Time Will Tell (Timeless Series)

by Loyd, Sandy

  Chapter 5

  Libby sprang out of bed eager for a chance to try out the trees. She followed Nathan down the stairs, rounded the corner, and was met with a scene straight out of Little House on the Prairie. In daylight everything appeared rustic. The countertops might fit in her century, considering they were honed hardwood that was all the rage, but the room lacked other contemporary amenities. Like a dishwasher, a microwave, or a refrigerator with French doors. A potbellied stove took the place of a cook top with oven.

  Even Berta fit the part of the mom, who stood at the stove, hair tied back with a kerchief and wearing an apron over a faded calico print dress. “Privy’s out back.” Berta pointed to the door with the long fork she’d been using to turn the bacon.

  Libby sniffed the mouthwatering scent. Her stomach gurgled as she headed outside.

  She had no trouble finding the BB, or bathroom in a box as she’d dubbed it. Libby made her way back to the house with a newfound appreciation for modern times. The toilet paper looked nothing like paper and there was no running water. She vowed never to take a flushing toilet for granted ever again.

  “The washbasin’s on the counter,” Berta said. “Just fill it with fresh water.” The elder woman nodded at the sink and hand pump, which was better than having to get water from the nearby creek.

  Libby noticed the bowl. Next to it was a cloth and small towel, along with what looked like a bar of soap. She moved to the sink, picked up the bowl, and started pumping. It was hard work pulling and pushing the handle up and down to get a decent flow. Even worse, it was ice cold. What Libby wouldn’t give for warm tap water.

  “There’s a ladle to make it bearable,” Berta said as if reading her mind. Her nod indicated a bucket atop the potbellied stove. “You don’t need much. That bucket stays there during the day.” One by one, Berta added cooked strips of bacon onto a platter, then poured what looked to be scrambled eggs into the hot grease. “All I ask is that you fill it up when the water gets low. Make sure you use a hot pad, though. Otherwise you’ll burn yourself. Also, I put out an extra toothbrush.” She grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the contents in the cast iron pan. “I cleaned it with lye soap, so it should do for now. The tooth powder’s in the tin right there.”

  Libby nodded and murmured her thanks. The toothbrush in question looked worn. Was she supposed to use that? Apparently so.

  After washing, she did feel more human. Even the worn toothbrush and salty-tasting powder weren’t too bad, especially since they did help to take away morning breath.

  She emptied the basin of dirty water in the big sink, then took in more of her surroundings. Despite the fact that there were few comforts from her century, the scene was cozy. The fireplace across from the stove wasn’t lit this morning, but in her mind’s eye, she saw how warm the room would be once winter set in.

  Now done with the eggs, Berta added them to the bacon, set the fork down, and wiped her hands on her apron. With hot pad in hand, she bent to take biscuits out of the oven before placing them in a napkin-lined basket.

  “All ready.” Berta smiled and picked up the huge platter containing bacon, ham, sausage, and eggs that still sizzled and smelled heavenly.

  Libby’s stomach growled again. “Do you need any help?”

  “No, child, I’ve been doing this a long time. You’ll be working hard enough in no time.” Berta’s smile softened. “You just sit there and enjoy a hearty breakfast.”

  Libby pulled out her chair as the rest of the family filed in. Berta set the food on the table and joined them.

  After a quick blessing, Libby ate with zest, preparing for the strenuous work ahead. She wasn’t willing to take any chances on not meeting Gus’s expectations.

  When Gus finished his meal, he shoved away from the table. “Time’s a-wasting. You best hurry, Libby. We have a full day ahead.” He proceeded to lean down and kiss Berta’s forehead. “We usually don’t work on the Lord’s day, but too many mares are in foal.” He grabbed his hat and strode toward the door.

  Libby took one last drink of milk and jumped up. “Thanks, Berta. Wish me luck.”

  Berta shook her head. “Child, you’ll need more than luck. Now, go on with you.”

  Nathan stood too. “Can I help you, Libby?”

  “Nathan—” Berta frowned. “You leave him alone. He has enough to do without worrying about keeping you out of trouble. You and your sister have your own chores. You’d do well to get busy with those. After that we’ll be going to church.”

  “I know, but I was thinking ’bout later once my chores’re done an’ after church. How ’bout it, Libby?”

  Libby shrugged. “Sure. If it’s OK with your mom.”

  Nathan offered a lopsided grin. “Okey-dokey.”

  “Okey-dokey, friend.” She returned his grin and then hurried out the door to catch up with Gus.

  At the stables, she and Gus did the usual mundane tasks for the first couple of hours. There were at least six men she recognized from the day before, and a dozen she didn’t, all ranging in age from early to late twenties. As Berta had said, they were a tough-looking bunch, appearing weathered and hard. They all looked mean enough to fit in with any gang in any bad neighborhood. All that was missing were the tattoos and the baggy pants.

  One burly guy stopped to relieve himself barely a few feet from where Libby stood with Gus, who’d been giving her a more complete tour of the stables.

  The guy then laughed and spit out a wad of chewing tobacco before buttoning his jeans. Watching him walk off, Libby sent up another prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to bunk with guys like him. Hopefully, no one would pay her any mind if she used the outhouse. Heck, hopefully, she would not have to stay here that long. Using an outhouse was the pits. Twice she’d used it that morning, walking past the trees and wishing her heart out. Both times nothing happened.

  “Our goal is to produce the best thoroughbreds around, but we mainly breed workhorses right now.” Drawn out of her thoughts, Libby refocused on what Gus was saying. “The farm’s income depends on the sturdier animal. The need for racehorses dried up because of the war. Colin’s convinced the demand for Kentucky’s racehorses will pick up eventually. And when it does, we’ll be ready.”

  It dawned on her that Gus was talking about the War between the States. If nothing else, Libby decided to enjoy the physical history lesson as he added, “Let’s go check on the mares in foal. That way I can see how you handle yourself around fidgety females.”

  Thankfully, Colin Thorpe hadn’t made an appearance yet this morning. If Libby were lucky, he would not come by at all.

  Gus stopped at a stall door and opened it. “We need to examine the horse to see if her bag has dropped and filled.”

  Having done this type of work before, Libby nodded and proceeded to the first mare, then checked her teats. This was more Bev’s expertise and Libby tried to remember what to look for. She turned back to Gus with the question in her eyes.

  “As a mare gets closer to her time, wax forms on their ends,” he said, pointing to one teat. “This mare isn’t ready yet.” He offered a slight smile.

  They moved on.

  The horse in the next stall was definitely closer to dropping her foal. “We’ll check her in a couple of hours. Now, let’s see how well you handle yourself in the saddle.” He entered another stall. Libby halted at the gate and watched as he harnessed a fine-looking gelding. He led the animal toward her and pointed to another stall with tack hanging on the post. “Go ahead and ready him up.”

  Horses saddled, she and Gus led them toward the entrance just as Colin Thorpe walked through the stable door.

  Libby tried not to stare, but there was something about him that grabbed her attention. She was again struck by how attractive he was. He wore similar clothes as the previous day—dark, formfitting pants that tapered down to fit inside worn riding boots, and a white muslin shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off well-defined forearms. Colin Thorpe looked every bit of what sh
e imagined a Regency-era hero would look like.

  He would have to pick that precise moment to glance at her.

  Heat flooded Libby’s cheeks as their gazes locked. For too long, blue eyes held hers. That déjà-vu feeling washed over her as the strength to look away evaporated on the spot. Time seemed to stand still. Finally, Libby forced herself to avert her gaze. She resisted the urge to cover her flaming face. Damn! How on earth was she going to keep up her ruse when he flustered her every time she saw him?

  Gus handed her the reins to his horse. “Why don’t you take them out to the pastures and turn them out. I’ll be with you shortly.” He indicated the horse Libby had saddled. “If you want to keep busy, you can start exercising that one.”

  Eager to make a quick escape, she turned to leave. Hopefully, she’d find her way home soon. It was bad enough to have to be subjected to men peeing, passing gas, and making lewd comments all day long, but what worried her more were the thoughts bouncing around inside her own mind whenever she caught sight of Colin Thorpe. They definitely weren’t those of someone in a committed relationship.

  ~

  Colin walked up to Gus and nodded at Libby’s departing back. “How’s the new lad doing today?”

  “He’s coming along nicely. We can definitely use him with the mares.”

  “Have you learned any more about him? Like where he came from?”

  “Ja. Libby, short for Liberty, Edwards hails from Cincinnati. I’d think he’d rather be called Lib, but Libby suits him well enough. He wasn’t boasting when he said he knows horses.” Gus wiped the sweat off his brow with his shirtsleeve. “I’ve never seen anyone with such a calming touch. He seemed to understand the mares he checked out this morning. They quickly bonded with him.”

  Colin nodded. Earlier, when he entered the stable and met the boy’s stare, he felt a tug. A connection. Just like the day before. It was most peculiar…like the lad needed him. He turned to the stable entrance and stared at the spot the boy had just vacated. “Think we can use him for training the thoroughbreds?” They were short-handed as it was and time was of the essence if they were to be ready by spring. Experienced and effective handlers were hard to find, and those who were small enough to jockey even harder, not to mention expensive.

  “Don’t know. But I plan to find out. The lad’s exercising Wild Black.”

  Colin grunted. The aptly-named cantankerous beast was used for breeding until he got too hard to handle and had to be gelded. Wild Black had the potential to make a decent workhorse, but he needed more training before being sold. “My money’s on the boy. We can definitely use someone as talented as he appears to be. Keep an eye on him, OK?”

  Gus smiled. “I’d already planned to spend more time with him today to see what else he’s made of.” He chuckled. “But you needn’t worry about him. Berta’s already taken him under her wing. Says he’s too young to be in the bunkhouse, so he’s staying in Nathan’s room.”

  “Really?” Colin raised his eyebrows. Maybe Berta felt the same protective instinct he did toward the lad.

  Nodding, Gus said, “Says our hands would corrupt a saint.”

  Colin laughed. “She’s right about that.” He glanced back at the stable door for several more minutes, wondering about the child.

  Shaking his thoughts, he remembered why he’d searched Gus out to begin with. “I’m taking the train to Louisville in the morning.”

  “You were just there.”

  “Yes, but another meeting about the racetrack has come up. The committee hopes to make their recommendation on whether to invest or not.”

  “You don’t think it’s a good investment?” Gus glanced at Colin with a concerned expression.

  Scuttlebutt in the river city concerning the proposed racetrack had spread. An idea was about to become a part of history. Whether good or bad, Colin was still undecided. “I’m still not convinced the public will support another track.”

  Promoters were selling shares for a new jockey club at a hundred dollars each in order to build a racetrack for Louisville.

  “It’s a perfect spot and I believe the time is right.”

  Only three miles from the city limits, the flat sand and clay land packed and drained well. Unfortunately, that same parcel, used for horse racing years ago, now sat empty because of economic decline. In the past twenty years, two others had gone bust. “It’s only been a couple of years since Woodlawn was sold off and divided for homesteads. What’s to stop this one from going belly-up too?” He rubbed his neck and sighed. “Before I invest, I plan to check out a few more details.”

  “Ja, information is good. It would be nice to have a track closer to home. Lexington’s twice the distance.”

  As Colin grunted an assent, they moved out of the way of several handlers leading horses through the stable.

  “The war changed people,” he mused. “Life’s tougher. Racing has fallen behind basics, like survival. Supposedly, this track is different. You know, similar to successful ventures, like the Metairie Club in New Orleans or the Jockey Club in New York.” He met Gus’s gaze. “Clark’s pushing for creating an event race that will bring in the masses,” he said, referring to M. Lewis Clark Jr., the main promoter. “Much like the Epsom Derby in England. Tomorrow’s meeting should finalize his idea. A committee is working on the articles of incorporation.”

  “I’d best get outside with Libby.” Gus turned to leave. “I hope you find good news. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “Thanks, Gus. I know the farm’s in good hands with you. And the young’uns will be OK with Minnie and Maizie. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

  He followed Gus out the stable door, but couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to where Libby worked. With much interest, he watched the boy ride Wild Black, effortlessly putting him through his paces in the pasture. The lad definitely had a knack with horses. He’d never seen the gelding so completely willing to cooperate. Maybe Libby Edwards was the answer to his prayers. Money was tight and hiring a decent jockey and a trainer other than Gus wasn’t in his budget. His stud farm had to survive first and foremost.

  ~

  The moment Colin Thorpe stepped out of the stable, Libby sensed his attention. While controlling the gelding, she fought to ignore his presence, but little good that did when the man fascinated her. Even more unsettling, she found it next to impossible to keep that fascination from showing in her eyes every time his gaze would lock on to hers. Which seemed way too often for Libby’s peace of mind. If she continued in the same vein, Colin would eventually figure out her true gender.

  Libby shuddered to think what would happen then. Besides, she was an engaged woman. As such, she darned well should not be having fantasies about one sexy horse breeder who lived over a hundred thirty years in her past.

  The horse beneath her legs grew restless as Colin headed in the other direction. Libby breathed a little easier and centered her full concentration on dealing with the unruly gelding.

  Gus eventually joined her and together they worked with the two horses until a clanging sounded.

  “That’s Cookie’s signal.” Gus dismounted. The stables emptied of humans as twenty or so men rushed toward the noise. “Time for lunch. But first we need to take care of these boys.”

  He helped Libby down and together they led the horses back to the stable. They worked quickly and were soon heading toward the bunkhouse mess.

  Now sitting among the others, whose table manners left a lot to be desired, Libby could not remember a time when basic food tasted so good.

  She had just finished eating when Gus entered her line of vision. “C’mon. Time’s a-wasting. We need to check on the mares.” She jumped up. He was almost to the door when she finally caught up with him.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Libby labored alongside Gus. Not much had changed in over a hundred years. Whether the nineteenth or the twenty-first century, the basics of taking care of horses, even pregnant ones, were the same. They needed to be groomed
, fed, and exercised, and their stalls needed to be cleaned out.

  Gus mentioned earlier that he didn’t let just anyone around his mares, which made her feel special. Yet, after working nonstop since lunch, every muscle in her body ached. What Libby wouldn’t give for a nice hot bath. She would never take water and electricity for granted again. She squirmed in an effort to loosen the constricting bindings that were rubbing her skin raw. She didn’t dare go without them.

  The men around her could walk off the set of a Western, and none of them would wear a white hat. They made Dave seem like a choirboy. Maybe that was why she’d come all this way. To appreciate what she had, rather than what she didn’t have.

  She poured a bucket of water into the trough and sluiced some liquid over her face and neck, reveling in the cool feel of it. Heck, when she made it back to her own time, she would never take anything for granted again.

  “Day’s pretty much over.” Gus relieved her of the empty bucket and set it aside. “You’ve earned yourself a spot. Berta will be having dinner soon.”

  “Thank God.” Libby stretched. Wiping the remaining droplets off her face, she nodded at the pile of hay that still needed spreading. “I’m almost finished.”

  “Here, I’ll help.” He grabbed a nearby pitchfork and started to spread the hay. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone with a soothing touch like yours with the horses.”

  “They’ve always responded to me.” Libby shrugged, trying to maintain her dignity when she felt like a glow stick. She doubted Colin’s manager gave such praise to every worker. From what she’d seen, he was a fair boss, but he was one who expected as much as he gave.

  He grunted approvingly. “Looks like I’m getting a better deal with you than I thought. Can you ride?”

  When Libby nodded, Gus said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you help me train the thoroughbreds.”

  “Really?” She stopped in the middle of pulling the fork back and looked at him. “I’d love that. They’re beautiful animals.”

  It didn’t take much longer before all the hay was spread. Gus set his pitchfork aside, then grabbed hers out of her hand and stuck it with the other. “Let me introduce you to a couple.”