{Alexandra} Her father's horses
Jul. 16th, 2009 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodge1877
Alexandra was excited, and as a child she had every right to be- it was her eighth birthday, and her papa had told her that he had a surprise for her. After breakfast, he covered her eyes as he picked her up, taking her outside.
"Papa, what's outside?" She asked, ears straining to hear past the squalling of the chickens and the sounds of the men heading out for a day's work.
"You'll see, my poppet. You'll see." It had been years since her father had picked her up in games- he was strong, but she was growing to be too old for such things- but every year, without fail, he would lift her up in his arms and carry her outside for her birthday present. Mama always said that he spoiled her, but she smiled as she did so.
He put her down, still keeping one huge hand firmly over her eyes. She could smell the house-stables close by, for the valuable horses that Papa wanted to keep nearby of a night so he could keep an eye on them. She snuffled harder, trying to pick her location.
"Enough of that, missie, that's cheating!" chided her father softly, smile evident in his voice. "Just be patient until... now."
He removed his hand, and Alex gaped as a large, black nose came down and pressed against her ear, snuffling eagerly. The yearling colt whickered excitedly, brown eyes gleaming with glee. His strong chest and broad back showed him to be a workhorse of some kind, and his bay colouring made him handsome without being pretty like a palomino or cremello.
"Oh, Papa!" she breathed, amazed. "Is he for me?"
"Yes, Alex, he is," her father replied, clearly happy at her joy. "You've been doing well, very well with the foals. I thought you should have one of your own. He won't be ready to ride for a few more years yet- but then again, he is a Waler, so you probably won't be ready to ride him for a few years yet, either."
Alex tried to be serious and properly grateful, but she shivered like an excited dog. "Thank you so much, Papa! What's his name?"
"He's your horse to name, Alex."
She considered for a moment. "Rufio. Like from one of Mama's operas. Maybe then she won't be upset by him." Alexandra's mother had always disapproved of her 'frisking with the horses', and this move by her father would have upset Mrs Hamersley very much.
Her father nodded, and handed her some rope.
"Come on, missie. You should lead him around the yard so he can get used to your scent."
---
1887
Alexandra lunged Rufio around the training pen, clicking her tongue so that he came up to a trot. It took her a few minutes, but she realised that she had attracted an audience- one of the drovers was leaning against the fence, watching her work.
It didn't stop her, but she nodded on the next pass around.
"Afternoon."
He made a soft noise of greeting.
"You're very good with him. Even for a woman."
She smiled, even though the comment made her bristle internally.
"Of course I am. I am very good with horses."
"Mrs Hamersley doesn't like it."
She wondered if the man was mentally deficient- stating that her mother didn't like her only daughter- her only child- working the horses was like saying that the sky was blue. "Well, no. But Rufio, at least, needs my attention."
"Why do you keep at it, though? It's not something a man looks for in a wife, unless you're looking to marry someone like your father."
"I should only be so lucky to have a husband like my father. Besides, I don't believe that a woman needs a husband to be successful." Not since she had been corresponding with Dominique, anyway. The concept of women's suffrage had really ignited her imagination.
She led Rufio in, and he snuffled at her ear and shoulder, trying to calm his lady down. She absently reached up and petted him on the neck as the drover shrugged.
"You can keep those pretty dreams, Miss, but a woman don't have a place working with the horses."
Alex bit down a sharp retort.
"Well, perhaps when you're as good as I am, sir," she said firmly after a moment, "then you'll have a place to say such things."
---
1902
Alex stepped from the small coach, face tightly veiled, and walked through the place where her parents used to live. She had kept her eyes on her father's homestead since her Embrace, regretful that she had been forced to leave them behind, and had been forced not to act when the colds of the house became pneumonia, and with not enough money to consult physicians, half of the household had died- including her mother and father.
It was sad to see her mother's things picked apart by opportunists and gossips, curious to see how the Hamersleys had lived since the death of their daughter. She stopped, occasionally running a gloved finger over a china ridge, or the curve of a chair arm, but while it was sad, there was only one thing that she was here for, and that was her father's horses.
She passed through the house and out into the yard. A stockman was carefully leading the horses back to the stables. Under the veil, she smiled as she recognised the man that had told her that women shouldn't work with horses.
"Excuse me, young man," she said, dropping her voice so he wouldn't recognise it, "Is it too late to purchase horses?"
"Oh, pardon me, Ma'am," he said, clumsily tipping his hat, "But we've sold most of the horses of suitable temp'rement for a lady."
"I would still like to see the horses if I could, please." she said calmly, pulling the Beast back as firmly as possible. He looked at her, a little startled, his back brain telling him what his conscious brain refused to acknowledge, then nodded.
"I've only just started stabling them for the night, madam- it got dark very quickly, you see, like always this time of year."
She wasn't paying attention. She recognised many of the horses, if not directly, then by their colouring and confirmation as passed down through the line. She carefully went to each of the horses as she examined them, trying to decide who she should save.
There was a horse's scream of challenge from off to the side, and the gelding she was examining bolted. The drover looked shocked and worried as a horse came charging up to Alexandra, but he stopped from pushing her out of the way as the horse slowed, looking excited and playful in spite of his obvious age, burying his nose against her shoulder. Disbelieving, she put her shaking hand on his neck.
"Oh now, Ma'am, he'll hardly do for a lady." Said the drover. "He's been a bit funny ever since he lost his owner. But I've never seen him act so strange. Tell truth, we were just going to send him to the knackers."
She wanted to shout and growl, wanted to tell him not to dare touch the stallion, but again, she reined it in.
"What's his name?" she asked. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and her voice was choked up a little, but that only served to disguise it further.
"Um... What was it... Rupert... Rufus... Rufio. Yes, the young miss called him Rufio."
"Has he put forward any forward any foals? Do you still have them to hand?"
"A couple, Ma'am, but he's a savage, and they're only workhorses."
"I will be the judge of if they are fit for my stables, and I will take them."
He blinked at her.
"What... all of them?"
"Yes, young man. I will speak to the salesmaster and arrange payment and transport, if you please."
The stockman tipped his hat again, and walked back towards the house, his whole demeanour betraying his confusion. She turned her attention back to the assertive stallion, which her father had given her when she was eight years old.
"Rufio, you're alive!" She said, still not believing as she stroked his mane, and the horse replied by shoving his big, black nose, peppered with white hairs, against her ear again.
Alexandra was excited, and as a child she had every right to be- it was her eighth birthday, and her papa had told her that he had a surprise for her. After breakfast, he covered her eyes as he picked her up, taking her outside.
"Papa, what's outside?" She asked, ears straining to hear past the squalling of the chickens and the sounds of the men heading out for a day's work.
"You'll see, my poppet. You'll see." It had been years since her father had picked her up in games- he was strong, but she was growing to be too old for such things- but every year, without fail, he would lift her up in his arms and carry her outside for her birthday present. Mama always said that he spoiled her, but she smiled as she did so.
He put her down, still keeping one huge hand firmly over her eyes. She could smell the house-stables close by, for the valuable horses that Papa wanted to keep nearby of a night so he could keep an eye on them. She snuffled harder, trying to pick her location.
"Enough of that, missie, that's cheating!" chided her father softly, smile evident in his voice. "Just be patient until... now."
He removed his hand, and Alex gaped as a large, black nose came down and pressed against her ear, snuffling eagerly. The yearling colt whickered excitedly, brown eyes gleaming with glee. His strong chest and broad back showed him to be a workhorse of some kind, and his bay colouring made him handsome without being pretty like a palomino or cremello.
"Oh, Papa!" she breathed, amazed. "Is he for me?"
"Yes, Alex, he is," her father replied, clearly happy at her joy. "You've been doing well, very well with the foals. I thought you should have one of your own. He won't be ready to ride for a few more years yet- but then again, he is a Waler, so you probably won't be ready to ride him for a few years yet, either."
Alex tried to be serious and properly grateful, but she shivered like an excited dog. "Thank you so much, Papa! What's his name?"
"He's your horse to name, Alex."
She considered for a moment. "Rufio. Like from one of Mama's operas. Maybe then she won't be upset by him." Alexandra's mother had always disapproved of her 'frisking with the horses', and this move by her father would have upset Mrs Hamersley very much.
Her father nodded, and handed her some rope.
"Come on, missie. You should lead him around the yard so he can get used to your scent."
---
1887
Alexandra lunged Rufio around the training pen, clicking her tongue so that he came up to a trot. It took her a few minutes, but she realised that she had attracted an audience- one of the drovers was leaning against the fence, watching her work.
It didn't stop her, but she nodded on the next pass around.
"Afternoon."
He made a soft noise of greeting.
"You're very good with him. Even for a woman."
She smiled, even though the comment made her bristle internally.
"Of course I am. I am very good with horses."
"Mrs Hamersley doesn't like it."
She wondered if the man was mentally deficient- stating that her mother didn't like her only daughter- her only child- working the horses was like saying that the sky was blue. "Well, no. But Rufio, at least, needs my attention."
"Why do you keep at it, though? It's not something a man looks for in a wife, unless you're looking to marry someone like your father."
"I should only be so lucky to have a husband like my father. Besides, I don't believe that a woman needs a husband to be successful." Not since she had been corresponding with Dominique, anyway. The concept of women's suffrage had really ignited her imagination.
She led Rufio in, and he snuffled at her ear and shoulder, trying to calm his lady down. She absently reached up and petted him on the neck as the drover shrugged.
"You can keep those pretty dreams, Miss, but a woman don't have a place working with the horses."
Alex bit down a sharp retort.
"Well, perhaps when you're as good as I am, sir," she said firmly after a moment, "then you'll have a place to say such things."
---
1902
Alex stepped from the small coach, face tightly veiled, and walked through the place where her parents used to live. She had kept her eyes on her father's homestead since her Embrace, regretful that she had been forced to leave them behind, and had been forced not to act when the colds of the house became pneumonia, and with not enough money to consult physicians, half of the household had died- including her mother and father.
It was sad to see her mother's things picked apart by opportunists and gossips, curious to see how the Hamersleys had lived since the death of their daughter. She stopped, occasionally running a gloved finger over a china ridge, or the curve of a chair arm, but while it was sad, there was only one thing that she was here for, and that was her father's horses.
She passed through the house and out into the yard. A stockman was carefully leading the horses back to the stables. Under the veil, she smiled as she recognised the man that had told her that women shouldn't work with horses.
"Excuse me, young man," she said, dropping her voice so he wouldn't recognise it, "Is it too late to purchase horses?"
"Oh, pardon me, Ma'am," he said, clumsily tipping his hat, "But we've sold most of the horses of suitable temp'rement for a lady."
"I would still like to see the horses if I could, please." she said calmly, pulling the Beast back as firmly as possible. He looked at her, a little startled, his back brain telling him what his conscious brain refused to acknowledge, then nodded.
"I've only just started stabling them for the night, madam- it got dark very quickly, you see, like always this time of year."
She wasn't paying attention. She recognised many of the horses, if not directly, then by their colouring and confirmation as passed down through the line. She carefully went to each of the horses as she examined them, trying to decide who she should save.
There was a horse's scream of challenge from off to the side, and the gelding she was examining bolted. The drover looked shocked and worried as a horse came charging up to Alexandra, but he stopped from pushing her out of the way as the horse slowed, looking excited and playful in spite of his obvious age, burying his nose against her shoulder. Disbelieving, she put her shaking hand on his neck.
"Oh now, Ma'am, he'll hardly do for a lady." Said the drover. "He's been a bit funny ever since he lost his owner. But I've never seen him act so strange. Tell truth, we were just going to send him to the knackers."
She wanted to shout and growl, wanted to tell him not to dare touch the stallion, but again, she reined it in.
"What's his name?" she asked. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and her voice was choked up a little, but that only served to disguise it further.
"Um... What was it... Rupert... Rufus... Rufio. Yes, the young miss called him Rufio."
"Has he put forward any forward any foals? Do you still have them to hand?"
"A couple, Ma'am, but he's a savage, and they're only workhorses."
"I will be the judge of if they are fit for my stables, and I will take them."
He blinked at her.
"What... all of them?"
"Yes, young man. I will speak to the salesmaster and arrange payment and transport, if you please."
The stockman tipped his hat again, and walked back towards the house, his whole demeanour betraying his confusion. She turned her attention back to the assertive stallion, which her father had given her when she was eight years old.
"Rufio, you're alive!" She said, still not believing as she stroked his mane, and the horse replied by shoving his big, black nose, peppered with white hairs, against her ear again.
