The Brink(ley) of Extinction

3

          The next morning, just after the chores were finished, which took a bit longer than usual thanks to the distraction of the foals, Mama handed Beth a list and sent her into town with the buckboard wagon. Papa winked at her on the way out the door. He was giving her bragging rights. The thought of rubbing her news in the faces of several particular members of the opposite sex kept a smile on her face even as she lamented the fact that she couldn't ride her stallion bareback.

          The drive into town took only fifteen minutes when the team trotted the whole distance. Beth pulled the Belgians to a stop in front of her family's favourite mercantile. Mr. Holmes poked his head out of the store-room and waved.

          "I'll be right out, Miss Brinkley!"

          "Take your time." Beth called back, moving to the door behind the counter. Beth left her list next to the register where Mr. Holmes would be sure to see it. She opened the door, calling out a greeting before she entered. Mrs. Holmes bustled out of the kitchen to greet her, bringing along a cloud of... smoke?

          "Elizabeth! How are you? Come in, come in." She leaned a little closer, "I'm teaching Jenny to bake a roast today."

          Was that what that smell was? Beth tried to hide a cringe, "Maybe I'll come back later, after I've finished shopping. I'm kind of in a hurry to get back home." It was a good thing Jenny was so beautiful, because she couldn't cook worth a lick. Her only hope was to marry rich, so she could have someone to cook for her. Mrs. Holmes tittered a laugh and took Beth's arm.

          "Oh, Beth?" Mr. Holmes' voice reached through the still-open doorway. "Would you help me out here? Your mother has written that she wants sugar, but not what kind."

          Beth extracted her arm and excused herself, grateful for an excuse to leave the cooking lessons. She joined Jenny's father in the store.

          "Don't worry," He spoke quietly, "I don't need help, but I thought you might. It's cooking lesson day, you know."

          "I found out." Beth replied drily, "Thank you for getting me out of there."

          He nodded, "Now what's this I hear about your mare giving birth to twins?"

          Beth lit up, "Yes!" She exclaimed, then proceeded to tell the tale, ending with an audience of five men, besides Mr. Holmes. The squeak of the door that divided the Holmes living quarters from the store brought the conversation to a screeching halt. Beth thought fast. 

          "Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to help me load my packages, I must be off to home. Papa will be looking for me." Not entirely true. Papa knew she would stay for a while, telling everyone about her new foals.

          The men each grabbed a parcel or two and carried them out to her wagon, glad as well for any reason to escape before they were roped into tasting whatever Jenny and her mother served up. Beth flicked the reins over the backs of her Belgians and set out for home. On the way out of town, she passed a gentleman on a black horse and couldn't quite control a twist of her lips. The biggest rancher in the county scowled back as he rode on by. Then, seemingly deliberately, he tipped his hat and tossed over a grin oozing with sweetness.

          Beth's stomach churned at the sight, nearly causing her to gag. She sped up her team and trotted several miles before slowing the horses. Pushing her bonnet off her head, Beth stared up into the sky so blue it hurt her eyes. Sparrows flew overhead, trilling their pretty song. Beth sighed and relaxed against the back of the hard wooden seat. What a perfect day. The sky was clear, birds were singing and she had two healthy foals waiting for her at home.

          Then a vision of Sebastian Hamilton's piercing blue-grey eyes invaded her thoughts. That awful taunting grin.

          So, a mostly perfect day.

          Beth let the Belgian geldings into a smaller pasture, and shut the gate securely, locking them in. As she hung their halters on their respective pegs, Papa emerged from the stall holding Bailey and her foals.

          "How are they doing, Papa?" Beth went over to stand next to him. His brow was creased with concern.

          "The filly's not doin' so well. We may have to find a nurse-mare for her."

          "I can ride back into town and talk to some farmers." She offered, but Papa shook his head.

          "No. I've got a favour that I can call in and get the best mare possible." He moved to get a halter, "I'll ride out right away. Meantime, I need you to check the herd and keep an eye on the filly. I've asked Blythe to do the same."

          "Yes, sir." Beth grabbed a halter as well and walked beside her father. They both caught their mounts easily and had them tacked up in minutes. Papa rode out at a lope, which testified to just how concerned he was; he never pushed his mount faster than a trot if there was no urgency. Beth hurried to change into her riding skirt, then set off for the foothills.

          The gelding she rode was spirited so Beth loped him most of the way to the far summer pasture, where her father's herd was situated. She made the young horse circle trees and cross the creek several times in an effort to settle him down; it worked like a charm. Minutes later, the pair came upon a small grove of apple trees she'd discovered a couple of years ago. The trees were mostly in full bloom, and some were already starting to form apples.

          Just a handful of miles beyond the grove, over a rise, the brown and white bodies of her cattle came into view. Beth rode around the herd, made sure they were all present, then staked out her gelding. She slipped into the trees to take care of business.

          For an hour or so, Beth worked the chestnut gelding around the cattle. Satisfied that he was responding well, she untacked him and left the saddle resting on a recently fallen log. That done, she staked him back out and lay down on his back. The sunshine coupled with the horse's gentle movements as he grazed lulled her into complete relaxation.