geta looked surprised and sad all in one.
“Geta, I admire you and I respect you. But I can’t help you. I simply won’t help you. I’m sorry.”
Geta took a deep breath and nodded. Her face looked full of regret. Her request had overstepped the boundaries of their relationship and she knew that now and felt just awful.
“I tried to take advantage of our friendship didn’t I,” she said sadly, exhaling as she took a few steps towards a chair and began to sit down.
Liza watched her.
“And now that I think about it, I think that it was wrong for Balthis to have taken Beata.”
“But…” Liza interrupted.
“I know,” Geta said. “Beata wanted to come through. She told us that. But Balthis still took her. We both know that to be true. But I think it was wrong,” Geta confided.
Liza looked out the window. She only saw the glare of the room she was in, and she could see Geta sitting down on the chair.
“Oh my God,” Liza practically screamed. She stepped backwards and a vase on the little table beside her crashed to the floor when her skirts brushed against it.
“What just happened?” Geta cried.
Liza walked closer to the window, her fingers tracing an outline of something she was seeing in the reflection of the glare of the candles. Someone was right there, standing beside Geta. Liza didn’t want to turn around and break the profound moment she was having. But what she saw in the reflection was a little girl, and she was holding Geta’s hand. Liza rubbed the spot on the back of her head. It was throbbing but it wasn’t painful.
“Tell her, Liza,” a voice said. “You can tell her that,” the voice said again.
Liza turned to look at Geta, who sat comfortably in the chair, one hand gently rubbing on her belly.
“You are going to have a healthy baby girl,” Liza said. And then she fainted into a crumpled heap on the floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MISCHIEF ON THE WHARF
Liza was both surprised and horrified by the cacophony of sounds and all the bustling of activity unfolding right before her eyes. On top of that, there were the smells, oh the horrible if not putrid smells that hung heavy in the air which bombarded her brain and added to the chaos and near insanity of what she was experiencing here in the Boston harbor. Then there was the scent of the sea that wafted over everything, almost coating every human, animal and bit of cargo that passed through along the wharf as man and beast made their way to the ships. The noises of seagulls were practically deafening.
Liza was exhilarated by this yet almost regretted not accepting Laura’s assistance in the insane task of getting herself and Libby onto a ship bound for Europe.
After the fainting incident in the Boston townhouse, Liza had been subjected to a few visits from Gaston’s doctor who could not find anything wrong with her and pronounced her safe for travel.
Libby was brought from the estate into Boston, with Liza’s belongings carefully packed and attached to her saddle. There hadn’t been the opportunity to say goodbye to Adam, and Liza deeply regretted that.
Geta and Balthis had gone on to New York City by train, and Liza reflected on what had been asked of her. “Was I being too harsh, refusing to tell them of ways to pass through to my world? I don’t even know where any of them are located,” Liza had exclaimed to herself, regretting that the visit had been awkward, but glad that she had seen the vision of the child that Geta was destined to have.
Now she was on the wharf and she and Libby were bound for Liverpool on a grand steamer ship. This was her first time on anything of this size and she was both nervous and excited. But right now, she was being squished on all sides and she did not like that one bit.
“This is madness,” Liza said practically muttering the words under her breath. She and Libby were silent now, neither one wanting to draw attention to themselves. Yet that was somewhat of a joke to even think that they might stick out here on this busy wharf. This was an international port and between the audible sounds of accents and different languages hurled about by employees and passengers alike, coupled with the variety of dress worn by all, Liza had no doubt that they kind of looked right at home here in the midst of the hustle and bustle of passengers, merchants and employees alike.
Liza heard the mournful horns of boats and ships in the harbor, signaling arrivals, departures or for the captain of a vessel to give way. For a moment, she thought she caught the tone of one of the alphorns she had heard playing across the valleys in the Alps many years ago, but then the low blast of the horn turned into the ear-splitting blast of what Liza was certain had meant the ship’s captain had announced, “Get out of my way now!”
Libby was being pushed and shoved as she made her way walking calmly beside Liza. One time she winced as some irritated dockworker poked her rib cage with something sharp, finally yelling at Liza to get her animal out of the way which Liza obliged with some difficulty.
Liza kept a firm grip on Libby’s lead rope; this was not the time to show off and have her mare walk beside her without it, oh no. Instead, Liza constantly worried about theft. Struggling to find a way to squeeze through the throng, she recalled her studies of some of the gangs that worked the wharves in most of the harbors from Boston to New York to Baltimore and she didn’t want to become separated from her mare.
“Steady girl,” she whispered to Libby.
As they got closer to the ship, Liza was surprised at a sight taking place on the ship next to hers which both shocked and worried her.
Some horses and mules were being hauled aboard by a seesaw type contraption, with heavy leather straps and pieces of canvas secured around the belly of the poor animal as a long tree trunk sized piece of wood, mast-like, swung the animal up and off the wharf and up to the deck of the ship. Liza had no idea what would happen next to the poor animal.
How was Libby going to board their ship? Was there a large gang plank up and into the cargo hold where Libby could walk in on her own accord? Liza hoped so because there was no way she would allow Libby to be strung up like that.
“Those poor animals,” Liza thought. “Nope, that contraption is not for you girl,” Liza whispered, and hearing Libby blow gently out her nostrils, Liza knew that Libby agreed.
Just then, a man in black cap, jacket and trousers, and crisp white shirt hurried over to Liza.
“Miss, oh Miss,” the man cried. “Miss, I have been searching for you!” he said, worry in his voice, yet with relief on his face. “Miss Liza, that is you, am I correct?” the man continued, a thick Boston accent hanging over every word with a hint of an Irish brogue mixed in as well.
Liza was startled, and turned towards the man, who by now, had signaled with his arm pointing to his right, indicating that he wanted Liza and Libby to join him.
“Miss Laura wanted me to find you and get you safely aboard,” the man said, tipping his cap to Liza. She was impressed with his manners and with how clean and tidy his uniform was. It was pressed too Liza noticed, as she looked at the neat creases ironed carefully into his trousers and jacket. Liza smiled.
“Someone loves him,” she thought, “or he’s a bachelor who is very conscientious,” she mused.
“This way, Miss,” he urged once again, “I can get you both aboard through this entrance and we can avoid most of the chaos.” The man gave a smile to Libby and quickly gave her a pat on her neck. “This must be a lot for your mare,” the man said to Liza as he both guided them in the correct direction while trying to have Liza walk before him as well.
“I know who you are Miss, but I need to see your papers and ticket please, as well as the passage information for your mare,” he said to her.
Liza was a little relieved that someone was going to help her. She liked being independent but boy, this was something she had not expected what with all the chaos and pushing and shoving and the huge crowds and all the noise. Even with a horse beside her to plow through the crowds if needed, she was glad to have someone leading the way for her. The man was tall and had red hair and a kind face. She pulled papers from her pocket, showed them to him, waited as he made a hole punch through them as well as a written notation in the corner, then she pocked them once again.
“Irish?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss,” he replied. “My family is here since the early fifties. There are twenty-six of us now, all related I believe, no, twenty-eight,” he chuckled. “Mary had twins,” he added with a smile.
Liza was almost sorry she was not going to get to know this nice employee of the ship line. He might have been a good person to know on her trip across the Atlantic.
“I won’t see them all for three weeks now, what with the crossing and all,” he said, almost reading Liza’s mind. “The name is Patrick, Miss, family name Connolly,” he said with a smile and a tip of his hat.
“Ah so he would be on the crossing,” Liza realized. “Well, what do you know!” Liza thought. “The history books are correct. The Irish really were in Boston!”
Liza led Libby up a heavy gangplank that led to the cargo hold of the ship and looked at the water below them.
“From the looks of it, I think your mare would be polite and well-mannered enough to enter the ship through the Saloon class entry, for sure,” Patrick teased, “but I think my boss would prefer this entrance for you both right now. Do you mind Miss?” he asked. “That is, do you mind boarding the ship through the cargo area, Miss, along with your mare?”
Liza was comforted by the man’s easy demeanor and also by his diligence in trying to make her feel at ease with this chaotic process of getting aboard the ship. Liza loved to travel, but this was a first for her. “Who really travels by ship these days unless it’s some kind of a holiday cruise?” she wondered. “No one really does these elegant transatlantic crossings anymore,” she said sadly.
Liza knew a fair amount about steamers and packet sailing ships because she had studied all about this with her father who loved the sea. It was funny that her father spent most of his time on horseback or in his truck, when all the while he loved the sea.
In spite of that, Liza realized that her family never really spent any time at the ocean, come to think of it. Rather, they were in the mountains most of the time. Then she remembered that what her father truly enjoyed were the stories of naval battles of the great ships of various empires as well as stories of courage, recklessness, success and hardship. “Running a
ship, any kind of ship, is only successful if the captain is one that the crew respects,” her father always said. “They don’t have to like the captain, but they should always respect leadership,” he had once told her.
As they entered through a metal doorway that was barely wide enough for both Liza and Libby to pass through it side by side, Liza turned around and took a last look at everything. This continent had all been her home of sorts, for these last months and now she was getting ready to head out on a completely new adventure. She looked down at the water, lapping against the pier and the wooden pylons and listened as it slapped against the side of the metal ship. She noticed that the ship was tilting from side to side a bit causing the waves, what with all the activity taking place on the starboard side of the ship. Watching the water moving and swelling, Liza fervently hoped she would not get seasick on this crossing.
“This water is part of an ocean that is going to carry us far away from here,” Liza whispered to Libby as they slowly made their way into the ship. Ordinarily, Libby would have hastened up the gangplank, never stopping once she started on it. That was an odd thing about her mare; she hated metal bridges or walkways and always had to be coaxed across them. Liza resolved to ask her mare the reasons for that. Did the metal grating and the teeth of the metal hurt her hooves? Was it the noise that it made as she clattered across it? Liza sometimes wondered if Libby ever worried that her shoe might get tangled in the metal grating itself. “I’ll have to ask her later, that’s for sure!” Liza thought. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The air was stifling, and it was dark and noisy and grim. She could smell the oil lamps that were burning and tried not to worry that a lamp if knocked over by accident might start a fire. She almost stepped back as if to say, “Oh no, we aren’t getting on this,” but Patrick was behind her and
put a hand politely on her back, gently propelling her forward.
“No turning back now, girl,” Liza whispered.
Libby did a little hop to get up and over the doorway and step into the hold. She too nearly backed up, probably having the identical thought as Liza. Liza looked at her mare and saw Libby pin her ears back. “That’s not good,” Liza thought.
“Come on girl, you’ll be fine down here.” Liza tugged on the lead rope even as she struggled with her bag that was growing heavier now that they were so close to the end of this part of the journey. Liza wanted to put the bag down somewhere finally and rest a bit. This was all making her exhausted.
Libby stood still. Then she lifted her head high up in the air and Liza could see the whites of her eyes as she looked down at Liza and tried to pull back and away from it all, away from everything.
“Girl,” Liza coaxed, gently tugging on the lead rope.
Libby stepped back another step or two, almost pulling Liza over onto the metal floor, but then suddenly, she lowered her head and licked her lips, as if she had come to a decision in her mind that nothing was going to change, no matter how much she protested.
“I’m sorry girl, but this is how it has to be. We can’t get back to our world unless we go to the place in the forest, high in the mountains not far from Anna’s valley. I just know it in my heart that we have to take this ship and get to Europe and to find our way to Anna,” Liza added. “We agreed, girl, we agreed on this plan, you remember, don’t you?”
It occurred to Liza that Libby was acting like, well, acting like a horse and not like her friend. Liza had to stop and acknowledge that her horse was a horse after all, and sometimes they became as stubborn as humans, to be honest. Libby had taken a lot of misery in stride so far; Liza
decided it was okay for her mare to fuss a bit over what was starting off to be an unpleasant Atlantic crossing for her.
“Miss Liza, Libby, come with me,” Patrick urged. “Trust me please and follow me,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
They wove their way past cargo that was being lashed securely into place and past numerous crates of feathered creatures and small four-legged animals. They meandered their way past nearly a dozen mules, all crammed together into one box-like area that contained them. It was hard to imagine how their journey would be but perhaps mules liked being all together like that Liza reasoned. She listened to the thwap thwap thwapping noise that the straps and ropes made as men lashed cargo down to withstand any sort of ocean swell or bad weather. Their ribald commentary sure was interesting, Liza noticed.
Liza had no idea what to expect on this
ocean crossing. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. It’s not as though she could search for information on her own or call someone on the phone to find out. She was going to have to trust that this time of year for a northern crossing from Boston to Liverpool was going to be as safe as it could be. Laura would have stopped her, certainly, at least Liza hoped she would have dissuaded her, had there been any cause for alarm.
When Liza saw where Patrick had guided them, her spirits lifted. Surely Libby would be happy here. What she saw was a series of special wooden crates, massive in size, designed for the comfort of important horses! There were two magnificent horses already safely tucked into their area for the crossing and one whinnied when it saw Libby.
Libby gave her own little cry of friendship and stood politely as Liza untacked her and watched as her cowgirl mistress stowed all the tack into a steamer trunk across from the horses, provided especially for their respective owners.
“Well,” sniffed Libby.
“Yes?” replied the young cowgirl.
“Well,” she said again, making a snort.
“Yes?” Liza said, this time drawing out the word, making it sound like a two or three syllable word as she busied herself, trying not to look at her mare.
“Excuse me Miss,” they both heard Patrick say. “This livestock section is for our Saloon class passengers. Miss Laura and her husband upgraded your crossing for you both and I’m quite certain that you and your horse will be beautifully accommodated on this journey. Your mare will be here in this special area, and you will be in Saloon class, Miss,” he said proudly.
Liza was pleased, but she was certain she had heard Libby snort in disgust when she was referred to as ‘livestock’.
Liza’s heart was bursting. This was a surprise. She was trying to use her father’s gold pieces sparingly. So far, they had already spent a lot and she needed to be certain there would be enough to last them for however much longer they would be in this world. Liza had no idea if their time here would be many more weeks or even months longer, and she was worried. “I have friends in this world, but I can’t expect to live off their kindness,” she thought. “I have to pay my own way,” Liza said, with grit and determination in her mind as she thought about what expenses and hardships they might still have to endure.
Sometimes Liza could not believe the good fortune she encountered when she had stumbled upon the large bag of gold her father had fortuitously stashed in the clever hiding spot in the cave so long ago. She kept those little gold bars tucked safely away as she traveled across the country from Colorado and was prudent when and where and how she pulled them out to use them again and again all this while. Now more than ever, she had to think about some kind of a budget.
But she was being rude. Patrick was standing here politely, pleased with himself that he had made her journey much better and was able to provide more comfort for her mare.
“Just back your mare into this stall, Miss, or lead her, as you please,” he said. “There is room for her to turn around. Oh
and Miss,” he added, “your mare already has a bucket of fresh water before her.”
“That’s very kind. But what is this pile of extra wood?” Liza asked as she backed Libby into the stall.
“The stalls are already expanded for your mare, Miss,” Patrick explained. “In fair weather, your mare might want to lie down or roll around or have extra room to turn about,” he said. “When we run into rough weather, you will want to nestle her into a narrower space and these wooden partitions slide in just like this,” he paused as he pointed to the place for the boards to slide across, “which will give her something to lean up against instead of being flung about.” Liza was impressed.
“You just let us know, Miss, and we will arrange everything for you,” the young steward said proudly.
“Now that is ingenious,” Liza thought. Libby was leaning her head out of the stall, eyes riveted on Liza. Then she curled her head and nose down to the left, with her eyes now on a pile of hay near the storage trunk. Then she whipped her head back up to glare at Liza.
“Okay girl, hay for you it is,” Liza said gleefully.
Tossing Libby some hay, Liza enquired about the beautiful white Arabian next to Libby.
“The mare next to yours, well Miss, she belongs to one of the ladies in Saloon class with you. You will meet her at dinner, I’m certain of it,” Patrick said.
Liza heard a snort and suddenly acknowledged the magnificent black horse stalled next to Libby.
“I don’t know what you eat, so I’m not going to feed you,” Liza said, looking at the black thoroughbred.
“This one is special,” Patrick told her, giving a friendly rub on the stallion’s forehead. “He has his own groom too, for the crossing that is,” Patrick added. “That’s the boss’s horse,” he said proudly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ON BOARD
Liza finally had to stop counting how many times someone had used the word “Miss” with her because this experience was all making her a little dizzy. Between the chaos on the wharf then everything down below and what she was encountering now, Liza realized she was excited about everything, but still quite overwhelmed.
Walking on board, a steward urged, “Watch your step, Miss,” even holding out a hand to her as the man had said those words, his hand guiding her safely over an obstacle.
After she had gotten Libby situated, the words, “Come this way, Miss,” were something she must have heard a half dozen times as she headed deeper and deeper into the ship’s labyrinth of wide-open atriums, massive flying staircases, past ballrooms and dining rooms and finally, down long narrow corridors that weren’t really that tall or wide. She began to feel a little bit claustrophobic.
Even as she had followed someone wearing black trousers and a white jacket or been ushered ahead of someone in a blue jacket with a smart looking cap on his head, she had to work hard to memorize how to navigate her way on this huge steamer ship. In spite of the large black painted signs directing passengers here and there, she was getting confused. She was also worried that if she heard the word “Miss” one more time, she might shout out to someone, to anyone, “I need some peace and quiet!”
Being a farm girl and a cowgirl with a love of wideopen fields and a love of the mountains had taught her lots of patience and she loved long periods of peace and quiet and solitude. Whether she was riding the fence line checking to make sure the fences were secure, and gates were all shut,
or working with a horse in the arena or round pen, or sitting quietly to work on her schooling, Liza was used to solitude. It had been all of that and more when Liza came through to this world this time. How ironic that Liza would choose to go east on her journey in this still rather young United States. One thing was certain; she went from a wild, untamed, peaceful landscape with no one around her for hundreds of miles, to being on board a ship, competing for a place to stand or turn around.
Slowly, Liza realized that everything she experienced over these last few hours and minutes was starting to get on her nerves. All she wanted to do was to go ride on Libby and breathe in some fresh air and move away from the crowds of people who were bumping into her, leaning up against her or stopping abruptly in front of her so that she was forced to bump into them, often yielding a crush of people pushing into her back as they struggled to get to their cabins or back to the metal grating on parts of the deck to watch the departure from the harbor and to wave at loved ones.
“It will be better now, Miss,” a kind steward’s voice said, and when Liza turned to look in the direction of the voice, she was startled to see how young this steward was.
“He’s younger than I am,” Liza exclaimed silently. “He has a full-time job on this ship, crossing the Atlantic back and forth and back and forth again, and he’s employed full time,” she noticed. He was tall, thin and gangly looking with just a hint of ‘boy becoming a man’ look to him. He was properly groomed and outfitted, and Liza observed that his shoulders were starting to fill out. Every now and then, his voice cracked when he spoke to her.
At one point, when his voice cracked just a little bit too much, Liza saw this young steward blush ever so slightly when he realized that Liza was looking at him. Liza thought about looking away and occupying herself with something to be polite so as not to embarrass him, however this young steward looked right back at Liza and held her gaze.
Then it was Liza who blushed, ever so slightly. This annoyed her but she shook her head and said, “Thank you! It’s certainly quite a crush of people getting on today.”
“Where are you going, Miss?” he asked.
“To the Continent,” Liza said, somewhat uncertain how much of her journey she should reveal. She had spent months all alone with Libby, navigating crossing thousands of dangerous miles by herself and had learned to remain conversational without revealing too many personal details whenever she encountered people. However, with this steward she added, “To see a friend.” She smiled and he made a polite nod and quickly lifted a hand to touch his cap as if to acknowledge her words more formally. “Oh, and I’ll have to cross the Channel too,” she cried, instantly feeling silly at her forced exuberance.
“Very nice, Miss,” he said to her. “That will be exciting.”
At this moment, yet another steward, older and carrying himself more professionally was at Liza’s side. “Stephens,” the man said, “she’s in Saloon class. Don’t be asking the Miss about her private business,” he said gently yet in the tone of a small reprimand.
Turning to Liza, his back a determined signal to the young steward that it was his time to leave them, he added, “Your ticket, Miss, so I may direct you to your stateroom,” he said kindly, adding a polite smile to his words.
“I think this entire ship is simply full of nice-looking adventure-seeking young men,” Liza thought, her tummy doing a little flip flop when she realized that she had blushed once again. “Ugh,” she added silently as she made a little smirk to herself.
Liza showed the tickets for herself and her mare to this nice steward, as he said, “I’m Jenkins, Miss,” and in one movement of his eyes, looked down at the papers in her hand then back at Liza and then back to the numbers listed on the top ticket.
His eyebrows arched in a look of surprise as he glanced to look at her face, then at the tickets, then briefly at the leather
bag by her side and then unobtrusively at her attire. Then he quickly steadied his facial expressions, as he had been trained.
“I’m dusty,” Liza said simply.
Jenkins smiled and offered to take Liza’s bag. She hesitated then decided not to make a big deal of it and allowed Jenkins to carry her bag. She was glad she had stowed and locked up her rifle down below in the crate next to Libby. “What would Jenkins be thinking!” she chuckled.
“Stephens, continue with your duties,” he said to the younger steward with the cracking voice.
“Sir,” the younger man replied, then he flashed a careful yet friendly smile to Liza and turned expertly to head off to attend to other passengers.
“Follow me, Miss,” Jenkins said.
“Why the gold star treatment?” Liza wondered. “Are my tickets special or something? Where are they taking me?” she thought, as she did a little skip in her step to catch up to Jenkins.
Liza’s mind was a whirl of excitement. She was happy and excited about this incredible new adventure she was on, but in the back of her mind, she could not help but think about Libby. Even though Liza had been present for most of the steps that were taken to get Libby settled in down below, Liza had been politely ‘encouraged’ to leave the cargo and livestock area and was shown the way back to the embarkation area to walk up and onto the ship with the other passengers. “I’m going to have to trust that Libby will be okay,” Liza muttered under her breath, as she followed Jenkins down several corridors.
Liza gasped when she took a look around and focused on the beauty that was before her. The entire hallway was lined with elegant dark paneling and woodwork, mahogany she wondered, and the carpeting was lush and blood-red colored with swirls and patterns of gold throughout. She nearly tripped when she finally stepped onto the carpet after walking on the damp wooden deck. Her boots caught on the edge of it as she entered the corridor through swinging doors
with beautifully etched glass panels and she tripped and fell somewhat into Jenkin’s back. One of her hands moved forward to steady herself and she gasped again as she did so.
“Muscles,” she thought. “Of course. These men work hard throughout the entire journey and never get a break.” Why was she blushing again? This was annoying her.
Jenkins turned around and smiled politely at Liza as he gently but enthusiastically reached out to steady her.
“You’ll be needing to practice getting your sea legs too, Miss,” he added.
Liza had read enough books about sea travel to know what that meant. Whether it was books about the English navy in the 1700’s or sailboat yacht racing of the current century, everyone who was on the water had to find their sea legs. “Did I trip on the carpet or did the ship sway?” Liza asked.
“A little of both,” Jenkins admitted.
Turning the heavy key to the door of her stateroom, he opened the door with a flourish and stood to the side to permit Liza to enter the room ahead of him. She ran her right hand along the carvings and features of her door and gasped when she walked into her rooms.
“So, this is what a stateroom is,” she cried, in shock at both the size of it all as well as the overwhelming lushness of her accommodations. She looked all around her, trying not to look like a neophyte but finally admitted to herself, “I’m going to gawk at everything. I only get to do this once in my life!” she laughed realizing she wouldn’t feel claustrophobic in here and would have plenty of peace and quiet.
Jenkins entered behind her and Liza noticed that he kept the door open to her stateroom. “Ah that’s right. Men and women aren’t supposed to be alone, and I don’t have a chaperone,” Liza thought.
“Are you familiar with ocean travel and steamer ship accommodations?” Jenkins asked, carefully placing her
leather bag on a side table, built to hold much larger, heavier baggage.
“I know about train travel well enough,” Liza said then thought, “I actually know a lot about ocean travel but seeing it in person has me in awe. Steady, Liza, steady,” she coached herself quietly under her breath.
Jenkins proudly showed her the modern faucets and other plumbing there in her stateroom and Liza smiled at how advanced and yet primitive everything looked.
A large mirror was on one wall, and looking into it, Liza could see how and why another steward had inadvertently thought she was meant to travel in steerage.
“I look an absolute mess,” she cried, sighing then drooped her shoulders down into a slump as she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. “This won’t do at all,” she muttered, fully understanding why Laura had insisted on packing extra clothes for Liza for this journey.
“I have a ball gown in there,” Liza said, pointing to one of her bags.
“I’ll send the maid to attend to it right away,” Jenkins said.
“I’m not so sure,” Liza stammered, but then she added, “Everything onboard is so beautiful,” and watched as he smiled and nodded at her. He was not in a hurry, Liza noticed. “I’ve been traveling for so many months and I just haven’t given a thought to my looks,” she admitted. “I was able to clean up a bit when I got to Boston and spent time with my friend Laura, but I neglected to attend to my outerwear,” she sighed.
“You are friends with Madam Laura and her husband then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied simply. “She has one of my horses,” she added.
“I need to stop oversharing,” she thought. “And why do I care how I look?” she wondered. But Liza knew better. She was in polite company now and it wouldn’t do for her to
maintain this backwoods look for the duration of the crossing.
“We have attendants who can tidy you up, Miss,” Jenkins said, neither looking at her dirty jeans nor at her jacket yet fully aware that she felt awkward about her attire suddenly.
“This young woman is remarkable,” Jenkins thought. “I can tell there is certainly quite a lot to her background,” he mused, as he waited for Liza to decide if she needed an attendant or not. “We also have a boutique on board for women’s clothing,” he added politely.
Looking around the room and walking to the door, he calmly added, as he turned to face her, “Will that be all, Miss?”
There was an awkward pause between them. Liza felt his eyes burning into her, and yet they weren’t the eyes or the glance of a man who was being impolite. But she could tell that he wanted to ask her more questions yet chose to remain quiet.
“Uh yes, that is all,” Liza stuttered. Jenkins turned to leave.
“Jenkins?” Liza asked.
He paused, turned and stood politely.
“Well, I think, well, you know,” and Liza ran her hand down her jacket and swished her hand against her jeans. “I think I will need help after all,” she said shyly. “A maid to tend to my dress and all would be great,” Liza added.
“Very well, Miss,” Jenkins said smiling. “I will send someone.”
Liza nodded then realized that she had no idea if she was supposed to tip him. She made a puzzled, “Hmmmm,” in frustration because Laura had not said anything about this. Jenkins’s movements had been so fluid and gracious and were not those of a man with his hand out constantly asking for tips but rather his movements were of a man who wanted to serve and ensure his passengers were truly comfortable.
“Oh Jenkins,” she added quietly. “As you know, I don’t have a maid for the crossing. I’m sure everyone else does.
Will I need one? To dress, I mean?” Liza felt foolish the second she said this. So she stood up straighter and tried to get her confidence back.
Jenkins smiled. “I will send someone in time to help you dress for dinner with the captain,” he said. “Your first night is all arranged to be at his table, you know.” Liza’s eyes opened wide, then relaxed. She shook her head and pursed her lips, uncomfortable with the fact that she was going to have to spend a lot of time in polite society.
Nodding to her, he handed the stateroom key to Liza, nodded a second time with a touch of his hand to his cap as he turned and left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Liza didn’t look out her porthole and did not look out her larger window in the main room. Instead, she walked to the bed, turned her back to it, stepped backwards so the mattress met the back of her legs and knees, and then fell straight back onto the bed with a big uumpphh of contentment.
“This is going to be an incredible experience,” Liza said, smiling as she looked up at the multilayered wooden carvings of the exquisite ceiling above her. Lying there, she thought back to the answers she had given to anyone who had asked about her journey already. All she knew was that she had to get back to the mountains. She and Libby were being called, she knew that now with absolute certainty, and she realized that the sooner this trip across the Atlantic would begin, the sooner she could continue to make her way back to Anna’s pretty mountain valley high in the Alps.
Liza sat up and looked out the window when she felt a feeling of dead weight against her and then a feeling of lightness. Engines had begun to roar, and she could feel the movement of this massive steamer.
“Ahhhh!” she cried out suddenly. “I forgot about the tradition!” She hurried her way out the door of her stateroom, locking it behind her, then dashed down the corridor and pushed through some swinging doors. Then she threaded her way past men in long coats and women with wide skirts. She
felt the cold air against her skin as she dashed out onto the deck. The cheering was almost deafening, and the deep low booming noise of the steamer’s horn blasts was exhilarating. She pressed her fingers to her ears each time the captain sounded the horn, admittedly gleeful to be experiencing this.
Liza meandered her way to the rail. She didn’t want to be impolite, but she pushed and squeezed her way through the throng of passengers. This was a once in a lifetime event for her. In spite of the maddening crush of people, she wanted to see the harbor and to wave goodbye to everyone on the wharf.
The woman on her left was tossing coiled strings of paper down to people below waving to her from the wharf. “Goodbye,” everyone was cheering as confetti fell and more and more strings were thrown.
“They throw the strings to someone on shore to grab and hold on to. I think it’s a way to say goodbye and to keep their link with them intact until the last moment when the string of paper breaks. At least I think that’s what it means,” Liza thought.
That was confirmed when she observed the woman on her left. She was crying and holding tightly to her paper strand. Liza followed the line of paper held by the woman all the way down to the wharf. A man was holding it in one hand and waving his hat with the other. He appeared to be very sad as well yet trying to keep up appearances. Liza looked back at the woman and then down to the man once again.
“I wonder what’s going on here?” she thought. “Why aren’t they together? Are they a couple? Are they relatives? Why is she leaving and why is he staying?” Liza couldn’t see if there was a wedding ring on the woman’s hand, because she wore fancy gloves that went part way up her arms. Liza listened to the goodbyes and then concluded that these weren’t happy ones she was witnessing. These were almost as heartwrenching as the ones that certainly took place from the decks of steamers headed from east to west. Those ships were too
often filled with people fleeing famine or persecution, as was most likely the case with the steerage passengers.
Was this woman returning to her family? This couldn’t be a business trip for her, not in this time period. Women rarely traveled alone, Liza had been told and had witnessed first-hand that women usually had someone to accompany them.
Traveling alone all these months, Liza was well-aware that eyes were on her all the time wherever she went. Did people watch her subconsciously concerned for her wellbeing? Were they judging her, watching her in both wonder and shock that such a young woman was on her own?
Liza looked around at all the people on the wharf, looking up and waving at the passengers on the boat deck there beside her. Down below, through portholes, Liza saw hands and arms stretched out and waving as well. Suddenly, she felt very lonely. She turned away from the railing and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“I really miss my parents,” Liza whispered under her breath. “I haven’t given it a proper thought to wonder if they are worried about me. I’m sure they are. I can’t imagine what they must be experiencing. I wish I could get a message to them the way Laura did to her family. How did she ever accomplish that?” she pondered.
Liza listened to the crowd and watched everything that was going on around her. “I have Libby,” she thought. “I have to get to Anna’s chalet in the mountains, but for now, I have my Libby-girl.”
She turned back to the railing and looked down at the mass of bubbles in the water, evidence of the churning motion of the huge propellers deep under the ship at the stern. The water was swirling as the ship struggled slowly and made its way away from the wharf and moved further into the harbor channel helped by a number of intrepid tugboats hard at work to guide the steamer on its way.
Liza looked at the mass of buildings along the harbor. There was a chaotic messy orderliness to it all, with a hustle
and bustle of hard-working manpower in sight everywhere, mixed in with horse-powered and mechanized machinery.
This world was changing fast, and Liza could see that. Out West, in the wilderness and across the plains and in the valleys and small towns, there was still peace and quiet and a vastness that was comforting. But progress was creeping into the wilderness too, just as it was bursting at the seams here in Boston and in cities all up and down the coast, of that Liza was certain.
She had seen vast clear-cutting of old growth forests which was heartbreaking, memories flying into her mind of topsoil she had seen being washed away as the flattened landscape no longer had trees with their roots to protect from the decimation. She knew that mankind would realize its folly sooner than later. She was living through history with every step that she and Libby took on their journey, and she was trying to absorb it all.
Sometimes she realized that it was hard to stay quiet about her opinions on what was occurring around her. How could she tell someone not to log out every single tree in front of them, for example? Yet as a witness to everything, she remained confused by what her purpose was in all of this. How could she single-handedly change anything for the better? Why had she been called back? She was frustrated with the code of the Travelers that Anna had imbued into her. “Change nothing,” she had been warned. “Or your own way back will be impossible,” Anna had once warned her.
The steamer blew its horn again, long and low and mournful and then somehow, the sound transformed into a sound of joy and hope. They were underway.
Yet still, this next part of her journey had her a little bit concerned even as she was filled with excitement. What if there was a violent storm at sea? What if the ship ran into problems? The only tragedies at sea she had studied were about whaling ships in the 1800’s off the coast and the sinking of the Titanic in the early 1900’s, an avoidable horror. She also
knew about the sinking of dozens of wartime ships in the sea lanes during both world wars and made a silent prayer of gratitude that on this journey back in time, she had not come back during a time of war.
Liza had one true friend on this ship, and that was Libby. Liza smiled when she thought of her mare. Here she was getting all kinds of mixed feelings about life running through her head, and Libby was probably down below just munching on her hay, chewing and chewing and crunching and munching.
A silly thought crossed her mind which was her small obsession about trying to make up a bed for herself to sleep down in the livestock hold of the ship next to Libby. She really wanted to do that. It would be ridiculous yet doable and as Liza pondered the thought, she reminded herself that this stateroom was an expensive one and she needed to respect what Laura and Gaston had done for her. She told herself to enjoy all the benefits of her glorious stateroom; to sleep in a proper bed after all these weeks and months of way too many nights of sleeping on the ground in a bedroll was almost too good to be true.
Liza slowly made her way back into the halls of ship, absentmindedly fiddling with paper remnants from what she had thrown that she still held in her hand. She stopped to turn to look out the porthole at Boston one last time. As she turned, she froze. Who was that boy over there? That young man, rather? Who was that over near the entrance of the main ballroom? As her eyes met his, she saw a smile and noticed he bowed his head slightly in a manner of a respectful greeting.
“Ugh.” Liza was still wearing her traveling gear and tried to fight feeling self-conscious in and amongst so many elegant people dressed in their finery. She fought the urge to scrunch her nose at him but instead, pursed her lips and made a mock smile and shrugged her shoulders. After a moment she tried to find him again, but there were crowds of people in front of her. “Who was that? He looks familiar. Was that…?”
She went up on tiptoes to try to look for him again but there were still too many people. She turned to continue walking to her stateroom. She felt his eyes on her, however. She knew that young man was back there, behind her somewhere.
“Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, don’t turn around,” she kept telling herself. “You have almost nine days on this ship to find him again. Or is it seven days? Aaaah. How many days will I be trapped on this ship with him?” she agonized.
She turned and her eyes found him. He stood there looking at her and smiled somewhat devilishly once again. Liza rolled her eyes and looked up at the ceiling slightly then turned and walked briskly down the corridor away from him. What she had done was childish and silly. “You can’t hide from someone on a steamer ship,” she realized, chiding herself.
Liza looked down at the information booklet that Jenkins had given her. It listed the names of the passengers in Saloon class, but she didn’t recognize any names. So who was he? She shrugged her shoulders then flipped through the remaining pages of the booklet and saw the daily events and menus planned for the duration of the crossing from Boston to Liverpool. Oddly, she immediately began to count down the days until she and Libby could get off this steamer.
This was going to be very interesting crossing indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DOWN BELOW
Liza made her way down the metal stairs and meandered through the myriad of corridors. She stepped over bulkheads and carefully opened and closed doors behind her. She had seen enough movies to know that the safety of a ship was at stake whether or not doors were closed correctly.
Eventually she found the doorway marked “Cargo Hold” in black lettering that appeared to have a Gothic look to the font. “Cargo Hold,” Liza repeated to herself. “I think this is the door. When they led me away from Libby, I neglected to turn around to watch how to get back here. That’s the first rule of trail riding, of course. In the absence of a map, always turn around to memorize landmarks so you can make your way back. It was foolish of me not to have taken notice,” Liza thought. “But I think this is the way.”
She lifted the heavy latch and opened the door and was nearly blasted back with the overwhelming mixture of noises and smells. This hold, this part of the ship, was not a pleasant place and she was horrified that Libby had to be here. But it was the only way. They had to get to Europe, and at this time, this was the only means of travel. Pleasant or not, they would both have to bear it. Liza knew she would do whatever it took to come down to visit with Libby throughout this long journey at sea that’s for sure.
Somehow, in spite of the noise, Libby must have sensed her presence because Liza heard a whinny. It was Libby. But her cry set off an echo of whinnies all throughout the hold as one horse after another made a cry of hello.
It all seemed to reverberate in a row, with each wanting to be heard. First one, then the other and yet another until the horse that was the furthest away from
Libby had also made a cry. Even the mules made noises, the braying causing their own chain reaction of shrill dissonance throughout the hold.
But that wasn’t the only noises Liza heard. The engine noises were overwhelming and in spite of that, Liza also heard the ocean waves just outside the metal of the walls of the hold.
In addition, she sensed she could also feel the water out there, and worried it could crush them and rush in but hearing it and feeling it was a separate horror from knowing it was there. Liza loved the water, but she absolutely hated being under the waterline in any boat and she was glad the animals weren’t brought further below in this massive ship that was steaming across the ocean. She was frightened for a moment. What was she doing here? Why had she put Libby into harm’s way?
Liza had studied steamer travel ever since she had first met Laura and her husband a long time ago. They had originally taken the ship RMS Servia from Boston to Europe. After they had found Lila, Liza knew from her research of passenger lists she had found on the internet, that Laura and her husband had taken the Servia for their return journey to Boston. She scrunched her nose thinking, “They were in Europe for a long time. I wonder what they had been doing all that while? And with little Lila with them as well?”
At any rate, Liza tried not to think about the number of ships that routinely sank out at sea. Storms took down many and sometimes collisions in the fog at sea destroyed others. Many ships shared the same sea lanes. The existence of the steamers was worth the risk, however. They had to get back to Europe. They had to find Anna to try to understand the meaning of everything.
“Libby-girl, I’m here!” Liza cried out. This time Libby’s reply wasn’t so urgent, and Liza recognized it even when a chorus of other horses made their chorus of nickers of hello all over again.
Liza wanted to pet a few as she walked by. But she was careful with her enthusiasm; everyone knows not to pet other horses one after another in case one was sick. As it was, all the animals were in a confined area without fresh air. Liza just hoped that Libby’s immune system was strong enough to withstand anything nasty that might be lying inside the lungs of some of these other animals.
Many horses were being sent to Europe from herds that had been rounded up from the western United States. The vastness of America’s land meant that there were thousands and thousands of horses that were being sold to Europe to be used for all kinds of reasons. This steamer carried a large number of horses on this trip, and they were going to destinations unknown. The hold was only carrying two other horses attached to Saloon passengers however, and she had already met the thoroughbred stalled just beside Libby and the smaller white Arabian mare on her other side.
Liza said hello to the tall black stallion who stood there chewing his hay as she approached. Turning to her mare, Liza gave Libby a gushing, “Hello girl! I’ve missed you.”
Libby was normally the calm and wise one of their partnership but just now, she was grumpy.
“This place is awful, Liza,” Libby said. Liza was silent and pursed her lips.
Libby picked up a mouthful of hay and ripped at it as she lifted it from the floor in front of her. She was chewing it angrily. Angrily. That was it. That was the perfect way to describe what Libby was doing. She was mad, she was sulking, and she was showing her displeasure.
“I’m not really sure what to say to her,” Liza thought carefully. Libby never complained. To hear her say, “This place is awful,” meant that this place was truly awful.
“Libby,” Liza began to say.
“Don’t even…” said Libby, angrily ripping at another mouthful of hay.
“Uh oh,” thought Liza.
The mare next to her was disinterested and nuzzled the straw before her, looking for errant pieces of hay. The stallion on the other side of Libby remained distant and yet polite, it seemed.
Liza put her hand out to pet Libby, but Libby wasn’t having any of that. Whipping her head away from Liza’s hand almost violently, Libby stumbled and nearly tripped and fell as the swift movement of her body moved along with an ocean swell and nearly caused her to lose her footing. Libby did a kind of tappity tap step step to catch her balance. Liza almost giggled at the thought of how being rude to her nearly earned Libby a nasty fall in the process, but she stifled her laugh.
“This is not funny at all. This hold is awful. Libby’s right. This is awful,” Liza thought sadly.
“Do you want me to put in the wooden boards to make your stall smaller for you, Libby, so you have more to lean up against to steady yourself?” Liza asked.
Liza covered her mouth as she spoke.
She could barely breathe from the stench wafting up from the other animals and their messes, and from the fumes emanating from other parts of the ship.
Then, standing there looking at her horse, she realized that she wanted to cry.
Liza acknowledged that she asked a lot of her mare, day after day, and she expected Libby to have a big heart about it all and to put up with anything that Liza threw at her.
But her mare had her limits too. Liza dropped her head and gave a dejected look at the floor.
The banging noises of the engines reverberated into the hold in a rhythmic pattern she noticed. Liza stared at her boots. The floor was soaking wet with urine from the other animals and spilled water buckets. Seven or eight more days of this. Liza wondered if there was something she could
fashion on the floor around Libby’s stall, to act like a buffer from the messes of the other animals there in the hold.
As she looked around, trying to locate anything to make into a kind of boom, she noticed a humming noise that was keeping sync with the noises from the engine. The humming was quite melodic and was definitely keeping the tempo of the rhythm of the engines. Liza looked around. Then she looked back at Libby.
Libby had lifted her head and was calmly chewing her hay. She was staring at Liza and Liza saw that her mare had a softness in her eyes. Liza realized the humming noise was coming from Libby.
“Oh, dear sweet Lord my horse can sing!” Liza thought. She looked at her mare and she just listened as Libby chewed her hay and hummed. Liza noticed that the stallion was watching Libby as he chewed his own hay.
“Does he recognize that the humming is from Libby?” Liza wondered.
She watched her mare. There it was. Libby’s wisdom was shining through. Her wonderful mare had her moment of frustration and yet quickly returned to being the wise and kind mare that Liza knew and loved. Listening to Libby hum, Liza knew that the rest of their ocean crossing would be just fine.
She stepped closer, and putting one hand on the railing, lifted her other hand to caress her mare. Libby nudged her head closer to Liza and gently rubbed her head against Liza’s hand.
Neither of them said a word. They stood there together for a long while as Liza listened to the sounds of the rushing water just outside the hold.
THE CROSSING
Several times a day, Liza snuck down below to visit Libby. At first, when she tried make her way down, she was afraid someone would catch her and try to forbid her from visiting her mare. But after a while, the deckhands and stewards ignored her stealthy method of making her way into the hold because they admired the devotion she had for her horse. Not only that, but Liza didn’t mind taking care of both Libby and the other horses.
There were several mornings when the deckhands and seamen arrived to begin their work in the hold to muck the area and they found that it had already been done. Scratching their heads, it didn’t take long for them to put two and two together to realize that their intrepid Saloon passenger was getting her hands and boots dirty every day to muck up the messes.
Liza knew she had been discovered when she noticed that Libby’s food trough contained remnants of carrot pieces in it as well as bits of apple. Libby wasn’t such a careful eater as to thoroughly lick her trough clean. One of her buddies back home would lick and lick and lick his own grain pan to get every last drop of oil or supplement off the bottom of the pan but Libby ate differently. She was a careful but lazy eater, taking her time and often dropping things out of her mouth as she chewed. Sometimes Libby would notice what she had done and then drop her head to clean it up. Other times, Liza would find these food remnants in the trough, and she concluded that the deckhands must have been thanking her for her help by giving treats to Libby.
By now, the entire hold had taken on a more appealing look and had a fresher scent to it. It seemed the staff was taking better care of the horses and mules and other livestock too.
Were they trying to impress her? Had they found a new sense of pride? Had their boss given them the ultimatum to clean things up better since a passenger was down here so often?
Liza felt it was the former, because when she came down below, they tipped their hats in kindness and gave her a smile. Had the men been admonished by their boss, Liza reasoned they’d have had a scowl for her instead of good cheer.
Whatever the reason, the hold looked better and smelled better. And that was good for all the animals.
The men had even improved upon the crude bolster she had fashioned to prevent urine from the other animals from running into the special stalls of Libby, the Arabian and the thoroughbred.
She was relieved. Libby looked healthy and acted healthy and that meant Liza was happy about it all too.
Meanwhile, in Saloon class, Liza had politely avoided dinner with the captain on that first night and had tried to keep to herself as much as possible for mealtimes. But that was difficult. As a passenger in Saloon class, she was expected to socialize for every day of the crossing. Everyone in her area created their own little world there for the duration, and all were rather compelled to play their part. Yet Liza tried to sneak an early breakfast and had asked for a light lunch to be brought to her cabin for the first days of the crossing.
On deck, Liza had also tried to keep to herself and spent a fair amount of time along the chilly railing looking out at the sea, the salt from the air sometimes forming on her lips.
The view out to sea was mind blowing. It went on forever in all directions. She looked off into the distance and saw the ocean swells and the movement was mesmerizing for her. She would watch the bow of the ship and how far it was above the swells of the ocean and then try to imagine how much it was moving up and down as it made its way across the ocean to Liverpool.
She enjoyed the sunrises, and she loved the sunsets. The ocean appeared massive and endless, and it seemed like
the world just melted off the edges of the horizon as she tried to follow where the sea met the sky.
Some days she wore her cowgirl clothing with her hat. She played with various ways of styling her hair, but it became a little stiff with the salty air whipping through it. Nevertheless, she wore it both up, down, pinned back, and occasionally put a band in and around a twist she made in her ponytail so that when she let it down, it fell into beautiful long waves of golden blond and light brown tresses.
She had pulled out the clothing Laura had given to her so after a few days of travel, she finally freshened up and wore a pretty dress and later, wore one that she had purchased from the ladies’ fashion boutique on a lower deck. If she was going to spend time in this world, she conceded that from time to time, she needed to look the part.
One day, as she strolled on deck, one of the pretty ladies who played cards with the same group of passengers glanced at Liza, smiled and nodded her approval after looking her up and down. “Very nice, my dear,” she said, and Liza returned her comment with a polite nod.
“Ah ha,” Liza thought. “I guess I look the part, finally. Must have made them nervous with my other look. In this time period, only some of those wild ladies from the Western shows wore jeans and hats like mine. Well, I don’t care, but it is nice to have one of those ladies finally smiling at me.” Liza made a pretty smile back to the woman who had nodded, and she continued her stroll on deck.
That’s what people did it seemed. Stroll, read, play cards, or smoke cigars - well the men did that the most she noticed. Other times she saw that a few passengers passed the time sketching, painting, playing games or writing. There was even a bicycle in the gym but only the men used it she had noticed.
Liza had her leather portfolio with her and made careful sketches of everything unusual that she observed.
“Mama is really going to enjoy the sketches that I bring back for her this time,” Liza thought. “Look at me! I’m on a steamer ship!” she sighed.
The food she noticed, was plentiful, beautiful looking and delicious. The chef and his staff went out of their way to artfully prepare the foods. They looked visually enticing and oooooh, but they always smelled so good too. Liza thought she might be a tiny bit seasick a few times, so she watched what she ate. And even though she knew that the gally staff probably stored foods with large blocks of ice to keep everything cold, she avoided anything that she felt might possibly get spoiled. She did not want to get sick and require medical attention. The only doctor she ever would have wanted to have helped her would have been her dear friend Anna. So she stuck with fruits, vegetables, cured meats and cheeses and the freshly baked items as well.
There was plenty of music on board. There were men wearing high buttoned black coats seated with their stringed instruments playing music to accompany most of the mealtimes and in the evenings after dinner. Liza enjoyed watching the adult passengers who were all dressed up dancing with one another to the music of the small orchestra that often played into the wee hours of the morning. Each woman was more elegantly dressed than the next and were certainly quite stylish. Liza noticed the various décolletages of the women and their choice of fancy jewelry. The men had gold cufflinks and watch fobs and ornately engraved cigarette cases. So many people smoked, Liza noticed, and she kept having to step outside to get away from the thick smoke.
One evening, after she coughed her way to the outer balcony, a young gentleman followed her. He kept his distance, but Liza did notice him. He was watching her from the corner of his eye as he stood at the railing about fifteen feet from her. He had followed her outside when she had excused herself after the dessert course and made her way to fresh air.
Liza coughed. “What a stupid habit,” she cried into the wind. She heard a chuckle. As she looked over, she saw that the young man had tried to stifle a laugh and she noticed he had carefully looked straight out at the moonlit ocean and had not turned to watch her. It was obvious he had heard her but had not wanted to intrude.
“I’m sorry,” Liza said. “I shouldn’t complain. But the smoke is just too much,” she continued, loudly enough for him to hear.
He turned to look at her. Then he took a step closer, stopped, and put his hands onto the railing. It was the man she had seen while they were docked in the Boston Harbor, she realized.
“You are correct Mademoiselle, it is a filthy habit,” he said quietly.
Liza laughed. The young man stepped just a little bit closer she noticed.
He was young, perhaps only three or four years older than Liza and looked strangely familiar. Dressed in his formal dinner attire of tails, tie, and starched shirt, she took a little intake of breath realizing how cute he was. Handsome more like it. Swarthy yet refined. His dark brown eyes pierced right into her, and Liza felt her heart flutter a bit faster.
“I’m Adam,” he said.
“I’m Liza,” Liza said.
Adam made a small bow then looked back into Liza’s face. She was smiling at this man who did not stop looking into her eyes.
“So formal,” Liza said to him. “I was expecting you to click your heels together or something,” she added. “Ugh,” she thought to herself. “That’s a German thing not an American thing,” she thought, chiding herself. She rolled her eyes. “Must. Remember. My. History,” she thought.
“I thought you might have been French,” Adam said, “because I heard you speaking with the countess earlier this evening,” he added.
“I speak French,” Liza said, “but I’m not French. I’m an American. Originally from Virginia but now I live in Colorado,” she continued. “Whoa, girl, careful, Liza,” she said, admonishing herself. “Careful what you say,” she echoed silently.
Finally, the man’s face changed from a smile to perplexed surprise, eventually looking mildly annoyed. “Okay, Liza. Stop joking around. Don’t you remember me?” the young man said, somewhat aghast.
Liza was astonished at his question and also surprised at this mild outburst of his.
“I’m Adam, Laura and Gaston’s son. We met briefly at the soirée at the townhouse, but you got ill or something and fell in the library and hit your head,” he explained. “Don’t you remember me?”
Liza felt slightly admonished and yet instantly felt remorseful. That’s right. Liza recalled that Adam had been similarly dressed from their evening at the symphony, but she had barely spoken to him later at the townhouse, having spent most of her time with Geta. Then she had fallen and hit her head.
“How foolish of me,” Liza admitted. “I’m so sorry Adam. Of course.” She looked more closely at his face and tried to determine how old he might be. Twenty-one? Twenty-four? She couldn’t tell.
Adam could see that Liza felt confused and thought, “Did that fall in the library impact her memory or something?” He continued as though nothing had happened. He was entranced and wanted to know more about this young woman who was Laura’s friend.
“Colorado, you said. You just said you lived in Colorado,” Adam replied, incredulously. He was clearly in awe. What was she doing here, on this steamer? Where was she going? Why wasn’t she with any members of her family?
Liza would have to be careful how she explained her story. She had been avoiding people on this journey but had noticed some of the inquisitive glances from many of them who seemed curious to learn more about their mysterious passenger. And to complicate matters, Liza had no idea what Laura might have told him about her.
Liza suddenly realized that it had been a mistake to have tried to avoid people. They were all trapped on this large ship after all. She needed to socialize.
Liza thought carefully what she wanted to do for the remainder of the crossing. There really was no need to make up any stories she decided. Just carefully answer questions. Perhaps no game playing would be required either. So far, she had not had to lie. How to answer the Colorado question without raising any alarms? Adam was Laura’s son. Hadn’t Laura told him that she was a Traveler? Or perhaps not. There was no need to avoid Adam she decided. He wanted to be her friend, so let him. They had enough in common, what with him raised on an estate full of horses and all.
She looked out at the sea and decided to deflect it all with conversation about the ocean, their crossing, and her fascination with the ship.
“You seem to know a lot about this ship,” Adam said. “I was listening to you speak with one of the stewards earlier. You ask a lot of questions, and you seem to know your way around, that’s for sure.” Liza felt a panic rising inside of her. She wasn’t comfortable that this young man had been watching her that closely. And listening, apparently.
“Oh boy,” she thought. She was one of the only young ladies on the ship for this crossing. Of course, he would notice her. She smiled at this realization.
“That’s alright,” Adam said. “I think you know by now that my family is in the railroad business but perhaps you didn’t know that we have acquired an interest in one of the steamer lines. Gaston owns this ship in fact. I’m not on the passenger list because I’m in his stateroom. It’s one
of the reasons why you are receiving some extra special treatment on the crossing, although we try to accommodate all passengers and their situations of course.”
“So that explains it,” Liza surmised.
Adam continued, “It’s nice to speak with someone who understands these ships. But Colorado, that’s positively fascinating. I know it’s a big deal going to the Continent and all and even more so to do it all alone. Not everyone travels alone you know. But you were so far away in wild country and found my parents after crossing the United Stated all by yourself with your mare. It’s all so, well, rough out there and I admire you for it. But it’s so terribly dangerous too, I’ve heard. Were you ever in danger Liza?” Adam asked, concern in his voice. “And why weren’t your parents with you?”
There were too many questions to deflect. Liza wasn’t ready for many of them. Yet all the while, she noticed that Adam continued to step slightly closer and closer to her as they spoke. She wasn’t scared, in fact, she was feeling just the opposite. They had a common bond, and he was feeling comfortable with her. She could see that. But she had also felt an instant attraction to him, and she had an idea it was a mutual feeling. “Why is he looking at me like this?” Liza wondered even as she realized she knew the answer.
He had taken yet another step closer to her she noticed. As he stepped closer, she saw his face more clearly and her stomach did a flip. “He’s so handsome!” Liza thought. “And now I have to talk about Colorado, danger, railroads and ships and my parents. My head is spinning!” And suddenly, she did the most ridiculous thing. She began to slip. It was those ballet slipper type shoes she was wearing from the boutique. These stupid things were slippery, and she had forgotten to scuff them. She never would have slipped on the slick decks if she had only stayed in her cowboy boots. She simply could not believe it. She fell into his arms, and it felt like she was living through a scene from a corny novel or at least, a very predictable movie. This was all such a cliché.
“Whoops!” she hollered.
“I have you!” Adam cried.
She had no idea how he did it but he both caught her and yet really didn’t touch her as she fell and was then placed upright. It was as if she had slid into his arms and then slid right out as he lifted her up in one swooping movement. She reached out to hold on to the railing once again, her left hand on his right forearm. Looking down, she immediately removed her hand and noticed that he had smiled as he watched her every movement.
“I uh,” Liza said timidly.
“There you go,” Adam replied. He liked her touch on his arm just then.
“That smile is killing me,” Liza thought.
She took her other hand and wiped it across her dress fluffing it out and arranging it neatly once again. Then she fixed her hair and straightened her matching jacket.
“This is all such a cliché,” she thought again, so much so that she thought she was going to burst out laughing. This really was just like something out of one of the old black and white movies she and her father used to watch together.
“But it’s so nice,” she thought again.
She looked up. Sure enough, Adam was looking at her. Her stomach flipped again for about the umpteenth time.
“Now what?” she thought.
“I, uh,” she said again, “I uh, well thank you, Adam, sir, Adam, thank you,” she said. “Why am I stammering?” she chided herself. Adam smiled his devilish smile again. “He’s annoyingly self-confident,” Liza thought.
“Yah, that’s right. I need to go check on my mare. No one knows I do it, except for a few of the deckhands,” she said, “you know, down in the cargo area,” she added, watching Adam raise an eyebrow at her words. “I go down below two times a day. I sneak down. Well, I don’t have to sneak any more. They don’t seem to mind,” she said, words tumbling out all of a sudden. “Down below, well they all know I go down there to
see my mare. Her name is Libby.” Liza found that her words were just rolling out of her mouth like a roller coaster that could not be stopped. She sighed.
“Want me to join you?” Adam asked. He took a step backward. It’s almost as though in that movement, he was giving her the assurance that his question was sincere and not in any way trying to get into her space or scare her or make her any more nervous than she clearly, already was.
He liked her. He knew it. He liked her a lot.
“I need to take my time,” he realized.
Liza looked around and fussed with her dress again.
“Well, I have to change, you know. I never go down like this. I have to change,” she said repeating herself.
“I’ve seen what you wear,” Adam replied. “You aren’t the only one sneaking around the ship,” he said with a smile.
Liza thought for a bit. This was kind of an intrusion on her private time with Libby. She wanted to go down and pet her mare, curry her, stretch her legs and have a good chat with her about her day, and to hear what Libby’s day was like. She needed private time with Libby, but she was also curious about Adam.
“Well, do you know the place on the ship where we aren’t supposed to go? Where they have a steward stationed at a desk, just at that bulkhead where the flags are painted on the wall?” she asked.
“I know the spot,” Adam said.
“Let’s meet there in fifteen minutes,” she suggested.
“Indeed,” he said. “May I?” he asked, taking a polite step closer and extending his hand. Liza raised her right hand out and facing down, as she had been taught. Adam gently raised it to his lips and gave a kiss to her gloved hand. It was a kiss that hovered over her hand that just gave the impression of elegance and courtesy and wasn’t one that was sexual in nature. Her heart still beat faster at this gesture regardless and it both thrilled and annoyed her.
Liza almost rolled her eyes, yet she was impressed by his manners and easy calm confidence. This wasn’t an arrogant young man, yet clearly, with his background, he could have been.
Fifteen minutes later, wearing jeans and her longsleeved shirt and jacket, Liza met Adam at the door of the bulkhead where a steward guarded the access point. Adam had changed too she noticed. He was wearing canvas type pants and a white heavy shirt that had a farm boy look to it. A floppy cap was on his head.
“Hello again,” Adam said.
“Sir, Miss,” the steward said, opening the heavy metal door and holding it while Liza went through first.
“This is odd,” said Liza. The steward seemed overly polite to Adam.
They made their way through the hallways and over other bulkheads and through doors that they opened and carefully closed each time. They went down many narrow stairs, their steps clattering against the metal of the steps, making noise as they hopped and quick-stepped their way down two more flights and along a narrow hallway.
Adam opened the heavier door into the cargo hold for her and waited as she passed through. “You know,” Liza thought, “I can do this myself,” but then she smiled. “This is kinda nice too.”
They made their way through the hold. One of the seamen tipped his hat with one hand and said, “Sir,” as he stood up straighter and held the muck rake in his other hand.
“Libby!” Liza cried. Libby made a gentle nicker.
“Admiral!” she heard Adam cry, as the dark horse next to Libby lifted his head from the hay to nicker a welcome to his master.
“What?” said Liza, quickly turning to look at Adam.
“Yep,” said Adam. “This one’s mine,” he said as he proudly stroked the neck of his handsome stallion. “Didn’t Laura tell you? I’m moving abroad to work for Gaston.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LIVERPOOL
She wanted to be excited but it was a bit of a struggle to juxtapose what she was feeling up against what she was seeing and with what she was hearing here in Liverpool. More seagulls too she realized. Liza rubbed her hands together, removing the salt that had accumulated on the railings which had clung to her hands. It now fell off as she rubbed.
The noise was everywhere: horns of multiple ships blowing and bellowing throughout the harbor, people cheering on the wharf and from the decks of the steamer, competing announcements crying from the mouths of various ship employees throughout the decks was both exciting but also mind blowing. This was all in addition to the loud cries of tradesmen and dock workers, bellowing in different accents and at different decibel levels, all of which attacked her senses.
The intoxicating scent of the ocean, salty and fresh and green smelling, was replaced with the smells of coal fires and ore smoke from the shipbuilding and other businesses along the harbor. Raw sewage floated and the stench blew up even as high as the deck where she stood.
“Can’t anyone smell this?” she wondered. Then she looked around her at all the heavy clothing of the many passengers, much of which had not been freshened up during their passage and Liza guessed that the passengers
themselves had rarely bathed on ship either. Instead, an overdose of cologne and perfume was everywhere. Liza put her hand to her mouth and hoped that her hands would provide some kind of a filter from it all and she laughed at her attempts to deal with the situation.
“If all these people don’t mind, I’ll have to bear it too,” she thought.
The buildings along the harbor were a combination of ratty shambles and new construction. Transatlantic trade was booming, and the business environment of the wharves could barely keep up. Horse-drawn carts made their way to the various ships; fully laden ones to be unloaded and empty ones to receive the cargo of the various ships arriving at about the same time. The Harbormaster always tried to coordinate the chaos, but storms on the Atlantic crossing frequently complicated matters and from time to time, captains did not always listen to the telegram messages to their bridges informing them of slots allocated to their ships. Today, there was a traffic jam in the harbor and Liza wondered how the tugboats made sense of it all.
The next sight she saw shocked her. It was a transport ship and troops were being loaded. There must have been a thousand of them. Liza’s mind raced as she tried to think of what war was going on in what country during this time period. Was England at war right now? Protecting her empire somewhere – where were these troops being sent? India? Asia? Africa? Was it Boers they were fighting?
She looked at all those young men walking up the gangplank, heavily laden with their packs and their muskets, hard metal hats of white and some of a tan color on their heads. There was a fife and drum corps helping with the spirit of the moment. She thought it sounded like a death march even with the cheery notes being played.
Shortly after a large group had loaded, Liza thought she saw what appeared to be a medical corps loading up into a different doorway to the ship. The nurses had white
flowing fabric tied over their foreheads which draped down their backs. In their long skirts, they looked like nicely dressed nuns.
“How ironic,” she thought. Just like nuns, nurses did provide comfort and often times, spiritual healing too. She thought they looked like angels, the more she watched them walking in unison, skirts waving in the breezes as the women marched in a kind of formation, just as the men had done marching up the other gangplank.
Then she saw horses being loaded onto the transport ship as well and she was horrified. Too many horses would never come back, in fact probably none. They would either die in battle or be all used up and most likely abandoned. There was nothing glorious about sending horses into battle. They looked so magnificent in battlefield paintings with generals astride their favorite steeds. Liza silently scoffed at the way painters thought equestrians rode their horses. Painters always had riders positioned incorrectly, with their subjects yanking on the reins of their horses, forcing mouths open painfully, and the rider’s heels were too often raised with feet back and up, totally wrong of course. No proper equestrian rode like that.
As she watched all the activity on shore, she thought back on her many days at sea. Once she made sense of the multitude of corridors and how to meander down to sneak in visits with Libby, she had taken everything in stride and had decided to view the trip as an adventure in and of itself. She had explored wherever she could and made sure to get out onto the decks for fresh air especially during times of the day and night when few other passengers were up and about. She had apologized to the captain and had joined him at his table midcrossing and figured, “What the heck?” and went ahead and told everyone how she had crossed the United States on horseback. The countess had been astonished yet wondered curiously if her Arabian could have made a journey such as Libby’s.
Standing along the rail of the ship one night, Liza had observed the moon and the stars overhead, shining brightly in the darkest of dark skies she had ever known.
She remembered feeling very small as she recalled the glow of the stars. It also made her wonder how the Traveler network functioned in terms of the laws of physics and quantum methods. What was this time travel after all? It wasn’t a dream. It was and still remained all very real to her; she knew that. She was living through everything. None of this was a dream so how was it all possible? What laws of ancient science were being broken or twisted to yield the ability for her, and for Libby, to pass through to another world, now for her third time?
She thought back to the people she had met who were Travelers and she tried to make sense of how and why some only traveled one time versus those who traveled twice, like her mother. She tried to analyze her father’s situation. He had traveled forward and stayed. How confusing that all must have been for him.
But the myriad of Travelers who seemed to be living all over made her mind explode sometimes from the possible complications of it all. Mostly, she wondered if she could ever travel so much that she could make a record of everyone either through word of mouth or personal encounters.
“There must be hundreds of travelers,” she thought. “If I have met a handful already, that means there simply have to be so many more,” she surmised.
Then there was Adam and she realized that he was a possible complication for her. There was something very curious about him, but he remained mysterious to her, and she found it interesting that while she wanted to keep her own secrets from him, she was certain that he was holding back some secrets from her as well.
One night, as they visited their horses, the truth all came tumbling out. It was Libby’s fault actually. Libby had blurted out, “Liza, Admiral is a talking horse just like I am!”
“The nerve of him!” Liza had decided. But when she had turned to look up at Adam, as he stood quietly beside her, she thought she had noticed a sadness in his eyes when he said, “That’s right, Liza. I’m a Traveler as well. Admiral told me about you a few days ago. I guess our horses could not keep the secret.”
Adam explained what he had remembered. That he had been very young when he had come forward in time and had lost his parents. It was a tender moment for Liza to hear him open up and share his thoughts about Laura and Gaston and his good fortune. During the remainder of the crossing, they became practically inseparable as they had shared some of what they each knew about life as a Traveler. He was absolutely stunned to learn that she had come back three times. He did not know that was feasible. Laura certainly had never told him about this possibility. Other than Laura and a few others, Liza was the only Traveler he had ever met.
He had questions now, many many questions.
But more than that, he found that he was appreciating the common bond that he was developing with Liza. They were both an only child, living in places surrounded by horses, and each with a special horse who could talk to them. Both had hardworking parents who encouraged their education and desire for learning more about the world in which they lived, while imbuing a sense of what hard work is all about.
But Adam noticed he had to catch himself any time he was curious about Liza’s world. He knew he had to tread lightly. Liza was not a young woman who appreciated being pushed into anything and when he had tried to ask more about her world, he noticed how she deflected his questions and he finally corrected himself and never quizzed her again. She seemed relieved when he stopped probing.
He was stunned to learn that her father had come forward and was surprised to learn that Dude was not a talking horse. Why could Admiral speak when the two of them had come forward in time? Liza didn’t know the answer to that
question. “It seems that once I learn a rule of Travelers, I encounter an exception to that rule,” she had explained.
The more he spent time with Liza, the more he wondered about his father, Gaston. He had learned early on that his adopted mother, Laura was a Traveler, but Gaston never gave an indication of whether he had ever traveled or not. Thinking about it all, Adam realized now that there were times when he thought it was possible Gaston had traveled as well. But from where? And when? And if so, where was his horse from his own time? And if he was indeed a Traveler, why had he never spoken of it?
The ship lurched a bit. Adam stood beside Liza and seemed lost in thought, yet for Liza, reality was sinking in again, as she planned her next steps.
Crowds continued to cheer and wave and suddenly, Liza decided she did not want to listen to the instructions that had been given to her. She did not want to disembark and then go around to wait for Libby to be unloaded. No. She wanted to be with her horse, and she wanted to be with her Libby-girl right now.
Excusing herself and hastening back to her stateroom, Liza put her jacket on and tossed her leather bag and saddlebag over her shoulder. Taking a last look around her state room, she exited and closed the door, locking it as she had been instructed. There was a concern of pilfering she had been told and it was important once the ship had docked, for all rooms to be locked. She found a porter at the end of her hall and gave her key to him giving him a nod of thanks.
Winding her way through the crowds, Liza snuck down the passageways she had traversed so many times during the entire trip. Finally, on one of the lower levels, she opened the heavy door to the cargo area. As she entered, she heard a whinny. It was Libby. Above the noise of the engines and the gyrations of the water slushing and slapping against the hull as the engines whirred to maneuver the ship, Libby had still known almost instinctively that Liza was nearby.
“I’m here girl,” Liza cried, and in return, Liza heard a longer more pitiful whinny. One of the stewards caught sight of Liza and started to try to tell her that she had to leave this area, but she gave him a firm look and shook her head, as she made a beeline for her mare.
The steward nodded and gave her a kindly look. He thought of his own young daughter at home in Scotland, high on the moors, riding the little pony that the family owned to haul provisions in their cart. He recalled the way his little girl spent time with the pony so he knew he could not keep this young cowgirl away from her own mare.
“She might have been moved to a waiting area, Miss,” he cried as he pointed to a corral closer to the large cargo doors.
Liza hurried to the corral. She strained her neck and stood on tiptoes. “Libby?” she cried. There was a herd of horses all pushing nervously against one another, there in the corral. Liza wasn’t pleased at the thought of Libby being shoved into the throng. “Libby?” she cried again.
“Liza,” a voice cried. “Liza, she’s over here,” the voice said again. Her heart began to beat with excitement.
So Adam was down here too.
That sounded like his voice, Liza thought as she felt sorry for herself for a moment. She wanted private time with Libby. Even in the middle of all the chaos, when she was with her horse, the rest of the world did not matter. Noise and such could be swirling all around her, but if she was with her mare, it’s as though she was transported to a peaceful and quiet place.
“Fine,” she concluded. She and Libby would have to visit with Adam and his stallion one last time but that was going to be it. Her stomach went into knots at the thought of seeing him again. “No complications,” she had decided.
Throughout the voyage, she had seen him at meals, on deck and during other social opportunities. It seemed he wanted to spend time with her alone, but he was always
polite about it she had noticed. He did not push himself into her space; she liked that, but it had frustrated her as well.
She hadn’t had a boyfriend yet. She had had crushes on some boys at rodeos but those were meaningless. With Adam, she felt herself being drawn to him. In fact, she was really starting to like him, but what was it about him? He was too young to call his looks smoldering. He was handsome, dashing even. Liza was intrigued that he had an outdoorsy look to him too, as though he got his hands dirty on a daily basis not like someone who always paid a groom or attendant to do everything for them. She had seen him mucking Admiral’s stall and tidying up the cargo area. She had noticed how he had organized the deckhands to make conditions better for the livestock down there. She liked that he was hardworking and respected by the others.
She struggled a bit in frustration. She wanted to see him, but she did not want to see him. Seeing him would mean questions and decisions to make. She had a feeling he was going to ask her to come visit him and his family.
“This is all wrong,” she thought. “I can’t get involved with someone back here in this world. I can’t form an attachment. Mama did and look what happened,” she thought, frustrated with it all. Then she smiled and realized how idiotic that thought was. Thank goodness Papa and Mama had gotten “involved” or she would not exist!
She sighed. Being a Traveler required a sense of duty. It was almost like an honor code that all Travelers understood intuitively. It was important to try not to get too involved and for certain, never to make changes. That would be devastating. Anna had interfered and made changes for her own reasons, and that had consequences for her future. She had made such an impact that she could never go forward in time; she could never return home ever again. Liza was slightly frightened as a result. She cared for the people she met in this world, but she had learned to keep her distance. She did not want to stay here.
She wanted to return home to her family. But would getting to know Adam more deeply jeopardize her status as a Traveler?
“Liza,” she heard the voice again. It was confident yet friendly, even over the din of the cargo hold noises.
She dashed back over to the private livestock area where Libby had stayed for her journey and saw Adam standing next to his own horse. He was standing between the two, stroking the neck of his stallion and the neck and mane of Libby. Libby was all tacked up, Liza noticed.
“Liza, horses that travel like ours don’t get pushed into a larger corral to prepare for disembarkation. They stay here for a groom to attend to them,” he explained when he saw the look of confusion on her face.
“When you dashed away earlier, I guessed what you would do so I came down and got your mare ready,” Adam explained. “I wanted to surprise you and bring your mare out to you myself,” he said.
Liza smiled and stroked Libby’s neck.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was incredibly thoughtful.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Adam added, “but while we have been standing here, Libby has been telling me all about your journey from Colorado to Massachusetts.”
Liza was a little surprised but tried not to show it when he added, “Liza, I’d really like you to join me to visit my family.” She was taken aback and left speechless. Before she had a chance to protest, Adam spoke to her, calmly but with intense emotions. “Liza, it’s important. I’d like to spend some more time with you if you don’t mind. I’d like you to get to know my world just a bit more, if that’s alright with you.”
Liza was confused. She had resolved the night before to just walk away. She had to learn the meaning of her dreams and nightmares and there were many reasons to say no to Adam. She was getting attached to him and seeing him for any longer period of time would not do at all.
But as her mind raced, she said simply, “Thank you Adam. I’d love to.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I WILL WAIT FOR YOU
He stood at the door of the stables and looked at the grassy area near the many horse-drawn carriages that had arrived for an all-day event on the estate, and then raised his eyes to look further out into the pasture. In the distance, he saw a flowering hedgerow and although the stone fencing beside it looked sound and secure, he made a note to let the groundskeeper know that part of the hedgerow needed some attention.
Liza was there in the pasture standing next to Libby and the scene looked both beautiful and painful to young Adam.
“I have to tell her,” he thought. He casually leaned into the doorway and lifting his arm, placed his elbow against it, as though he was contemplating something very important. Standing there, he ran his hand through his hair several times. He felt exhilarated and exasperated all in one, confused and determined as well.
This young woman was incredible. Liza was different from all the other women he’d met so far, and she was the most beguiling for him. He was entranced and he had known it from the first moment he had laid eyes on her in Boston and had felt the trembling in his body that came from the great passion he had instantly felt for her. On board, he had guessed right away
who and what she was when he had seen her clothing and observed her mannerisms and he had confirmed his suspicions when he had snuck a look at her mare’s saddle and other tack after Admiral had revealed her secret.
Being a Traveler was like that. You felt it and you knew it even before your brain could process what you were feeling and observing. All Travelers are connected across the worlds and some connections are more intense than others, depending on the reasons for those connections.
But in Adam’s case, although he had met other Travelers and had felt the connectivity between himself and another Traveler, this trembling he was experiencing right now was different. Adam knew he was falling in love.
He had learned that most Travelers were inherently good people and that after their accidental entry into their second world, that they quickly learned the code of the Travelers and put their experiences to good use. But even so he had also learned that there was evil in all worlds and that there were Travelers who, through their inherent personalities of violence and rage, exhibited a magnified version of that evil once they had traveled.
At first, since much of his young life was spent around equestrians and their horses, he could not fathom that this kind of evil was possible. The companionship and bond that horse and rider had formed usually fostered kindness between them by the very essence of spending so much time together. Yet he soon learned there were cruel horse owners and he had witnessed abuse which his father had sought to eradicate when it was displayed at their horse facility on the estate.
But evil is a hard thing to cure, and Adam soon realized that it came in many forms, and it included the occasional Traveler.
Adam had heard about horses who could not outrun their violent owners and in their own burning urges to flee and to try to find a new life, found themselves trying to outrun their owner’s cruelty while the owner was still on
their back. Then in that moment of terror, the pair somehow became Travelers. The poor horse it seemed could not escape evil in their world and through its desperation to flee, had leapt into another world, bringing the cruel rider with it.
Despite this, Adam had been told that many horses in their new world had found ways to leave their cruel owners, who soon became hell-bent on revenge for being stranded.
But here, before him, was a pair who were kind and good and courageous to one another and to others around them. Liza would put herself on the line to help others and with Libby by her side, the pair seemed unstoppable. He liked that about her. But he had to speak with her before she left, and he had decided to be open and honest with her.
In Liza, he felt an overwhelming sense of goodness emanating from her. It was something that could not be harnessed; it needed to be respected. He worried that there would be those who might take advantage of that goodness in her, that kindness and compassion that she possessed.
As he stood in the doorway, he gathered his courage, straightened himself up and made a deliberate walk towards the pasture where Libby had spent these last few days.
He was grateful for the time they had spent together here, just outside of London, before Liza had to leave once again, headed for the Continent. Liza and Adam had taken the train with their horses from Liverpool to this magnificent estate owned by his aunt and uncle. It was located outside London; they had a property in the city as well. When Adam was here on business, he often stayed with them. This time he was staying to work for at least a year, so he had brought Admiral over and would be boarding his stallion on the estate.
He worried that he was exhausting Liza’s patience. He had convinced her to stay for a few days. But he knew Liza had to leave almost immediately and if he said nothing, he knew he might never see her again and would regret it for the rest of his life if he remained silent.
His boots scuffed in the pebbles and at the noise, even though far away, Adam saw Libby turn her head to look at him. Then Liza turned to follow her mare’s gaze.
“She’s beautiful,” Adam thought, and he felt his heart skip a beat as he continued the long walk over to this amazing cowgirl standing before him.
“Good morning,” Liza said. She had taken an early breakfast of some food she had found in the kitchen, with more provided for her by the cook who was already up and getting ready for her day. For a moment, Adam thought he had heard some hesitation in her voice.
“Good morning,” Adam cried in return, as he made his way to Liza, making a wave as he did.
He rolled his eyes at his over eagerness. “Don’t look or act like the boys in her world,” he thought. “You need to give her a reason …” and he decided to stop thinking too hard on what he knew he had to say as he made his way over to her.
“So soon?” he said sadly, as he got nearer, his eyes watching her, gently piercing into her as he got closer. The intensity of the connection he felt with her was rising quickly and it was uncontrollable.
Liza had been watching him as he approached, but she had seen intensity in his eyes and suddenly became shy about it and looked away, forcing herself not to blush. This was new to her; no one had ever made her feel this way before.
He patted Libby on her neck after he had hopped the fence and walked closer to them.
“Nice to see he’s not all stuffy and dull and doesn’t mind getting his clothes dirty a bit,” Liza noticed after his effortless leap over the fence. She smiled to herself at this thought.
“Liza, I wanted to…” he began and at this Libby turned to nuzzle him as she heard his words. She made a step to her
left with her front left leg, turning her head into him a bit, then followed with her right leg to square herself up.
“Ah yes, good morning, Libby,” he said to her, giving this pretty sorrel a deeper rub on her neck. Libby leaned into the rub of his hand on her and closed her eyes.
Libby had noticed that Adam’s strong hand was making nice massage movements on her neck and was loving it enough to want more. She didn’t want to tell him she liked his touch; she wanted to show him, so she rubbed on him a slight bit, respectfully he had noticed, even as she tried, without words, to let him know that she liked him being there and touching her.
Liza looked up at Adam as he stroked her mare.
“He’s tall,” she thought.
They stood there in silence.
“She suddenly looks vulnerable,” he thought as he looked down at Liza. Small talk was going to be absolutely ridiculous he realized. He knew she knew he had something to say and from the looks of it, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him by giving him a segue for his next words.
Suddenly she didn’t look so vulnerable. She looked confident and she also looked as though she liked him. There was no indifference in her eyes. For a moment, she looked a little sad, however, because she knew she had to continue on to the Continent.
“But I can’t let her go out all alone,” he thought. Then he chided himself at the arrogance and selfishness of his concern for her. “Good Lord, look how far she’s come already,” he thought. “Who am I to try to play the grand protector all of a sudden?” He knew that she would have to do this alone.
He found himself smiling, and when he turned his gaze from Libby towards Liza, he saw that she was smiling now too.
This was the moment.
“I need to see you again, Liza,” he stated simply.
He decided to let that sentence hang out there between them. This was one of those times when less is more, and he knew to stay patient and just let the moment take its course.
Liza looked at Libby and reached forward then began to pet Libby’s forehead and nose.
“People can be so awkward,” Libby thought. “He’s rubbing me on the neck, not knowing what more to say, and Liza is rubbing me on the nose, not knowing how to respond. I think I’ll just not say a word because frankly, I am liking all this attention,” Libby thought. And if horses could chuckle, she would be doing that right now.
A long moment passed. Liza looked out over the pasture.
“I thought as much,” she said simply and as she turned to look at him, her smile broadened into one that pierced right into his soul and captured him in a way that meant something was happening that he hoped would be eternal.
That was Adam’s cue, and he took a step forward. He heard Liza’s breathing quicken, almost in a little gasp. All he wanted to do at this moment was to wrap her in his arms and kiss her passionately. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything that he was thinking and feeling. He wanted to …
But as he took a step forward, and as Liza looked up into his eyes, Libby decided to break the tension and give Adam that extra moment of thought that she knew he needed. So, Libby nudged him. “People can be so awkward, but they can also rush into things,” Libby thought. “I know what’s happening here and I don’t want Adam to ruin it.”
“Hey,” he said simply, then he smiled. “You’re right Libby,” he said thoughtfully.
“Adam, you know I have to…” Liza began to say. “Liza, wait. Don’t say a word. Please hear me out,” Adam said urgently and quickly. Libby nuzzled Adam very gently for a second time.
Liza stood straight and tall and looked up into Adam’s eyes. As she gazed into them, she saw something eternal
growing there, something she had been feeling yet had tried to ignore.
“Liza, I know who you are and why you are here, and I know where you are going and I also know that you have to return,” he said hurriedly and as he spoke, he watched and heard as Liza took a sharp intake of breath. It was an expression of surprise and relief all in one. He could see that.
“Liza, you need to know some things,” he continued. He was surprised that she was waiting patiently. In the short time they had known one another he had seen measured calmness in her mixed with an impetuousness that was both liberating and potentially dangerous. But he liked all of that in her and found it all very attractive.
“Liza, I won’t ask you to stay,” he began. “I think that with a girl like you, asking you to stay would be the wrong thing for me to tell you, to ask of you,” he continued, emphasizing the word ‘ask’.
Liza kept looking at Adam and he noticed that she had taken a tiny step forward even as she continued to pet Libby stroking her mare’s forehead and rubbing around her ears in slow movements of her hand. He watched her, mesmerized.
“Liza, I will wait for you,” he said, revealing all his sentiments and passions and desires all at once in that simple sentence that practically exploded out of him.
She looked startled.
Her eyebrows had shot up in a mixture of surprise and relief at his words, and as she felt her eyes begin to water a tiny bit, she noticed that the look on his face had shifted from what was an urgent need to tell her something important, to a look of someone who had fallen deeply in love with her.
She knew in an instant that this was not the blathering of someone who did not understand his emotions, goals, and future, but someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and what it would mean for him to say those words.
He had not demanded anything of her. He had not begged. He had not insisted. Instead, he had made an earnest
and straightforward statement and now it hung out there between them and as she paused and then as he paused, she knew that it was up to her to make the next move.
“Adam,” she began to say, trying to have a careful plan in her words, “Adam, when I come back again, I don’t know how the timeline will align between us,” she murmured.
He looked relieved as he thought, “She said it! She is coming back! Don’t ruin the moment. Wait. She will say more. ” He could not believe his ears. She is coming back.
“The first time I returned to this world, everyone had moved ahead of me by six years. This time, only two or perhaps a little bit more. Adam, I have no idea what will happen when I return once again.”
There it was! She didn’t say if I return again she had said when I return again. Adam fought and failed to contain his excitement. “When do I get to hold her in my arms?” his head screamed. He took a step forward and as he did, Liza stepped forward as well and he did the same with yet another step until he finally wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a perfect embrace that signified love and devotion and respect all in one. He breathed in the scent of her hair and felt her cheek against his as he leaned down to her, and then as he kissed her, urgently but tenderly, he knew that he needed to pull away or he would ruin the moment completely and forever.
Stepping away slightly, he held her arms and looked at her. Her eyes were still closed and there was a dreamy and contented smile on her face.
“I mean it Liza, I will wait for you, whatever it takes.”
She felt dizzy and was glad that he had held onto her arms because she took a step backwards as if she might fall, and his hands caught her.
His touch made her head spin again, but she liked the feeling and as she opened her eyes and looked up at him, they kissed once again, and she knew in her heart that she would wait for him too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
A BROKEN HEART
Liza had been silent for a long time while seated in the saddle on the back of her beloved friend, as the pair plodded along, passing through or around the various city centers, along cobblestone roads, dirt roads and even along grassy, barely used trails. They did not travel in complete silence, but Libby had noticed that Liza was not sharing anything, not discussing anything, and not expressing anything of real substance. Instead, Liza barely exchanged pleasantries with her mare even as she asked Libby how she was faring or pondering aloud if they should take this route or go that way as they made their journey towards Anna's valley. They had been on the road for a while now since they left the estate of Adam's family. Making their way through London, they had headed south towards the docks to board another ship to bring them to France. Then began the long
journey once again on the never-ending roads through villages and towns, where they were excited somewhat at what they were seeing and experiencing. Yet Liza's mood remained level and uninspired these past days. They even made their way through Paris which under normal circumstances would have enthralled Liza. Yet nothing could tear her away from the mixed and gloomy emotions she was feeling.
The longer they continued deeper into the heart of the Continent, Liza was surprised to see evidence of the sign of the Traveler as frequently as she did. At first, her heart rejoiced when she saw signs there on French soil, but her mood was heavy. “Should we stop and visit here?” Libby asked Liza one time, as they passed a delicious smelling boulangerie. But Liza merely shrugged and realizing she knew her mare could not see her shrug, finally blurted out, “I'm good,” as they continued their journey.
Long outside of Paris, heading southeast on the road to the Alps of Switzerland, Libby realized she had had enough of Liza’s silence. They had found a friendly farmer who sold them grain and hay and permitted the use of a crudely made paddock for Libby to use for the night. Liza looked at the man’s tattered clothing and boots that looked the worse for wear then looked over at his home, the roof of which was falling apart. He looked young and healthy enough; why was everything in such disrepair?
Liza wasn't in the mood to judge based on the outward appearance, and she wasn’t in the mood to explain to the farmer and his family that Libby would not run away, so she acquiesced and put Libby into the paddock and tossed her some of the hay she had found in the loft of the farmer’s small outbuilding there on the property.
Libby had snorted a very large snort of disgust when she realized she would be in a paddock with pigs and cows.
“Liza!” she had cried, when the farmer had returned to his family. “Liza, I just can't,” Libby called out again. Liza was nonplussed.
“Liza!” Libby cried once again. “Please don't keep me in here,” Libby pleaded for a second time. This time she became somewhat belligerent during her pleas when she pawed at the ground and began to forcefully bump at and then rub her nose and forehead on the crude gate to the paddock.
“What's wrong?” asked Liza, finally crying out to her mare from the outbuilding where she was beginning to lay out her bedroll and store Libby’s tack.
“It's filthy in here, Liza. I'm going to get an infection or something awful in my hooves. You don't want that for me, Liza, please. This paddock is disgusting,” Libby cried, pawing in the muck and bumping her head urgently once again at the crude gate, nearly knocking it from its rope hinges.
Liza walked over to Libby and after taking a closer look, gave a shocked cry of disgust and ran to open the gate.
Libby barged right past Liza, nearly knocking her over, and with an arched neck and snorting in a disgusted manner, pranced and turned and snorted some more and then stomped once again after she had cleared the gate and was free of the filthy pen.
Liza quickly closed the gate behind Libby, checking that the rope hinges were still in place, and looked over at the cows and the pigs, all of which seemed perfectly content in their disgusting manure-filled and utterly filthy bog.
Walking away from Liza, Libby headed for a grassy area and walked quickly in and through the grasses. She stomped and kicked her legs and hooves through the grasses, as though she was trying to clean the filth off of her. Liza made a chuckle of shock, realizing that Libby did not want that filth on her any more than Liza did. “I guess that mess was worse than a wet horse pasture any day, wasn't it girl,” Liza stated simply displaying the first true emotions on this entire journey since leaving Adam.
Libby moved about a little bit longer. Swishing her tail, she then rigorously shook her head, then her neck, then her entire body moved and shook back and forth as she blew a snort once again with finality.
“Liza, that was wretched,” Libby said clearly agitated.
“I'm sorry,” Liza said, ashamed that she had subjected her mare to those conditions.
“Let's leave,” Libby replied quickly. “I'd like to leave this place, Liza, if you don't mind. I'll walk in the dark if we have to,” she added. “But let's find another place to spend the night.” Libby's tone had morphed from one of anger, frustration, and disgust into one of compassion for her cowgirl mistress.
Libby knew Liza was tired, exhausted even, but she knew they needed to press on to find another place to spend the night. “Liza looks thinner,” Libby suddenly realized. “She looked so very tired, and she even looks gaunt,” she thought, concern rising inside of her.
As she looked over at Liza, she walked a few steps, and gave her a gentle nuzzle. Liza's hand instinctively moved up to caress Libby's face, running her hand across the muscles of her cheek, then extended her rubs down along her neckline. Liza liked the feeling of Libby's muscles, and she stroked her mare a few more times for the remaining moments that they stood there beside one another.
“I'll collect some of the hay that you didn't eat,” Liza said.
“Leave it,” Libby cried urgently. “It was foul. I smelled it. It was full of something awful. I'd get sick for sure if I had eaten it.”
Liza was horrified. “What did I almost do?” she said muttering under her breath. She put Libby’s saddle on her and attached her bedroll and the saddlebags. “This place isn't anything quaint or lovely at all. It's a festering mess of something awful,” she admitted to herself.
As she finished tacking up Libby, making a quick rub on her rump with her hands, she said solemnly, “Libby-girl,
I'm sorry. This is all my fault.” A tear formed in the corners of her eyes as she spoke.
“It’s my birthday today you know,” Liza revealed out of the blue. “I’m eighteen.”
Libby had a look of guilty sorrow on her face.
“I forgot, Liza,” she admitted.
“That’s okay, girl,” Liza said.
They walked slowly down the road until they came to another village. The sun was long gone by the time they arrived and stumbled upon a little bistro, still open for the evening fortunately. The matron was kindly and took pity on Liza and Libby and told them how to walk around to the back of the bistro where there was a little grassy area for Libby and an overhanging roof where Liza could camp for the night.
The matron was kindly and would not accept any money from Liza. She took a look at the two of them and inspected Liza's gear with a wizened eye. “Americaine?” she asked as Liza laid out her bedroll for the second time that evening.
“Oui,” said Liza.
“La voyageuse?”
Liza's eyes shot wide open. She whipped her head around almost in a wild reflex, looking for something before she replied to the kindly woman standing before her.
“Je connais Dr. Anna,” the woman said simply. “Et tu?” she asked with a smile, pulling a leather string from around her neck that had been hidden in the camisole under her dress. Her actions revealed an elegantly carved sign of the Traveler.
Liza could not believe her luck. She sighed in a movement that revealed her complete and utter exhaustion.
Libby was nibbling on the grass in the area that had been pointed out to her, as the matron and Liza spent the next few moments getting to know one another and sharing the details of their personal connection to Anna. Libby kept turning one ear this way and that, trying not to look like she was eavesdropping, but listening intently just the same.
Finally, her mistress was relaxed and smiling and talking and coming back out of the sad shell of despair she had been in throughout these many days since leaving Adam. But then something strange happened which for a moment, almost made Libby feel slightly jealous as she observed Liza with the French matron.
First, Libby overheard Adam's name mentioned in a flurry of Liza's French words and then she saw Liza’s excited gesticulations as she described her journey so far. Finally, she noticed the compassionate expression on the woman's face, and watched her suddenly and quite tenderly throw her arms around Liza and hug her tightly.
Next Libby saw something quite unexpected. Liza began to cry and would not stop crying. Libby watched as Liza dropped her head in her hands, weeping quite softly. The woman's face was kind, pursing her lips in sympathy and making the face of someone who completely understood heartbreak.
Libby took a step towards her broken-hearted mistress and then stopped. She watched as the woman continued to hug Liza and saw that the woman was soothing her, holding her tenderly, expressing both sympathy and empathy for Liza's broken heart.
Libby watched the tender moment and tried to conquer a brief feeling of jealousy she had felt and the frustration that she was experiencing. “Why didn't Liza come to me for comfort?” Libby thought. “We've been together for more than a week since we left him. Why was she so silent all this while? Why didn't she tell me any of her despair?” Libby thought as she watched the pair.
But then a moment of harsh reality came over Libby. She could not help Liza exactly, but the woman had. What Liza had needed was a hug and a soothing one at that and Libby could see that in spite of all the ways she and Liza interacted, in spite of all of the lovely and wonderful times
they had spent together and would ever spend together, her mistress needed human companionship too.
“We've been on this adventure for so long, I had forgotten that Liza needs more than what I can give her,” Libby realized. She had to reflect on this for a moment. They were an amazing pair, and were so close of course, and yet as Liza's world expanded, Libby knew, with the deepest moment of clarity she could muster, that she would always need to share Liza with someone; with people. Liza needed contact with other humans.
“I hope she finally tells me all about what she is really feeling,” Libby thought quietly.
Liza sat with the woman for a little while at a small round table, nestled in the corner of a part of the cobblestone patio behind the bistro. The woman had called out to an assistant who brought out some bread and cheese and a small glass of wine for the two of them. While Libby ate grass, she noted with a sort of contentment that Liza's tense feelings of sorrow and sadness these past days, seemed to wash away.
Liza began to laugh and deeply relax the more she shared, and Libby noticed that the woman was sharing many of her own stories with Liza as well, which Liza absorbed with great interest. “Who is this woman?” Libby wondered.
Later that night, with Liza tucked into her bedroll, and Libby beside her, nibbling on some hay that Liza had placed on the ground there, Liza reached out her arm and tenderly rubbed on the softest part of Libby's nose as she ate. Libby kept her head still, while nibbling on the hay beside Liza's bedroll. “I needed that,” Liza said. “I feel like I had been bursting with things that I needed to tell someone,” Liza continued. Libby was quiet, but Liza could hear her munching away.
“Libby, you know I tell you everything, don't you?” Libby kept chewing.
“But I need people sometimes. I think I just finally realized that,” Liza sighed.
Libby chewed a little more.
“So,” Libby began when she had finished chewing the remaining bits of hay in her mouth, “then it was a good thing that I complained about that paddock,” Libby said earnestly, without the slightest bit of sarcasm.
“Yes, my girl, it was,” replied Liza.
“You like him a lot, don't you?” Libby queried after a few moments, when she thought the time was right for complete honestly.
Liza paused, deep in thought, and adjusted her sleeping posture within her bedroll to look at her mare.
“I do, Libby, I really do,” Liza sighed, with an almost dreamy note to her exhalation of breath. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”
Libby also exhaled, mirroring her mistress.
“You're going to try to find him again, aren't you?” Libby asked, a note of excitement in her voice. Libby stood patiently, waiting for an answer. She heard a train whistle far away and a few doves stirred in the eaves overhead. Somewhere, she heard laughter and other village noises.
“Liza?” Libby asked quietly. She inched her face closer to her mistress. Her lips tenderly sought Liza’s cheek as the sorrel mare did a mock nibble on the sides of Liza’s face, breathing out then in then out once again, the long hairs of her face tickling Liza ever so slightly as she nibbled gently.
There it was. Liza was asleep, but she opened her eyes briefly and said, “I love you my Libby-girl.”
Libby watched as her mistress closed her eyes, once again, calmly drifting off into a deep sleep with a contented smile on her face.
THE ENGINEER
Adam studied the set of plans before him, carefully examining the notations made by the team of engineers his father employed. He had been a part of his father's overseas business for some time now and was glad for the opportunity to live and work abroad finally. He looked at the handwritten notes in the margins of the plans made by one of the engineers in particular, his cursive scrawls neatly made, precisely describing the modifications that the boss, Adam’s father, had requested of his newest junior engineer.
This was one of his father's most important projects, and Adam had been asked to triple check the work, confirming what had already been confirmed by another member of the team, Adam noted. Some might have begrudged this type of work, this minutia, and the more Adam thought about it, he just smiled. That's because Adam knew that something very important was going on with each confirmation notation that he made on these plans. His father was teaching him, training him and imbuing in him a number of important qualities needed in men of this time, such as duty, patience, hard work and excellence. No one would succeed without these qualities, and Adam knew that which is why seated at his desk, late at night, he did not chafe at this repetitive work in front of him.
He examined the plans as he verified the calculations. He had quite the opportunity in front of him which was the examination of the inner workings of one of the newest ships in Gaston’s small fleet of various sized steamers. Engineers in schools were chomping at the bit to get into a firm like his father's, and Adam reflected once again at this precious opportunity that was given to him.
Then he smiled again.
“Father did not give me any of these opportunities. I earned every one of them,” he reflected. Unlike some sons of grand families both here and on the Continent and in America, Adam knew he had to earn every step of his way in life, and odd as it might have sounded to some people, he liked and appreciated that Gaston encouraged hard work.
Too many of the grand families nudged their sons along into business without giving them any real challenges. These well-schooled young men were too often arrogant beyond words and believed that their station in life meant having zero interest to dig into the nitty gritty of life and work.
Did any of them ever get their hands dirty? Had any of them slung a coal shovel into the bellies of a steamer as it crossed the ocean? Had even a single one of them ever removed a slop bucket from their very own livestock barn on the estates where they lived?
Adam’s mind wandered, thinking about the starched collared group of friends he had, and how only a handful of them were like him.
He and his father had talked about these qualities together, marveling at how so many unskilled but excellently connected young men secured lofty positions in life yet had no practical knowledge of that over which they lorded.
Even has he smiled at these thoughts, when he looked down at the next page of the plans before him, Adam’s attention to detail noticed something that needed some clarification, and that caught his eye. He made a note on a sheet of paper and checking his calculations, decided to dig deeper.
He rolled up the plans, put his coat back on, and walked into the office down the hall from the large open workroom where his own desk was located. “Surely the man had gone home already,” Adam thought as he approached the door. But he saw a light under the door to the office and smiled. How could he have thought that this engineer had already left for the evening? This man was the most dedicated of the lot.
With a confident knock, and then throwing open the door, Adam called out, “Balthazar, sir, I've got a question on the schematics section for the engineering room.”
The handsome young herdsman from the Alps lifted his head from studying his work on a set of plans, abacus beside him with a drafting compass lying on the table and addressed Adam. “Sir, Adam sir, I keep asking you to call me Balthis. No one is here. It's quite alright. And as for calling me 'sir', we can certainly dispense with that this evening at least, I believe. Come on in and let's take a look at what you’ve brought me.”
Balthis moved some papers around on his large drafting table and motioned for Adam to approach.
“Everything seems in order, sir, I mean, Balthis sir, but one of the notations was confusing for me as I reviewed the work,” Adam explained.
Balthis smiled at the kind deference that Adam continued to display, even with his frequent protests that Adam did not need to be so formal with him. Adam was the owner's son after all, and frankly, although only a few years apart, Balthis felt he should refer to Adam in a formal manner, all things considered and not the other way around. But he liked this young man. There was a mystery about him as well and Balthis appreciated the opportunity to work with him, without all the others around.
“Pull up a seat and let's have a look,” Balthis motioned, beginning to examine the papers Adam had laid out. “Ah right, we are using a new type of calculation for the angles and the physics of what's needed here. Perhaps that's what was confusing,” Balthis explained. Noticing the confused look on Adam's face, he said, “Let's have a look at the book on the shelf there with the black leather spine, and I'll show you what I mean.” Balthis pointed to a thick book just above them which Adam hurried to pull down, placing it carefully on the desk of the hard-working engineer.
As the two men poured over the calculations, with Balthis teaching Adam about these new methods, Balthis
reflected for a moment on his own good fortune. Not that many years ago, he was sweeping the stairs in front of the new woodcarving shop he had opened for his family and only a few years before that, he had been tending sheep in the mountain meadows near his family's chalet. He marveled at how far he had come in his young life so far. Balthis was certainly ambitious and intelligent, but Adam's father had noticed another quality in this young man from the Alps during the interview that had gotten him hired.
Balthis was humble; not the kind of bumbling humility that led to stammering and indecisiveness when faced with challenges in the workplace by so many overeager employees at other firms.
Instead, Adam's father appreciated the fact that if Balthis felt his work needed improvement, he never failed to ask what might be expected of him to excel. Balthis was truly interested in what his boss had to say and in the ideas his superiors offered to improve on his drawings, methods and calculations. The arrogance of too many employees at other firms meant they lacked the ability to actually listen and learn. There was no room for men like that at this company, and Balthis was glad to be surrounded by engineers who really cared about their work. That reflected well on the owner.
Not only that, but Balthis deeply appreciated the sincere curiosity that Adam had for the work being done here so he never hesitated to teach the younger man new things.
Balthis thought about his own good fortune in finding skilled mentors on his own road to success. They hadn’t been easy to find but his persistence and determination had paid off. They worked side by side for about an hour, and after they finished, Adam noticed a framed photo beside the drafting table. “And this is Madam Geta, is that right?” Adam asked, out of the blue, once the two men had finished their work for the evening. “It was wonderful meeting her in Boston and attending her concert, and I thought I recognized her in this small photo.”
Donning his jacket and outer coat, Balthis sighed but smiled when he admitted that his wife was still on her concert tour at this very moment. He explained that after her tour in America, she would return for a brief tour of the Continent starting in Italy where she would have two weeks of performances and private tutoring with a few of her patrons. Then she would return to England to have the baby.
“And your horses, where will you keep them? Especially the one from Liza’s ranch?” Adam queried.
Balthis was stunned for a moment and began to button his overcoat as he thought of the correct reply. “Did Adam know? He must know otherwise why would he have referred to Liza’s ranch?” he mused.
“They could always stay at my family’s estate just outside of London, you know,” he added.
“How do I answer his question and his generous offer?” Balthis wondered. The silence grew between the two men and the engineer became slightly uncomfortable for a moment.
“She asked about a young mare named Beata,” Adam explained casually. Then he respectfully placed his hand on the shoulder of his engineering colleague. “Keep her safe. That’s all Liza asks. To take care of the young mare and treasure her and to keep her safe.”
Balthis realized he was holding his breath and with a nod, relaxed for a moment. He turned and looked solidly at Adam. Nonchalantly, Adam grabbed a scarf from his coat pocket and began to wrap it around his neck.
There it was. On a cufflink. It was right there in front of him for Balthis to notice as Adam wrapped the scarf around his neck and tucked it into his collar. Balthis looked at the emblem on the cuff and his eyes opened wide. Did Adam just show him the sign on purpose or by accident?
“Well, I think I’m done in for the evening,” Adam said. “Think about my offer regarding a place for your horses, won’t you, when you bring them over. Please do.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries and taking his leave, Adam took the corrected plans with him, promising Balthis that he would personally deliver them to the senior engineer in the morning.
Hailing a horse-drawn cab, Adam sat back in the comfortable interior, and thought about his own life, even as he compared the route that Balthis had taken. Balthis was very happy; Adam could see that. He recalled the way the young engineer's face lit up at the mention of his wife’s name, and he recalled the excited manner when Balthis had described his mountain wedding to Geta. There had been music and delicious food and guests from all over the world had attended.
Adam smiled then frowned when he thought about the Alps. He already missed Liza. He could not believe she had left him that day, standing at the gate of his family’s estate. He had not tried to convince her to stay, certainly not, because they both knew she had to return to her own world. But he could see she was conflicted. Her grit and determination had brought her so far; how could she not finish her journey?
He kicked himself for not trying to ask her to stay. Had he lost her? Had he lost her forever?
“What am I saying?” he cried to himself, out loud. He felt foolish for a moment, exclaiming his thoughts in frustration after climbing into the newly painted cab with matching black horses that had stopped before him.
“She's gone and I will never see her again,” he thought. But it's not that Liza did not have any regrets when she left him that day. He could see in her face that she had doubts. Even her mare Libby had asked Liza if she was certain. Adam knew he had heard Libby whisper that question to her. But he had never heard Liza's reply. Only that Libby had whispered back, “I understand,” and that was that.
Liza had walked out of his life forever.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THE NOTEBOOK
Anna stood up and looked down the valley just as her mare Abby skidded to a stop next to her, secure in her pasture, but fully capable of jumping the fence that lined it. Both Anna and Abby knew that the fencing was more of an optic to give the villagers around them a sense of comfort. Most villagers knew by now that Abby would never leave her mistress, and knew there was something special about her, but Anna and Abby didn’t want to flaunt anything by having Abby roam freely. Horses were either under a human’s control or were contained within a fenced pasture; when the villagers would see Abby in her own pasture, they felt comfortable with the sensible illusion that Abby was a normal horse.
“Libby is coming,” Abby said excitedly. “They are close by, Anna!” she cried, ending with a nicker of excitement.
Anna wiped her hands on her apron as she stood up and placed her gardening tool gently against the fence. She made a mental note to put it away but for now, it would stand there nicely. She smiled when she realized the small trade that had taken place for that hand-made hoe. She had set the broken arm of a child and a few days later, the hoe and some aged cheese had appeared at her doorstep. Anna never set rates for the medical care she dispensed. And she never asked for payment at the time she rendered her assistance. But in every case, something would appear at her doorstep shortly afterward and somehow, the ‘payment’ whether money, goods or services always seemed right and fair.
There appeared to be an unwritten code in the mountains that Anna wished applied to life everywhere. Services were performed expertly and on time, and payment
was fair and reasonable and timely. Only in extreme cases was payment ever delayed, and that was usually when it meant a harvest was about to happen and the villager needed more time.
Anna felt a bit of excitement at seeing the familiar outline of a cowgirl hat and a youngster astride a horse loping slowly towards her chalet. “Wait, Liza is no longer a youngster,” she realized, somewhat shocked. “She’s a young lady now.”
“Liza!” Anna cried joyfully, waving excitedly.
Libby loped beautifully along the trail as they approached the village and even from a distance, Anna could see that Liza had a smile on her face. Anna frowned realizing how tired her young friend appeared.
“Ah, it looks like time has passed more reasonably,” Anna realized. Liza was older but looked to be in her late teens this time. She noticed that Liza was coming up the valley and not down from the mountains. Anna was puzzled somewhat but she had a feeling that she was going to hear some fantastic stories from Liza once she had gotten Libby settled into the pasture with Abby.
Abby let out a piercing whinny to greet Libby and then the mare took off down the fence line at a wicked fast gallop and raced, tail flying out long and free, as she headed to the far end of her large pasture. Instead of skidding to a stop, she made a wide circle and then doubled back, loping quickly this time as she pranced and held her head upright, her mane flowing in the breezes of the valley. Her nostrils flared in anticipation.
Then she heard a whinny in reply.
“Libby, seriously?” Liza admonished then laughed when she realized her mare was also excited to see her friends once again and so she gave a gentle squeeze on Libby’s sides to urge her on even faster. They raced up past many chalets, where some villagers stood or worked or walked along the trail. Some smiled knowingly; they had
seen Liza and Libby before. One nudged her colleague and pointed, and another stood up and shrugging, then bent back down to resume work in his garden.
“Whoa, girl,” Liza cried out, as she sat down in her saddle and gently pulled back on the reins.
Holding the reins in one hand, she flung her leg up and out of the right stirrup and dismounted, then tossed the reins carefully back over Libby’s neck. She knew Libby wasn’t going anywhere.
Libby struggled with the urge to drop her head and gobble up some of the taller grasses at the edge of the pasture that Abby had been unable to reach, versus the urge to trot over to meet and greet her friend. With Abby craning her neck over the fence line and watching her bob her head up and down and up and down in excitement, Libby chose the latter.
After the two friends rubbed noses, they stood with their necks arched as they gently sniffed and inhaled one another’s breath. Liza turned to see that Anna had run over to her with her arms outstretched.
Anna was radiant. Liza threw herself into Anna’s embrace. Her beloved cowgirl mentor was beaming with joy at seeing her younger cowgirl friend and both women enjoyed the familiar embrace.
“How are your parents?” Anna asked immediately, after reluctantly letting go of Liza. In her heart, Liza felt like family to her, but Anna was very conscious of her special role in Liza’s life. She would always be a mentor, not another parent even though she clearly loved this young cowgirl.
“She’s taller,” Anna thought. Looking at Liza’s clothing, she saw evidence of a long journey in the wear and tear and dust on them.
“Anna!” Liza cried out. “I’m so happy to be here finally!” She noticed that Anna had a few more tiny wrinkles here and there, but Anna was still Anna. Happy, content, hardworking and dedicated it seemed.
They both looked over at the horses and Liza asked, “Give me a moment, okay, while I get Libby settled?”
“Of course!”
“Come on, girl,” Liza said gently to her mare.
Anna and Liza walked side by side around the perimeter of the garden as Libby followed behind her mistress, Abby prancing inside her fence as the distance grew between the horses. Abby snorted and blew through her nose multiple times, clearly indicating that she was eager to have Libby by her side.
As Liza began to untack her mare, Anna stood beside her and blurted out “Your mother and father told you everything, didn’t they,” she said triumphantly. Anna looked at the Henry rifle neatly tucked into its scabbard. She recognized the age of the rifle and could see it had the look of an expert craftsman. Anna was bursting with curiosity now.
“Oh yes, Mama finally told me everything. And we moved to Colorado, you know, or you don’t know, but anyway, we moved to Colorado and Mama and Papa have the family ranch finally. I came through a waterfall there in Colorado this time.”
With a sudden horrible realization, Anna now had a chilled look on her face when she understood what that simple sentence meant. “You crossed a continent and an ocean and then a continent again?” Anna gasped.
“Yep,” Liza said flatly. Carefully placing Libby’s saddle onto an empty saddle rack in Anna’s wooden shed, she added, “We sure did!” Then Liza turned to face Anna with the broadest smile Anna had ever seen on her young friend’s face. “Oh Anna, it’s wonderful to see you finally,” and Liza threw herself into Anna’s arms once again to hug her dear friend.
Releasing her, out of habit, Anna did a quick scan of Libby’s body, noticing a few scrapes of hair that had regrown and a slight scar or two on her rump. “Liza crossed the United States in the 1890’s all by herself and took an Atlantic steamer, then a Channel steamer, and then crossed this continent as
well.” Anna gasped at what she knew all of that entailed. “Liza, did you cross the United States on horseback?”
“Uh, yep,” Liza said, storing Libby’s bridle and breast collar.
Libby turned to look at Anna. “We had a few scary entanglements,” Libby admitted.
“And she’s in love,” Abby screeched from her pasture. “Can’t you see that, Anna?” Abby hollered, proudly contributing her keen observation of Liza’s countenance. Anna looked at Abby as though she wanted to say, “Shhhhh, quiet now!” but held her words.
“Is this true?” Anna asked playfully, wanting to tease Liza. She saw Liza absentmindedly curry Libby with the brush, even as she blushed.
Liza placed a hand on Libby’s neck, then looked down as her other hand with the brush dropped to her side. She was smiling even she revealed she felt a little flustered about her feelings and her thoughts as images of Adam whirled through her mind.
“Oh my gosh, love has hit you hard, cowgirl!” Anna cried. She patted Liza on the shoulder then moved in to hug her again. Liza started laughing.
“He’s so handsome,” she said. “He really is,” Liza gushed. She could feel Anna’s smile as Anna replied, “Of course he is!”
Liza pulled away and said to Libby, “Come on girl,” as they walked to the gate of Abby’s pasture.
“Love, love, love,” Abby teased. “Liza’s in love,” she hollered.
“Quiet, mare!” Libby teased back.
Entering the pasture, Libby nuzzled Abby again, then both mares tore off at a frisky gallop, hooves pounding into the ground as they thundered across the large pasture. Midway into the pasture, Libby dropped awkwardly to the ground and began to roll. Her legs were curled as she flopped to one side and squirmed and rubbed her back all over the
ground then rolled back and forth, and finally with a surge of energy, began to flop from side to side again, kicking her legs slightly as she flopped. Landing on one side finally and relaxing for a split second, she used her legs to stand up. Leaning her head forward and stretching out, she shook. First her head shook then her neck and then her entire body until head and body were no longer in sync with the shaking. Liza watched her mare and laughed. Then Libby drank water from a wooden water trough. After standing still for a moment, Libby looked at her cowgirl mistress and then turned as she and Abby tore off down the length of the pasture all over again.
“Liza, what an adventure you’ve had!” Anna said.
Liza nodded. “You have no idea,” she countered.
Anna looked surprised then decided that she would never have to worry about Liza ever again, knowing that what she had been through was already a lifetime of experiences for many people, already wrapped up into this young package of energy that was this teenage cowgirl walking by her side.
“Come inside for some food,” Anna suggested as she heard Liza’s stomach growl.
“Yes, ma’am!” Liza cried.
Anna put her finger into the air, as though she was signaling that she had forgotten something. Dashing into the garden, she picked up the basket of weeds she had just pulled and dumped the contents onto a pile near the shed. She hung the basket from a peg, then hustled to rejoin Liza and they walked into the chalet arm in arm, with Anna forgetting the hoe in her excitement.
As Anna prepared some hot tea for the two of them, Liza looked around at some of the changes in her friend’s chalet, especially in her office, which was in a room just off of the kitchen. The last two times Liza had been here, Anna’s desk was full of drawings of medical instruments, stacks of medical papers and piles of books. This time, some of the same types of things were in plain view, but Liza saw large maps hanging from one of the walls, with notes pinned into
certain locations. On a table under the wall with the maps, Liza saw a leather-bound notebook open to a page full of scribbles. She hesitated and remained standing in the doorway but did not enter. She could feel Anna’s eyes on her, turned, smiled at Anna and walked back to the kitchen table. Liza pulled out a chair and calmly sat down.
She had so many things to tell Anna, but at this moment, she felt that Anna had some things to tell her too. Anna stoked the fire in the stove and as the water came to a boil, she put several pinches of tea into two mugs and pointing to the jar of honey on the table, and to the bread and butter and jam she had just placed in the center, nodded to Liza and said, “Help yourself, Liza. Fresh bread and butter from the village and this year, I traded for the jam.”
Liza took a seat and made up her jam sandwich then ladled honey into the cup Anna gave her, stirred the contents and watched as Anna sat down. Liza was quiet as Anna stirred honey into her own cup of tea and her silence was not lost on Liza.
“Teens don’t really drink tea, you know,” Liza teased.
“I know,” Anna teased back.
They both held their mugs in their hands, feeling the warmth and enjoying the delicious aroma that wafted off the tops of their mugs. Liza gently inhaled.
“Lavender!” she cried.
Anna nodded.
“So, I’ll get right to it,” Anna said cryptically. Liza waited. She turned and looked back towards Anna’s office and Anna followed her gaze.
“There’s trouble here,” Anna began. “Someone is taking advantage of their knowledge of the time difference between the worlds. I’m having a difficult time figuring it out. I’ve been all over with Abby, Liza, searching to try to find answers. I’ve taken a leave from my practice because this is so important. There’s another doctor who I convinced to move up here and he will be very busy, but he can handle the
workload while I am on leave. This person, or these people, whoever they are, well they are causing a lot of dangerous problems for many people.”
Liza kept her gaze in the direction of Anna’s office and keeping her head still, allowed her eyes to travel all over the sections of maps that hung from the wall. Anna had been to many different countries in her quest.
“I saw your photo in a book,” Liza said simply breaking some of the slight tension she was feeling. She was disturbed by what Anna had just told her but needed to tell her something that had been in her mind for a few years.
After a slight gasp, Anna shook her head in a look of surprise, clearly startled, and as Liza turned her gaze to look back at her mentor, she repeated, “There you were, in a photo within the pages of an old book I came across.”
Anna was shaken. What was the timeline? Was Liza referring to something that had happened in her own world, here in this world, in the present, past or future? Anna looked concerned. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen. Worlds were not supposed to collide or connect and then interconnect so deeply. She waited for Liza to continue.
“It was some kind of …” and as Liza began to explain, she became worried and paused. She could not work out the timeline either. The photo was from an event here in this world she was in right now, with Anna, but since Anna looked confused, Liza had no way of knowing if this event had already happened or was yet to happen. She thought back to the photo she had found, the date of the copyright of the book, the notes in the description of the photo, and the footnotes she had read at the back of that old book. She kicked herself for not writing it down. Liza loved history and was good with dates and places and such, but she struggled right now to remember the date.
“I don’t think I should say any more,” Liza said slowly. Anna nodded. She was in awe of Liza’s decision not to blurt out something that might cause havoc in the world of
Travelers. More than that, Liza clearly understood the impact Travelers had on the worlds. Even though this might have appeared like a trivial situation, Anna knew that Liza had stumbled upon an important event but didn’t know if it had happened yet or not. Even so, in Liza’s excitement to share, Anna was struck by her wisdom to yield and say nothing. The younger Liza would have been quite insistent, full of pressing questions. This older teen, this young woman, was already clearly in control of her knowledge of the role of a Traveler.
Anna said, “This is your third visit, Liza. Your third time here. How do you feel?”
Were they going to dodge the conundrum of the photo? Anna wasn’t forthcoming. She was holding something back or perhaps there were many things she was holding back. Liza felt uneasy. Was Anna going to withhold a truth or a knowledge of something from her? Liza’s mind spun back to her mother and father and the decisions they had made to keep their secrets from her. As a family, once the truths had come out, they had pledged to be forthright with all Traveler information. Nothing would ever be withheld again.
But Anna wasn’t her family. Liza knew she could trust Anna, but something in Anna’s countenance was baffling. She was not telling Liza something, and Liza did not like that.
“So what? I’ll just ask her!” Liza thought.
Anna smiled. She had felt in her heart, what Liza had just thought in her mind.
“Ask me, Liza,” Anna said. Liza was startled.
“I think we need to restart this conversation,” Liza said plainly. “Anna, you are like my family. I want us to tell one another everything. But I’m not a little girl you know. I’m an experienced Traveler now, literally and figuratively. I can handle anything, and if your mind has wandered as I am sure it has already, you know that my experiences this time have had a profound impact on me. Something in my life is very different now. I’ve been feeling it, this impact on me. Because
I’m caught between being viewed as a child and viewed as an adult and even I feel like both sometimes. Which doesn’t matter to me really, except that what I know is that something has changed in me during this trip. It was changing before I left, to be honest. But I’m different now,” Liza said then paused.
“Nightmares?” Anna queried. “Bad ones I expect, right? Confusing ones with all kinds of people and events and horses and bright metallic colors intertwined too, is that right?”
“Yes, Anna,” Liza replied matter-of-factly. “How did you know?” she added, slightly shocked at Anna’s words.
Anna was relieved. She didn’t have to probe. She didn’t have to prod. She didn’t have to withhold. There would be no secrets and she could tell Liza everything.
“Liza, no one has ever Traveled three times before,” Anna said flatly. “Not that I know of at least.”
Liza could not explain what she felt inside as Anna said those words. For a moment, Liza felt a deep kind of wisdom of the ages coursing through her. She rubbed her head at her neckline. Oddly, the pain back there had started up again. It was throbbing this time.
She was listening and processing all of this as fast as she could. Liza closed her eyes and counted to eight as she inhaled. She counted to twelve as she held her breath, then she counted to six as she exhaled. Her mind was spinning. This was a calming trick she had learned from her mother during important competitions, which helped whenever too many things were flying through her head.
“What’s wrong with me?” Liza thought. Then she asked, “Is there something wrong with me?” Liza clarified as she knitted her eyebrows together and tried to process everything.
She began to look frail, weary from months of stress from her travels.
Liza heard the screech of the wooden legs of Anna’s chair scrape across the wooden floorboards, as Anna got up and then sat down in the chair that was beside Liza.
“What’s wrong with me?” Liza said, as tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Anna realized that Liza looked very young at that moment. She looked frail a bit and slightly haggard and was way too thin she noticed. But instead of coddling her she simply took Liza’s hand and looked into her eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Liza.”
The young cowgirl felt a warmth emanating from Anna just then and remained still.
“These need to be joyful tears, Liza,” Anna said, correcting Liza’s train of thought, fearful that what she was experiencing meant something was wrong. Liza looked up at Anna and into her eyes. She sniffed and wiped a tear from her face.
“So, nothing is wrong?” she asked.
“Not really,” Anna said, trying to make light of this important moment.
Anna had put everything together, sitting here with Liza just now and it all fell into place. Anna had always hoped that Liza would return, but as the years passed, could never be certain if she would see Liza ever again. Anna knew, however, that if Liza ever came back, that her life would be different forever, Liza’s life that is. It made sense now.
“Liza, no one, do you hear me my friend, no one has ever traveled three times before,” Anna stressed.
Liza looked at Anna.
“Liza, listen to me. Does anyone know that you have traveled three times? Other than your parents, have you told anyone?” Anna’s gaze was both pleading and piercing. She gently squeezed Liza’s hand for emphasis.
Liza shook her head. She thought back wildly. Had she told Adam? Had she told Laura anything?
“Your beau, what is his name? Does he know?” Anna urged.
Liza struggled. Her mind was racing. Her heart started to race. She looked into Anna’s office, and her gaze dropped to that notebook, lying open right there on the table under the maps.
And just then, she heard the pounding of hoofbeats, hard and fast and urgent. She stood up and looked down at Anna. Everything was moving in slow motion and her vision was blurry. She looked back at the notebook in Anna’s office, then turning slowly, Liza felt that the weight of a million pounds of air was pressing against her. She turned to look out the window.
Several times in the past she had looked out that same window and saw what she was seeing now. The heads of two horses were poking through the window frame, noses pressing forward, sniffing the air, curious about what was going on inside the chalet. Liza saw Libby’s nostrils flaring. Libby had lifted herself up and one hoof was on the windowsill. She appeared to be scrambling to get her footing. This was insane. Was Libby going to try to climb inside? What was happening?
Liza heard a voice. “Liza!” Anna cried.
She looked at Anna then turned back to the window. Libby had stopped wildly trying to climb in and was standing back on all four legs it appeared, even as she and Abby seemed agitated as they both strained to get their heads and necks in through the window to reach their mistresses.
“Liza!” a chorus of voices cried out. Then, one more time, “Liza!” came the determined cries.
Liza was confused. She thought she had heard the voices of the multitudes across the ages crying out her name just now. Who was crying out to her and what did they want?
She looked at Anna, who had a horribly worried look on her face. She turned and looked at her mare and realized that the last “Liza” she had heard was from her beloved friend. Libby looked frantic. She looked wild. She looked like
she was going to jump through the window and risk impaling herself as she did.
Liza slowly turned and looked at the maps on the wall then her gaze traveled down to look at the notebook lying on the table below. Then, as if in a dream, she saw swirls of gold, silver and copper swooshing out from the pages and rising into the air, and watched the metallic colors begin to move towards her.
Suddenly Liza began to understand her purpose, and the reason for so many things that were happening to her. There was evil within the worlds, and she was being asked to confront it. But she would not have to do it all alone. Because there were people with their horses, other Travelers, who would help her.
Cruelty and wrongdoing was going to be met with a force of reckoning that would reduce the impact it might have made, and Liza was going to be a part of all of this.
The nightmares, the headaches, the pain, the urgency of it all; things were becoming clearer to her now, even as the mystery of what she had to do next remained in a fog within the swirling metallic mist.
She saw the form with its wings astride a winged horse as it raised its sword and called to her.
“Oh no, it’s going to happen again,” Liza cried. Then everything went blank as she fainted and fell to the ground, as Anna’s arms outstretched to catch her.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THE PHOTOGRAH
Liza felt horrible when she woke up. Anna had summoned her strength and had picked Liza up from the floor and then brought her towards the window, with Liza in a daze, half walking half leaning into Anna’s strong arms.
Anna had decided to keep her lying on the small bed like sofa that was in the main room near the same window through which Libby had tried to climb. The entire time Liza was on this sofa, Libby never left the window area and although she dropped her head to nibble rather nervously on some grass, she would whip her head upright and look inside every now and again when she thought she heard Liza stirring.
Anna frowned. From the first moment she had met this young cowgirl, she knew that she was someone quite special. The Traveler connection was intense with Liza, like no other connection that Anna had ever experienced with any other Traveler.
For all these years of knowing Liza, Anna had kept her thoughts and concerns about Liza’s visits all to herself. No Traveler had ever passed between the worlds more than twice. It’s why their parting after Liza’s first time here had been bittersweet and it was why Anna had nearly become frantic when Liza had left her valley and returned to her own home the second time.
Liza had been so casual about it all during the last visit. So had Libby and so had Abby. With the two mares carrying foals from the stallion belonging to Geta and her family, Libby and Abby had been innocently making plans to try to see one another someday, oblivious to the fact that Anna knew a third visit to her world was next to impossible.
All the while Anna had been dying inside, believing she might never see her young friend ever again.
Anna knew that only the mysterious Original Traveler could move between the worlds freely, but she was long gone, nowhere to be found. Anna had heard the legends of the Original Traveler, but they were all cloaked in mystery. Supposedly she was the wisest of all who had ever passed between the worlds these many centuries. But where was she now?
She looked down at her young friend and saw the tuft of white hair there at the nape of her neck. Anna frowned.
Who was Liza, really? And why had she been able to travel between the worlds so freely and unincumbered?
Liza stirred, opened her weary eyes and sat up and announced, “I feel horrible, Anna. What’s wrong? I fainted again. I think that’s the second or third time since I have come back. This is getting to be annoying and scary. Am I sick? Do I have a tumor or something?”
Tenderly, Anna felt Liza’s forehead. Libby had poked her head through the widow, once again stretching her neck and leaning through the window frame as much as she could.
Hearing a thunder of hooves, Anna realized that her mare Abby had just raced up to the window of the chalet as well.
“Is she awake?” Abby demanded. The paint stuck her head through the window, jostling with Libby to peak in.
“Shhh,” said Libby, more as a suggestion and not as a command to her friend. “Liza, how do you feel?” she asked, nostrils flaring as she leaned in through the window.
“Awful.”
“Can you see anything?” Libby asked.
“Of course, silly mare, my eyes are open,” Liza replied with a grin, trying to get up. She swung her legs off the sofa and gently removed the woolen blanket Anna had laid on top of her. She folded it and placed it at the end of the little sofa. “No fever,” Anna said.
“How long was I out?” Liza asked, worry on her face. But Libby was persistent.
“Liza, can you see anything, anything that looks unusual, out of place, perhaps something that’s an unusual color?” Libby asked insistently.
Anna snapped to attention. “Seeing special colors, that’s right,” she thought to herself, giving Libby a concerned glance. Anna had heard that the Original Traveler could see things in time and space that were of unusual colors.
Libby ignored Anna.
“Well,” Liza struggled. “I see lots of gold and copper. With silver. They look like threads in the air, or a mist. I started seeing this in Colorado and I’ve had these same visions a number of times since I came back to this world months ago. It’s all so weird. It’s cool looking, but it’s so weird,” Liza said. “Does anyone else ever see what I’ve seen?”
Anna shot a concerned look in Libby’s direction. Then she turned to Liza and said, “Then it’s true. Everything I have been feeling and worried about, it’s all true,” she said somewhat dejected and relieved as well.
“What’s true, Anna, what do you mean?” asked Liza, standing up and feeling wobbly from the fainting experience.
Abby, always the one to say exactly what’s on her mind, blurted out, “She’s the one who is going to keep all the Travelers in line, that’s what this means. You are seeing those colors because it’s like a map that only you can see. It’s a special map to help you find the other Travelers, Liza. And only you can see that map,” Abby stated, proud of herself to be able to contribute to the conversation. “Liza is going to find the Original Traveler.”
Anna sat down. There was no way around it all now. Abby had said what she had been thinking. Abby could always read Anna’s mind it seemed. Anna looked at the two horses leaning through the window frame and was relieved when Liza reached out to pet Libby.
“I’m with you Liza, no matter what. I don’t understand this stuff about an Original Traveler, or what it means, but I’ll be right with you Liza, no matter what and no matter where any of this takes us.”
Anna looked over at Liza’s gorgeous sorrel mare and felt relieved. Libby was such a good horse. Anna could see that. She was so glad that Liza and Libby had one another.
“Sit down, Liza. I need to tell you a few things,” Anna said tenderly. “I have to tell you what I have learned this past year.” Liza scrunched her forehead and shrugged and sat down. For just a moment, she was thinking that Anna was being a little overdramatic yet when she saw the look on Anna’s face, she realized that Anna was about to tell her something that was going to change her life forever.
“Liza, I was at a conference a while back, in Kraków. In Poland. Well, right now it’s partitioned between Austria, Prussia and Russia. Regardless, I had attended a conference of medical professionals,” Anna said, trying to slowly introduce to Liza what she had learned.
“Oh, I know about that,” Liza replied frankly. “I saw your photo in an old textbook,” Liza said flatly then jumped back up from the sofa. “Oh my gosh that’s right. I forgot to tell you. I saw you, when I was in my world. I saw you in a photo. You were in an old-looking room with some medical equipment in it and a bunch of stuffy old men were near you but you all looked very happy, like you had just discovered something. I forgot to tell you about that,” Liza cried. “Wait, I told you about this, right? Just before I fainted. Aw man, I’m confused. What did I say and what didn’t I say already?” Liza said quickly then laughed when she realized her confusion.
“This is crazy,” Anna thought, “and dangerous. I have to be more careful not to be in any photos while I am here. Since Liza recognized me, someone else might. That would be horrible.” Then she said, “It’s alright Liza. You did mention that you had seen me in an old book, but you didn’t share any details. You mentioned it just before you fainted.”
Liza was absentmindedly folding up the woolen blanket that Anna had used to cover her. This was the third time now, Anna noticed. She would fold it, then let it drop down, then fold it, then let it unfold and drop back to the sofa. “She’s so young,” Anna thought. “She is trying so hard to be mature about all of this, but she is still so young.”
Anna reached out her hand to touch Liza gently on her shoulder. “Breathe, Liza,” she said.
“What’s happening to me, Anna?” Liza asked faintly. Anna turned and walked into her office, then returned with the notebook. She had folded it in half, closing it, then wrapped the leather covering around it and securely tied the leather string around the entire notebook.
“I’ve been taking notes on all the Travelers I could think of,” Anna explained. “Perhaps it’s the note-taking medical professional in me, but I started this notebook about ten years ago, or more,” she continued. Liza, she noticed, was looking down at the leather notebook that she was holding.
“I see copper strands now,” Liza breathed, staring at the notebook. “They are radiating out from that notebook in your hand. It’s hard to explain, Anna, but when the strands come out from the leather, it’s like I’m able to see a pathway of roads and trails and train tracks and ocean plotlines for steamer ships. I can see where everyone is that you have in that notebook,” Liza continued. “This is so weird. It’s cool, but it’s weird, and kind of scary too,” Liza exclaimed. She seemed excited now and not fearful.
“Liza should be scared, but she isn’t,” Anna thought. Then Anna suddenly became excited too.
“Liza, I believe you’ve been chosen by the Original Traveler. I can see that now. I think you’ve been tested and challenged ever since you first passed into this world six of your years ago. I don’t know where she is, or how she has done this, but it seems you have been chosen as the one to make sense of the growing Traveler network. It’s getting too large, too complicated, and too many Travelers are changing
things, mostly selfishly, which is causing havoc between the worlds. It’s something I talked about when you first came here,” Anna continued, pausing. Liza looked at her and then came to the realization that she knew what Anna was going to say.
“It’s when you were trying to tell me that you had changed too many things in this world, which prevented you from ever going back,” Liza said, watching Anna nod. “And I was so worried I would not be able to get home, fearing that I had changed too much during my first visit here,” Liza said, all the while watching Anna nod sadly.
“She’s suddenly really matured in these last ten minutes,” Anna thought. “She’s only eighteen, but she seems to understand. She sees how she fits in to all of this and she knows her place now,” Anna thought.
“Happy Birthday, by the way,” Anna said out of the blue. “I’ll make sure to pack a little gift into your saddlebag as a surprise for you.”
Libby nickered.
“What’s up girl?” Liza asked her mare.
“I’m looking forward to our adventures, Liza. It looks like we are going to have more and more of them, aren’t we?” Libby said.
Liza smiled and leaned over and scratched Libby’s cheek, her face near her ears then rubbed on her nose.
“Looks like it, my Libby-girl. It sure looks like it,” Liza exclaimed.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
IT’S HER NEW HOME
Liza and Libby stepped forward onto the path and Liza felt her mare turn to look back through the two special pine trees. The last time they had been here, after coming through those same two pine trees, Libby was in mourning and worried about her little filly that had stayed behind in the other world.
Today, exhausted and relieved, Liza was happy and, in her excitement, could not stop exclaiming how much fun it was to be back on their favorite trails in Virginia once again.
“Well, I have returned to my own world for the third time,” Liza said. She had an odd reaction just then, looking at her hands and arms, rubbing her hands on her thighs, patting her face and hat then giving a little rub on Libby’s withers. “Looks like we have returned in one piece, girl,” Liza joked.
Libby contemplated the entire journey of theirs these last many months. She was sore and needed a rubdown and hesitated to admit to her young rider that what she really wanted to do was to stop and rest. But she could feel how excited Liza was, so she perked up her ears and replied, “I’ve missed these mossy trails too, Liza!”
They lightly trotted down the path in the direction of their ranch. Well, it wasn’t ‘their’ ranch any longer. Liza’s family had sold this ranch a few years ago and had moved to their new homestead in Colorado. Liza had never really known anything about the new owners of their old ranch here in Virginia. Frankly, even in this digital age where she knew how easy it was to track people down, Liza hadn’t been that interested to look back. She was too busy getting to know her new home.
But now that they were here, she was curious what the reception would be as they made their way out of the clearing
once they had gone down the trail towards the home and the stable. And how would she explain her presence? This was going to be awkward for sure. In fact, she and Libby were trespassing and there was no way around it. Liza knew there weren’t any trails from this part of the property to get over to the main roads so she could not even try to make up a story of getting lost during an innocent trail ride.
Then she wasn’t sure what to do next. Call her parents certainly but then what; ask them to come get her? Or perhaps find a friend driving west who could haul her home? She needed to find a phone for sure before anything else.
She sighed. They were trespassers and there was nothing to be done but just head down this main trail and come out at the pastures where Libby had been kept up until a few years ago. They would have to make their way up past those pastures, hopefully full of horses, walk right by the main house, then stop and introduce herself and apologize.
Liza’s mind was whirling with excitement. How would she explain how she had gotten here? “Hi, I was in Colorado and then after I picked up some gold in a cave, I went back in time and then walked with my horse in grizzly country across the United States and then caught a train and walked again from Pennsylvania to Massachusetts, where I took a steamer ship from Boston to Liverpool then got on a boat to France and walked to the Swiss Alps, then passed through two magical pine trees and here I am now in Virginia. On your property.”
Liza nearly rolled her eyes. “That explanation is going to get me dragged to a doctor’s office,” she thought. “If I was eight, they would think I was pretending. But I’m eighteen now. They will think I’m lying. Nope, I need to make up a solid story that will work.”
As they approached the main farmhouse, and trotted by the pastures which they noticed did have a few horses in them, Liza realized she was relieved that they did not see any signs of the owners being at home.
“Ah, this is good. Let’s walk down to the main road and get to a phone to call Mama and Papa,” Liza said to Libby. “No one is here so we can make a clean break of it.”
But then she saw the dust of an approaching vehicle driving down the long lane.
“Think quickly Libby,” Liza said. “Why and how did we get here?”
“I got nothin’,” Libby replied in the funny vernacular of a cowboy they had once met. “I have no ideas on how to explain our presence here.”
It was a large truck, a dually, and it was hauling a three-horse bumper pull. Liza noticed the driver wasn’t speeding down the lane. “That’s always so bad for a horse when drivers zoom over bumpy roads, causing the horses to sling back and forth inside the trailer,” Liza thought.
As the truck approached, Liza waved and saw a smile and a wave from the woman inside the truck.
“This can’t be a normal thing for her to have a stranger on horseback in her drive,” Liza thought, “but she seems friendly enough so that’s good.”
The truck made a circle as it wound its way into the gravel area near the stable. The driver turned and parked.
“Hello!” the woman said. As she got out of the truck, Liza saw a lead rope in her hands. The woman nodded her head as if to point up in the direction of the main trail. “Did you come down the trail?” she asked, a smile on her face.
“Why yes, we did. Sorry about that, you see…” and the woman interrupted before Liza could finish her story.
“That’s okay. A few of you have come down the trails since I moved in, so I’m used to it. But give me a moment. I need to unload my mare,” the woman said as she walked to the back of her trailer.
“Liza,” Libby whispered, “I’m sensing something. No, rather I’m definitely feeling something, can you?”
Liza got chills as she felt the familiar tingling in her body and some of that warmth that she had felt right in this same
spot years ago when Belle and Libby and the fillies had felt the call of the Traveler Network, calling them to go save Abby.
The woman dropped the ramp to the ground and opened the back door, securing it open with a metal latch. After slithering inside the trailer and connecting the lead rope, she unhooked her horse and now carefully backed it out of the stall and down the ramp of the trailer.
Liza sat upright in her saddle, mimicking the stifflegged feeling and movement that Libby had just made underneath her. They were both startled. Something was happening. What was going on? Liza felt dizzy and she was certain she felt Libby’s legs begin to buckle underneath her.
Then they walked across the yard to the back of the trailer where the woman was, and Liza sat up straighter in her saddle.
“I just got back from Massachusetts,” the woman explained. “I bought a young champion. I almost can’t believe my luck. She’s a direct descendent too,” she added.
A gorgeous young buckskin had just been unloaded and the woman was soothing it and stroking its neck and mane. The woman glowed and Liza was amazed because then she noticed that something was glowing around the two of them it seemed and when the woman stroked her horse, Liza saw that glow emanate separately from the horse as well.
Liza made a scrunch of her face as if she was going to cry. “It can’t be,” she murmured. She felt Libby stiffen again but then felt her relax and make a gentle nicker of greeting and heard an equally gentle nicker of reply from the young buckskin. Libby quivered a bit then took a tentative step forward as Liza stroked her neck.
“Meet my new horse,” the woman said proudly. “I’ve decided to name her after her great great great great grand dam who was a grand champion eventing horse.” Turning to pet her new horse once again, she added, “Welcome to your new home Lila and say hello to this nice girl and her mare.”
THE LEATHER PORTFOLIO
Many years later, a cowgirl in her mid-thirties sat at her desk preparing the paperwork for the sale of one of her horses. She had trained this young filly well and knew it was going to a good home. The filly had been born here on her ranch, and she had raised it, bringing it along beautifully in its training. She thought back on the many days she had spent patiently teaching the horse to respect her space, to walk in hand, to back up, and to stand patiently among other horses. She remembered the first ride on this filly, and all the time she had spent preparing the filly for that first ride.
She had taught the horse to spook in place, and to tolerate the saddle pad that was placed on its back. She had spent time putting a bridle on the horse’s head, gently placing the light bit into its mouth and rubbing and petting the horse,
congratulating it on a job well done. This filly had tremendous prospects. She was strong with long supple legs and a body that was already powerful. She was intelligent and inquisitive, yet respectful. It appeared the horse knew all about everything that was happening around her, and she wanted to be a willing part of it.
The young woman who was buying this horse had fallen in love at once with this pretty young sorrel with the white patch on her face, almost looking like the face of a paint. Liza had watched as the woman kindly tacked up the filly and expertly took the young horse for a walk and trot around Liza’s arena.
Liza watched as the two bonded. She saw that instant kind of beautiful love that had already begun to grow between the two during the short amount of time that they had spent with one another. Making an offer which Liza accepted, the woman promised to give the young horse a “forever home” and had driven back to her own ranch to get her bumper pull.
Liza knew what those words meant, and she certainly wanted to believe that this woman meant what she said. Sadly, way too often, horse owners found themselves in impossible predicaments, unable to continue to care for their horse which is why Liza had a clause in her contracts for the right of first refusal so the horse would return to her. Over the years, Liza’s ability to make a wise match between a potential owner of one of her horses had yet to prove her wrong but she always watched how a pair bonded before she ever considered an offer for one of her horses.
Liza heard footsteps approaching her office.
“Mom, I’m heading out for a trail ride along the ridge trail. I’ll have my handgun with me and the pepper spray,” Liza’s daughter said. “And my phone, Mom, I’ll have that as well. And the radio too,” she added, noticing her mother’s concerned look.
“Alright,” Liza said, smiling at her daughter. She wanted to hug her and hold her tightly. She wanted to protect her and
keep her safe. “So, this is what my mama used to feel when I was her age and would head out on a ride with Libby,” she thought, trying to juxtapose a feeling of pride in her heart with the mild butterflies in the pit of her stomach, knowing that being nervous for the well-being of her daughter was a good thing.
Young Leeza walked into her mother’s office a few steps instead of spinning on her heels to head down to the pasture to grab her own mare. She trailed her hand across the back of a dark leather couch that her mother had placed in her office, a comfortable place to sit when she was reading or doing some of her artwork after her work on the ranch was finished for the day. Leeza looked at some freshly made sketches lying on a small table beside the couch.
“Are these new, Mom?” she asked.
Liza had turned to look back at her desk to complete the paperwork for the young mare, and stiffened a moment, but then relaxed. She had no secrets from her daughter, unlike with her own mother, where secrets had been kept for many years until Liza was old enough to have learned the truth.
Liza turned in her leather chair and looked over at the sketches she had just made the night before. Lately, a flood of images had come into her mind, and as quickly as she could, she got them down on paper exactly as she had seen them. Her mind had been in overdrive lately, and she felt she had to honor whatever it was that was happening, by simply getting those images down on paper.
“These are beautiful, Mom,” Leeza exclaimed. “May I?” she asked, as she motioned to one of the sketches, in a gesture that asked if she could pick one of them up.
“Of course,” replied her mother. Leeza looked over at her mother’s face and saw a mixture of joy and astonishment. Leeza took a moment to reflect on what that might mean. “I don’t spend enough time with Mom asking her about everything,” she pondered. “I can
take my trail ride later. I need to ask her about these new sketches.”
Leeza picked up a sketch from the top of the pile. It was of a young girl in a fancy ball dress who was getting out of a carriage with two dark horses hitched to it. She recognized the face, of course, but didn’t say anything. Holding the sketch carefully in her hand, she noticed that her mother’s treasured leather portfolio lay close by. Leeza hesitated then stepped closer.
It was lying right there out in the open, on a large, low wooden table topped with glass. This treasured leather-bound portfolio, the cover of which had an ornate emblem made of pressed tin that was attached to the cover with embedded pins, was very special to her mother. Three magnificent horses were charging forward, side by side; the relief work on this emblem was stunning, full of detail that was so precise you wanted to pet the horses or examine the quality of the leather-looking bridles embossed into the tin.
She looked at the supple leather portfolio, bound with sturdy strips of leather securing the spine, carefully made in such a way that you knew you wanted to take great care of it. While it showed signs that it was used and not something just stuck on a shelf to admire, she saw that it was a treasured possession, an item of both her mother’s past and present.
“Mom…?”
“Yes.”
“Mommy, may I?”
“Yes, Leeza. It’s time to learn more, so yes.”
Leeza placed the sketch of the young girl back onto the table and sat down. She made herself comfortable in the couch that was so deep and inviting, then reached over and carefully picked up the leather portfolio.
Leeza felt an electric jolt run through her.
At that precise moment, Liza felt the jolt too, and her eyes widened as she looked at her daughter.
Leeza looked over at her mother and cried, “Mommy, I just felt something!” She was breathless and excited and smiling all at once. Then for some reason, Leeza turned and looked out of the large bay window into the pasture, and saw Libby standing at the nearest gate, looking right in at her.
“Mom!” she cried, pointing towards the window, and holding her arm and finger in the direction of the pastures.
Liza kept her eyes focused on her daughter.
She did not turn to look out the large picture window because she knew. Like always, whenever moments of excitement were occurring, Liza knew that her beloved mare Libby knew exactly what was happening as well and would come and either poke her nose through an open window, if she was close enough, or would stand patiently at the edge of the pasture and look into the house.
“Surely, Libby can’t see us. There must be a glare from the windows preventing her from seeing inside,” Leeza thought. But when she stood up to get a better look, she saw that indeed, Libby was looking directly at her, and was holding her gaze.
“She’s going to tell you,” Leeza heard.
“What?” Leeza cried. “What did you just say?” Leeza cried again.
Leeza was stunned and sat down quickly. Her breath had quickened, and she felt slightly woozy. The leather portfolio was still in her hand, and she felt a warmth emanating from it. She caressed the leather. It was worn and well-used, but it was soft and supple and still in excellent condition. She ran her hand over it and carefully touched the tin relief work of the three running horses there embedded into the cover.
Her mother turned to look out the window and saw her wonderful and forever friend standing there, looking right at them. “It’s okay. You can tell her everything. Go ahead,” Liza heard.
Leeza was still looking down at the portfolio when she felt her mother sit down next to her. She had been so
focused on what she was feeling that she had not noticed that her mother had left her desk and had walked over towards the couch.
Liza took the portfolio from her daughter’s hands and as she settled herself in the couch, she opened it up and began to flip through the pages. It contained more than a hundred sketches of people and places and horses and beautiful scenery. There were dates and the names of countries and cities noted in the margins of each sketch. The dates spanned many decades, even centuries, and the names of cities and countries in some cases, did not correlate with the names of those locations today. She saw a name in the margin of one sketch that began with, “My visit to The Kingdom of…” and as her mother turned the pages, Leeza continued to feel a warmth emanating from each one.
Leeza saw sketches of what looked like the Old West as well as familiar skyline panoramas of old cities in the United States from more than a hundred years ago. She saw sketches of old European cities and countrysides full of people going about their day. These were the most interesting to Leeza because they were of a time and place with which she was not familiar.
There were people in all kinds of dress; skirts, slacks, riding habits, breeches, wearing aprons and cloaks with a variety of hats and some people with tools or weapons by their sides, in their hands or leaning on fences or against wooden buildings. Some people were working in their gardens while others were going about their day in their home or out riding their horses.
She saw women riding sidesaddle in their long voluminous skirts and there were sketches of men and women in carriages drawn by beautiful horses. There were detailed drawings of ships and trains and mountains, and in some sketches the scenery was full of pine trees. She saw a filly lying on its back and a mare and a filly lying together in
a field, surrounded by majestic snow-capped mountains and pastural valleys.
She was particularly curious about one sketch of just Libby, flopped on her back, legs in the air, in the middle of a meadow surrounded by tall mountains.
Liza watched as her daughter’s fingertips carefully touched the edges of many of the sketches as her mother calmly flipped the pages. Then she heard a snort and looked up.
“Silly girl, you jumped the fence again, didn’t you?” Liza noted. The screen door was open and so was a side window. Liza walked over to the window and slid up the screen. Libby stuck her head inside and Liza gave her mare a quick scratch and a pat. How many times over her very long life had Libby done that before? Liza didn’t mind.
Liza didn’t scold her either. On the contrary, she felt it was more than alright for her mare to observe what was taking place. After all, Libby must have felt what she and her daughter had just felt.
“Is this where you met Daddy?” Leeza asked quietly. Liza pursed her lips and scrunched her forehead as she walked back to the couch and sat down. Then she laughed a little bit. This was something she had been doing since she was a child and she laughed at the thought that all these years later, whenever she was caught in a moment where she had to find a clever answer, how easily her pursed lips and scrunched forehead gave her away. She could never be good at playing cards, she realized. No way to ever bluff.
“Mom, I think you need to tell me more. These drawings and these dates; there are so many of them. You’ve been back more than those three times when you were my age, haven’t you?” Leeza asked, clearly excited and with an earnest look on her face.
“Many times,” thought Liza. “Many many times.” Libby playfully wagged her head up and down then made another snort and shook her head and body and stomped one hoof. The noises she was making were both
comical and ironic. However, it occurred to Leeza that Libby’s playful antics were going to lead to an accidental smack of her head against the window frame.
Liza stood up and walked back over to her friend, her forever friend, Libby. They had been through a lot together, she and Libby, and in spite of a few scars here and there on both of them, and in spite of their many years together, Libby looked like a youthful horse. Her eyes were clear and bright, and her teeth looked like those of a horse that was ten years old. Her topline was muscular and filled out nicely, and her coat was shiny and clean.
Liza played with Libby’s mane and twisted her forelock a bit, scratching underneath there on the hard part of Libby’s forehead. She rubbed the white swirl of hair there and scratched her again. Then she rubbed and scratched her mare’s cheeks with both of her hands. Libby closed her eyes and had a look of contentment on her relaxed face. When she opened them again, Liza saw the intelligent soft brown eyes of her mare and as they looked at one another, with the look of undying everlasting love, Liza knew it was time for important storytelling.
There were things that she knew she finally had to tell her daughter.
“Right,” Liza said placing the portfolio on the table. “Exactly,” she added. “Let’s go,” she said with a hint of utter excitement in her voice.
“What do you mean, Mom?” her daughter asked.
Leeza got up and walked across the room behind her mother as Liza mischievously waved her hand, urging her daughter to follow her outside.
Leeza instinctively walked closely behind her mother, as Liza walked to the screen door, opened it, and headed out onto the porch. The view from this porch had always captivated Liza and it was a view that gave her comfort and a sense of calm solitude. The valley was long and wide, with pastures and meadows as far as the eye could see.
Trees grew here and there and became more plentiful as the valley walls began to climb. There were streams and a small river running down through their property, full of trout, and everything had a lush and healthy look to it. Liza especially loved the variety of wildflowers that sprang up throughout the year and even in winter, there was always something colorful peeking through the snow.
She enjoyed the look of the pastures with their horses in them, sometimes quietly standing, heads down and grazing, occasionally lying down in small groups sunning themselves, or on brisk windy days, frolicking and running about, kicking up their hooves and being playful with one another.
Tall mountains were in the distance, steep and jagged. Snow covered the tops of some of them, with green areas of pine and other trees on the lower elevations of others. The view was breathtaking, and Liza never tired of it. Her work took her away from her beautiful valley more often than she would have liked and for just a moment, she thought about an upcoming trip that would take her far away once again. But then she shrugged, knowing that it was going to be an exciting business trip which might even include Leeza.
She subconsciously rubbed her shoulder, since it was sore again, and she winced when she remembered how the accident had happened. She shrugged for the second time.
Liza scanned the view before her and noticed the neat and tidy look of the barn, sheds and various outbuildings built with steep rooflines to withstand hard winters full of snow. A lot of hard work had gone into building and maintaining each one of those structures. She laughed a bit when she remembered the time that she had nearly fallen off a roof of one of the lower buildings, saved by her cat-like reflexes when she had slammed into the roof itself and landed on her side instead of going over the edge.
As they walked out the door, Libby walked over to her mistress with a little trot. She flipped her head in that almost
wild sort of movement that indicates a horse is ready to run and jump or head out on the trails. Liza held her daughter’s hand in hers for a moment then linked her arm into Leeza’s. The three of them walked back towards the pasture. By now, Leeza’s mare had run up to the pasture gate and made a loud whinny. It was a curious and yet knowing cry of, “Hello, what’s the plan for the day?” kind of greeting.
Libby cried back to her as the three of them walked closer to the pasture gate. Leeza’s mare began to pace back and forth as they approached, and a black thoroughbred stood calmy in the paddock next to the pacing mare.
Holding her daughter’s arm snugly in her own, Liza leaned in close to her, Libby’s nose gently nudging the two of them as they all stood side by side.
“My mother used to tell me that whenever there are important things to do or stories to tell, that they are best done standing beside your horse. So, let’s go into the pasture and stand with our horses, and I will tell you everything.”
THE END
Everlasting Adventures!
Everlasting adventures endure for Cowgirl Liza and her beloved friend and companion, the amazing sorrel mare Libby.
Over the course of “The Liza and Libby Adventures Series” readers from around the world have ridden right along as Liza grew from a young girl full of curiosity and determination into a young lady full of intelligence and confidence.
Libby was right by her side the entire time, listening, loving and imparting words of wisdom, when the time was right for it of course.
What is next for this amazing duo?
Everlasting adventures.
Are you ready now?
“I mean it Liza, I will wait for you, whatever it takes.”
Disclaimer for book three:
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Having said that, historical events and observations noted in this book have been researched and are presented as accurately as possible within a lively fictional storyline.
The mustang section of the book is based on the author’s own time with wild horses. Mustangs exist in the west to this day.
Liza and Libby endured very dangerous situations. Liza knew the dangers however, which is why she put Libby on a very special new train car designed for the comfort of horses that really existed in this time period.
Wagon trains existed until the late 1890’s so Liza might have encountered one of the very last of them.
Unchecked logging truly decimated the landscape of Pennsylvania.
The canal system in America was still in vibrant condition running north, south, east, and west when Liza was there. The author grew up ice skating on an abandoned and overgrown but watery section of the West Branch Canal system and used her imagination for what has been described in this book.
The docks of Boston and Liverpool were vibrant places full of people from all over the world. Horses and other livestock traveled in the holds of steamers. The author has imagined that the horses of FirstClass passengers, then called Saloon Class, traveled in the greater comfort described in this book.
Thank you to the makers of Henry rifles and Vaquero .45’s.
A warm thank you to a father in Serbia who made the vision for this particular cover come true in ways I could not have imagined. Your work is magical.
Thank you!
K – Thank you for your everlasting love and tenderness.
M and D – I love your flowers and your oil paintings, and that creativity flows through me too. I love you both.
N – You’ve loved me since forever. I deeply treasure our friendship.
D, M, A, B, and C – I try to imagine what your lives were like and that guides my work.
S, C, and T – You are beautiful and wonderful creatures, and I will take care of you forever.
L – Your love flows through me every single day. I think of you often. I can feel that you speak to me through the sun and the wind and the beautiful things I encounter. The copper colors that I see are from you. I will love you forever and ever.
”Don’t mull inwardly about your beloved lost times. Even dawdling in the current timelessness will fail to augment intelligent, marvelous decisions, thus warping sleep.”
“Noting that slumbering lightly in these past times allows making old dreams comfortably lost, triumphantly, always places new possibilities in touch.”
AW
(There is mystery in the words as the everlasting journey continues )
Connect with Author Alexandra M. Wallace: www.AlexandraMWallace.com
Instagram: @AlexandraMWallace
The author is a life-long equestrian who fell in love with horses at the age of five, and has never given up her enthusiasm for life, horses and love.
Connect with Liza and Libby: www.LizaandLibby.com
Instagram: @LizaandLibbyAdventures
Facebook: Liza and Libby Adventures X: @LizaandLibbyAdventures
The Trilogy:
“Liza and Libby: The Adventures Begin”, Spring 2022 “Liza and Libby: The Adventures Continue”, Fall 2022 “Liza and Libby: The Adventures Everlasting”, Spring 2023
Order a book or two or three today: www.LizaandLibby.com www.PonderaPublishing.com
