LITMIR.BIZ

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and I practised one last time on the evening of June 30. The hopeful winners of the horse races had moved their practice area to the same street where Peter and I raced, so we dodged flying hooves as well as steaming droppings as we ran.

      “Enough, sir...Ted,” Peter said, stopping to clean his boot. “We have practised enough. You are ready to run. I am ready to stop.”

      I untied the scarf that bound our legs, agreeing with him. Although Dominion Day was tomorrow and I had heard nothing from Joseph Morrison, Jenny assured me he would be there well before the start of the race.

      “He will nae come to town until late the night before,” she said. “But I know he’s a swift runner. I feel sure the two of you will win.”

      I wasn’t so certain. “Where will I meet him? How will I recognize him?”

      “If you’ll be at your father’s shop, I’ll bring him to you. The Three-Legged Race is to take place early in the sports program. I’ll make sure Joseph is there just after eleven o’clock.”

      “I’ll be there,” I said. “I’ve been practising hard. I only hope Joseph is as well prepared.”

      “Do not worry yourself about Joseph,” Jenny said. “He will nae let you down.”

       Ten

      The morning of July 1, 1871, dawned clear and bright. Not a cloud threatened to hide the sun’s face, the soft breeze carried not a hint of rain. It was a glorious day to celebrate, though it appeared that many had begun festivities the day before. All night long carriages and horses went past our house as people made their way down the hill to the saloons of Barkerville, and the sounds of revelry carried back up the hill until the early-morning hours. Some of the racers would find themselves with headaches today, I thought, wondering hopefully if the others entered in the Three-Legged Race would be among the sufferers.

      But I had had a good night’s sleep and, well before ten in the morning, I was on the platform with the rest of the Glee Club, waiting. At ten o’clock exactly a cannon was fired, the noise and smoke signalling to all that the ceremonies had started. We all sang “God Save the Queen” and followed with a rousing three cheers for Her Majesty. Then the politicians spoke, but luckily only briefly, and the Glee Club performed. After three loud cheers for the Dominion and much applause, the first of the races was announced.

      I left the platform and quickly made my way to Pa’s shop, hoping Jenny and Joseph would be on time. The Three-Legged Race was fourth on the program, and I wanted to have a few minutes to instruct Joseph on the best way to adapt his running stride to mine before we actually had to race. I also needed to change into my overalls and work boots. I had worn my good suit for the Glee Club’s performance, but my mother had warned me not to race in those clothes.

      No one was waiting for me in front of the shop. I looked up the street, then back the other way. “Jenny?” I called. “Joseph?”

      No one answered. The street was deserted; everyone in town was watching the events taking place on the main road.

      Not knowing what to do, I called again, louder. “Jenny? Miss Jenny?”

      The door opened a few inches, and a voice whispered, “In here, Ted. Inside.” I pushed the door wide and stepped in, blinking in the dim light.

      Bridget stood in the middle of the shop, hands on hips, face flushed. “Were you part of this disgraceful business, Ted? Are you responsible for this?”

      “For what?” I asked. “What are you doing here, Bridget? Where’s Jenny? Where’s Joseph?”

      “Take a good look at your Joseph,” Bridget said, pointing at the rear wall. A small figure stood there, his back to me, his head bowed. He wore overalls, rolled up several inches, work boots, and a large cap pulled firmly down almost to the back of his neck. Joseph was shorter and much thinner than I had imagined him to be. Well, I would have to take smaller strides when we raced. We would manage.

      “Joseph?” I said, relieved he was there. “We must hurry. The race will begin soon.”

      He turned around, and I could see he had been crying. But what was more important than his tears was the fact that he wasn’t Joseph. “He” was Jenny.

      “Jenny!”

      “Yes, this ‘boy’ is my idiot cousin,” Bridget said. “I hope you had no part in this scheme of hers, Ted. If I hadn’t been late for the opening ceremonies, I wouldn’t have seen her skulking about as she made her way to your father’s shop and wouldn’t have found out about this until it was too late. We would all have been disgraced.”

      “Jenny?” I said again, scarcely hearing Bridget.

      Jenny lifted her head. The cap was low over her ears and forehead, but a few tendrils of blond hair had escaped. In truth, she looked nothing at all like a boy. She looked nothing at all like a man, either, even though a very black moustache was crookedly painted on her face.

      “Oh, Jenny!” I said.

      “Can you say naught but ‘Jenny’ then?” she said, bursting into tears.

      “Crying will do you no good, girl,” Bridget said. “Although you’d be crying harder if I hadn’t found out about this in time to stop you and Ted from racing together.”

      “But I wouldn’t have—” I began, then wisely closed my mouth. Jenny was so obviously herself, even in men’s clothes and with that ridiculous paint on her face, that I would have discovered her deception immediately. I would never have allowed her to race with me. But now didn’t seem the right time to mention that.

      Bridget paid no attention to me. She spoke only to Jenny, her voice loud and angry. “It’s one thing for you to dash around town with the little twin boys, tearing about like a wild thing, though some people have been horrified by that behaviour. But Mrs. Fraser says you tend well to her children and will hear no complaints about you, so I’ve said nothing. But to appear in public in men’s clothes, to enter a man’s race—that is shameful. Even Mrs. Fraser couldn’t forgive that. You would have been sent back to Scotland, you silly girl.”

      “But Mrs. Fraser helped me,” Jenny said through her tears. “She lent me the clothes—they’re Mr. Fraser’s—and used bootblack to disguise my face. She said she wished she could—”

      “Then Mrs. Fraser is as silly as you are. She might have wild ideas about what women can do, but her husband is not so forgiving. Believe me, you would have lost your job once he found out.”

      “He wouldn’t have found out,” Jenny said defiantly, her tears forgotten.

      “You think not? Your disguise wouldn’t fool a single person. Within minutes word would be all over town. Didn’t you think about how Ted’s parents would be shamed? Or me? People would blame me for your recklessness, for I try to look after you.”

      “But it was nae so serious a thing to do, Bridget.” Two large tears rolled from Jenny’s eyes, sliding down her cheeks and lodging in the thick “moustache.”

      “You think not? You know I have a responsible position managing the Hotel de France. Didn’t you think about me, about how I could lose my job, as well? About how I could be hurt by your stupid behaviour?”

      Jenny’s lower lip trembled when she answered. “Nae one would have blamed you, Bridget.”

      I wasn’t so sure about that. The women of this town could be unforgiving, and it was possible that many of them would hold Bridget accountable for Jenny’s unladylike behaviour.

      Bridget turned to me. “Please, Ted, tell me you knew nothing about this. I suspect you didn’t, but I need to hear it from your own lips.”

      If I told Bridget that Jenny’s disguise had been my plan, then perhaps she wouldn’t be so cross with her young cousin. If I took the blame, then...

      But before I could open

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