A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 2.3

Brown. Black. Black and white – like one of the cattle in the field behind the manor. The horses towered above Delilah. A tightness grew inside her head which only reached the brown mare's neck. She had not been this close to a horse since she was sixteen. Since her very last riding lesson. Their smell was enticing but she could not place what exactly it was. Like freshly cut grass, or sodden soil after a night of rain. All mixed with a scent she could not describe. Only that it urged her to reach out and graze her hand against its neck. Yet, the pressure swelled in her skull the closer she reached. Tremors passed through her hovering hand and Delilah yanked it back to her side.

"I take it you've not seen a horse in a while?" Charlotte appeared next to her, returning from stocking the wheat and barley bales onto the cart. Embarrassment shook Delilah's body in droves.

"Of course I have. I have seen many. Many on the roads. Every day." An itch emerged on Delilah's neck with the growing warmth across her body. "I wouldn't expect them anywhere else, 'Lilah." Charlotte's chuckle only furthered Delilah's unease. The black steed neighed in a similar mock. Delilah shot a glare at it. "Come on, they're harmless! Surely Uncle paid for more lessons."

Avoiding Charlotte's concern, Delilah strode to the cart. The talk of horses was all too much for her already mortified mind. 

"Have you really not ridden since? My, Delilah, I didn't take you for someone who gives up so easy." Although they were already in position, Delilah shuffled the bales. Moved them out of place and then returned them neatly atop one another again.  "We've all fallen at some point. Heck, Billie fell off days out of the womb. He got back on a pony barely a week on. You mustn't let one bad moment ruin the rest. One bad horse does not speak for them all."

"Charlotte, please. I do not wish to speak of it." Delilah pulled at the knots Billie had excessively tied in the ropes - satisfied when they did not loosen. "And horses cannot speak."

"Yes, I know they cannot speak," Charlotte stroked the brown mare's neck where Delilah had wanted to moments ago. "But, I can. And I will continue to do so. Unless you promise me you'll try lessons again." Her eyes shone where the sun met her face and Delilah could only admire the awe besetting her cousin's expression. "They're wonderful creatures." So youthful. Radiant. Unafraid.

Charlotte trailed her fingers through the sable hairs draping down the mare's neck. Pressed herself close to the beast as it let her groom it. Something coiled deep in Delilah's gut - a sadness or yearning for the fearlessness her cousin boasted. A mimicry of her past self.

Delilah yearned for those days she lived so unflinchingly.

"I promise I will try, one day."

---

It did not take long to decide where each of them would be. Charlotte at the reigns. Jonnie on the black stallion. Delilah at her cousin's side. No amount of talking or bribery would make her mount the steed in Jonnie's place. So, when Jonnie approached her as she stood beside the horses, she held her shoulders back and glowered at him until he accepted his demotion to scout as they previously agreed.

She would be the marksman for this job. Her cousin's protector and great saviour of the barley. She would be the one her stepfather congratulates.

The cart had been filled with the latest harvest of wheat and barley, so much that she could hardly sit beside Charlotte without being prodded in the back of her neck by stray straws. The horses had been saddled, in case things should turn so far that a brisk getaway was needed. Delilah shuddered. She would not ride a horse again. She would rather stay with the cart and be shot a dozen times.

The cloudless skies made it easy for Delilah to check how much time had passed, for the sun no longer remained directly above them. Instead, it had begun its descent behind the hills that traced the green fields the road passed through. Charlotte had spent the journey so far mending the years they had missed, talking on and on about her etiquette lessons, the country fairs, and the lovely girls she had pursued along the way. Delilah listened intently, wishing for the journey to remain long and peaceful so she too could revel in their reunion. But, at the end of the winding road, and back into the city, Delilah knew that their time would come to an end. She was just a tool to complete whatever Baron needed. A tool that would very soon replace him.

Stones and holes in the road shook the cart side to side. Delilah clutched at the wooden beam beside her. "What did you think of my handmaiden? I'm thinking of bringing her to the city for your coronation. I'm sure I'd be happier with her pretty face around, saving me from Saol's knows how many suitors Uncle will introduce me to.."

Ah yes, the coronation.

Her time as a tool was coming to an end as quickly as this journey was. Delilah was informed the night prior to leaving for Cornswald about her rehearsal next month. Four days before the real thing. The very occasion Baron had prepared her for since childhood. Replace him. Gain his power, his money, his barony. Everything. Even the inescapable burden of lives relying on them. Scrounging nobles sniffing for money. Dreadful loneliness that tore through the gut and devoured the entire body. Delilah would inherit it all.

 Then, there was Charlotte, lovely Charlotte, Lady of Cornswald and second in line for the Barony of Farhilm, readying herself for whatever ploy Baron sent her off to. Worrying about who she would be married off to, to further her uncle's successes. Who needs happiness or love when you can have power? Be Baroness of the East Quarter. Be a wife to some wealthy, ambitious man. When do their hopes and feelings ever matter in the grand scheme of things?

The horses trotted further. Crops swayed in the light breeze, and they journeyed on down the road.

"I still need to choose what I will wear," Charlotte muttered, eyes glistening in the reduced light. "Me too." Delilah joined her cousin in a fit of giggles. 

For her, the day was already planned, and the dress was already picked. But, sitting with Charlotte on a road far from home - gushing about dresses and shoes, and hats - she felt the dreariness that clung to her shoulders slip slightly.