Beyond the Fortuneteller's Tent by Kristy Tate

Author:Kristy Tate [Tate, Kristy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

Garret looked worse than she felt. He sat in the carriage and stared out the window with lowered eyebrows. He had one leg crossed over the other and the top leg swung like a pendulum. Petra sat across from him, carefully avoiding his boot.

Carriages looked romantic with their velvet interiors and gold gilded paneling, but they smelled of horse poop and bumped and jostled over every rock and pothole. Petra and Garret bounced toward the manor in uneasy, teeth-rattling silence.

Until they stopped.

Garret reached forward and pounded on the dash. “I say, Fritz, how now?”

When Fritz didn’t respond, Garret pushed back the curtain that separated the cabin from the driver’s perch. No Fritz. Garret muttered a curse that she’d never heard before, but because it must have been bad, he gave her a sideways look and muttered an apology.

Seconds later Fritz appeared at the carriage door holding a large metal contraption in his hand. Garret asked what Petra was wondering. “What is that?”

A pink tinge stained Fritz’s neck. “I beg your pardon sir, this is an axle.” He cleared his throat. “A broken axle, to be more exact.”

“Well, by faith, fix it.”

The pink tinge moved to Fritz’s cheeks. “I haven’t the proper tools with me, sir.” He looked balefully at the contraption.

Garret pushed out of the carriage, and Petra watched through the window. “Then how will we get home?” Garret demanded.

“It’s not far,” Petra said, considering her satin shoes and wondering how they’d hold up in a cow pasture before she said, “We could walk.”

“Walk?” Garret’s expression said he wouldn’t have been more surprised if she had suggested they turned themselves into birds and fly across the field.

She saw the towers of Pennington Place on the other side of the hill. It wouldn’t take long. She’d walked much farther last night. “It’s right there.”

“Walk through the field? With the cows?” Petra smiled because he looked so much like Kyle when he’d been told he had to drive his Uncle Billy’s Oldsmobile to school because his Volvo needed an oil change.

She pulled her lips down, attempting to look serious. “Well, they won’t hurt us, will they?”

“They’re filthy.”

“But slow, right?” She didn’t know anything about cows, but the ones on the cheese commercials always seemed good-natured.

The pink dominated Fritz’s face. Sweat ran down his forehead and he pulled at his collar. He’s hiding something, Petra thought. But why?

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