Song of the Spirits (59 page)

Elaine, however, came out of it well, as did Timothy. The two of them found themselves racing beside one another behind the farm boys, who set out at a sprint, followed by Caleb Biller on his stallion. It would have been madness to tear through the pack at full speed. The path was lined with cheering men, and it would have been too dangerous for Elaine to give her horse free rein. Madame Clarisse’s girls had posted themselves right around the first curve, and they started cheering as soon as they saw Elaine and Banshee coming.
Florry was wearing a colorful floral dress and bouncing up and down like a rubber ball. She was waving two flags, which promptly caused two of the other horses to shy, Caleb Biller’s stallion among them.

“Watch out,” Ernie called to the young man when Ernie’s gelding almost ran into Caleb’s rearing black stallion. “Ride, damn it, before that nag jumps into the crowd!”

The shocked spectators along the edge of the path scattered, screaming. Terrified, the younger Biller gave his horse his spurs—at which the horse shot off at a gallop, passing the farm horses and the foreman on his rented horse, and disappearing around the next curve.

“There he goes,” a frustrated Ernie remarked. “We won’t see him again before the finish line.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” Timothy returned. “He won’t be able to keep up that speed for three miles. That horse has never had to run that far. Even the big track races aren’t much more than a mile and a half long. Just wait; we’ll be seeing him again before you know it.”

Timothy’s strategy matched Elaine’s very closely. He took the first two miles at a brisk but not breakneck pace, and his gelding galloped contentedly alongside her mare. Elaine did not fight that and wondered a bit at herself. Despite the proximity of Timothy and Ernie, who caught up to them initially but soon fell behind, she began to enjoy the ride. She even managed to return Timothy’s smile as they passed the frustrated stable owner. His horse had tried to keep pace with Caleb Biller’s stallion and was now completely exhausted after barely a mile.

It was no different for the farm boys. Their naturally sluggish workhorses gave up after another half mile. Banshee and Fellow, by contrast, still showed no signs of tiring, and their riders were both still fresh.

Timothy looked over at Elaine with admiration. He had always found her attractive but never as charming and vivacious as now. She had lost her little hat immediately after the race began, and her tight hair bun had likewise fallen apart after the first mile. Only the headwind was keeping her locks out of her face. It looked as though she were waving a red flag behind her, and her face seemed to glow
with an inner light. Riding this fast made her happy, and for the first time, her eyes did not assume an expression of suspicion when her gaze met Timothy’s.

Because the woods reached right to the mining compound’s fence, the course followed the inside fence for quite a while. But they were now approaching the miners’ quarters, and the course by necessity turned outward. The turn in front of the mine’s southern gate was rather tight—when Timothy had studied the course, he only hoped that every competitor had taken the time to ride over the course ahead of time. Anyone who tried to take this stretch at a full gallop ran the risk of falling off.

Timothy and Elaine slowed their horses well ahead of the turn; again, it was as though they had agreed on it beforehand. Elaine brought Banshee all the way down to a trot, which proved to be a wise move. Caleb Biller was in the middle of the road, limping miserably toward them and leading his handsome horse by the reins.

Elaine observed without pity that at least the horse was all right. In fact, the stallion was not even dirty. So it seemed he had thrown his rider from the saddle.

“He shied,” Caleb complained. The cause of the accident was easy to ascertain. In the middle of the road—despite three straight days of sun—was a large puddle, something that would have been unthinkable on an English racing course. The stallion had never seen such a thing, and, after taking the sharp turn, had panicked.

“Bit of bad luck,” Timothy replied to his defeated opponent. He did not sound especially sympathetic.

“Why doesn’t he just climb back up?” Elaine asked when they’d resumed galloping. “The horse is fine; he could still win.”

Timothy grinned. “Caleb Biller isn’t the bravest rider. Even as a child, he was scared to death on top of his pony. I’ve been wondering all day how his old man got him up on that stallion.”

Elaine giggled. She felt strangely light and almost drunk. She had not had such fun in years—and that despite the fact that she was competing against a man. It must have been the exceptional circumstances of the race. Regardless, at that moment, she was not the least bit scared
of Timothy Lambert. On the contrary, she was cheered by the sight of him, his slim but strong frame on his dapple gray, his brown hair flying in the wind, his friendly eyes and his frequent laughter, which carved dimples into the corners of his mouth.

They had reached the last mile of the course, and only one opponent was still ahead of them: Blackburn’s foreman on his rental horse, a dark horse in the race, since he wasn’t expected to win. The steed—actually light brown—appeared to be quite tough and the foreman was an experienced rider. As Elaine and Timothy moved to overtake his clearly fatigued gelding, the rider began to zigzag and hold his riding crop far out to the side. Fellow was afraid of passing him. Elaine tried to overtake him on the other side, but the road was narrow and the brown horse did not want to let her pass. He threatened Banshee and bit in her direction. Frightened, the mare fell back.

“That bastard won’t let us pass,” Elaine cried, her countenance flashing with anger and outrage.

Timothy had to laugh. He was not used to such words coming from the “Saint of Greymouth.”

Timothy yelled at the rider in a voice well accustomed to giving commands, but the foreman did not even think of giving way to the heir of the Lambert Mine. He kept his eye on his pursuers and continued zigzagging across the course.

Elaine deliberated feverishly. It was probably a thousand yards or so to the finish line, and the road would stay narrow; in addition, it would soon be lined with spectators, making any attempt to overtake him even riskier. There was only one place where the road widened, at the point where they reentered the mine complex. The course led through the main gate, in front of which was a sort of parking area where freight wagons were usually deposited. That area should be empty now, unless people were standing there. There was enough space to overtake him there, but it was a very short stretch. Unless…

Elaine decided to risk it. When the road widened, she firmly directed Banshee to the left—there were only two or three little clusters of people, who scattered quickly when Elaine yelled, “Clear
the way!” Banshee caught up with the other rider, but she would not manage to overtake him before the gate and get back onto the road.

Timothy, who had sped up after Elaine as well, did not realize at first what she had in mind. Only when she made no move to cut in front of the other rider—instead, spurring Banshee on straight toward the fence—did he understand. It took all his courage not to rein in Fellow. But the white mare had already flown over the fence and returned to the course by then, leaving the astonished foreman on his rented horse behind her. Timothy had no time left to think. Fellow was already leaping into the air and clearing the fence as effortlessly as Banshee. Timothy closed the gap between himself and the mare and looked breathlessly over at Elaine. She was beaming. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling.

“We showed him!” she called out excitedly, spurring Banshee on to full speed.

Timothy would have been only too glad to slacken the reins, or at least pass the finish line right at her side. But then he pulled himself together. None of his men had bet on Elaine. If she lost, Madame Clarisse’s girls would be out a few cents, but if she won, dozens of miners would have lost their hard-earned money. Timothy hesitated.

“Do it now,” Elaine called to him. “Your horse is so much faster than mine.” She laughed. Maybe she had been thinking the same thing.

Timothy struck Fellow with his crop. Unwillingly, the horse pulled ahead of Banshee, crossing the finish line half a horse’s length ahead.

Timothy hardly managed to bring Fellow to a stop. The crowd of spectators had erupted into screaming and cheering. He sat astride his excitedly prancing horse and accepted the ovations of his men. Elaine looked at his the elated expression on his face, framed by brown locks of hair, and his peaceful eyes. They were very bright just then, which highlighted the green flecks in them. His gaze reflected no disapproval of an excessively wild ride, as William’s had, nor any gloating triumph, as Thomas’s certainly would have. No, Timothy was simply happy and wanted to share his joy with others. Laughing,
he brought Fellow alongside Banshee, spontaneously taking Elaine’s hand and holding it in the air.

“Here’s the real winner, people! I would never have dared to jump over that fence on my own.”

Elaine had been beaming and feeling as free and buoyant as Timothy, but when he touched her, it all came back in a flash. Thomas’s hands on her body, her panic at his strong grip. Those caresses of William’s that she had trusted, and which had only turned out to be lies.

Timothy sensed her tense up, all the delight and confidence draining from her. She didn’t say anything. She even attempted to hold a cramped smile, but when he let go of her hand, she pulled away as though she had burned herself. In her eyes was that same panic he had seen flare up that first day in front of the church.

“Forgive me, Miss Keefer,” he said, dismayed.

She didn’t look at him.

“Don’t worry about it. I need to fix my hair…”

Elaine’s narrow face, so recently flushed from the hard ride, had turned pale as death. With trembling fingers, she tried to put her hair back into a bun, but it was hopeless, of course.

“It looks wonderful as it is, Miss Keefer,” Timothy said, fumbling for words that would soothe her, but the girl now appeared to retreat when he even so much as looked at her.

She shook her head when a cheerful Jay Hankins wanted to help her from the saddle. A deeply satisfied Marvin Lambert directed the first three finishers to dismount and climb the small winners’ podium he’d had built. Elaine slid out of the saddle as she tried to get ahold of herself. She climbed the steps alongside Timothy and then stood there, looking alarmed and ready to bolt, nothing like the exultant, self-possessed girl she had been a few minutes earlier.

Marvin Lambert handed over the winner’s trophy, and a drunken guest filled the rather large silver cup with whiskey. “To the winner,” he cheered as he held up his glass. The men in the audience did likewise. Timothy laughed and took a sip. Then he handed the trophy to Elaine. When she gripped it, she accidentally brushed his hand and nearly let the trophy fall.

“To you, Miss Keefer,” Timothy said. “It was wonderful to ride with you.”

Elaine drank deeply and tried to pull herself together. Timothy Lambert had to think she was crazy. And now the old man was approaching to congratulate her, making as if to kiss her. She couldn’t. She…

“No, Father,” Tim said calmly.

Astonished, Marvin Lambert left the girl alone.

“Is there some objection to a kiss for the second-place winner?” he said grumpily.

“Miss Keefer sets great store by her reputation,” Timothy explained. “The ladies…” He indicated the matrons on the dais who were already gossiping about Elaine’s unexpected second-place finish.

Marvin Lambert nodded soberly and merely reached his hand out to Elaine to congratulate her. As she accepted a check for a small money prize, she smiled, but she looked as if she were in pain.

The mine owner winked at Elaine. As he moved on to the third-place finisher, he said, “But after this, you’ll dance with me.”

Timothy knew that it would never happen. She would not come within a mile of the dance floor. Under no circumstances would she allow a man to put his arm around her.

He met her a short while later by the horses. He had broken away from the others as quickly as he could—which had not been easy since everyone wanted to drink with him that day—and it was just as he had expected. Elaine had given Banshee an hour to catch her breath and was saddling her again.

“Are you going home already, Miss Keefer?” Timothy asked cautiously at the entrance to the tent that had been put up in lieu of stables. He had not wanted to startle her, but he did anyway. “Fellow will be lonely without Banshee.”

“The… the pub isn’t open today,” Elaine remarked in an apparent non sequitur.

But then Timothy understood what she meant. She wanted to avoid having him accompany her home.

“I know,” he said. “But I thought… There’s going to be a dance this evening.”

“There’s a band playing. They don’t need me to play piano.”

As Elaine spoke, she kept her gaze averted. She was intentionally misunderstanding him.

Timothy didn’t let it go. “I would have liked to dance with you, Miss Keefer.”

“I don’t dance.” Elaine fastened her saddle girth hastily.

“Can’t or won’t, Miss Keefer?”

Elaine did not know how to respond. She stared at the floor before looking up helplessly as though looking for a way out and knowing that there wasn’t any.

Like an animal in a trap…

Timothy yearned to free her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Keefer. I don’t want to impose on you.”

What he wanted was to go to her, take her in his arms, and remove all her fears, to stroke and kiss away everything that weighed so heavily on her. But that would have to wait. As would the dancing.

Elaine bridled her mare. Then she hesitated. She had to pass Timothy to leave the stable. Her face drained of color again, and her eyes flickered.

Timothy moved away from the door. He calmly walked over to Fellow, intentionally leaving space between himself and the girl.

Elaine relaxed visibly. She led Banshee out, and then stopped once she believed herself be out of harm’s way.