Read Online Highland Portrait by Shelagh Mercedes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelagh Mercedes
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needed to be discreet, not to mention a woman traveling alone would be highly suspect so caution was of utmost importance. Placing her flowered cowboy hat on her head she began her search for a horse.
After walking across rocky hills for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was probably only a mile or two she crested a hill and spying people down in a small vale darted behind a large tree to hide. Edging slowly around the tree she allowed herself a keener glance noting that at the bottom of the hill was good fortune – or bad, depending on how clever she was. A string of horses were tethered to trees and shrubs by a stream grazing. Close by she counted six or seven men in various stages of rest. Some were eating, others leaning against trees napping, while others were repairing or cleaning riding equipment. If she had any doubts about the time and place they were now dispelled as she gazed at 17 th century soldiers. They wore odd looking balloony short pants with stockings and waist length skirted jackets with full sleeves. They did not wear boots, but cloddish, heavy shoes and an odd triangle hat that seemed almost like American patriot hats, but not quite. They all sported trimmed beards and mustaches. Considering the warm weather she felt they may have been a tad overdressed and were probably miserably hot and uncomfortable since everything they were wearing was most likely made of wool. That had to itch.
There seemed to be a tension and wariness to the group as if they expected trouble of some sort, although they had picked a good place to camp, close to a source of water at the edge of a forested area where they could be partially hidden and protected from thieves. Like herself.
A fast examination of the horses and Stella discovered an odd mixture of shaggy, sturdily built mountain ponies and sleek Arabians. All of the mountain ponies appeared to be saddled and outfitted for riding, while the Arabians had no more than halters which brought her to the conclusion that they were delivering them to somebody. She didn’t think Arabians were quite suited to the climate or rocky terrain, but she wasn’t going to argue or over think this. She was going to take one of those Arabians. Not normally inclined to theft, particularly horse theft, she felt that her situation begged a non-traditional solution. She reasoned that if she was back in time then those people and horses were really already dead since time travel, theoretically, was impossible, so nothing was really real and she was just taking something that didn’t exist anymore so that didn’t really count as stealing. Stella closed her eyes and silently thanked Professor Prillaman for her one semester of logic. She could do this and not feel guilty.
She reconnoitered the Arabians and decided on the white mare. She looked like her Arwen; proud bearing, with the tail turned high and the head arched in such a pretty, graceful way. Actually, she looked a LOT like Arwen, completely white except for the dark grey muzzle and black mane. Surely that odd coloration couldn’t have manifested itself twice. That horse had to be Arwen and considering how she came upon Arwen she wasn’t going to discount anything, so she planned out her rustling activity. She could get down to the campsite if she circled wide across the hill and slipped into the woods east of the horses. The white Arabian was on the farthest edge so she would be the easiest to cut loose. The mare wore a halter and Stella had cord in her backpack so she could fashion some reins. She’d ridden bareback enough times that it would be comfortable for a couple of hours at least. She’d have to find a saddle at some point but she wasn’t going to worry about the small details just yet. First the horse.
Robbie had ridden all morning, his heart still heavy with thoughts of the young lad and his dead mother. Miles from the destroyed croft now, he
After walking across rocky hills for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was probably only a mile or two she crested a hill and spying people down in a small vale darted behind a large tree to hide. Edging slowly around the tree she allowed herself a keener glance noting that at the bottom of the hill was good fortune – or bad, depending on how clever she was. A string of horses were tethered to trees and shrubs by a stream grazing. Close by she counted six or seven men in various stages of rest. Some were eating, others leaning against trees napping, while others were repairing or cleaning riding equipment. If she had any doubts about the time and place they were now dispelled as she gazed at 17 th century soldiers. They wore odd looking balloony short pants with stockings and waist length skirted jackets with full sleeves. They did not wear boots, but cloddish, heavy shoes and an odd triangle hat that seemed almost like American patriot hats, but not quite. They all sported trimmed beards and mustaches. Considering the warm weather she felt they may have been a tad overdressed and were probably miserably hot and uncomfortable since everything they were wearing was most likely made of wool. That had to itch.
There seemed to be a tension and wariness to the group as if they expected trouble of some sort, although they had picked a good place to camp, close to a source of water at the edge of a forested area where they could be partially hidden and protected from thieves. Like herself.
A fast examination of the horses and Stella discovered an odd mixture of shaggy, sturdily built mountain ponies and sleek Arabians. All of the mountain ponies appeared to be saddled and outfitted for riding, while the Arabians had no more than halters which brought her to the conclusion that they were delivering them to somebody. She didn’t think Arabians were quite suited to the climate or rocky terrain, but she wasn’t going to argue or over think this. She was going to take one of those Arabians. Not normally inclined to theft, particularly horse theft, she felt that her situation begged a non-traditional solution. She reasoned that if she was back in time then those people and horses were really already dead since time travel, theoretically, was impossible, so nothing was really real and she was just taking something that didn’t exist anymore so that didn’t really count as stealing. Stella closed her eyes and silently thanked Professor Prillaman for her one semester of logic. She could do this and not feel guilty.
She reconnoitered the Arabians and decided on the white mare. She looked like her Arwen; proud bearing, with the tail turned high and the head arched in such a pretty, graceful way. Actually, she looked a LOT like Arwen, completely white except for the dark grey muzzle and black mane. Surely that odd coloration couldn’t have manifested itself twice. That horse had to be Arwen and considering how she came upon Arwen she wasn’t going to discount anything, so she planned out her rustling activity. She could get down to the campsite if she circled wide across the hill and slipped into the woods east of the horses. The white Arabian was on the farthest edge so she would be the easiest to cut loose. The mare wore a halter and Stella had cord in her backpack so she could fashion some reins. She’d ridden bareback enough times that it would be comfortable for a couple of hours at least. She’d have to find a saddle at some point but she wasn’t going to worry about the small details just yet. First the horse.
Robbie had ridden all morning, his heart still heavy with thoughts of the young lad and his dead mother. Miles from the destroyed croft now, he
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