Chapter 1

Abigail Hill was furious when she stormed out of the editorial office of the River Bend Press. Never in her life had she felt so insulted.

The heels on her leather shoes echoed loudly on the wooden sidewalk as she marched down the street towards her little apartment. It was located six blocks away and was nothing more than a couple of rooms in the rear of a house owned by an elderly couple. As she neared it, the words of the owner of the newspaper continued ringing in her ears and it made her even more furious, if that was possible.

As soon as she was safely inside her place she realized there was only one way to vent all the outrage she was feeling. She desperately needed a ride on her horse. Whenever she rode Foxy, her cares and worries just seemed to disappear. She prepared for the ride by taking off her long flowing skirts and petticoats and changing into the latest fashion for female riders. They were called britches and made so that a woman could straddle a horse just like a man. They had a high waist, a zipper down the side and legs that ballooned out like a pair of pantaloons. However, they were tight around the ankles so the cuffs could fit into a pair of riding boots.

As soon as Abigail had donned her riding outfit, which included a checked cotton shirt, shiny black riding boots and matching cowboy hat, she hurried to the rear of the house where the stables were located. She boarded Foxy there. The horse’s room and board were included in her rent.

As she rushed by the side of the house she caught sight of her landlords eyeing her from the windows with a shocked look on their faces. Edward and Lillian McKensey were totally ancient, and with their children long gone, they agreed to rent out the extra space in rear of their house to her. She got along fairly well with them except for the fact that they didn’t approve of some of her activities. They even went so far as to call her scandalous, especially when she donned her riding britches, but Abigail didn’t worry about it. Instead, she just accepted the fact that she was part of the new generation and they were part of the old. That way, despite their disapproval, there were very few confrontations.

As soon as she arrived at the corral, she gave a loud whistle. Foxy, who had been at the far end of the pasture, heard it. The mare immediately raised her head, gave a loud snort and whiny, turned and galloped full blast towards her. It looked as if she might go right through the fence but at the last minute she skidded to a stop and stuck out her head. Abigail took the time to give it a quick rub and pat before throwing the saddle on her. Moments later she was bending down to unfasten the gate to the corral and her horse was trotting across the meadow.

Abigail could immediately feel the effects of Foxy not having been ridden for almost a week. She was restless and eager to run but Abigail held her in and reached down to console her with a pat on the head.

Once they arrived at a long stretch of flat prairie they were both familiar with, she crooned. “Oh, poor Foxy, I’ve been neglecting you recently haven’t I? Well, we’ll make for that today because I’m in need of a good run too, eh.”

With that she let the spirited little mare have her way. The horse immediately broke out of a trot and into a gallop. Abigail loved the feel of the wind in her hair and her face as her pony raced across the prairie. It meant freedom from all the world’s cares. Abigail spotted the wooden fence. It was low with only two rails so she didn’t even bother slowing her horse down. Foxy, like she had a hundred times, easily cleared it and Abigail easily managed the slight jolt when the mare came down to earth on the other side. After all, having been raised on ranch almost eighty miles north of River Bend, she was an expert rider. Her father always boasted he had her on one before she walk, which was true. There were baby pictures of her in his arms while he was astride a horse. Other family photos depicted her as still a very young girl riding a horse which was being led by her father.

After the fence there was nothing but open meadow again so Abigail gave the horse full rein and the mare took advantage of it. She ran almost full out for several miles. By this time Abigail noticed her horse was beginning to lose some of its friskiness. Also, they were nearing her destination so she reined Foxy in. By this time they were almost 10 miles out of River Bend and approaching the place where the town was said to have got its name.

It was at this point the Saskatchewan River, which had been running straight as an arrow for numerous miles, made a sudden and abrupt 180 degree turn. In addition, instead of wide, easily flowing water with low banks that were easy to manage, the nature of the river changed. Its banks became so steep they were almost like canyons and very difficult to navigate. Also, the river narrowed and the water started running fast and wild. According to stories about the town’s origin this bend in the river made further progress west almost impossible for settlers looking for suitable farm land. The only solution was to go miles downstream or upstream until they found a more suitable place to cross. Many of them already wore out from the rough journey across new land, refused to go any further. Instead they stayed right where they were and River Bend grew up around them.

Since this was Abigail’s favorite spot she knew the area well. First she slowed her horse to a walk then guided him down a steep and barely accessible path that meandered right down to the river. She rode Foxy to the river’s edge and sat on her back while she quenched her thirst. When the horse was satisfied she turned it around and let it amble back up the slope. But about halfway up she turned the horse onto a smaller trail that led to a flat ledge which overlooked the river. It was about 50 yards of green grass and s few shady trees that somehow managed to cling to the steep banks of the river. Below it was the rock strewn beach in which the river noisily boiled and rolled around and through. On the very top of the river bank a newly built road allowed the ever increasingly popular motor vehicles to follow the river. The ledge where Abigail rested her horse was 50 feet below the road and a secretive nook that she and her boyfriend often used for their rendezvous.