A Horsewoman for Harlan Barbara Goss (the best books to read .TXT) 📖

Millie had just finished setting the table for supper when Harlan and Clay came in.  Martha was putting the hot dishes of food on the table.

“I don’t know what we’ll do, Clay.  Pedro is the only horse trainer around.  I know how to train them, but it would take me months to tame just one colt or filly.”

Clay added, “I wouldn’t know where to begin training a horse, Pa.”

“What’s wrong with Pedro?” Martha asked.

“His mother is sick,  so he left for Texas this morning.  I have at least twenty colts and fillies waiting to be trained.  Untrained horses don’t bring in much money.  I was planning a fall horse auction.”

“I should have had Pedro teach me how to train them,” Clay said.

Harlan clapped Clay’s back.  “Training horses takes a long time to learn, and Pedro did it so well. I guess all we can do is put an ad in the newspaper and pray.”

“Well,” Martha said, “you can’t figure out a problem on an empty stomach.  Wash up and dig in.  We’ll all pray for a horse trainer.”

While Martha washed and Millie dried the dishes, Martha said in a whisper, “While your Pa and Clay were talking, I got a brilliant idea.”

Millie looked at her.  “You did?”

“I came from a small town in Pennsylvania called Redstone Township.  There’s a family there who owned a livery.  Alf, and his wife, Florence, who was a horsewoman and even raced horses when she was young, are friends of mine.  She and I have exchanged letters for years—but the best thing is, this couple has a daughter who is also a horsewoman.  She’s been one since she was twelve-years-old.  Flo says her daughter is a pretty woman, and to her chagrin, is still single because all she does is work with horses.  I could write to Flo and find out if her daughter would accept a job here.  Flo and Alf, are getting older and have slowed down,  and the livery has been sold, so the only horses they have are their own personal stock.  I'd bet their daughter would love to come here to work with Harlan’s colts and fillies.”

  “What’s her name?” Millie asked.  She felt excitement for the idea.  “If she came,  it wouldn’t be like we were trying to marry her to Papa, but maybe they’d just fall for each other.  If I were a grown woman,  I’d fall for Papa.  He’s handsome, kind, and goes to church every week.”

Martha laughed.  “I don’t recall the woman’s name,  but she has stellar qualifications, child.  I’ll write Flo tonight,  and we can post it after church tomorrow.”

Chapter Two

It was a beautiful spring afternoon and another day when Elise Ansell felt lifeless and bored. She missed the livery and the large horse ranch they’d had since before she was born. Horses were her life. All they had now was a small home, a barn, and one horse for each of them.  Her favorite horse, Buttercup, had died a few months ago, and her father had bought a beautiful appaloosa in her place.  It was a nice horse, but it had already been trained, and it wasn’t Buttercup.  How she missed training the young horses.

“There you are,” Florence Ansell called as she walked across the lawn to where Elise sat beneath a large elm tree.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Smile,” her mother coaxed. “It’s a lovely day, and I thought you'd be riding your new horse.  Have you named him yet?”

“No, not yet.” Elise sighed.

“What’s wrong with you lately?” Her mother frowned.  “We want our cheerful daughter back.”

Elise sighed. “I miss working with the horses is all.  I’m afraid it was the only thing I really was good at.  Now it seems like that nothing else matters.”

“Elise!  That sounds like melancholia.  I’ll need to call Doctor Fredricks if you don’t shake it off.”

“I’m fine. I’m simply bored. There just isn’t anything else in life I enjoy doing except working with horses.”

“What about the two young lads who asked to take you for a Sunday drive?  It would do you good to go and have some fun.”

Elise grimaced.

Florence clapped her hands. “I know:  let’s go shopping.  I know you love that.”  Her mother held out her hand for Elise to take.

Elise shrugged.  She took her mother’s hand and got to her feet.  “All right.  I did order a new pair of riding boots. Maybe they’ve arrived.”

“That’s my girl,” Florence said. “We’ll pick up the mail, too.  We have not checked on our mail in a week.”

“It’s warm today—why don’t I tie your hair up?”

Elise stood while her mother fussed with her long, brown hair.  “I have pins in my skirt pocket,” Elise said, handing them to her mother.

“Why do you continue to wear a riding skirt when you aren’t riding?”

“Ouch!” Elise cried.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to stick that pin into your scalp, but you get me so angry.”

“I’m not fond of dresses.  I’d wear pants like men do if I could.”

“Elise, you’re such a pretty girl—why don’t you let me buy you some frilly dresses and dainty slippers?  There’s a barn dance next week at the Winfields’.”

“And if I get the notion to ride a horse, I'd have to change out of the frilly dress,” Elise answered.

“Mother, are we riding our horses or taking the buggy?”

“Let’s ride,” her mother said cheerfully.  “It will give you a chance to get used to your new horse and perhaps name him.”

Elise picked up her new boots.  She couldn’t wait to get home to try them on.  They brightened her day somewhat.  The new horse was faultless, she had to admit.  The ride had been smooth, and he was easy to handle, but he wasn’t Buttercup.  She named him Apache since he looked like a horse an Indian might ride.

She