Time Will Tell

Time Will Tell - part 20

As the carriage rolled along, Libby tried to take a deep breath, but wearing a corset wasn’t conducive to breathing. How did women in this day and age tolerate the confining clothes? Her gaze landed on her companion. Giselle didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable or bothered by the heat.

Air-conditioning was definitely an underappreciated luxury of modern times, she decided, wiping perspiration from her forehead. She glanced out of the dusty carriage from under the brim of her bonnet, wishing she could also chuck the hat. It weighed a ton. She’d never worn one before. Not even to the Derby, where women usually tried to outdo one another for the most creative headgear. The few times she’d attended she sat in the infield with a hundred thousand other partiers. Hats out there weren’t a necessity.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow night,” Colin said, drawing her attention. “The Mayfields are holding a ball. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Libby nodded, wondering what she’d do while he was busy during the day. Besides delivering three horses to buyers and interviewing associates interested in using his stallions as studs, Colin planned on attending meetings about the racetrack. The never-ending search for studs to mate with his thoroughbred mares would also take up a good amount of time. He’d already explained why she couldn’t join him. Females had their place and it clearly wasn’t in the paddocks.

Three saddle horses were tied to the back of their carriage, along with two others that were sold, together kicking up quite a bit of dust. Libby was excited to see Louisville in the past and Colin was excited about showing her where the new racetrack was to be built.

Several hours later, Libby wondered how much longer their trip would take. She tried not to fidget, but her rear end was numb. With all the shade trees along the route and the absence of concrete and asphalt, she’d have thought it would be cooler. Not so! It was still hot. And humid. What she wouldn’t give for a Coke or Pepsi. Her once crisp two-piece cotton dress was wilted with sweat. The tight, formfitting bodice that barely allowed her to breathe earlier now seemed oppressive as did the long sleeves. Puffy at the top, they tapered to the wrist, allowing for little airflow along the arms. The high collar rubbed against her neck, making her yearn for shorts and a T-shirt.

Looking around, she recognized the road they were riding as one of the main thoroughfares out of the city, yet nothing looked familiar. Shelbyville Road or Highway 60 in her time was one of the busiest. This part of the dirt road in 1874 was treelined and narrower. At least it was fairly smooth.

A slight breeze hit her face. She held her head higher, trying unsuccessfully to get cooler air down her neck.

“Where are we?” Libby said minutes later, turning to Colin. Everything around them was rural—nothing but a few limestone walls or wooden fences here and there.

“The town we just past a few miles back was Middletown. We’re south of Lyndon, just north of Jeffersontown.” Her jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. This area was the site of the future mall where she used to work, she realized as he added, “We still have five miles or so before we reach the city’s outskirts. Another hour at the most.”

They traveled another quarter of an hour before the road widened. Houses appeared every now and again, hinting that civilization loomed. As they rode farther, Libby began to recognize landmarks as the Crescent Hill area. Homes were a little closer together, but still nothing like what she was used to.

A few minutes later, the stench practically gagged her. Libby covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

“Sorry,” Colin said. “There’s no avoiding the smell.” He shrugged. “Butchertown,” he added as if that answered everything. “The porkers do a thriving business, but I wish the slaughterhouse wasn’t right off the main turnpike into town.”