“What are you saying? That I look funny?” Josephine felt her new confidence melt away.
“No! No.” Ned shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Not at all.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
Luckily for him, at that very moment the door burst open and Morgan entered wearing a huge grin. “I think I have the answer to our problem.”
And from behind him, Beatrice the fruit seller wobbled in, beaming with pleasure. “I’m so happy I could be of help!”
Ned cried, “Oh no, Dad, not her!”
His father shot him a withering look. “Don’t be rude, Ned. Miss Beatrice has taken time from her day to help us. Why don’t you make her a nice cup of tea?” His eyes dared Ned to argue. So Ned trudged to the kitchen area and began to fill the kettle.
“And this is Josephine,” Morgan said to Beatrice.
“Why, of course. So pleased to see you again, dear.”
Josephine attempted a small curtsy, because in all her favorite books the well-bred girls always curtsied.
“Isn’t she delicious!” Beatrice exclaimed, a comment that, considering this woman’s girth, made Josephine uncomfortable. “Come outside with me, dear.”
She led Josephine outside, and standing there were two stately-looking horses.
Beatrice pointed to the smaller one, which was a luxurious reddish brown. “Now, this is Mabel, and she’s the best size for you, sweetie.”
Horses! Josephine couldn’t believe it.
“You know how to ride, don’t you?”
Josephine shook her head. She had always wanted to learn, but her father, of course, had never taken the time to teach her.
“Well, there’s nothing to it. Mabel is well trained. You pull back on her reins when you want to stop, and you give her a kick with your heel when you want to go. You pull her head gently to the right or the left if you need to turn. What could be simpler than that?”
“But how do I make her go faster?” Josephine asked, her voice trembling from excitement.
“Let’s make sure you can stay on her before we teach you how to canter,” Beatrice replied, but Josephine could tell from her smile that she liked Josephine’s gumption.
“Let’s see you get up on her,” Beatrice ordered. “You need to lift your left foot as high as you can so you reach that stirrup.” Josephine did as she was told and she was just barely tall enough to make it. Once she had her left foot in the stirrup, Beatrice said, “Now, hold on to the horn with your left hand and hoist yourself up and over.”
“But not too far, Josephine,” Morgan warned from the doorway. “Or you’ll go tumbling over the other side.”
“Leave her alone, Morgan. She’s not a moron.” Beatrice signaled to Josephine to get on the mare, so Josephine took a firm grip of the horn, the nubby bit at the front of the saddle, lifted herself up, and swung her right leg up and over Mabel. And the next thing she knew, she was sitting on top of a horse!
“She’s a natural!” Beatrice exclaimed.
“How’s it feel up there?” Morgan inquired.
“Great!” Josephine was ecstatic. She liked how tall the horse made her. She felt powerful.
Just then Ned emerged with his bag and Beatrice’s cup of tea, and when he spotted the horses, he exclaimed, “Whoa! Is one of those for me?”
Morgan nodded.
“Fantastic!” Ned cried, shoving Beatrice’s tea into her hands and then leaping onto the other horse, a big black stallion. “He’s a brute! What’s his name?”
“I call him Thistle.”
“Thistle? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Ned!” Morgan warned.
Ned took the disgust out of his voice. “I just mean . . . he’s such a big, powerful horse. Shouldn’t he have a big, powerful name? Like . . . Thunder?”
“You can call him whatever you want, young man, but he’s going to answer to Thistle.” Beatrice approached the beautiful horse. “Isn’t that right, boy?” She stroked his long nose and scratched behind his ears. “I’ve raised both these horses from colts, so when you let them go, they’ll come straight home to me.” She looked at Morgan and added, “Believe me, I make a cozy home to come home to.”
Morgan turned beet red and cleared his throat. “Umm . . . all right, then.” He turned back to the children. “Are you two ready to go?”
Josephine nodded, and Ned lifted a bag to show his father, which was packed with food, water, and, most important, the claganmeter.
“You remember how to use it?”
Ned rolled his eyes. “I’ve watched you do it only a million times, Dad.”
Morgan then approached Josephine. “I’ve got something I want to give you.” He took a locket attached to a long gold chain from his coat pocket. “This belonged to my mother. I don’t have any daughters to give it to, so . . .” He trailed off, growing embarrassed by his own gesture. He placed the locket in Josephine’s small hand.
She opened it and found two pictures, a teenage boy and a young girl, both with sandy brown hair and freckles.
