Read Online Ravencliffe (Blythewood series) by Carol Goodman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Goodman
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Steeplechase Park and selected our horses. For all Helen’s horsemanship, she needed quite a lot of assistance from Nathan to mount her wooden steed, and once seated she professed herself terrified of falling.
“Look!” she told Nathan. “Everyone is riding in pairs. There’s plenty of room for you, and you can keep me from falling.”
“And who will keep Ava from falling?” Nathan asked.
“I’m perfectly capable of holding on to a hobby horse!” I snapped, sure now why Helen had been so anxious to ride the Steeplechase. All around us I saw girls giggling as their young men tightened their arms around their waists. The whole ride was one big excuse for cuddling. I suddenly felt ridiculous riding alone. I would get off and go show Ruth’s picture around . . .
But then a juddering of gears and a sudden jolt told me the ride was starting. Helen gave a little yelp and Nathan swung into the saddle behind her with all the ease of a cowboy in a Wild West show. I grasped the pole and hung on as the wooden horse trembled beneath me, swooped down over an artificial stream, and then began climbing a long upward-sloping track. I could see the minarets of Luna Park and the great Ferris wheel and the terrifying Loop-the-Loop. We were rising high above the stultifying crowds into clean, cool air.
Beyond the park lay the Atlantic Ocean, blue-green and vast, seagulls wheeling over the whitecaps. The cold salt air lifted the damp hair off my neck and slid under my fine lawn shirtwaist. I closed my eyes and let the air lap over me. It was like diving into a wave. It was like
flying
. Beneath my corset my wings itched to flex themselves and soar over the ocean with the seagulls. And why not? Here at Coney Island wasn’t everything allowed? Men and women held each other in public, women danced bare-bellied on the streets, magicians vanished in a puff of smoke . . . If I spread my wings now and took off, would anyone think it was more than one of the wonders of Coney Island?
I opened my eyes. Ahead of me, Helen had her head buried under Nathan’s arm, her arms wrapped rigidly around him. I remembered suddenly that Helen was deathly afraid of heights. She must not have realized that the ride went so high up in the air. Nathan had his hands full—literally—with keeping her from going into hysterics. All the other couples were engrossed with each other. Who would notice my absence?
We had come to the crest of the course.
Now!
my whole body urged. But even as I rose from my saddle, a scrap of conversation floated toward me on the wind.
“But I can’t leave my family behind!”
It was a girl’s voice, high and querulous. A deeper bass answered her in tones so low I couldn’t make out the words, only the low persuasive rumble.
“Well, if I could send them back money . . . and you’re sure this job out west will pay . . .”
Another rumble, almost a growl, followed.
“Then I’ll do it! Oh, but not today. I’ll have to pack a bag. I’ll meet you next week . . . yes, under the funny face like always. You always show me a swell time . . .”
The girl’s voice was carried away as the ride turned a corner and the wind was coming from the side. I lifted up in my saddle to see which horse the voices had come from, but I couldn’t tell. And even if I could, how could I tell if this girl was being lured into a life of slavery or was only eloping with her sweetheart? Still, if I could follow her next week when she went with her beau, perhaps she would lead me to where Ruth was being held.
We were swooping down now into the final stretch. The couples were all leaning forward, urging their horses on as if they were live breathing animals instead of wooden simulacra. The horse with the heaviest load would go fastest and win and I, alone, would come in last. The girl who was planning to elope would get away. I leaned forward and clucked my tongue as if it would make a difference—and to my amazement, it did!
“Look!” she told Nathan. “Everyone is riding in pairs. There’s plenty of room for you, and you can keep me from falling.”
“And who will keep Ava from falling?” Nathan asked.
“I’m perfectly capable of holding on to a hobby horse!” I snapped, sure now why Helen had been so anxious to ride the Steeplechase. All around us I saw girls giggling as their young men tightened their arms around their waists. The whole ride was one big excuse for cuddling. I suddenly felt ridiculous riding alone. I would get off and go show Ruth’s picture around . . .
But then a juddering of gears and a sudden jolt told me the ride was starting. Helen gave a little yelp and Nathan swung into the saddle behind her with all the ease of a cowboy in a Wild West show. I grasped the pole and hung on as the wooden horse trembled beneath me, swooped down over an artificial stream, and then began climbing a long upward-sloping track. I could see the minarets of Luna Park and the great Ferris wheel and the terrifying Loop-the-Loop. We were rising high above the stultifying crowds into clean, cool air.
Beyond the park lay the Atlantic Ocean, blue-green and vast, seagulls wheeling over the whitecaps. The cold salt air lifted the damp hair off my neck and slid under my fine lawn shirtwaist. I closed my eyes and let the air lap over me. It was like diving into a wave. It was like
flying
. Beneath my corset my wings itched to flex themselves and soar over the ocean with the seagulls. And why not? Here at Coney Island wasn’t everything allowed? Men and women held each other in public, women danced bare-bellied on the streets, magicians vanished in a puff of smoke . . . If I spread my wings now and took off, would anyone think it was more than one of the wonders of Coney Island?
I opened my eyes. Ahead of me, Helen had her head buried under Nathan’s arm, her arms wrapped rigidly around him. I remembered suddenly that Helen was deathly afraid of heights. She must not have realized that the ride went so high up in the air. Nathan had his hands full—literally—with keeping her from going into hysterics. All the other couples were engrossed with each other. Who would notice my absence?
We had come to the crest of the course.
Now!
my whole body urged. But even as I rose from my saddle, a scrap of conversation floated toward me on the wind.
“But I can’t leave my family behind!”
It was a girl’s voice, high and querulous. A deeper bass answered her in tones so low I couldn’t make out the words, only the low persuasive rumble.
“Well, if I could send them back money . . . and you’re sure this job out west will pay . . .”
Another rumble, almost a growl, followed.
“Then I’ll do it! Oh, but not today. I’ll have to pack a bag. I’ll meet you next week . . . yes, under the funny face like always. You always show me a swell time . . .”
The girl’s voice was carried away as the ride turned a corner and the wind was coming from the side. I lifted up in my saddle to see which horse the voices had come from, but I couldn’t tell. And even if I could, how could I tell if this girl was being lured into a life of slavery or was only eloping with her sweetheart? Still, if I could follow her next week when she went with her beau, perhaps she would lead me to where Ruth was being held.
We were swooping down now into the final stretch. The couples were all leaning forward, urging their horses on as if they were live breathing animals instead of wooden simulacra. The horse with the heaviest load would go fastest and win and I, alone, would come in last. The girl who was planning to elope would get away. I leaned forward and clucked my tongue as if it would make a difference—and to my amazement, it did!
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