The Black Diamond

by Francis Brett Young

Next morning, Abner, who had slept well, was early astir, but no earlier, it seemed, than the rest of the world. In the yard below him the owner of the stabled horses was up and grooming them. He asked Abner to give him a hand and offered him a shilling for his trouble. ‘I reckon they’m going to make wonnerful prices to-day,’ he said. An opaline sky, covered with the faintest veil of mist, promised a hot morning.

The landlord of the Harley Arms had not yet risen, but the girls were sweeping the passage and setting the table for breakfast in the long room, and his wife was watching them with sleepy eyes, while she sipped a cup of tea. Abner joined her, paid the bill for the night, five shillings, and took some tea with bread and butter to the door of Mary’s room. He knocked and called to her, and she answered in a voice that seemed alarmed by his nearness.

‘I bain’t going to eat you nor the children,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be a fine day. How long do you want to keep us waiting?’

She assured him timidly that they wouldn’t be long, and by half-past nine they had become part of the stream of traffic flowing along the road from Redlake to Brampton Bryan, raising clouds of hot dust under the heavy green of the trees.

‘I don’t think the sun will come through, after all,’ said Mary regretfully, though the sight of the horses sweating on the road should have told her that this was fortunate. They walked slowly along the edge of the white highway, Mary anxiously pulling in the children to her side when swift traps or single horses, southward bound, came past them. It seemed to her that so great a collection of strong, spirited animals, which snorted and sniffed the air excited by the presence of strangers of their kind, was dangerous. What would happen to Morgan and Gladys if some sudden noise or infectious fear threw them into a stampede? All the way along the road she was looking anxiously ahead for the next gateway or gap in the hedge, planning ways of escape.

The children loitered, and it was nearly noon when they reached the outskirts of Brampton Bryan. The sky was still white. Mist lay cold on the hills, but the plain grew suffocating. At this point, where the traffic began to feel the backward pressure of the congested village, matters were complicated by an actual constriction of the road. Horses and traps were crowded together in a block, and the men who drove them looked serious and impatient. There was scarcely room along the side of the road for them to pass.

‘Come on,’ said Abner. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Can’t we wait here till they move on?’ said Mary, gathering the children closer to her. If she could have done so without encountering other advancing dangers she would have turned back. She hated this narrow, twisting neck of roadway.

They waited, leaning up against an iron fence, breathing the hot smell of the horses. Other people on foot passed them in a steady stream. Among these Abner saw the farmer from the Black Mountain and his friend the lethargic Jew. They appeared to be talking together, and thinking of nothing else, but their eyes were wide open, and when they saw a likely animal they would stop and ask the driver about prices or stoop and run their hands along the horse’s slender legs. They did not notice Abner with Mary and the children in the hedge. The block of vehicles moved on a little and was checked. The movement, slight as it was, infected the animals with restlessness. They snorted, and champed their bits; they danced with springing fetlocks and necks arched to the tightened reins. Mary pressed closer to the iron railings. She felt that she was foolish to be scared, and yet it irritated her to see the unconcern of Abner. What was his strength compared with the violence of horses? Again the block moved on.

‘We can’t wait here all day,’ he said; but she only shook her head.