Tabletop

Tearing out of the barn astride Delilah, Julie instinctively turned away from the road toward the center of town. Crossing the pasture, she headed out toward the open country that led to the mountain she loved. She barely noticed the spring flowers of the lowlands. She felt only the wind in her face, and the power of the silver Arabian mare that was gaining speed with every gallop. She gave Delilah her head, as she had so many times before when she was upset, angry or, as she was today, unsettled. The small horse seemed to be in tune with Julie’s mood, and headed toward the base of the mountain. As Delilah galloped, Julie slowly began to feel free again: free from the gossips, free from the stress of business, and free from the feelings that André had stirred within her. On the mare, she was again free to fly and enjoy the power of being alive and herself. The smile on her face said it all. Julie had found herself again.

Reaching the base of the Mountain, Delilah slowed down. Walking now, horse and rider slowly followed the path to the top. Small brush and brown shrubs gave way to lush pine trees and greenery. Julie loved the slow progression from ugliness to beauty that mountains in California provided. The heat of the lower valley floor slowly gave way to the cooler temperatures of the higher elevations. Beauty soon surrounded her and the smell of the pine and recent rain filled her mind with peace. Emerging through the trees at the top, she was rewarded with a view of the town in one direction, and the vast open desert of the valley below on the other. She quickly dismounted, took off her hat and walked to the rock formation known as Tabletop; a series of rocks that looked as if some Giant had erected himself a large dining table in which to enjoy his evening meal. It was on this rock that Julie sat, crossed her legs and stared out toward the desert. She exhaled and smiled, drinking in the view.

The ride and the view soon brought about the clarity of thought she had not been able to find in her room. It allowed her to think about André without feeling disgusted with herself. The truth was, she had been interested in him for months. The stories about him fueled her imagination, and the interest she had seen in his eyes the night before had mirrored her own. Surprise at his interest, coupled with the intensity of her own had upset her. It was not a feeling she had ever experienced before. She thought back to when she had met Michael, her late husband. A friend of her fathers, Michael had been older, and reserved. He had treated her with respect and courtesy from the beginning. His love for her had been subtle and quiet, even in the privacy of their bedroom. Julie had respected Michael, and been very fond of him, but passion had never been part of their lives. This fact had never bothered her; he had been a good husband, and had made her his partner in business as well as marriage. Michael had made her into the businesswomen she now was. Clyde had reminded her of Michael from their first conversation in the kitchen of the Inn. André on the other hand, had made her feel alive in his arms, off balance, and totally out of control of her feelings. It had been exhilarating, but also unnerving to a woman who prided herself on her self-control.

Thoughts of what to do now that André had expressed his desire to call on her filled her mind as she sat looking out over the view she loved so much. She knew that she welcomed his advance, but thought to herself that she was not equipped with the skills needed to show him. Coquetry had never been something she had bothered to learn. She was direct and honest; a trait Michael had found refreshing, but had also tried desperately to curb. He did not mind her being direct with him, but frowned on her being that way with his associates. She never did learn to stop herself. She liked being direct with people. It kept them off balance, and kept her in control. As she looked at Delilah picking grass delicately, she knew that she would have to learn how to handle herself with André, and soon. She was soon lost in the anticipation of their next meeting. She was so focused on the possibility of seeing him later in the day that she never noticed the movement of the trees behind her.

Like Julie, André had allowed his Stallion to have his head. The horse had taken off, as he knew he would, to tabletop, one of his favorite spots. Unlike Julie, however, he never walked up the mountain; he galloped. André liked to feel masterful: of his life, his business, and any task he undertook. Getting to the top of the mountain was no exception. He liked the fact that he and his mount could navigate the trees, underbrush and rocks that covered the mountainside. He loved to burst through the trees at the top, like Julius Caesar overtaking any obstacles in his way. Once at the top, he rarely looked toward the empty desert floor to the south. He looked north, toward the town, feeling exhilaration every time he noticed another expansion. Here at Tabletop, André was king of the mountain.

This morning as he burst through the trees was no exception. Expecting to be alone, he was already thinking of the view and not what was in front of him. His horse, seeing Delilah grazing calmly beside the rocks, was startled and reared up. At sixteen hands, the horse pulled his tall rider right into the lower branches of the trees. André, as startled as the horse, soon felt himself hit the pine branches, and then quickly descend to the ground with a thump. He was momentarily stunned, lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him. Closing his eyes, he lay there for a moment, dazed and desperately trying to draw breath. As he came to his senses, the string of French words that exploded from him raised the birds out of the trees. He was still cursing when he opened them and looked up into the greenest eyes he had ever seen surrounded by a long cloud of wild black curls. At first he thought he was dead and in the company of the most alluring of concerned angels. This thought stopped the Frenchman dead in its tracks. It took him a few minutes to realize who was checking him for broken bones, and then the only word he could think to say was “You!”

“Yes, Mr. Jermond, are you all right?” Julie asked with concern. “Can you stand?” She pulled him up to a sitting position, fully expecting to get him up on his feet. The realization that she was going to try and stand him up made him grab her arms to stop her. The fact that she had perfectly pronounced his name went unnoticed.

“I will be fine in a moment, thank you,” he replied with more annoyance than he would have liked. “I ... fell.”

The laugh that burst from Julie annoyed him even more. “Yes Mr. Jermond, I can see that.” She said with a broad smile. “My apologies for startling your horse, perhaps he was feeling too much of his oats and was a tad edgy this morning.”

“Seizemain is never “edgy,” Madame.” André said with a gruff huff. As he watched her eyes lose their humor, however, he was immediately sorry he had said it. He watched with regret as she stood and walked stiff backed toward her little silver horse. He couldn’t help but notice with appreciation the lines of her muscles within the fringed buckskins she wore, and the line of her neck as she fought to put her impossible mane of curls beneath her hat. As she prepared to mount, he spoke again, this time softer. “Please Mrs. Belsom, don’t go. I ... I’m sorry.”

This Julie was not the little woman in the ball gown. She was all business, and seemed taller to him this morning. She looked toward his sitting form, and he could see the looks that crossed her face. Part of her wanted to leave him there on his wounded pride, while the other part of her wanted to rush over and help him. She did neither. She just stood looking at him, making it clear that she would stay, but that he was going to have to get up on his own. Andre stood stiffly, testing himself slowly to make sure he would not embarrass himself further by stumbling. He quickly walked to Seizemain, silently fighting the need to limp, and led him sheepishly over to where she and Delilah stood.

Julie smiled to herself, relieved that he seemed to have hurt nothing more then his pride. Taking up Delilah’s reigns, she began to walk toward the trees where he had fallen and walk down the path. André walked silently beside her, relieved that she had not mentioned the fall or his need to walk the stiffness out of his sore legs and back. Respect for her began to grow and replace the feelings that had clouded his mind that morning. This was the woman he had watched for months in the town, the one he was used to hearing about. This was the type of women he preferred, a self-sufficient spitfire who was not afraid to let him know when he crossed the line. He found himself enjoying the walk down the mountain, in spite of the ache in his back and joints.

After awhile she spoke. “What does the name of your horse mean, in English?”

André smiled. Seizemain was a favorite subject. He told her of how he had visited the Perrin Ranch in Canada when he first came to the East. He spoke of his friend John Perrin, the youngest son, who wanted so badly to leave the horse ranch and travel west to join the cattle drives as a cowboy. His dream was so well known, that people had begun to call him Outwest, rather then John. Seizmain had been a thorn in Outwest’s side for many months. A perfectly formed quarter horse, he had been purchased with the idea of racing and stud. The animal had other ideas; no one at the Perrin Ranch could break him. André had taken one look at the huge brown stallion with the white stripe down his nose, and had seen a kindred spirit. He liked the fact that Seizemain did not like people, or other horses. He made an offer to the Perrins, who were only too glad to rid the farm of the biting, bad tempered animal. He had taken the stallion back to his father’s farm in New York, where again the animal made his presence known and his temper felt. Although Mr. Jermond had his doubts about the purchase, he said nothing, allowing his son to try and break the animal. It had taken sixteen men, André explained with pride, to finally subdue and halfway tame the stallion. He and the rest of the men had been bruised and bandaged for weeks afterward. André explained that when finally broken, the only name that came to mind for the stallion was Seizemain, in recognition not only of his sixteen-hand height, but also of the men who had the mettle to stick with his breaking.

“Sometimes we measure energy by a number of horses,” André smiled, “Seizemain measures it by men.”

By the time his story was finished, they were halfway down the mountain. Julie stopped, partly to let André rest, partly to take a long look at his stallion. As she moved closer to inspect the large animal, she felt André stiffen with concern. She calmly reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the apples she had grabbed in the barn before she left that morning. She offered up the small apple to Seizemain, who amazed André when he took it from her as delicately as his mother would have picked up a teacup. When she stroked his nose, André finally spoke. “Mon Dieu! I have never seen him do that!” He was not exaggerating; his mother had once tried to feed the stallion a carrot, and the bite marks had been visible for weeks. She never went near the horse again. Julie smiled, gave the horse another stroke, and once again began to walk down the mountain.

It was André’s turn to ask. “Your little horse, what is her name again?”

Bristling at the remark of the mare’s size, she shook off the long practiced need to retort with sharp words. “Her name is Delilah. It was some insufferable Middle Eastern name when my father first bought her for me, but I soon changed that,” she said as she smiled up at him. “I don’t doubt that for a second,” was the first thought that crossed André’s mind, as he smiled back.

She told him of her father’s love for Arabian horses. When Julie had begged him for a horse, he had gone to one of the best horse farms in the Midwest to purchase one. Del was a perfect Arabian, from her silver coat to her perfectly shaped legs and head. It was those delicate legs that often led to disparaging remarks from the boys Julie knew when she was young. Many was the time some dullard boy with no real knowledge of horseflesh made some off handed comment about Delilah’s not being able to run without breaking those “pretty” legs. Julie told André about these races with barely suppressed mirth and pride. Most of the boys were surprised to learn that not only could Del run fast, she could run far longer then many of their stock horses. Arabians were bred for endurance she went on to explain. They could run harder for far longer than many other breeds. It was also during these races that she began to ride astride, much to the dismay of her mother. It was far easier to ride Del in a race with no saddle, rather then the bulky, uncomfortable side saddle her mother had insisted her father purchase for her.

By the time Julie finished her story, they were at the base of the mountain. They were both pink cheeked and relaxed from the walk and the simple conversations about the horses. Smiling at each other, they both took to their saddles, laughing that they seemed to have the same thought at the same time. Seizemain stretched his nose out toward Delilah, who pushed her nose back at him. Laughing, the two riders each remarked on the fact that their horses, normally unfriendly, seemed to like each other. Neither paid much thought to the therapeutic affect their horses had on each of themselves.

As they looked into the sky toward the sun, both were surprised to realize that it was almost noon.

Chapter 1 ... André
Chapter 2 ... Julie
Chapter 3 ... Clyde
Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
*Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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