Green Rider

“Indeed. Mud season is the bane of her life, poor dear, and sends her into a snit every year. We endure, however. It is impossible to find good help out here.” Miss Bayberry paused in front of a door and took a deep breath. “Well, then, child, we shall lend you a nightgown and robe after your bath. Letitia will see to the cleaning of your clothes.”

They led her into a stone-flagged room where yet another hearth merrily crackled with fire. A solitary window looked out into the garden. Sunlight filtered through its upper pane, which was stained in the deep hues of wild blueberries and cast liquid splashes of blues and greens on the slate floor.

Plumes of steam rose from a brass hip bath in the center of the room. It wasn’t what Karigan was used to, with Selium’s porcelain tubs and piped water, but in her present state, the hip bath looked heavenly.

Miss Bayberry pointed her cane at the tub. “Take your time, child. Relax—you look thoroughly done in.”

The two left, pulling the door shut behind them. The voice of the plump one drifted back to Karigan from somewhere down the corridor: “I think our etiquette has improved over the years, dear sister.”

The other made a muffled agreement.

Karigan disrobed, untidily dropping her clothes on the floor. A bucket of cold water and a dipper stood next to the tub. She ladled enough cold water into the bath to make it bearable, but it was still shockingly hot as she submerged.

Sprigs of mint floated on the water, the scent soothing and relaxing her. Her body quickly adapted to the heat, and her taut muscles loosened. Before she became too languid, she set about cleaning several days’ accumulation of grit from herself. Her long hair wasn’t easily managed, but she struggled with it till it was clean and fully rinsed.

She sighed blissfully and eventually dozed off. When she awakened, the bath water was still comfortably warm, and sunshine still glimmered through the window as before. Yet, she couldn’t help but think hours had passed.

Her clothes had disappeared, but the promised nightgown and robe hung from pegs on the wall, a comb placed on a side table, and a pair of soft suede slippers were on the floor below.

They do think of everything.

When she was dry, robed, and her long hair was combed out, the pleasant smell of mint lingered on her skin and hair. As if on cue, Miss Bayberry tapped on the door.

“Child, are you prepared for tea?”

Karigan cracked the door open and smiled. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Very good. Bunch awaits us in the parlor.”

Bunch?

Miss Bayberry, leaning on her cane, led Karigan to the most elaborate room of all. They sat on a plush sofa which faced yet another hearth. The sofa’s armrests were carved with floral patterns and hummingbirds. Sunlight beamed through a broad window casting the room in a warm amber tint.

The plump one, “Bunch,” Karigan supposed, carried in a silver tea service on a tray and set it on a table before them.

“We use the silver for special guests only,” she said. “Not that we receive guests very often, special or otherwise. Usually a wayward stranger lost in the woods. I trust you found the bath satisfactory.”

“Oh, yes—splendid!” It wasn’t a word Karigan typically used, but it seemed appropriate in this house of rich furnishings, and in the company of these two ladies.

Bunch poured tea. “Honey and cream? No, not you, my dear Bay. You know what cream does to your digestion.”

Miss Bayberry hrrrumfed her opinion.

Butter cookies, scones, and pound cake were served with tea, and while the ladies discussed the oddities of weather and gardening, Karigan’s mind brimmed and swirled like the cream in her tea, especially when Bunch poured a fourth cup which she placed before an unoccupied chair.

Miss Bayberry noticed Karigan eyeing the teacup. “I am sorry your other companion could not join us, but Letitia would not have him in the house. She was adamant.”

Karigan couldn’t take it any longer. “Companion? What companion? I’ve been traveling alone.”

“Oh, my dear. You must be terribly unobservant.”

“Or dense,” Bunch said, not unsympathetically.

“I was referring, of course, to your companion whom you call The Horse. I assure you that though he did not join us for tea, he is being well tended by the stableboy.”

“The Horse.” Karigan shifted in her seat wondering if the women were mad. “And the other?”

Bunch and Bayberry exchanged surprised glances.

“If you don’t know, dear,” Miss Bayberry said, “then it may not be our place to tell you.”

“Oh, come now, Bay. She will think us daft old fools. My dear child, a spirit accompanies you.”

A swallow of tea caught in Karigan’s throat and she choked violently.

“Oh!” fretted Bunch. “I told Letitia to leave the nuts out of the scones.”

Miss Bayberry struck Karigan soundly on the back.

“A what accompanies me?” she sputtered.

“My,” Bunch said. “She’s deaf, too.”

“A SPIRIT!” Miss Bayberry hollered through cupped hands.

“Please,” Karigan said, her back stinging and her ears ringing, “I can hear fine.”

“Ah.” Miss Bayberry crooked a skeptical brow. “You are accompanied by a shadow. A specter, a ghost, a shade. You know, dear, a spirit.” Her apparent ease with the topic was unnerving. “He follows you. You, or something about you, binds him to the earth.”