Walking Into The Unknown (# 10 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series)

by Ginny Dye

  “I would never ask you to do that.”

  “What if you weren’t asking?”

  “Are you unhappy at Blackwell Plantation, Simon?”

  “Not at all,” Simon said quickly. “I’m real happy there, and good things are happening.”

  Moses smiled and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Then that is your answer. I appreciate what you are offering to do, Simon, but it’s not necessary.”

  “As far as I can see, it is,” Simon observed. “You’re supposed to leave in two and a half months, and you can’t unless you have someone to run Cromwell Plantation. You’re supposed to be a lawyer, and Rose is the finest teacher I’ve ever seen. This whole country needs what the two of you can do if you go to college. If it takes me coming back here, then I will.”

  Moses swallowed the knot again. The idea of leaving the plantation made him almost ill. He loved Cromwell, he loved farming, and he loved the people here. He loved knowing a former slave was now part owner of the fields where he had once toiled. There was nothing about going to college that appealed to him anymore, but all the people around him were convinced he was supposed to be a lawyer for his people. “No,” he said. “You are happy at Blackwell Plantation. June is happy, and so is Simon Jr. You’re making good money, and you are in charge.”

  “I would be in charge here,” Simon observed. “I’d just have to get rid of you first.”

  Moses chuckled but sobered quickly. “Answer me this, Simon. Do you want to leave Blackwell Plantation?”

  “If it will…”

  Moses raised his hand. “Stop. Don’t make this about me and Rose. The question is about you. Do you want to leave Blackwell Plantation?”

  Simon took a deep breath. “No. Blackwell may never again be as grand as Cromwell, but it feels good to be creating something from nothing.”

  “Then this conversation is over,” Moses said lightly. “If Rose and I are supposed to go to college, the right person will show up. Until then, I’m going to keep running the plantation. Right now that means running a Harvest Festival.”

  *****

  Carrie emerged from Granite’s stall, thrilled to see Susan Jones walking into the barn with one of the geldings Robert had purchased just before he was murdered. The thought took her breath away, but she recovered enough to greet her friend. “Susan, I’m so glad to see you. Did you and Mark just arrive?”

  “Mark and Catherine,” Susan corrected as she engulfed Carrie in a hug. “Mark is madly in love,” she said dramatically.

  Carrie eyed her friend, unable to read her voice. “Is that a good thing?”

  Susan laughed and held up an envelope. “It became a good thing as soon as I received your letter saying you were happy for me to run Cromwell Stables while you are at school. I love Catherine, but I will admit I was feeling a bit out of place.”

  Carrie smiled, relieved Susan was satisfied with the letter she had sent. She was thrilled for Susan to run Cromwell Stables while she was in school, but she was not ready to even think about Susan’s desire to perhaps own the stables one day. Abby had assured her Susan would understand it was too soon to make such a huge decision so close to Robert’s death. Evidently, Abby had been right. “I hope you are you here to stay?” Carrie knew she would feel much better about leaving for school if she and Susan could work together until her departure.

  “I am!” Susan exclaimed. “We had to bring a larger wagon to accommodate all my things.”

  “Well, I certainly contributed my fair share.”

  Carrie looked over Susan’s shoulder as an unfamiliar, amused voice sounded through the barn, moving forward with an outstretched hand. “You must be Catherine. Welcome.”

  “And you have to be the indomitable Carrie,” Catherine responded, gripping her hand tightly. “I am so pleased to meet you.”

  Carrie knew how not indomitable she had been for the last six months, but she decided not to point it out. She opted to go with the obvious. “I understand why Mark fell in love with you. You are stunning.” Catherine’s tall, willowy body, combined with soft blond hair pulled back into a loose bun that framed laughing brown eyes created a delightful picture.

  “Oh, he probably doesn’t even notice. He only wants to know I can train the new jumpers recently delivered to Oak Meadows.”

  Carrie was instantly intrigued. “And can you?”

  Susan supplied the information. “We have all known each other since we were children growing up in Pennsylvania. She’s outridden my brother her whole life. The new horses couldn’t be in better hands.”

  Carrie laughed with delight. “Then you are very welcome on Cromwell Plantation, Catherine. But, for the record, I’m quite sure Mark does realize how beautiful you are.”

  Catherine lowered her head briefly and looked back up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “He does seem to be coming around nicely,” she demurred.

  Carrie and Susan burst into laughter.

  “When is the wedding?” Carrie asked, pushing aside thoughts of her wedding day with Robert. She refused to be anything but delighted for Mark and his bride-to-be.

  Catherine glanced back toward the house. “If my fiancé gets his way, the wedding will be the day after tomorrow.”

  Carrie gasped. “Day after tomorrow? Here on the plantation?” Her surprise was mixed with something that felt suspiciously like terror.

  Susan took Carrie’s hand. “We couldn’t plan it before I left to come here, and Mark wants me to be at the wedding.” Her voice turned anxious. “Is it asking too much, Carrie? I was afraid it might be.”

  Carrie searched for an answer, but words refused to come.

  “It’s more than fine if it’s too much, Carrie,” Catherine added. “I never knew your husband, but I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about him. I’m afraid I pushed rather hard for Mark to ask your father if it would be all right. Please forgive me if I overstepped.”

  Carrie found her voice, praying she sounded surer than she felt. “Nonsense,” she said. The whole world wasn’t going to stop falling in love just because the one true love of her life had died. She was done with people walking on eggshells because of what had happened. “Of course, it is fine. We are quite accomplished at having weddings here,” she said brightly, relieved beyond words that she and Robert had married at her father’s house in Richmond during the war. At least there would be one less memory to contend with here on the plantation. “So that explains why you packed so much for this trip, Catherine,” she added, determined to turn the conversation away from her. “I’m assuming you and Mark will leave for your honeymoon when you are done here?”

  Catherine exchanged an uncertain look with Susan but decided to play the game Carrie’s way. “Yes. We’re going to the White Sulphur Springs Resort.”

  “That’s in West Virginia, isn’t it? I think I’ve heard my father talk about it.” Carrie was glad to leave the topic of weddings.

  “Yes,” Catherine agreed. “It’s just across the border from Virginia. I’ve heard about it since I was a child, and I’ve always longed to go.”

  Carrie searched her memories. “There is a huge hotel there.” She frowned. “Wasn’t it burned to the ground during the war?”

  “Thankfully, it was not. Much of the resort was destroyed by the Union Army when they took it over from the Confederates, but it has reopened and is mostly back to its former grandeur. During the war, the hotel was used either as a hospital or military headquarters for whomever was in charge at the time. I understand it took quite a bit of money to restore it, but people are coming back.”

  “Are y’all gonna stand there and talk all day? Have all of you forgotten what is going to happen real soon?”

  Carrie smiled as Amber’s impatient voice broke into the conversation, and then stepped forward to give Catherine a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m also glad you’re getting married here. Truly. Now, can we get our horses ready so at least one of us can beat Amber? I refuse to have her gloating ov
er it for another whole year.”

  Catherine laughed as Susan grabbed Amber in a warm embrace. “Let’s do it.”

  “Are you still riding Eclipse this year?” Susan asked Amber.

  “Of course. Why would I change my horse after I beat all of you last year?”

  Catherine gazed over at the towering bay stallion with undisguised admiration. “He’s the sire of all the yearlings I’m working with now? I heard he was beautiful, but I didn’t expect him to be quite this magnificent.”

  “Yep,” Amber boasted. “He’s the daddy. He’s also the fastest, best horse on the plantation.”

  Carrie raised a brow as Granite snorted his disdain. “I would beg to differ with you, Amber. And how is All My Heart going to feel about that?”

  Amber smiled. “All My Heart is still a baby. When she grows up, she will be the fastest, best horse on the plantation. She is just letting Eclipse think it is him for a while longer. Women have to do that, you know.”

  Laughter rang through the barn as the four females settled in to prepare their horses for the tournament.

  *****

  Thomas, resplendent in a black suit that marked the importance of the occasion, smiled as he gazed out over the crowd. Carrie felt a surge of pride but pushed aside any thoughts other than the tournament as he began to speak. She could not afford to think of Robert now. She had decided to ride to honor him, but thoughts of him would destroy her concentration, and along with it, any hopes of winning.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the Charge of the Knights.” Thomas’ deep voice rang out through the still air. The quiet seemed to grow even deeper as everyone listened intently.

  Not so long ago, the closest many of the people in this crowd could have gotten to a tournament was in their role as a slave. To simply be part of the spectators was a momentous occasion, and not one person was taking it lightly. The fact that there were nearly as many white faces in the gathering as black faces made the whole event even more spectacular. Area neighbors had been invited the year before, but not one had lowered themselves to come. This year, thanks to Rose’s school, it was a different story.

  Carrie gazed around, unable to stop her fierce longing that someone in this crowd could have stopped Robert’s murder. She knew his death had united them even more, and she felt some measure of gratitude for that, but she was aware they were still surrounded by the hatred of the Ku Klux Klan vigilantes who had killed her husband. The two men actually responsible for it were in jail, but they had been replaced by other men determined to keep the South they had always known from changing.

  Carrie reined her thoughts back in as her father turned to look at the group of twenty competitors gathered below the platform. His eyes rested on her for a moment, warming her with pride and love, and then he smiled at all of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amber flash him a big grin, confidence radiating from her. Carrie was going to have to concentrate if she expected to beat Amber this year, because the little girl had been practicing diligently.

  Carrie couldn’t say the same thing. She could only hope her determination to win for Robert would compensate for her lack of practice. Just six months ago, before his death, she and Robert had spent hours competing against each other. She could almost hear their laughter and teasing as they jostled for the winning position each night. Carrie shuddered and pushed the memory away.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you are gathered here today to participate in the most chivalrous and gallant sport known. It has been called the sport of kings, and well it should. It has come down to us from the Crusades, being at that time a very hazardous undertaking,” Thomas said solemnly.

  Carrie shivered as she felt the years melt away. Her father was speaking the exact same words that Colonel James Benton had spoken every year of the Blackwell Tournament. It was odd to her that so much in the world could change, while other things remained the same. She supposed constancy amidst radical change was a good thing—probably the only thing that held society together.

  “The knights of that day rode in full armor, charging down the lists at each other with the intent that the best man would knock his opponent from his horse. It was a rough and dangerous pastime. Many were seriously hurt. Some were killed. But we, in this day, have gotten soft and tender—as well as much smarter, I believe—and have eliminated the danger and roughness of the sport.” Laughter rippled through the crowd, but as in years past, no one spoke to mar the seriousness of the charge.

  Thomas sobered as he leaned forward to address the riders. “But with all that, it is still a challenging and fascinating sport. One that tests the horsemanship, dexterity, skill, quickness of eye, and steadiness and control of the rider, and the speed, smoothness of gait, and training of the horse. It is an honorable sport, and I do not need to mention that a knight taking any undue advantage of his opponents will be disqualified from the tournament.” His eyes bored into each competitor’s until he seemed confident he had made his point. “Now, for the rules.”

  Carrie knew the rules by heart, but she listened attentively, still hardly believing she was going to ride.

  “The three ring hangers are spaced twenty yards apart. The start is twenty yards from the first ring—making the total length of the list sixty yards. Any rider taking more than seven seconds from the start to the last ring will be ruled out. Should anything untoward happen during the tilt that would prevent the rider from having a fair try at the rings, he will so indicate by lowering his lance and making no try at the rings. The judges will decide whether he is entitled to another tilt.”

  Carrie glanced over to where Mark, Perry, June, Louisa and Abby sat, their solemn faces communicating they were well aware of the importance of their role as judges. Matthew had hoped to continue as a judge, but an important assignment from the newspaper had delayed his and Janie’s arrival. They would not reach the plantation until late afternoon.

  “All rings must be taken off the lances by the judges,” Thomas continued. “No others will be counted. The rings on the first tilt will be two inches in diameter; on the second tilt, one and a half; on the third tilt, one; on the fourth tilt, three quarters; and on the fifth and last tilt—if there are any competitors left—one half inch.”

  Carrie forced her mind to envision her capturing all the rings on every tilt.

  Thomas smiled and swept his arm grandly. “All of you are riding not only to win, but to gain the coveted honor of crowning the person of your choice the King or Queen of Love and Beauty at the ball later tonight.”

  Carrie swallowed hard as she thought of her surprise when Robert had crowned her his queen after the Blackwell Tournament, and then examined the course, imagining the rings sliding onto her lance. A sense of competition had charged the air while Thomas had been talking. The crowd, here for a celebration, seemed to feel the importance of what was about to happen.

  Thomas continued. “The seven riders with the next best scores will have the privilege of honoring the person of their choice as royalty-in-waiting for the queen or king. Only the members of the court will participate in the opening dance at the ball tonight. Good luck to you all,” Thomas finished. “May the best person win!”

  Another mighty blow on the horn announced the beginning of the competition. A rousing cheer rose from the crowd, along with a whoop from all the riders as they guided their horses toward the starting line.

  Carrie felt a flurry of nervousness but tamped it down. Granite’s confidence and steadiness would come from her. She gripped her lance, ignoring everyone else around her as she stared down the list at the rings, which already seemed impossibly small. She straightened in her saddle and pulled her shoulders back. She had vowed to do this for Robert. She was going to compete, and she was going to win. She looked over to find Rose’s eyes fixed on her.

  “Good luck,” Rose mouthed. “You can do it.”

  Carrie nodded as some of her nervousness subsided.

  “Ladies and gentleman, our first contes
tant is Knight Earl Camden.”

  Carrie’s full attention was pulled back to the arena as one of Moses’ men moved into position. It was just as she had imagined it would be. The crowd and every other competitor seemed to melt away. The only thing that remained real was the list stretched out before her. She was aware of Earl finishing his run, but she was too focused to hear the results. It didn’t matter what anyone else did. Her only real competition was the rings dangling from their clasps. She imagined herself capturing them time and again until Thomas’ voice broke through her concentration.

  “Our next contestant is Knight Carrie Borden,” Thomas said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice.

  Carrie moved forward, a steadying hand on Granite’s neck. He was excited, but there was no nervousness in him as he waited for her signal. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the wave of the flag. She leaned forward, and Granite shot down the list. Carrie brought her lance up, her eyes focused on the first ring. It was hers! The second ring was captured just as easily. With no time for triumph, she concentrated on the third ring, allowing a smile to split her lips only after it slid onto her lance. Granite settled into an easy trot as they rode toward the judges’ table. Before they got there, the next contestant was off.

  Only then did Carrie realize Amber was right after her. She watched with excitement as Amber captured all three rings. The girl and Eclipse gazed out over the crowd with triumphant expressions as they trotted over to join Carrie.

  “Well done!” Carrie called to Amber as Mark counted her rings.

  “You, too!” Amber called back, her face glowing with happiness.

  The competition continued. After the first tilt, the field was reduced to ten riders who had been able to capture all three rings. They lined up for the next tilt. Carrie smiled at the group that included Catherine, Moses, Susan and Amber, and then put her entire focus on the list again. She had expected all five of them to make it through the first tilt, but now she had to prepare. The rings were only a half inch smaller, but they seemed much tinier. She breathed evenly, murmuring to Granite while she waited her turn. This time she was fourth in line.