Considering this would be Peggy Powler's first ever equine competition, the middle-aged man standing atop of a
bunting-adorned platform beneath the ancient tree -that Lord Tatem had once suggested should be felled for better
viewing access, believed the little woman tying her hat to her head with a piece of twine looked like she meant
business.
Seeing such amount of bare thigh was certainly inappropriate for such a noted contest, but Elmer Gooch -who'd been
starting the Summertide and Barnstead Hunt Horse Race for almost twelve years now assumed those with more-noble
minds than himself had allowed such a bawdy display. Anyway, it was just a peasant and for Gooch, he believed he had
a responsibility far-more important than denunciation of participants of the esteemed challenge of thoroughbreds.
Peggy estimated that the crowd that lined the neat white-fence of the course must've been in the hundreds and the noise
they were making only increased Diabolus' nervousness. A pale-faced Stanley Dawes -along with his three employees,
stood near the wooden podium and shouted their troth along with the rest of the audience that had come to see the great
race. Jimmy Dougie was leaning on the barrier and even he managed a thumbs-up when Peggy glanced his way.
"De' yer' remember when yer' thought yer' were all alone in the world..?" the little woman on the big stallion's back said
and patted his quivering neck in companionship. "...Then tek' a gander at those who muck yer' stall out and iffn' yer've
got the time, look up in that big old elm tree there" Peggy whispered and leaned forward to keep her palaver private.
The only evidence that Diabolus understood the Witch's quiet words were his cocked-ears and a slight relaxation in the
muscles around his shoulders. It seemed that within the raucous ocean of noisy onlookers and pensive jockeys, the horse
that had learned to trust again -with the aid of the wee-folk, had found an island of tranquillity to set his spirit upon.
High up and beneath a canopy of leaves, a group of Sprites clung to the gnarled bark of the tree and almost in unison,
dared to wave a hand at the raven-coloured animal standing away from the rest of the horses. "Yer' runnin' fur' them,
me-lad, remember that yer' not alone when yer' got friends" Peggy hushed close to the captivated face of Diabolus and
for a moment, she saw the familiar glint in the stallion's eye that told her of his true intelligence.
...................................................
"Get in a line, gentlemen..." Elmer ordered and checked the bright-green flag in his raised hand was unfurled.
"..Come on lady and gentlemen, get in line, please" he repeated and watched the grumbling jostling at the ribbon that
his two daughters were holding. Ingrid and Petra Gooch were supposed to appreciate the honour of being chosen to
assist in the starting-officiation of the race, but their glum, bored faces implied the converse.
"Move over, yer' Saddle-goose" Wendell Penn growled towards the jockey riding for Bentley Tanner. His own mount
-Grandee's Valour, snorted at Penn's demands to have him jammed against the chestnut-brown spittle-dripping mare
of the Tanner stable. If pompousness is contagious, such a disease seemed rampant in Lord Tatem's livery as Tanner's
jockey reluctantly steered his horse sideways.
Wendell Penn had been given his orders from his lordship only minutes before climbing onto Grandee's Valour's back.
Push the Witch on Dawes' crazy stallion towards the right as they approach the fourth fence, Archibald's Hindrance and
there'll be a little surprise for the uncouth Blowsbella in the stupid hat. Wendell's narrowed eyes watched as the subject in
question carefully steered the black horse who hated humans towards a small gap between the other riders and prepared
himself for the Starter's bellow.
...................................................
The Last Witch of Underhill wrapped the long reins around her right hand and gripped the front of the saddle with her left.
Not quite the antics of a experienced equestrian, but if falling off whilst travelling at speed is a concern, it was Peggy's
best notion she could come up with. In the few days that Stanley had shown her the ropes to riding Diabolus, the bantam
sorceress had failed every time when it came to jumping a fence.
Sitting beside a puzzled-looking rider on a beautiful palomino, Peggy smiled weakly at the man and tightened her grip
on the leather straps. "Whey, it's nice day, isnt it?" she offered lamely and the lack of response told her that the expression
'outsider' in racing parlance meant more than just having a slim chance at winning a race. Percy Goodridge turned his gaze
from the little face wrapped inside a bound-hat and wondered if Lord Grayson -his employer, was aware that the unwashed
were now allowed in the competition. Goodridge's thoughts emulated his eyes and focused on the trial ahead.
...................................................
"On your marks..." Elmer Gooch warned loudly and waved a hand to instruct Duty Bound's rider to get his mount back in line.
"...Get set..." he said and nodded to his girls that the streamer they were holding was about to be snatched from their hands.
"Oh Diabolus, divna' let me fall" Peggy Powler whimpered in a whisper as Elmer's arm raised his emerald-hued pennant to
start the Summertide and Barnstead Hunt Horse Race.
"GO!" the Starter yelled and in a hurricane of hot horse flesh, the little Witch who liked to walk along quiet lanes and listen
to birds singing to the heavens, was thrust into a vociferous huddle of galloping bedlam.
...................................................
Next: The Race.
bunting-adorned platform beneath the ancient tree -that Lord Tatem had once suggested should be felled for better
viewing access, believed the little woman tying her hat to her head with a piece of twine looked like she meant
business.
Seeing such amount of bare thigh was certainly inappropriate for such a noted contest, but Elmer Gooch -who'd been
starting the Summertide and Barnstead Hunt Horse Race for almost twelve years now assumed those with more-noble
minds than himself had allowed such a bawdy display. Anyway, it was just a peasant and for Gooch, he believed he had
a responsibility far-more important than denunciation of participants of the esteemed challenge of thoroughbreds.
Peggy estimated that the crowd that lined the neat white-fence of the course must've been in the hundreds and the noise
they were making only increased Diabolus' nervousness. A pale-faced Stanley Dawes -along with his three employees,
stood near the wooden podium and shouted their troth along with the rest of the audience that had come to see the great
race. Jimmy Dougie was leaning on the barrier and even he managed a thumbs-up when Peggy glanced his way.
"De' yer' remember when yer' thought yer' were all alone in the world..?" the little woman on the big stallion's back said
and patted his quivering neck in companionship. "...Then tek' a gander at those who muck yer' stall out and iffn' yer've
got the time, look up in that big old elm tree there" Peggy whispered and leaned forward to keep her palaver private.
The only evidence that Diabolus understood the Witch's quiet words were his cocked-ears and a slight relaxation in the
muscles around his shoulders. It seemed that within the raucous ocean of noisy onlookers and pensive jockeys, the horse
that had learned to trust again -with the aid of the wee-folk, had found an island of tranquillity to set his spirit upon.
High up and beneath a canopy of leaves, a group of Sprites clung to the gnarled bark of the tree and almost in unison,
dared to wave a hand at the raven-coloured animal standing away from the rest of the horses. "Yer' runnin' fur' them,
me-lad, remember that yer' not alone when yer' got friends" Peggy hushed close to the captivated face of Diabolus and
for a moment, she saw the familiar glint in the stallion's eye that told her of his true intelligence.
...................................................
"Get in a line, gentlemen..." Elmer ordered and checked the bright-green flag in his raised hand was unfurled.
"..Come on lady and gentlemen, get in line, please" he repeated and watched the grumbling jostling at the ribbon that
his two daughters were holding. Ingrid and Petra Gooch were supposed to appreciate the honour of being chosen to
assist in the starting-officiation of the race, but their glum, bored faces implied the converse.
"Move over, yer' Saddle-goose" Wendell Penn growled towards the jockey riding for Bentley Tanner. His own mount
-Grandee's Valour, snorted at Penn's demands to have him jammed against the chestnut-brown spittle-dripping mare
of the Tanner stable. If pompousness is contagious, such a disease seemed rampant in Lord Tatem's livery as Tanner's
jockey reluctantly steered his horse sideways.
Wendell Penn had been given his orders from his lordship only minutes before climbing onto Grandee's Valour's back.
Push the Witch on Dawes' crazy stallion towards the right as they approach the fourth fence, Archibald's Hindrance and
there'll be a little surprise for the uncouth Blowsbella in the stupid hat. Wendell's narrowed eyes watched as the subject in
question carefully steered the black horse who hated humans towards a small gap between the other riders and prepared
himself for the Starter's bellow.
...................................................
The Last Witch of Underhill wrapped the long reins around her right hand and gripped the front of the saddle with her left.
Not quite the antics of a experienced equestrian, but if falling off whilst travelling at speed is a concern, it was Peggy's
best notion she could come up with. In the few days that Stanley had shown her the ropes to riding Diabolus, the bantam
sorceress had failed every time when it came to jumping a fence.
Sitting beside a puzzled-looking rider on a beautiful palomino, Peggy smiled weakly at the man and tightened her grip
on the leather straps. "Whey, it's nice day, isnt it?" she offered lamely and the lack of response told her that the expression
'outsider' in racing parlance meant more than just having a slim chance at winning a race. Percy Goodridge turned his gaze
from the little face wrapped inside a bound-hat and wondered if Lord Grayson -his employer, was aware that the unwashed
were now allowed in the competition. Goodridge's thoughts emulated his eyes and focused on the trial ahead.
...................................................
"On your marks..." Elmer Gooch warned loudly and waved a hand to instruct Duty Bound's rider to get his mount back in line.
"...Get set..." he said and nodded to his girls that the streamer they were holding was about to be snatched from their hands.
"Oh Diabolus, divna' let me fall" Peggy Powler whimpered in a whisper as Elmer's arm raised his emerald-hued pennant to
start the Summertide and Barnstead Hunt Horse Race.
"GO!" the Starter yelled and in a hurricane of hot horse flesh, the little Witch who liked to walk along quiet lanes and listen
to birds singing to the heavens, was thrust into a vociferous huddle of galloping bedlam.
...................................................
Next: The Race.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.