From Across the Ancient Waters (30 page)

Gwyneth held out her hand. Several deer slowly approached to nibble something from it. Around her feet scurried squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits and what looked to be a family of quail. Overhead swooped sparrows and robins. The melancholy crooning continued. Percy knew it was not meant for him.

By and by the melody ceased.

Gwyneth turned and retreated into the wood beyond the meadow. The rest of the small herd of deer lifted their heads from water and grass and followed her. So, too, did the smaller creatures.

Knowing that he had been chosen to witness something holy, with careful step Percy returned up to the overlook. He took Grey Tide’s reins and led her on foot for five or ten minutes, then remounted and quietly retreated the way he had come.

He had been to Gwyneth’s most special place of all. But it was one he could never tell her he had seen. This secluded corner of heaven had to remain hers alone.

Cousins and Friends

I
t was early August. In two weeks, Percy would return to Glasgow. He had been revolving many things in his mind, especially about his future, about his father and what he would say to him when he saw him again. He knew there was much he needed to make right.

Before that time came, however, he had one thing he had to take care of
here
.

After several more days of intense riding, he judged himself as ready as he would ever be. He found an opportunity when Florilyn was alone outside. “Hey,” he called, running to catch her.

She turned. “Hi, Percy,” she said, greeting him with a pleasant smile.

“I’ll be returning to Glasgow before much longer,” he said, falling into stride beside her.

“Is it that soon already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It won’t be the same here without you.”

“Glad to get rid of me at last, eh!” Percy laughed good-naturedly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. Just teasing. You have to admit that your brother will be happy to see me go.”

“Maybe so—but Courtenay can be an old poop. He didn’t learn to—” Florilyn hesitated. “I’ve … I have enjoyed having you here,” she said after a moment, glancing toward him with an awkward smile. “I know I wasn’t very nice at first—”

“Aw, forget it,” said Percy. “No harm done. You know what Bill Shakespeare says.”

“I remember,” she smiled. “‘All’s well that ends well.’ Do you really know your Shakespeare that well?”

“Are you kidding?” Percy laughed. “I was a terrible student in school. I’m sure you know more Shakespeare than I do.”

“I doubt that. I wasn’t the shiniest apple in the barrel either.”

Percy laughed again. “That’s a good one! No—I just throw around a quote or two once in a while to pretend I know what I’m talking about.”

Florilyn laughed. “You are too funny, Percy! You’ve always got a comeback. Is there
anything
in life you take seriously?”

“Probing the Drummond psyche, are you now?”

Florilyn smiled. “I suppose I’m interested in what makes you tick.”

“That’s a switch.”

“You’ve got to give a girl a chance to change, to see things more clearly. That’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. I suppose we’ve both done some changing this summer. Why are you interested in what makes me tick?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it natural for people to be interested in one another?”

“Maybe so. But I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me before. I’m not sure I know what makes me tick myself!” Percy laughed.

“There you go making a joke again!”

“It wasn’t really a joke. It’s the truth,” rejoined Percy, then grew quiet. “Yes—there are things I take seriously. Knowing that I will see my father in a couple weeks is enough to make me somber in a hurry.”

“Why?”

“My father and I haven’t exactly been on the best of terms for the last several years.”

“You’re not eager to see him?”

“That’s not it exactly. It’s more … “Percy paused and drew in a thoughtful breath. He remained quiet for several long seconds. “I’m not sure I want it to continue the way it’s been,” he went on at length. “You say you’ve changed. I’m changing, too. I am beginning to realize that my father is a good man, an honorable man, a man of character and principle. Maybe it’s time I owned up to that fact. I
want
to own up to it. I want to know him man to man, not as a pouty, spoiled, self-centered boy.”

Florilyn took in Percy’s words without reply. They struck a chord in her heart as well.

“But I didn’t come out here to talk about all that,” Percy added with a smile.

“What then?”

“You and I have some unfinished business.”

Florilyn returned his look with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“Our rematch,” said Percy, eyes gleaming in fun. “I want another chance to race you.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Florilyn, her eyes now also lighting up. “A glutton for punishment, are you?”

“You are assuming the outcome before we saddle the horses,” chided Percy playfully.

“It’s
your
pride on the line,” rejoined Florilyn with equal humor.

“I will risk it. My pride is equal to the task.”

“Then you’re on, cousin!” Floriyn laughed. “Just name the time and place.”

“You are going to let
me
pick the place?”

“Why not? I’m so much faster than you, I ought to give you
some
advantage.”

Percy roared with delight. “You wouldn’t care to place a small wager on the outcome?” he asked.

Now it was Florilyn’s turn to break out in a peal of laughter. Her merriment could be heard throughout the manor grounds. “If you are so anxious to lose your money,” she said.

“I wasn’t thinking of money.”

“What then?”

“I don’t know—what about the loser waits on the winner for a day. She obeys his every command and wish with good humor and without complaint.”

Florilyn could not stop laughing at the delicious prospect. “Don’t you mean—
he
obeys
her
every command?”

“My dear cousin Florilyn, I fear you seriously underestimate your opponent.”

“You are on!” giggled Florilyn again.

“Then I propose as our appointed venue,” said Percy, “the harbor beach at low tide.”

“Why there?” said Florilyn.

“That would make it a race of pure speed,” replied Percy. “It is flat, straight, no streams or logs or obstacles for you to trick me with.”

Florilyn smiled. Her mood grew subdued. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I won’t do that again. All right then, the beach it is.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Agreed.”

“And horses?”

“Obviously, as you are the serious underdog, it is only right of me to let you select your mount.”

“Then I will ride Grey Tide. And you?”

“I will have to think about it. But probably Red Rhud.”

“I will check with one of my fisherman friends this afternoon,” said Percy. “I will let you know the exact time of low tide.”

The Race

A
t two o’clock on the following afternoon, just south of the Llanfryniog harbor, a strange scene had begun to unfold. A small gathering had formed on the wide glistening sand comprised of what might be considered an odd assortment of individuals. That Lord Snowdon’s son and daughter and nephew appeared at the center of the commotion might seem to indicate some kind of aristocratic sport in progress. But that the shepherd from the inland hills, Stevie Muir, stood talking to Percy Drummond, while his tiny cousin, Gwyneth Barrie, held the reins of one of the prized horses from the manor’s stables, spoke of wider involvement than merely the region’s blue bloods.

Somehow through that mysterious osmosis by which news and gossip circulates about a small community, word had spread that there was to be a horse race that afternoon when the tide of Tremadog Bay reached its lowest. It did not take long for the news to become the chief topic of conversation.

Thus, from the village a steady stream was now walking toward the beach. It was comprised mostly of the younger element, led by Eardley White and Chandos Gwarthegydd, who, presuming upon their encounter with Percy, let it be known to their friends that they were now personal acquaintances of the young Scot and that he had taken them into his confidence. Whatever may have been his stern words to them, they could not help liking a man of the people such as Percy had proved himself to be.

Rhawn Lorimer was, of course, on hand with Courtenay as Florilyn’s moral support. After what had happened a few days before in the hills, Rhawn hadn’t quite made up her mind about Percy. But on this day, owing to her fear of Gwyneth, she kept close to Courtenay’s side.

A few fishermen wandered in from the harbor. The bluff at the outskirts of the village was lined with spectators who, from a higher vantage point, would command the clearest view of the proceedings.

When everything was ready, Percy gestured to Florilyn. The two walked down the beach side by side apart from the others.

“This has turned out to be a bigger shindig than I imagined,” chuckled Percy. “So much for our private little race.”

“How did they all find out?” asked Florilyn.

“I thought you must have told them.”

“Me?” Florilyn laughed. “I thought it was you!”

“Well, no matter. They’re here now. So … are we agreed? We’ll ride south and around the stake Stevie drove into the sand at the end of the beach where the rocks begin and back here … then again. Down and back twice.”

“Agreed.” Florilyn nodded.

Percy looked his cousin in the eye then gave her a wink and a smile and extended his hand. “Good luck,” he said.

“And to you,” rejoined Florilyn as she shook it. “You’ll need it!”

“My, but you are confident!” Percy laughed. “So … shall we get under way and give these people what they came for?”

They turned and walked back. While they were talking, Stevie had run a long line in the sand with his staff, stretching from water’s edge up to the soft sand.

“Well done, Stevie,” said Percy. “Our start and finish line—impossible to miss.”

The two contestants took the reins of their horses from Gwyneth and Courtenay and mounted.

“All right, then,” said Percy, “from this line down the beach and back twice. We will each have someone stand here on the line as our turning points to begin the second leg. Gwyneth, would you stand on the line for me?”

“Yes, Percy,” she replied.

“Courtenay?” said Florilyn.

Her brother looked with disgust toward Gwyneth but nodded.

The contestants gently eased their mounts to the line about ten yards apart. Both horses sensed the air of excitement. Percy and Florilyn looked over and smiled at one another.

“Ready?” said Percy.

“I’m ready,” replied Florilyn.

“Courtenay,” said Percy, “why don’t you do the honors and start us off?”

“All right,” said Courtenay. “To the line then. All right. Set …
go!”

The shout of his voice and Percy’s excitable kick in her flanks sent Grey Tide rearing slightly. Percy barely managed to keep his seat. By the time he had Grey Tide up to a gallop, amid frantic yelling and shouting from every side, Florilyn was twenty yards ahead and flying down the beach away from him.

He bolted after her, trying desperately to remember everything Gwyneth had taught him. He raised himself in the saddle, tried to feel Grey Tide’s side with his knees, and leaned forward and stroked her neck.

Florilyn glanced behind, hair flying, eyes on fire. A great laugh sounded. Percy saw the gleam in her eyes and couldn’t help laughing himself to see his cousin so full of joy.

Within seconds the cries and cheers from behind them were gone. The only sound remaining was of two sets of thundering hooves flying down the hard-packed sand, throwing great wet clods up behind them.

The distance to the stake and the first turn was some six hundred yards. Florilyn reached it first. As she turned Red Rhud sharply around, she was surprised to see Percy so close behind her that Grey Tide’s nose was in danger of being brushed by her rival’s out-flying tail and wicked feet. Florilyn had assumed herself pulling away. But so close was she to her twin that Grey Tide needed no guidance from Percy, mud splattering his face, to negotiate the tricky turnaround. She kept her position and spun sharply around.

They emerged from the turn with but a single length separating them. Florilyn glanced around a second time as they flew back toward the harbor, filled with the exciting terror of knowing that her cousin had learned his skills well. For the first time she realized that it would take all her prowess to keep him at bay.

By the time they were halfway back to the harbor and the shouts and yells came again into their ears, Grey Tide, her front splotched with wet sand from following so long, had drawn alongside Red Rhud’s midsection. The twin mares and rivals matched each other stride for stride, sharp short gasps of white air pulsing from their flared nostrils, hooves thudding in perfect rhythm, a hurricane of sand flying behind them.

On they came. Slowly the spectators backed away. As the riders came more clearly into view, with Florilyn’s long auburn hair flying in a tumult around her head on the bay mare beneath her, visible on the high side of the beach, with Percy on the gray toward the sea, Gwyneth and Courtenay took up positions on the finish line some twenty yards away from one another. Still no one, save those villagers lining the bluff above, could tell who was in the lead as the two riders slowly separated and made for their human turning posts.

With the yelling and cheering at a frenzy, they reached the line in a dead heat.

But Florilyn’s experience told in the turn. She wheeled Red Rhud so tightly around Courtenay where he stood that he gave the mare’s rump a swat as his sister flew back the way she had come.

Percy came in too tight to Gwyneth and could not hold the turn. This time Grey Tide had no one to follow and swung much too wide. Unable to correct his error, Percy and his mount drifted many yards past Gwyneth and toward the water line. By the time he recovered and was bearing again southward, Florilyn had widened her lead again to fifteen yards.