Memoirs of a Hoyden by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

which I was eager to get astride, though I assumed the smaller mare was intended for me.
    “Silver is yours,” Kestrel said with a challenging look, as he handed me the reins of the second fiercest animal. He kept the sturdy bay for himself. “They warned me she’s raring for exercise,” he cautioned.
    My mare was a sleek animal, deep-chested, long-legged, silvery gray in color. “Thank you, Lord Kestrel. I wouldn’t want to set out on a day’s ride on a winded hack. This one reminds me of Zenobia, the mare Ibrahim Pasha loaned me at Damascus,” I mentioned to Ronald.
    “I hope you don’t treat her the same way,” Ronald laughed.
    Kestrel looked interested to hear what accident had befallen me, but I silenced Ronald with a glare and mounted Silver without aid of either the mounting block or the gentlemen. It was a little awkward with my reticule over my wrist, but by no means impossible. And by the way, all that happened to Zenobia is that she slipped on a mountain road and sprained her ankle. It had nothing to do with the rider, but was solely the fault of the wretched road, all littered with stones and rocks, and very steep, too.
    I was no sooner on Silver’s back than she reared up on her hind legs and decided to unseat me. A restive whinny told me she was going to be trouble. There’s no being polite with some animals, and I include human animals in that. I took my wrath with Kestrel out on Silver. Lacking a riding crop, I gave her a taste of the reins across her neck and jobbed at the bit. She settled down nicely and proved to be a sweet goer.
    We figured our highwaymen had made for Chatham, the closest city and the likeliest place for them to have stopped, if indeed they did stop before reaching the coast. With good mounts under us, we were at Chatham in no time. It was a bustling city, for Chatham has been one of the main naval and military stations since the days of Henry VIII. We weren’t interested in such matters, nor in the pretty Medway River, but headed straight for the High Street. We enquired first at the Sun and Mitre for three travelers arriving late the night before. When they had no word on our thieves, we wasted considerable time at the smaller inns, but there was nothing to be heard of them.
    “They didn’t stop here at all,” Kestrel decided. “They must have gone to Rochester or Gillingham. The three Medway boroughs are practically one town. I’m damned sure they didn’t pelt all night through that downpour. It will take forever to find them.”
    “Let us continue toward Dover,” I suggested.
    Kestrel glowered and announced, “I’m in charge of this expedition.” I just shook my head and waited for him to back down, for really, there was nothing else to be done. “ I say we continue to Dover,” he added, laughing to relieve his embarrassment.
    We walked hastily along the High Street. A few of the merchants had stalls set up outside their door to lure passersby not wanting to go in out of the sun on such a fine day. My eye fell on a rack holding glass beads. I could swear I had seen those beads before. “Those are Wideman’s trinkets!” I exclaimed. “Where did you get them?” I demanded of the clerk.
    “These beads? Why, I bought them of a traveling salesman a month ago,” he said. I took another look and could swear they were Wideman’s stuff. They had the chip of red glass in the clasp.He had mentioned they were a new line, so how had the merchant had them a month? The man had a sly look in his eye. I didn’t believe a word he said, but short of having him hauled off to a judge, there was no way of proving he was a liar, and time didn’t allow me to call a judge.
    “Just tell us when you bought them, and whether it was from three men,” I said.
    “I bought them a month ago,” the clerk insisted.
    “This is a waste of time,” Kestrel decided. I remained a moment longer arguing with the clerk, trying first by threats, then cajolery, to get him to admit the