Chapter Three

Sarah estimated that we had gone 5 miles in the past hour. I was planning on reaching Leesburg at around 1 o' clock.

No one seemed to travel down this road at all. We were worn out and ready for a stop. Dust coated my throat, making my saliva a gunk I would sooner spit out than swallow. The air was hot, bearing down with an oppressive intensity. A few minutes after passing our estimated end to the 5th mile, we found an oak tree that provided shade from the heat of the road. Throwing down my roll - along, I sank down onto the cool grass beneath the oak. I closed my eyes, feeling the sweat trickling down my face, and I leaned back against the scaly, rough bark, struggling to catch my breath. Once I re-opened my eyes, I screwed off the top of the canteen and took a deep drink, wiping my lips afterwards, as well as wiping my face. John had sat down beside me, and he too was drinking.

"Don't guzzle it," I warned. "It's not good for you, and plus we'll probably need the water later on."

He willingly put the cap back on. Then I noticed Sarah was missing.

"John, you seen Sarah?"

Then I heard her behind the tree. By listening to her movements, I assumed she was taking a piss. For amusement, John asked.

"Hey, Sarah, whatcha doin' behind the tree? Takin' a piss?"

"Shut up, John."

"Fine. Be that way."

She came around the tree a couple minutes later and sat down a few feet away.

"How you know?"

John and I smiled, not answering.

15 minutes was the agreed time for a break, but I hadn't reckoned on my companions being so weary from an hour's walk. So to be fair, I gave them another five minutes to gain some energy before we continued for another five miles.

5 minutes having expired, we stretched and prepared to leave. I put my two canteens back over my shoulders, criss-crossed around my neck.

We didn’t talk as we walked, in our own thoughts.

“What are we gonna do when we get to Leesburg?” asked Sarah suddenly. Neither John nor I answered. “I mean, we’re supposed to be getting horses, but what help is that going to do? How is that going to get us back to the future?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “I just thought…I don’t know what I thought.”

“Maybe once we get to a big city we’ll figure out something,” spoke John. “Hillsboro isn’t exactly the best place to look for answers.”

It was close to 10:50 before we stopped again, and we had traveled a little over than two hours. What was funny about it is that none of us thought we should stop, and we were on a roll, and should continue. In truth, we were farther than I had expected us to be by 11 o'clock. We had been traveling since roughly 7 am, around 8 am we had traveled five miles. After a 20 minute break we had walked for roughly another two hours and a half, covering ten miles. I smiled.

"Shawn, if we keep going, we may make it by 12:30,” Sarah said. John and I glanced at each other, and nodded.

2 miles later, I heard the clop of horses’ hooves and the sound of turning wooden wheels on a dirt road. I stopped and turned around. Behind us, driving up through our cloud of dust, was a cart drawn by two Clydesdales. John and Sarah, also hearing the noise, turned as well, and moved out of the way as the cart passed us. A few yards ahead of us, it rolled to a halt. The man driving looked back and called out, "Wanna ride?"

We grinned at each other, and ran to catch up.

"Would you mind?" Sarah questioned.

"You three look plain worn out. Climb on up. Ya'll can put yer things in the back." His brow was wrinkled in puzzlement as he got a closer look at us, and he seemed shocked. I knew it was our clothing and general appearance.

Throwing our things as instructed, we climbed up onto the seat next to the old man. His face was creased with lines, his back bent with age. But his eyes shone, a spark of life still left. There was a queer look in his eyes, though, just the same. He seemed nervous with me sitting right next to him, and I remembered the looks Whitson had given to me and Sarah back in Hillsboro and realized that this man must fell the same way, nervous and out of place, plus shocked at our appearance. I began to wonder if Sarah and I were being mistaken for boys.

"Where you three from?" the old man asked, his tone having an edge of nervousness on it, slapping the reins across the backs of the horses.

"We're from Hillsboro," Sarah replied. "At least John and I are."

He glanced at me. "Falls Church," I said.

"Whatcha doin' way up here for?"

"Traveling. I figure I have every right to see what my home state looks like."

"What is your name, sir?"

"You can call me Wilkins. Miss, what might yours be?”

"Shawn. Nice to meet you."

Nothing else was said the rest of the trip. The wagon rumbled and rolled along, bumping over rocks and bouncing into small ditches, a lurch to follow, the horses churning up the choking Virginia dust. The countryside passed slowly, the beautiful landscape of fields of tobacco, a few orchards. The miles went by quickly, and we finally pulled into Leesburg at 12:20. Sarah and John dozed for the most part, while I sat wondering what was going on.

"Where ya'll headed?"

"The stables. We're looking for traveling horses," John promptly answered.

"Right around the corner. Best horses in the whole town."

He turned right at the first street and stopped at the stables, a rather small building. Over the door it said "Leesburg Stables." Jumping down, we grabbed our bags, thanked the man, and went in. The place certainly smelled of horses. Tack lined the walls, and on the back wall were stalls, 16 total, each one containing a horse. We saw no one inside. Sarah and I began looking at the horses, seeing which ones we would like to buy. I spotted a cream coated one that I particularly liked. He was, I thought, the best one for me. He was also well built and well taken care of.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, can Ah help you?" a gruff voice came from behind us.

I stopped dead in my tracks, experiencing what it felt like to be called a "gentleman." I looked over at Sarah, who looked back over at me. We tried to force our laughter down, but it spilled out like bubbling fuzz out of a champagne bottle. Holding our sides, we turned around and saw a man standing a few feet away, in a blacksmiths apron. He had apparently just come from his blacksmith shop, because his hands, apron, and face were toned black from burnt wood and fire, sweating from the heat of the day. His face changed from being impassive to complete horror and shock at the realization that we were, in fact, two 19 year old women. His jaw dropped slightly, but he regained his composure as best he could, and he approached us slowly, swallowing nervously. We had stopped our seemingly unstoppable laughter, and were waiting for him to say something.

"My apologies, misses. Ah did not know. Is there anything Ah can help you with, misses?" he managed to say.

"That is all right," I said, a smile still pasted on my face.

"We're here to buy a few horses," Sarah said. "One for me, one for my friend here, and one for my brother. Of course, we'll need two for our baggage."

"We heard you had the best horses in town," said John, coming over from a few stalls away.

"Well, Ah do have that reputation," the man replied. "Might Ah ask, though, where ya'll from?"

I looked at Sarah, who mouthed out "Out West." I nodded. John answered before I got the chance.

"We're from Out West."

"That why ya'll dressed so strange like?"

"Yeah."

"Well, back to the horses. What type you lookin' for? I got a couple of stallions, Thoroughbreds and Arabs, that might suit you. That cream colored, bay, and chestnut are the best ones I got for travelin'. They cost $25 a head. Then for the other two you need for your bags, well, I'll give you those for 15 or 20 dollars, dependin' on which ones you choose."

We gathered together in a tight huddle to discuss how we could buy these horses.

"We'll have to pay $75 on the three traveling horses alone. We may have that in 20th century money, but not in Confederate or Union money. And we don't have that much we can trade with," Sarah said.

"There's always working it off. Or trading with other people for the appropriate type of money, or working for them. There aren't a lot of options open, I must admit, but we have to do something, cause I know we can't walk the whole way unless we hitch rides every ten miles," I said.

"I say we figure out what we can trade with first," said John. "Then we figure out how much we still owe, and we can get odd jobs around the town to raise enough money to buy our horses. They'll half to be pretty high paying jobs. I figure if we each get a separate job, we can raise the money more quick than if we all worked at the same job."

I shrugged. Sarah looked at John and me. "I like trading what we don't need and working the rest off."

"Okay," said John and I simultaneously.

"What are we going to trade?" I asked.

"I thought you knew that," Sarah replied.

"Well...."

"We could give them our jewelry.”

We both looked at John.

"I have a necklace, just a gold chain, worth about 20 bucks. And that toe ring that I don't especially like is worth about 15 bucks," I offered.

"That's a start," said John. "I've got a few rings my friends gave me that I am never going to wear. They're worth about, um, 10 bucks, maybe $15. Sarah?"

"Yeah, I've got some earrings that are probably worth 10 bucks."

I mentally did the math, and we had somehow raised $70 in 20th century value.

"Guys, this stuff is worth $70 in the 20th century, but here and now I have no idea. On the other hand, horses in the 20th century would have cost $2000, and we're getting them for $25 now."

"We also have to think about clothing," Sarah said. "You and I, Shawn, need to get dresses...."

"No," I said adamantly, "you are not getting me into one of those hoop skirt things and a corset. I'm sorry, but I can't handle that. You can wear one, but I'm not. And yes, that's my final answer."

"Shawn...."

"No!"

"Ok, ladies, back to business. I can probably get a job around here. Sarah, you're good at babysitting. Shawn, I don't know what you're going to do since you refuse to wear a dress."

I thought about it for a minute. Where would I find a good job?

"I can cook. I could become a cook. And that would also provide us with food for the week."

John nodded, and Sarah reluctantly said yes. It was settled. We would find our own jobs, earn as much as we could, then meet back at the stables in a week. First, however, we told the blacksmith of our plan. John had brought up the point that we should take our jewelry to a jeweler and get the money there, and keep it safe somewhere. The blacksmith did have a job for John, cleaning out stalls. He agreed somewhat reluctantly to hold the horses for a week. I asked the blacksmith if our luggage could stay there. He said yes as long as they didn't get into any trouble. Just as we were leaving, he asked what name to leave the horses under.

I looked at John.

"Gershwin."

We quickly left without any further questions. We left the stables for the nearest jeweler’s, two blocks away.

"You do know that Gershwin is a somewhat New York name, right?" Sarah asked. John froze. We giggled and pulled him along with us, continuing down the street toward our destination. I remembered to bring the bag of apples along with me in case we got hungry.