Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  Several men near Wadsworth and Lank cursed. Lank whipped them back. “Shut it, knaves,” he snarled.

  On the other side of the ring the crowd began to chant, “Keep our Devon horse! Keep our Devon horse!” Soon, everyone at the fair bellowed the chant.

  “Going once! Going twice … ” Hugh’s hand shot up. The crowd gasped. Ellie shoved her way back to the ringside rope.

  “I raise my bid to four thousand nine,” Hugh yelled. A tremendous roar went up. Men whooped, hollered, and tossed handkerchiefs in the air. Manifesto reared and danced at the end of his lead.

  “I’ll bid four thousand nine fifty!” Wadsworth countered.

  The crowd started to yell. “Leave the horse alone, rotter!” “Coming in and takin’ our Devon horse. Get out of town!”

  “Five thousand pounds,” Hugh roared above the din. As word spread of the bid, the crowd hooted, laughed, and stomped their feet in joy.

  A miracle, Ellie prayed. Please, please don’t let that rogue take Manifesto.

  “Going once, going twice … one last chance, Baron Wadsworth … ” Ellie saw Lank speaking furiously to Wadsworth. Then a farmer snatched Lank’s whip from him while others closed in. “Speakin’ on behalf of ol’ Wadsworth here,” an enormous fellow said, “he don’t want to bid no higher.”

  “Sold to Lord Hugh Davenport!” the auctioneer shouted.

  The crowd went crazy. Men danced the jig. They slapped each other’s backs. They hugged. Hats flew, and handkerchiefs tossed, the dust swirled and rose, thickening the air to a dirty film.

  Manifesto stood trembling in the center of the ring, his eyes white-ringed with terror. He let out a heartbreaking whinny. Then Ellie felt her body move forward, duck between the ropes, and run to her horse. She snatched the lead from Jimmy James and threw herself onto Manifesto’s bare back. Digging her heels into the stallion’s sides, she pointed him straight at the ring rope. He lunged forward, and the crowd broke and parted in panic. In two strides Manifesto flew over the flimsy barrier and out onto the fairgrounds.

  • • •

  No one reacted at first. Ellie gripped Manifesto’s sides with her knees and tried to steer the horse toward the fairground’s gate. Normally, he would respond to shifts in her weight and a touch of the rope, but he was frightened. He shied and bolted, giving two boys time to slam shut the wrought iron barrier. A man shouted, “Grab the horse!” Another, “Drag the boy off.” The mob closed in, and then Manifesto turned his powerful haunches, kicking sharp and deadly, driving them back. He pranced through a corridor of bodies, ears back, jaws snapping. Ellie clung to his mane and prayed to stay on.

  Hugh stepped from the throng and flapped his hat in Manifesto’s face, and the stallion backed toward the canvas wall of a tent. “Hup horse,” he said. “Get on.” Others took their belts and hats, herding horse and rider.

  “Get back!” Ellie shouted. She struggled to force her mount toward the crowd but with only the single lead in her hand, the stallion couldn’t be managed. “Leave the horse be,” she cried, but the mass circled closer.

  A man leaped at them, snatching for the halter. Manifesto reared and struck at him, then cut through the humanity, cantering flush against the tent wall. A groomsman, swinging a rope, forced the stallion through the tent entrance, and a roar of triumph rose from every throat. In the next second, a wall of men blocked all exits.

  Ears flat back, Manifesto trotted between tables stacked with harness, miracle grains, and grooming supplies. More and more men pressed inside the tent, cursing and shouting directions at one another.

  Hugh stepped to the fore. “Slow down now, lad. You don’t want to be accused of stealing the most expensive horse in England, do you?” He moved toward them slowly, trying not to frighten Manifesto. “Come on big horse, calm down.”

  “No!” Ellie shouted. “Stay away. Stay away from us.”

  Hugh stood within a few short feet of the stallion’s head. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he crooned. “We can talk this over … ”

  Manifesto snorted and backed behind a table filled with blacksmith tools. Ellie spied a razor sharp hoof knife. She grabbed it and in one quick movement, slashed a flap in the tent wall. Pulling on the lead with all her might, she turned Manifesto toward the hole and kicked hard. He plunged through the gap and bolted straight for the fairground wall.

  • • •

  “Get the little bugger!” someone bellowed. Hugh jumped through the flap in time to watch his magnificent acquisition clear a six-foot stone wall hemming the fairgrounds, the urchin still perched on the horse’s back.

  “Blast it! Someone, fetch me my horse, quickly!” he shouted, buffeted by bodies pouring through the gaping hole in the tent’s side eager for a looksee.

  Tight-faced and frightened, a stable boy dragged Hugh’s stallion, Valaire, at a trot to his master’s side. Hugh vaulted into the saddle, jammed his boots in the stirrups, and galloped through the stream of men running for their own mounts. “Open the bloody gate!” he yelled. Valaire danced as the gate swung wide, revealing an empty road, and in the distance a streak of gray and dust.

  He steered his horse to the side while a small army of pursuers thundered past – gentlemen spurring saddle horses, farmers atop draft horses jingling in carriage harness, boys on broken nags, and one long-legged graybeard running a pony full tilt, the man’s shoes brushing the ground. “Don’t worry, milord,” he cried. “We’ll catch the rascal.” Dust billowed in dirty clouds behind them.

  • • •

  With every ounce of strength, Ellie pulled on the lead, steering Manifesto off the road and across the moors. She couldn’t go home — she had to get to Aunt May’s where she could hide her horse.

  Behind her she heard the huff of breathing, the rumble of hooves, and the shouts of her pursuers. She didn’t bother to turn around. Manifesto could outrun and out jump any horse in the county. Put a few good fences between them, and they’d soon give up the chase.

  She saw her first opportunity in a post-and-rail built on top of a stone wall. Manifesto perked up his ears and shot toward the fence increasing speed until he burst into the air in an arc that sustained and sustained, until she felt like he would never come down. On landing, she looked back. Half a dozen horses refused the fence, their riders red-faced and howling.

  Manifesto reached the other side of the field in seconds and soared over a similar fence with another half dozen horses pulling up short.

  In the next field Ellie spotted a high gate that led to a lane and another gate immediately beyond. As they approached the first obstacle she sat back. Manifesto shortened his stride, and in two quick pops, cleared the gates and thundered across open moor. More riders dropped out, cursing and swearing. Soon there were only a handful, and, Ellie noted in triumph, Hugh Davenport was not among them.

  Just ahead, a rail fence skirted the edge of a steep bank by a river. She wrapped the lead around her wrist in case she fell off, and took a good grip on Manifesto’s mane. “Smart boy, you handle this one,” she whispered. She felt him shorten his stride. The stallion launched in the air and landed in a full slide down the riverbank. At the bottom he jumped again, plunging into the water. It rose above Ellie’s waist, swarming over Manifesto’s head. His hooves touched bottom and he lurched out of the water in a series of porpoise-like lunges, and then scrambled up the far shore. Ellie looked behind her. The last of the riders watched them from behind the rail fence. A man shouted, “Lad, you’re gone now, but you’ll not get away!”

  Ellie laughed back at him, joy flooding her heart. “Hooray!” she yelled. “Hooray! Hooray!”

  She slowed Manifesto to a casual canter as they covered a hay field before the road to Aunt May’s. A little hop over a last stone wall, and the horse broke into a trot down the lane.

  Manifesto was enjoying himself, Ellie could tell. Tail up,
head high, the chase excited him.

  The lane came to a junction with the Bridge Road, which headed south toward Fairland and the stallion’s cozy stall. In the opposite direction was Aunt May’s. Continuing his happy trot, he turned south so abruptly Ellie nearly fell off.

  “No, my beauty, we’re not going home,” she said, dragging on the lead. The horse turned in the direction she pulled, except he kept turning until he headed south again.

  “Whoa! We are going to Aunt May’s,” Ellie corrected, turning him again. Manifesto used the same trick, continuing to turn until he headed back home. “You may not go to your barn,” she scolded.

  Pulling him around a third time, the horse started to repeat his circle, but Ellie passed the lead under his neck and steered his head north. Without hesitation Manifesto turned as directed, executed a complete figure eight, and burst into a canter south down the Bridge Road toward Fairland.

  Ellie hauled on the lead with both hands but instead of turning, the stallion continued his dash for home running with his head sideways. Worried he might trip, she stopped pulling. There was nothing she could do but hang on.

  • • •

  Hugh turned his lanky chestnut out of the path of the posse roaring through the fairground gates.

  If there was one thing he knew about horses, it was their uncanny ability to find their way home. At a leisurely trot he headed for the Bridge Road — the way to Fairland — the Albright farm. No sense in tiring his mount. Manifesto can’t be caught in a chase, anyway, he thought, smiling.

  On the far side of the Exe Bridge, he tucked Valaire behind the corner of a hedge. The road could be seen through the bush, but the boy on Manifesto wouldn’t sight him.

  Patience, Hugh told himself as the minutes ticked by. And then, at last, hoofbeats — the clang of a metal shoe hitting stone. The dapple gray appeared, slick with sweat, the lad still gamely hanging on.

  As they came abreast, Hugh spurred Valaire. The chestnut leaped from behind the hedge landing in front of Manifesto who slid to an abrupt halt. Hugh grabbed for the lead, but the lad whipped the rope to the other side of Manifesto’s neck, then urged the stallion past Valaire and into a full gallop.

  Valaire was fresh. Manifesto had run for miles. Hugh spurred his horse after the stallion and in seconds, closed the gap between them. Lunging for the lead rope, Hugh saw too late a severe bend in the road. With the horses moving at a blistering pace there wasn’t room to make the turn. Instead of trying, both riders headed the animals straight toward a six-foot hedge. In a shower of torn leaves, they landed together in a rose garden bedecked by blousy ladies sipping tea. The women scattered like frightened fowl — skirts flapping as they sped out of the way.

  A hefty matron struggled to her feet. It took a hard rein to the right to keep Valaire from trampling her. “Sorry,” Hugh yelled.

  With a few more powerful strides the dapple gray would be too far away to catch. Furiously Hugh urged his mount through the obstacle course of screaming ladies.

  Manifesto bolted toward a cast iron bench where two girls cowered. Their teacups dropped and shattered as the horse soared above them.

  • • •

  Beyond the rose garden, Ellie spied a thick tangle of trees. If she could get Manifesto there first, she could lose her pursuer in the foliage. Pulling on the lead, she directed the stallion toward the sanctuary of the forest. Manifesto roared away from Valaire, with each stride inching farther from his pursuer.

  But when Ellie looked back, she saw Hugh gaining on them. “God, no!” she blurted. In desperation, she used the end of the lead, whipping Manifesto to go faster. The horse lengthened his stride. “Go, go like the wind,” she screamed into Manifesto’s mane. The stallion swept toward the woods.

  Triumph, triumph, she thought. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valaire’s nose. “Run!” she shrieked. But Manifesto had nothing more to give. Hugh’s hand snaked out and caught the stallion’s lead just as the horses plunged into the woods.

  Branches whipped by. Side by side the animals tore through the maze of trees. Hugh fought Ellie for Manifesto’s lead. She jerked it from him, but he grabbed again and held on with a vice-like grip.

  With her knees, Ellie aimed Manifesto toward a thin tree, hoping it would break Hugh’s hold on the lead. Seconds from impact, he yanked her horse to one side. She barely got her leg out of the way as the stallion missed the tree by inches then crashed into a mass of low underbrush. Leaping and struggling in the tangle, the headlong charge slowed.

  In the next second sun blinded Ellie as the horses burst through the brush into a small meadow. Hugh pulled up Valaire and dragged Manifesto to a stop.

  He leaped down, took Ellie’s arm, and yanked her off the horse. “You little ruffian!” he shouted, shaking her. Holding her by the collar, he tied up both horses, and dragged her stumbling and tripping to a fallen log. “You’re about to receive the beating of a lifetime.”

  At the look in his eyes, terror coursed through her every vein. She tried to twist from his grasp, but with one swift maneuver, he had her over his knee. In the next moment, her pants were by her ankles and the first blow landed. Pain radiated from her bottom to every limb.

  “How dare you!” Ellie screamed.

  “How dare I?” Hugh thundered, landing another blow. “This is how I dare!” he reined a punishing series to her backside.

  She screamed, flailed, kicked, and bit to no avail.

  “You shriek like a girl,” he bellowed, adding more power to his thwacks. “Man enough to steal my horse, but not man enough to take the consequences.”

  Endowed with wiry strength, Ellie could usually squirm out of any predicament, but Hugh had an iron purchase.

  “Monstrous little kitchen cove, that ought to teach you to meddle with a man’s horse!” he shouted as he let her go. Ellie leaped to her feet, yanking up her pants before he saw anything. “Cease and desist!” she yelled in her most terrifying voice.

  Instead of cowering, Hugh laughed. “What kind of expression is that for a horse thief?”

  “I’m no horse thief,” she shouted, fists balled in rage. “You haven’t paid a farthing for him yet, have you?”

  “In a court of law, I’m the rightful owner, and this conversation is over.” Hugh got to his feet. “Remember your backside the next time you want to ride a beast that’s not your master’s.”

  “You’ll get nowhere with him,” screamed Ellie, darting in front of him.

  Hugh chuckled, pushed her out of the way, and swung aboard Valaire. “What’s that, laddie?”

  “Just try to take him. He’ll not go.”

  “You’re mad,” said Hugh, leaning down and untying Manifesto’s lead. Instantly the gray horse danced away, jerking on the rope so hard Hugh came close to losing his seat. “Come on big boy, no need to be fussy,” he crooned. But Manifesto wouldn’t be still. The horse reared and threw his head, giving his captor a nasty rope burn. Then the stallion charged, teeth bared.

  Valaire shied and side-stepped the raging animal. Hugh swung his whip in Manifesto’s face to ward off another attack. “Blast it! What’s wrong with the beast?” he shouted.

  “He’s a one-man horse, you arrogant sot!” Ellie yelled. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “He’ll never come with you. He trusts only me.”

  “Then get over here and pull him back!”

  Ellie dashed across the clearing and dragged Manifesto away as the stallion reared to strike Valaire with his front hooves.

  “Shhhhh. Slow down, my beauty,” she said, trying to mask her voice to sound like a man. “You’re a good boy. A good, strong boy.”

  “Who are you?” asked Hugh.

  Ellie stalled. She wiped her eyes and pulled on the floppy hat, its pin still firmly in place. “I’m the Albright’s jock, Tobias Coopersmith,” she said. “They
call me Toby, and where this animal goes, I go.”

  She caressed Manifesto’s nose and put a finger in the horse’s mouth to stroke his tongue. The large gray head came down and the stallion stopped quivering.

  Hugh dismounted Valaire, tied him, and approached Manifesto. “Give me the lead,” he said. How I loathe this man, Ellie fumed. Serve him right if he gets a hoof through the brain. She handed the lead to him, and stepped aside, rubbing her sore bottom.

  Manifesto’s head shot up and alarm filled his eyes. “It’s all right, big horse,” Hugh said in a soothing voice. “I’ll not harm you.” The stallion tossed his mane threateningly. Hugh pulled a piece of carrot from his pocket. The treat only upset the horse more. Backing into a pine tree, the stallion panicked, bolted, and dragged Hugh across the meadow. At the far side, Hugh threw his body around a tree trunk and wrapped the lead around the wood to stop the horse from tugging him all the way to the Albright barn.

  Ellie enjoyed the fracas. It almost made up for her bruised backside.

  “Come here this instant and calm this animal down,” Hugh said, panting.

  She sauntered over to Manifesto and planted a kiss on the horse’s nose. Hugh rubbed his rope-burned hands.

  “Why did you steal him?” he asked.

  “The horse is bred for a steeplechaser. He’s going to win the Haldon Gold Cup, but he won’t be handled by anyone but me,” she replied. “He’s useless to you. Send him back to the Albrights.” Manifesto rested his face on her stomach, like a child clutching his mother’s skirts.

  “Well, aren’t I in the devil’s own scrape … ” Hugh said. He swept a hand through his hair and walked in a circle. “Giving up the horse is out of the question, but you, you little bung nipper … If we get the blasted beast home I suppose I have no choice but to hire you as my trainer?”

  It wasn’t what Ellie wanted, but at least she could keep an eye on Manifesto until she could sell the pearls. “I’ll work on one condition,” she said, head high. “You must not tell the Albrights I’m at your barn. I don’t want anyone thinking I betrayed the family.”