Countryside Ventures in Spring

Countryside Ventures in Spring

Countryside Ventures in Spring 

Warm blue skies, strung with wispy clouds, went on endlessly in the French countryside. D’Artagnan led their trek though sunny vineyards and endless seas of green landscape. Animals scurried about building their spring nests to an orchestra of birdsong. Jacqueline held her head back, with face up toward the sun, and closed her eyes. One deep breath held a mirth of spring’s vibrant bouquet — hay seedlings, farm animals, tree blossoms, grasses, and the moist earth. For a moment, she had almost forgotten the company she was in.

“Enjoying the ride?” D’Artagnan broke into her privacy. He had been riding in silence next to her, studying her for some time. Though clothed as a man, her extended feminine neckline did not go unnoticed by her admirer.

Opening her eyes, Jacqueline saw the enjoying gaze of the man riding a short distance from her. “I was until you interrupted.” Not liking to admit it, she had actually felt comfortable enough around him to let her guard down. She silently corrected herself for the slip.

Smirking at her comment, he looked back to the path before them. “I hate to interrupt your sunning session, but I’m getting hungry and we should think about stopping for lunch soon.” His playful gaze went back to her, awaiting a reply.

Knowing he was teasing her womanly behavior, she tossed the sentiment back to him in questioning, “Why do men always think of a trip in terms of meal stops?” Jacqueline really did not expect an answer. Then realizing the empty feeling in her own stomach, she remembered that in her diverted attention over d’Artagnan in the stables that morning, she had rushed out without eating. Lunch began to sound like a good idea. Uncertain what he had in mind for their stop, she gave him a suspicious look from the side of her eyes before succumbing to his suggestion. “Well, all right. Then let’s find a place to stop — preferably not under a tree still dropping pollen.”

As it turned out, Jacqueline’s caution, with regard to her companion’s intent toward her, came to nothing. In searching for a place to stop, they spotted a young farm girl digging a hole. Seeing the sight, the female on horseback groaned. She could see what was coming a mile away, and felt completely helpless to stop it from happening. The woman rider watched the shoveling girl stop to wipe her forehead and sob. She had obviously been toiling heavily at the task and seemed rather upset. Jacqueline stole a look at her partner to see his reaction to the attractive girl who stood in the ditch. Alarmingly, the feminine comrade tried to check the unwarranted jealousy she felt rising in her heart when she saw the handsome man’s eyes glued forward. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother her. We could take an alternate route,” she quickly suggested, interrupting his thoughts. Oh, how this man vexed her!

D’Artagnan’s response didn’t disappoint her, although he was completely unaware that he had risen to the occasion. “That poor girl looks like she’s digging a grave and would no doubt appreciate our help,” he presumed. “We could always grab a bite while we stop and help.” His pleading eyes begged to have their way.

Not liking the idea, but seeing d’Artagnan so fixed on stopping, Jacqueline nodded and rode along with his lead. If the man insisted on being a cad, she realized that all the feelings in her heart for him would never change him. It was best for her to let him be himself, and get it over with. Sighing, she also realized that since she still wore her ‘Jacques’ clothing, stopping to talk with this woman would mean she would have to put up her masculine front. Aside from still wearing men’s clothing, she had hoped for a day off from the pretense.

Seeing that Jacqueline was not too keen on his idea, and having no understanding of why, he reproved her. “Come on, Jacques, the woman’s working alone. She’s probably lost her father and has no one but us to give her a hand with his burial. I’m sure you, of all people, could find some compassion for her on that account. There’s no need to be jealous, my intentions are noble. I just want to offer the poor girl some help.”

Jacqueline rolled her eyes. “Jealous, you wish.” She hoped his statement was simply a stab in the dark and a natural reflection of is inflated ego, because it had hit disturbingly close to the mark. The irritated traveler wondered if her comrade felt that all women should be jealous for him. The thought made her angry. And besides that, he had called her Jacques while they were alone. If that didn’t prove that he only saw her as ‘one of the guys’ from the garrison, what would? But hadn’t she given him the impression that’s what she wanted of him? Oh, but why then did the man have to make everything she did or did not say revolve around him? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? The paradoxical behavior upset her. And noble, she further thought, why did the man think everything he did was so chivalrous? He felt he had to save every maiden in distress, often to backfire in his own face. Jacqueline would have thought all these ironies humorous had they not been so far away from home. She had come on this ride to relax and had no inkling for trouble today. “You really don’t know what she’s doing, you know,” she said, in one last attempted diversion.