Read The Secret of the Stone House Online
Authors: Judith Silverthorne
Tags: #mother issues, #Timeslip, #settlement fiction, #ancestors, #girls, #pioneer society, #grandmother, #hidden treasure
“How far is it?” Emily whispered.
Geordie held up four fingers, indicating the number of miles.
They clopped along in a northwesterly direction, passing narrow dirt trails that wound across the pastures and led to small shacks and other homes. Geordie mumbled some of the names of the inhabitants. She caught some that she recognized, like Ferguson, McGuillvary, and Henderson, and others she didn’t know, like Parley, Davidson, Vipond, and Campbell. The number of settlers in the Moffat area compared to the Glenavon district astounded Emily. There seemed to be one homestead right after another.
Emily stared at her surroundings in amazement. At least twenty-five rigs – wagons and carts – were parked along the trail and in the yard, most on the bald prairie, or under a few scraggly trees. The horses and oxen had been unhitched and led to a fenced area in a meadow where they grazed on short grass, or stood in the shade of a grove of poplars and chokecherry bushes. Some men had arrived by horseback, dismounting and joining the jovial crowd. The Elliotts alighted from their wagon amid cheery greetings from those arriving nearby.
Emily jumped off the wagon and moved away from the family, as they gathered the food they had brought. Geordie accepted a pie handed to him and motioned Emily to follow him up the curved dirt lane. They kept their distance from the family as much as possible without it seeming odd that Geordie wasn’t joining in the festive behaviour. Molly acknowledged Emily with a smile and a little wave, but skipped ahead to join some other little girls.
In the yard, a small one-and-a-half-storeyed stone house stood before her with Virginia creeper crawling up its sides. The entrance to the back garden was through an arbour made of thin, stripped tree trunks and latticed branches. Although creeper grew on its sides, flowering sweet peas were also intermingled, and the whole thing decorated with colourful ribbons.
Emily stood with her back against some caragana bushes and watched everyone mingling and chatting. Then suddenly, there was a hush as the door opened and the minister strode into the yard. As he took his place near the arbour, the guests positioned themselves for good viewing.
Moments later, Sandy appeared with a huge grin on his face. He and his best man, his older brother Jack, joined the staid Presbyterian minister to his left. A lovely voice began singing and a delighted Molly traipsed from around the side of the house, strewing her path with fresh wild rose petals from a small willow basket. Behind her, a young woman appeared, holding a small bouquet of cut flowers, followed by the bride in a floor-length cream-coloured silk voile dress, with a wreath of multi-coloured blossoms adorning her head. She held a bouquet of sweet peas and ferns, and smiled demurely as she came to stand beside the grinning groom.
The guests stood patiently listening to the traditional words. Emily found herself fascinated, just looking at all the old-fashioned outfits. The men wore shirts, ties, and waistcoats, and some held soft felt hats or straw ones in their hands as they stood respectfully listening. The women, in their long dresses with leg-of-mutton sleeves and turned-down lace collars, did not wear any hats, which surprised Emily.
When the final words ended and the bride and groom sealed their ceremony with a kiss, the minister led the bridal party back inside the house to sign the necessary documents. They returned a few moments later through the arbour, and stood just inside the yard.
The minister announced, “I present Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Elliott.”
The crowd pressed forward with words of congratulations. A small man appeared at the back of the crowd with a big black camera on a wooden tripod. He set it up near the entrance of the house and pointed it at a large area in front of some trees. Once he had inserted the glass plate, and drawn the black cloth over the back of the camera, he began gathering everyone for a photograph.
Emily watched from the corner of the house. It seemed to take longer to line up the forty people for the photograph, than the whole ceremony had taken, but at last, they all were ready. As the photo was taken, Emily suddenly realized this was the one she’d found in her grandmother’s attic in the spring. She shivered at the thought of actually being present for the taking of that photo.
After the group photograph, the crowd dispersed, leaving only the wedding party, and then finally just the bride and groom to have their shots taken. Meanwhile, several men set up plank tables with crude sawhorses for legs. Subdued chatting continued as everyone took their places at the long benches and tables. Some children and bachelors sat on the mowed grass. Emily was amazed when several ladies brought a hearty soup out of the kitchen and served everyone.
Soon afterwards, the aromas of rabbit stew, roast chicken, meat pie, and cold ham filled the air. Emily watched as these foods were passed from one to another, along with potatoes, cooked carrots, and creamed peas. Hard-cooked eggs, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, cheese, and other delicious side dishes followed. Once these were consumed, the women brought out oatcakes, Scotch shortbread cookies, scones, wild raspberry jam, saskatoon pies, and other fancy baking.
There were many speeches and toasts and finally the married couple cut the wedding cake – heavy fruitcake full of currants and peels. Not long afterwards, the minister left, and then the wedding guests lightened up and the merriment began with fiddle music and dancing.
Emily knew she had to go long before the Elliotts would be ready to leave. The little problem of how to manage it niggled at her now. She was at least four miles away from the sentinel rock, and even further from the stone house. How was she going to return home?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Geordie seemed to sense her dilemma.
He excused himself from the happy throng with a smiling nod and motioned for her to follow him out of the yard. Emily ducked between some trees and met him near the meadow where the horses browsed.
“What are we doing?” Emily asked.
“Going to get you home,” Geordie turned his smiling freckled face to her.
“Won’t they notice you’re gone?”
“I won’t be gone long!” He shook his head. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”
“Once or twice,” Emily said, staying where she was. The huge muscular Percherons, Clydesdales, and other large draft horses intimidated her by their sheer size.
“But we’re four miles away from the sod house. You’d be gone a long time.”
“Not cross-country,” he said, slipping under the fence.
“It’ll take too long to saddle up,” she said. She looked around for saddles, but didn’t see any. Geordie was petting one of their Clydesdales.
“We don’t need to,” he laughed.
“We’re going bareback?” Emily gulped. She preferred something to hang onto. It at least gave her the illusion of being safe. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Guess, this will be your first time, then!” Geordie laughed. “Come on, I’ll get you back, but we’ll have to be quick.”
Emily climbed under the fence, and moved close to Geordie. She stared up at one of the Elliotts’ immense Clydesdale horses, standing like a solid brick wall in front of her. She was only half its height. She swallowed hard.
“Uh, I don’t think I can get up on it.” She stepped back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.
“Sure you can,” said Geordie. He led the animal to a large boulder. Standing on the rock, he mounted, then held out his hand to Emily.
Knowing there wasn’t any choice, Emily grabbed Geordie’s hand and pulled herself up on the rock. Still holding his hand for support, she managed to get her leg over the horse’s broad back and mount behind Geordie.
They swayed and the horse did a little dance. She was sure they were gong to topple over.
“Whoa, Betsy,” he spoke to the horse quietly.
“What if we both fall off?” Emily quavered.
“We won’t. I promise.”
Emily nodded, not taking her eyes off the huge beast beneath her.
“Hang on tight, lass!”
“I will,” she all but whispered into his back.
“Ready?” he asked Emily.
“Yes.”
Geordie leaned over the horse’s neck and grasped the coarse mane with both his hands. Emily leaned with him, staying as tight to him as she could, with her arms wrapped around him in a tight bear hug. As he dug his heels into the horse’s side, Emily closed her eyes. They were off.
After a while, Emily glanced at her surroundings. Wisps of trees and clouds sped by as they cantered along. She clenched her teeth to keep them from rattling in her head.
“You don’t have to hold onto me so tightly,” Geordie called back to her. “I’d like to be able to breathe!”
She loosened her fingers from their white-knuckle grip, but kept her arms clasped around his thin body. She never relaxed the whole time.
When they arrived at the stone house, she slid off the horse gratefully and almost collapsed on the ground. Geordie laughed at her. She straightened herself up, pushing her hair away from her face. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her hairband.
“The wedding was fabulous!” Emily said. “And thanks for getting me back!”
“I’m happy you enjoyed yourself, lass,” he said. “Come again, when you can!”
“I will,” she called up to him.
He saluted her. Then he spun the horse around and headed back across the pasture at a trot, his red hair flying back against the wind.
When she’d straightened up, Emily sprinted for the stone house. She eyed the back door, her mind whirring with the possibility of going inside. She wouldn’t really be breaking and entering. She lived there, after all. She just wanted a quick peek to see if they’d done more work on the fireplace.
Cautiously, she mounted the plank stairway and opened the door. On tiptoes, as if afraid to disturb anyone or anything, she made her way into the parlour. She dropped to her knees in front of the unfinished fireplace and studied the construction. The stone chimney was partially finished and the hearth was all but done. She saw the rock that needed to come out to reveal the hiding place, but it took some time to figure out how the contraption worked to move it. At last, she rested on her heels and smiled. She knew the answer. No time to lose. She had to return home!
She slipped outside and made sure to close the door properly. She knelt at the house foundation. Without hesitation, she placed the carving into its hole and found herself crouched in the flower bed behind her grandmother’s house.
Agnes Barkley stood above her, shrieking.
Although dazed, Emily jumped to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” she yelped. “What’s happened?”
She took a quick look around. There were just the two of them. And neither of them was bleeding as far as she could tell. By then, some of the nearby auction-goers rushed around the side of the house. Among them was Emily’s mom.
“What’s all the commotion?” Kate asked, going first to Agnes Barkley’s side.
Mrs. Barkley shook from head to toe and her jowls wagged as she pointed speechlessly at Emily. Kate turned to Emily.
“What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?” She turned back to the still-shaking woman. “Mrs. Barkley, are you okay? Can you talk?”
Aunt Liz appeared with a glass of water and handed it to Mrs. Barkley, who downed it in one solid gulp that left her gasping. A few people stayed, but most of the small crowd disappeared again when they didn’t see anything amiss.
“You!” Mrs. Barkley shrieked, pointing at Emily. “You just appeared out of the air and dropped at my feet!”
“And you scared the living daylights out of me,” rebuked Emily, trying to prepare a plausible explanation.
“Come now, Agnes,” Eunice Henderson, one of the other ladies, patted her on the back. “You know that’s not possible.”
“But she did,” Mrs. Barkley insisted, her double chins trembling with emotion.
“Emily, what did you do?” her mom demanded.
“Fell into the flower bed,” Emily said, as truthfully as she could manage.
Aunt Liz looked from Emily to the flower bed to the step and back again. She had a queer look on her face, but she said nothing.
“What were you doing back here, anyway?” asked her mom.
“Just taking a break.”
Her mom eyed her suspiciously. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said. “Now, apologize for scaring Mrs. Barkley.”