Leaning against the door opening, Elyse popped another bite of pastry into her mouth. Cook's splendid pastries always seemed to cheer her up.
"You're never decent, Quimby," she quipped. "But you'd better hurry if you want to catch me. After all, Grandmother has ordered you to follow me on all my morning excursions." A playful smile finally appeared at the corner of her mouth. She dearly loved Quimby. He was gruff and a bit cantankerous, but he was a steadfast friend and a trustworthy confidant. On top of that, she owed him her life.
"See you in the stables." She left his door open, knowing he'd turn over and go right back to sleep if she closed it, and she very much needed him along today. She had something she wanted him to check up on for her, or rather someone.
"I have fresh cinnamon rolls from Mrs. Halverson," she called back over her shoulder, bribing him. That ought to do it, she thought, as with a knowing smile she grabbed bridle and blanket.
"What's that!" Quimby came up off the bed. He wasn't wrong.
He had smelled fresh pastry! "Be right with ya, lass." He rolled out of bed, reaching for pants and boots.
Tightening the cinch strap on the saddle, Elyse slapped the rump of the large roan gelding. Quimby always rode the roan, while she preferred the more spirited bay, aptly named Deliverance.
Quimby found the roll she'd left for him on the small table in his room. Licking buttery syrup from his fingers, he shrugged into suspenders as he strolled down the length of the stable.
"What's this?" he grunted suspiciously, eyeing the additional horse.
"I've saddled him for you." Elyse smiled.
Quimby was immediately wary. Hot rolls, no doubt stolen from Mrs. Halverson, for which they would both suffer a good tongue-lashing, and now she'd saddled his horse as well. He shifted his massive bulk uncomfortably. She'd long ago given up trying to slip furtively into the stables. And almost as long ago, she'd taken to calling a morning greeting to him as she passed his door. From there, it was often a contest to see if he could dress and saddle his horse in time to catch her before she reached the end of the lane on her own mount and tried to leave him behind. One eye narrowed speculatively. Unless he missed his guess, she was up to something this morning.
"Cinch strap tight?" He grumbled, not putting anything past her. She could be as devilish as they came when she wanted to put something over on him.
"Check it yourself, if you're uncertain," she offered, an amused smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Stepping beside the bay, she reached for the reins and nimbly pulled herself into the saddle. "I think I'll ride in the Woods this morning. If you don't hurry, you'll get left behind," she teased playfully. Devilment danced in her soft blue eyes.
"The Woods? You haven't ridden there in a long time. Why today?" He was immediately suspicious. It would be just like her to tell him where she intended to ride and then choose another location.
"Quimby!" She pretended to be terribly hurt. "I don't think you believe me." Then she grew somber. "I have to ride as much as I can. My future husband doesn't approve of such things."
"Neither does yer grandmother," Quimby observed with a grumble. "That never stopped you.”
"True enough," she admitted. "But today I have need of some company. Now, are you coming, or are you going to argue with me all morning?"
"Aye, I'm comin'." Satisfied she hadn't deliberately left any of the harness loose, he unsteadily swung his mountainous frame atop the tall roan.
"Damned fool beast!" he roared as the horse side-stepped, practically unseating him. "They're stupid, foul smelling and unpredictable," he yelled at her. "Couldn't you settle for a carriage?" While trying to bring his horse under control, he threw her a beseeching look.
"Good heavens, no. We'd look far too conspicuous." She favored him with the devastatingly beautiful smile that invariably got her what she wanted. "The whole idea is not to draw attention to our little ride." Laughter bubbled inside her. Conspicuous indeed! What could be more conspicuous than an oversize giant astride a horse whose sole purpose in life was to be riderless?
On more than one occasion, Elyse was forced to double back from her ride in search of Quimby. Once she'd found him painfully extricating himself from a bramble bush. Then there'd been the time he'd landed in a stream and moss was clinging to his head like tendrils of green hair. Another time she'd found him dangling in midair, frantically clinging to a low-hanging branch the roan galloped under to remove him from the saddle.
He gave the roan a murderous glare. "The beast hates me. Sometimes I think you're tryin' to do me in with these mornin' rides."
She leaned over, patting his arm lovingly. "You know perfectly well the roan is the only horse capable of carrying you. Grandmother selected him especially for you."
"With a little help from a certain young lady, I'll warrant," he accused.
Elyse turned the bay toward the open doors. "Well, I will admit I did influence her decision. I assured her he was a strong, intelligent animal."
"Intelligent!" Quimby spouted. His mouth clamped shut as he was practically unseated before even leaving the stables. "Cursed, good for nothing—"
His description of the roan was cut off as the lunging horse whirled first in one direction then the other, trying to unseat him. Elyse guided the bay into the soft gray light of early morning, smiling to herself. Sooner or later, Quimby would follow. She pulled her horse up, turning about just as the roan emerged alone from the stables. She snatched at his reins as he tried to dart past her.
Following on foot, Quimby mumbled something inaudible, as he massaged his backside. He fixed Elyse with a withering glare, took the reins from her, and swung into the saddle.
Six
Elyse guided the bay past the Winslow house, down the cobbled lane that ended at Pont Street.
