Harnessed Passions

Harnessed
Passions

DT Jones

Copyright
© 2013 D T Jones

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. The novels contained in this
omnibus were each published separately in the United States

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Cover Image

Copyright
© 2013 D T Jones

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As always, this book is dedicated to my husband Jim
and my wonderful and encouraging family.

You’re the best!

To Michael Butterfield and Katie Jones;

Thank you for the use of your bodies

August 1876

The door opened cautiously as the head of a
young teenage girl poked around the wooden barrier; her emerald
eyes carefully scanning the quiet kitchen. The coast was clear; it
was now or never, she thought. Taking the only chance offered to
her, she slipped out the back door and ran as fast as her shaking
legs could carry her to the stables. She saddled her mare in record
time; her fingers trembling as they grasped the reigns.
Anticipation of being caught made her heart race; her palms began
to sweat, as her slender frame climbed up to the animal’s back. She
was thankful nobody was near that would prevent her from leaving.
Everyone was busy trying to break the new pair of colts they’d
bought a week ago at auction.

As quietly as possible, Julia pulled on the
leather reigns and nudged her mare out of the stable doors, heading
her slowly toward the main road. Once the chance of being seen had
passed, she kicked the large brown horse in the ribs with her heels
urging it to break into a run. Her long dark hair blew wildly
behind her as the animal ran toward freedom. The heat of the summer
sun blazed above her while the breeze dried her face and neck. The
real fear of retribution kept her senses alert and her chest
heaving in anticipation. Her creamy complexion flushed with her
building anxieties, as the old swimming hole came into sight.

Three hours late, she groaned silently. Heather was
going to kill her, but she couldn’t have avoided it; her father had
insisted she stay home today. He objected to the amount of time she
had been spending away from her family and chores since summer
vacation began. This had been a daily argument between father and
daughter as the weeks turned into months and now there were only
ten days left until class started again. She would soon find
herself wrapped up in schoolwork, tests and exams, which also meant
little time left over for having fun with her best friend.

Determined that their only daughter become a young
lady of breading, Julia’s parents had spent the past year
discussing the idea of sending her to finishing school in Boston
for her senior year. It was the sort of place that would train her
to be a proper wife and teach her how to take her place in the
world of high society, as the heir of Kentucky’s wealthiest horse
breeder; neither of which Julia was interested in.

Pulling her horse to a halt near the edge of the
brush-covered surroundings, she jumped unladylike from her mare’s
back and quickly tethered the reins around an old tree stump. She
pushed through the tall trees, easing the branches out of her path
as she called for Heather; but the only sound heard was the call of
the birds in the dense tree tops. The muffled rustle of rodents in
the thick underbrush echoed in the still warm air, scurrying out of
the line of sight as she continued to push her way through the
overgrowth. Surely Heather wouldn’t have left so soon, she thought.
She began to consider the late hour and frowned her aggravation. It
was past Heather’s piano lessons, so the chance of her still being
here was slim at best.

Julia edged closer to the large swimming hole her
great-grandfather had made for his children, fifty years before and
looked quickly around the shadows for her friend, but saw nothing.
With a resigned sigh she sat on her favorite log near the edge,
where she and Heather had spent many summer hours daydreaming about
boys and discussing their plans for the future.

The air was unseasonably warm, even for late August,
causing her neck to become moist beneath the heavy collar of her
blouse, her hair stuck to her forehead, her breasts becoming sweaty
under the layers of clothes binding them. Silently she removed her
riding boots and knit stockings, then pulled her skirt and
petticoats up above her knees. She slipped her bare legs into the
cool water, swinging them back and forth in front of her. The
movement of her wiggling caused waves to ripple from one side of
the swimming hole to the other, while the small retreating tides
tickled the flesh around her calves. She began tossing rocks that
lay nearby into the water, bringing several water soaked twigs up
from their imprisonment of the muddy bottom.

Softly, she sighed, shaking her head sadly to the
silent trees. She had broken her promise to Heather…again. She said
she’d be here at eleven o’clock and she hadn’t shown up. Heather
had practically pleaded with her to come today, but she just
couldn’t sneak out of the house any earlier. Julia had tried
beseeching her father to let her leave, but it was useless; even
the staff was against her, watching her every move. She couldn’t
blame them though; once Victor Turner made up his mind, nobody was
able to persuade him to change it. As a father he was stern but
loving, as an employer and former slave owner, he was known to be
ruthless and callous. She couldn’t even manage to get a message to
Heather to explain why she couldn’t make it as promised. Everyone
was busy with those stupid colts.

Julia thought about Heather Farnsworth, her dearest
friend in the entire world. They had shared so much over the years;
dreams and hopes; ideas and fantasies, even clothes and books. But
somehow, things had begun to change between them as the summer
months progressed. Heather seemed so distant lately, almost a
recluse; it all started just before school ended. She would sneak
off without word to anyone and reappear hours later, smiling and
blushing when asked where she had been.

Her parents were too busy trying to keep her sister,
Sharon, out of trouble to notice the change in Heather; not that
they would have care. The Farnsworths’ relationship had been the
talk of Mayfield for years. The scuttlebutt was they were together
only for their daughters sakes. Both had nocturnal habits that
didn’t involve family or marriage. This in itself had made Heather
withdrawn since she was twelve, but that was a different sort of
withdrawn than the one she had now. At least back then, Julia would
be able to get her to talk.

For the past several weeks, Heather rarely spoke to
her even when they were alone. She would just sit quietly staring
off into space with a strange, almost mystical smile etched on her
delicate young face. When asked about her odd moods, Heather would
only giggle and say it was nothing important. Her attitude had been
the main reason Julia desperately wanted to meet up with her today.
She was going to force her to tell her what was going on.

Frustration edged its way deeper into her mind and
Julia roughly tossed another stone in the water, this one nearly
the size of her fist. Ripples raced across the water’s surface,
crashing against the bank on the other side. Several more twigs
rose from their muddy prison at the bottom of the pond, to float
freely among the leaves and branches already adorning the cool
water. She heard a rustling in the bushes behind her and turned
with a start, straining to see through the thick foliage.

She couldn’t make out anything in the
shadows beyond a bird or two lurking near the edge of the
embankment, arguing over who would get the frightened grasshopper
for supper. She turned back to the water, tossing more stones
forcefully into the pond’s depth, as debris of all sort floated
around her legs. It didn’t really help with her frustrations, but
it did make her feel better to have something to punch; even if it
was water.

Branches of all shapes and sizes drifted
past her feet, entwined with discarded leaves from the tall trees.
She watched as six colorful bird feathers floated across the pond’s
surface like lost ships, searching for a home or a safe port in
which to anchor. She sat transfixed on the sights and serenity of
the swimming hole for several long minutes, wondering what she was
still doing there and how she would ever explain her tardiness to
her friend, not to mention what would happen if her father caught
her sneaking back into the house.

Reluctantly, Julia surrendered to the moment
and began to pull her legs out of the water ready to take her leave
from the tranquility that surrounded her when something caught her
attention in the brush on the other side of the pond. She narrowed
her emerald eyes, unconsciously brushing the loose strands of dark
hair from her face. It looked like a piece of faded blue cloth,
entangled with the overgrowth that circled the water’s edge. She
eyed the object from her perch on the log before standing up and
wading up to her waist in the muddy water; curiosity taking over
her movements. She reached it in just a few heavy steps, her feet
struggling to free her from the thick muddy depth of the water’s
bottom, her feet twisting on the soggy branches buried in the muck.
Julia reached for the fabric and tugged the corner of the material,
trying to free it from the limbs it was caught on.

The harder she pulled, the larger the
material seemed to become. It was heavy and hard to lift in the
dense water. She tugged again, grunting and stumbling backwards;
fighting against the mud imprisoning her bare feet. She continued
to strain in her effort to free the material, stepping backward
with each new pull of the fabric. She edged slowly back to the edge
of the pond, her dress twisting around her calves as she slowly
brought the reluctant material out of its prison. She stumbled
backward when the cloth at last broke free and began to drift away
from the entanglement of twigs and limbs.

Julia recognized the material as it
continued to grow in dimension and size and her frown deepened; it
was much more than a mere rag or water-filled sack. It was the
dress she had given to Heather just last week, but what was it
doing here? Had her friend been so angry with her for not coming as
promised that she had thrown it into the pond? That would mean she
had walked three miles to her home in her petticoat; not likely she
was sure.

Grasping the material’s hem, Julia pulled on
it again, trailing it behind her as she made her way back toward
the log she had been sitting on, causing large waves to slosh
around her. The dress was heavier than it looked under the brush.
If felt as if it was dragging a submerged limb along with it. She
pulled harder still as she climbed out of the water and up the
embankment, losing her footing and falling to her soggy in the
gooey mud. She cursed unladylike, smacking her hand in the sticky
mud and splattering it across her bare arms and neck. She looked up
at the dress that now floated freely in front of her.