A Horsewoman for Harlan

by Barbara Goss

  “I didn’t think she even remembered my name.”

  “She didn’t. Look—it’s addressed to the daughter of Florence Ansell. How odd. I wonder why she wrote you a letter.”

  Elise shrugged and pocketed the letter. “Maybe your last letter to her got lost in the post, and she’s writing to ask after your welfare.”

  “That’s possible. Dear Martha would be very worried if I didn’t answer one of her letters.”

  Elise tried on her new boots as soon as she got home. They’d need breaking in, but they looked so fine. She sat on a bedroom chair to remove them, and she heard the crinkle of paper. The letter! She’d almost forgotten it.

  She tore it open, skimmed the words, and went back to read them slowly. Martha worked for a horse breeder who needed a trainer. Had her prayers been answered? Would her parents let her go to Kansas? She held the letter to her heart. They just had to. She was twenty-years-old, so she didn’t need their permission, but she’d feel better about going if she had their blessings. Elise thought after dinner might be the best time to introduce the subject.

  Once Elise’s father, Alf, had settled into his overstuffed chair with a book, and her mother sat in the rocking chair with her knitting, Elise made her announcement: “I’m accepting a job offer in Russell, Kansas.”

  Elise never saw a book close or knitting drop to the floor so fast. “What?” they chorused.

  “Martha offered me a job training horses for a ranch owner in Kansas, the one she works for. The pay is good, and I think I’m old enough now to select my own career.”

  Her mother started to speak, but her father shushed her. “Let me handle this, dear.”

  Elise’s mother grimaced while she picked her knitting up off the floor.

  “So, you are going to Kansas to work and live among strangers? What if you run into trouble? You don’t know these people. Haven’t you read the papers? Kansas is still part of the untamed West. There are gunfights and what not. There’s Hays, and Dodge Cities... always shootings. Elise, the West is lawless.”

  “Father, with all due respect, the West isn’t so bad these days. It’s much tamer now. The ranch isn’t in town; it’s a mile away from Russell. The family has two children and a housekeeper. The ranch sits on four hundred acres of fenced land, and they own two stables full of horses. The man who did the training left to nurse his ailing mother in Texas, and they’re in desperate need for someone to train their colts and fillies. They have over a dozen ready to be trained as we speak.”

  Florence finally spoke up. “You’re our only daughter, and we’d miss you terribly. Not to mention that we'd worry about you. We always thought you’d marry locally and take care of me and your father in our old age.”

  “Mother, if a horse trainer job opens up around here, write me, and I’ll rush back home. Besides, you have other relatives nearby.”

  “How do you suppose you’ll get to Kansas from Pennsylvania?” her father asked.

  “Martha, the housekeeper, said I should take a train to Kansas City and a stagecoach to Russell. The ranch owner will reimburse all my expenses. That’s how desperate they are.”

  Alf mumbled something beneath his breath about train hold-ups and Indians. Then, he leaned back and closed his eyes as if praying.

  “Please, give me your blessings. This is what I truly want to do with my life. Marriage is the last thing on my mind,” Elise said.

  Florence pulled out her handkerchief and wept silently.

  Alf still had his eyes closed.

  “If you both loved me you’d want me to be happy.”

  Florence sniffed. “But so far away? We may never see you again.”

  Alf sat up straight and said, “We love you too much to let you go.”

  “Father, Mother, I love you as well, but when a baby bird learns to fly, the parents let it go. I need to carve out my own future.”

  “So,” Alf said, “you’re going to spend the rest of your life training horses? That’s it?”

  Elise nodded. “That’s it. It’s all I want to do with my life.”

  Elise pulled a large trunk from the attic and began packing the very next day. She’d already sent a letter to Martha Donovan accepting the position. As she folded her clothes, she felt many emotions all at once: excitement, fear, trepidation, and emptiness at leaving Pennsylvania and her beloved parents. Yet, there was nothing for her here anymore.

  Her tearful parents saw her off on the train at the Pennsylvania Railroad Station. As she waved to them from the moving train, she felt a touch of anxiety, but that soon passed once she was on her way.

  The train traversed the Alleghany Mountains, and the views were so breathtaking she forgot her worries. She was off to begin her adult life.

  Chapter Three

  Millie jumped up and down. “She said yes?”

  “She’ll be arriving soon since this letter was written two weeks ago,” Martha said. “I’m sure all the rain we’ve been having may have slowed down the mail.

  “What’s her name, Miss Martha?”

  “Elise Ansell.”

  “It sure is a pretty name.”

  “It is.” Martha frowned. “Now, I have to break the news to your father.”

  “Won’t he be happy we found him a horse trainer?” Millie asked

  “Oh, yes. He’ll be very glad until he finds out it’s a woman.”

  “Why would Papa be upset? What difference does it make if the person can train the horses?”

  Martha ruffled Millie’s hair. “You’ve a lot to learn, girl.”

  “Tell me, Miss Martha.”

  “Well, a lot of men think only a man can do tough jobs. If this young lady is anything like her mother, she will surprise everyone. Most men think women belong in the kitchen.”

  Millie looked up at Martha with puzzlement. “And she isn’t allowed in the sitting room?”

  Martha laughed. “Of course, she is. It’s just an expression meaning that women should cook and clean and not train horses or do any job that’s usually done by men.”

  Millie shook her head vehemently. “That’s not fair at all.”

  “You’re right, but that’s how it is. Now, I must go out and tell your father the news. You stay here and finish drying the dishes, and then I’ll cut you a piece of that chocolate cake we made together.”

  Harlan worried as he ripped open a bale of hay. If they didn’t sell some horses soon, he’d have to start selling his breeding horses, which were the best stock and the hardest to replace. He’d run ads in every newspaper in Kansas without a single reply. He was thinking of where else he might run the ad next when someone tapped his shoulder, causing him a start.

  “Martha! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?”

  “Considering the daze you seemed to be in, if I’d have called your name you would have been just as startled.”

  He smiled. “True. What’s up?”

  “I found you a horse trainer.”

  “You what?” Harlan couldn’t believe his ears. “Don’t josh me, Martha.”

  “She’ll be arriving on a stage sometime in the next week or so. She’ll send us a telegram from one of the stops along the way.”

  Harlan had been so excited that he'd missed the gender reference at first. “Great!... Wait… what do you mean, she?

  “I know her family, and they are the best horse people in Pennsylvania. Their daughter has been active in breeding and training since she was twelve. Trust me: she’s good,”

  “A-a horsewoman?”

  “Just give her a chance. You have no trainer now, so you have nothing to lose. Let her show you what she can do, at least.” Martha added firmly, “And don’t let Millie hear you putting down a woman’s ability. She loves horses and might want to be a horsewoman herself one day.”

  Harlan sighed. “I’ll not only keep silent about the horse trainer being a woman, but I’ll give her a fair chance. You’re right, and I’m desperate.”

  Harlan tried to picture the
horsewoman in his head, a huge, muscular woman with a bun on top of her frizzy head. She probably chewed tobacco and drank beer at a saloon. Yet, if she could train his young horses, he didn’t give a hoot what she did or looked like. Martha was also right about putting women down in front of Millie. He loved that little girl as if she were his own child from birth. He didn’t ever want to think she’d be limited in what she could do because she was a female. Why, there was even a buzz going around about allowing women to vote someday. For Millie’s sake, he hoped that would happen.

  He was equally fond of Clay, who’d turned out to be a hard worker. At first, he'd allowed him to go to school as he'd thought that learning to read and write was more important than anything else. Clay had pitched in with work in the stables after school and on weekends without any prompting at all, and Harlan had taught Clay to ride as he’d never ridden a horse before. He wanted to teach Millie, but he needed a trained filly. He’d promised her he’d teach her as soon as a one was saddle broken.

  A thought suddenly stopped Harlan from spreading the hay: where would the woman sleep? Certainly not in the bunkhouse with Clay. His house had only three bedrooms: his, Martha’s, and Millie’s. Where would the woman sleep?

  Harlan sat down for supper with Clay and Millie. Martha always ate with them too, as Harlan considered her a part of the family. When it was just the two of them, it had been foolish for both of them to eat alone. When Martha had all the food on the table and everyone was eating, Harlan brought up his question: “Where, pray tell, will this horsewoman sleep? Pedro always used the bunkhouse, as does Clay.”

  Martha dropped her fork. “Oh, dear! I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “She can sleep with me,” Millie said.

  “Your bed is a single bed, but the room is big enough for another one.” Martha looked at Harlan. “How long would it take to make another bed?”

  “I can make one in two days, but we'll need a mattress,” he said.

  Everyone ate quietly, as if thinking of a solution. Finally, Martha said, “Mrs. O’Grady died a few months ago, and her children are selling up all her furnishings. There might even be a bed.”

  “Can you find out?” Harlan asked.

  “I’ll go out there right after we eat. Millie and Clay can clear up and do the dishes.”

  “I’ll go with you. You can’t carry something that heavy, and I might see something else there I can use,” Harlan said.

  When Harlan and Martha returned, Millie watched while Clay helped unload an oak headboard, a matching bureau, and a mattress. Harlan was glad Millie’s bedroom was large.

  “Well,” Martha said after everything had been taken up to Millie’s bedroom and set up, “we’re ready for Miss Ansell. Tomorrow, I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed and round up some pillows.”

  Millie was beyond excited. The very night Miss Ansell’s bed had been set up in her room, she prayed harder than she ever had before: “Dear God, please hear my prayer. Soon, we’ll be getting a new horsewoman for Harlan, he’s my Papa, but of course, You know that. The horsewoman’s name is Elise. Please make sure she’s pretty and pleasant. Papa might need a horsewoman, but You know how much I want and need a mother. I know that, like a real father, You sometimes don’t give us everything we ask for. Maybe that’s because what we ask for might not be good for us, and we don’t know it. Pastor Higgins said you know my heart. My heart wants a Mama more than anything, even a horse. Please bless Papa, Clay, and Martha. Amen.”

  For the next week, Millie was all smiles and cheerful while she waited for the telegram telling them how close Miss Ansell was to Russell. She said the same prayer every night, and Pastor Higgins had said that they needed faith. She wasn’t sure what that had meant.

  “Miss Martha,” Millie said while drying the breakfast dishes, “I prayed that Miss Ansell would be my mother. Will God make that come true?”

  “Goodness, child, you ask the toughest questions.” Martha closed her eyes. “Let me think...it says somewhere in the book of Hebrews, I think, that we need faith.”

  “What is faith?”

  “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don’t see.”

  “Oh, goodness!” Millie cried, and she almost dropped a cup she’d been drying. “That means Papa and Miss Elise will marry, and she’ll be my new mother.”

  “Whoa, Millie. That’s not for sure,” Martha said, taking the cup from Millie’s hands.

  “But you just said...”

  Martha dapped Millie’s nose and left some dishwater bubbles on it. “When we ask God for things, we should have faith it will be granted, but if it isn’t... well, that means it isn’t right for us.”

  “How can having a mother not be right for me?”

  “Maybe Miss Ansell isn’t the right wife for your Papa. Maybe they won’t like each other, or perhaps God has another mother picked out for you that’s even better than Miss Ansell, so don’t go getting your hopes up. Pray, have faith, and let God do the rest. Trust Him to send you the right mother. That’s having faith.”

  Millie felt let down, but Martha’s words made sense, and she’d try not to get her hopes up.

  Chapter Four

  Once in Pittsburgh, Elise's trunk was transferred to the baggage car of the large steam train. The lovely scenic Alleghany Mountain view soon passed, and the land became flat with farms scattered here and there.

  The woman who’d been sitting next to her had told her the train would be stopping at every populated town or city all the way to Kansas. It was the middle of the night when the woman beside her got off in Cleveland to visit her grandchildren. They wished each other well.

  Quite a few new passengers boarded, and to Elise’s disappointment, a man took the seat beside her. She’d only given him a quick glance because she felt it brazen to stare, but his outfit triggered her curiosity. He wore tighter fitting trousers than most of the men in Pennsylvania had worn. The hat sitting on his lap was huge compared to the hats most men she knew wore. She snuck a peek at his feet to see high boots studded with beads and fancy scrolling. A long jacket covered his plaid flannel shirt. He’d had to bend slightly when he'd walked down the train’s aisle, and he wore a brown mustache that matched his collar-length hair.

  As an avid reader, Elise guessed he was a cowboy, probably traveling home. He made her feel uncomfortable because if he were going home, he’d be beside her for a large portion of the trip. She wished a lady had taken the seat.

  Besides her reticule, she carried with her a small basket of food her mother had lovingly packed. She hadn’t eaten more than an apple from Pittsburgh to Cleveland because she’d fallen asleep. But on this, the third day of travel and nearly nightfall, she grew hungry, but she was nervous about eating in front of the man beside her. She doubted she had enough to spare or she’d offer him some. Finally, her stomach groaned so loudly, she picked up the basket from the floor, set it on her lap, opened it slowly, and removed half of a fried ham sandwich. She took graceful bites until she'd finished it and closed the basket, placing it back on the floor by her feet. The man hadn’t moved, so she peeked at him from the corner of her eye to see he was asleep. She relaxed and hoped that half a sandwich would fill her up for a while, but she wished she had something to drink. Sure enough, eating without a drink of water or milk caused her to hiccup as usual. Elise tried to stifle them, but that only made them worse.

  The man beside her stirred. Her hiccupping, which shook the whole seat, had awoken him. Would he be angry?

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver flask, opened it, and offered her a drink.

  She shook her head, thinking it was whiskey. “I-I don’t drink alcohol.”

  His voice was low and smooth. “It’s just water.” The cowboy wiped the top with his sleeve and offered it again.

  She took it, and was about to drink when he stopped her by touching her hand. Another hiccup made her nearly spill the water.

  “Here’s a trick I learned: take a sip an
d hold it in your mouth, turn your head to the left, and swallow. Take another sip, turn your head to the right, and swallow. You need to repeat that until they’re gone,” he said, removing his hand.

  Elise did as he’d instructed, and by the second round of drinking and swallowing, the hiccups had gone. “That’s amazing.”

  “It has something to do with contractions of your diaphragm. For some people, this drinking tip is a quick and easy remedy,” he said with a smile.

  She noticed his friendly gray eyes, returned his smile, and handed him the flask. “If you need anything to eat, I have some things in my basket.”

  “Thank you. I have a few things tucked away, and I ate a huge dinner before boarding the train.” He held out his over-sized hand. “I’m T.J. Andrews.”

  Elise shook his hand. “Elise Ansell.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Russell, Kansas. And you?”

  “Near Hunter’s Grove. The ranch is just a few hours away from Russell.”

  “Business?” she asked.

  “Kind of. My grandfather passed away and left me his cattle ranch. After his funeral I went back to Cleveland to settle my affairs so I could take the ranch over.” He chuckled. “Not that I know too much about raising cattle.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said.

  “How about you? What brings you to Russell?”

  “I’ve been offered a job there, and I’ve accepted it.”

  “Please, tell me it’s not in a saloon. There isn’t much else there that employs women.”

  Elise stiffened, and then she remembered her father’s words to be careful because she was living in a man’s world. She answered him frostily. “Hardly.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I’ve been to Russell, and I don’t recall a sewing factory or any other business that would hire a woman—no insult intended. If you’d have said you were going to Kansas City for a job, I’d have thought that maybe you would be working at one of the large hotels or fashion shops. Might you be a governess or housekeeper?”