It was a warm morning breeze that blew thin white curtains out from a second story wooden window. A small framed fifteen year old girl turned over in her bed toward the familiar smell of the country air. She imagined that this must have been what it was like for her mother when she was a girl; waking up to the smell of magnolias and honeysuckles floating in on a light breeze, yes, it must've been marvelous. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared toward the bright blue sky outside the window; with a sigh she reflected on the stories her mother had told her of the old south, stories that enchanted her beyond any she had heard before. The red earth beneath this house held so much charm in its day, blood-colored after rains, cracked brick in droughts, and all the cotton that could ever be picked, yes, it was the best and most charming plantation in the entire county. The young girl blushed in remembrance of her mother's playful words about the adventures of being a belle, having men swooning over her day and night, and the parties, oh the parties her mother depicted were almost indescribable. Oh how she wished she could have been a part of it all, but when she longs for her own memories of the placid and chivalrous time of beaus and belles she remembers – remembers the stories of fire and cannon that disturb her mother's tales of beauty and grace. Her father's stories play in her mind at these times too, his stories of war and death ringing all around him – his only solace, at the time, being the thought of coming home to her mother. Her parents had not sheltered her as so many children were, if anything, they were always brutally honest with every question she had. She was glad for that, she thought of herself as blessed to have the parents she did; they adored her, yet they always spoke with honesty when they disapproved of her actions. With a stretch she rose from the white feather laden bed and walked toward her vanity. She picked up her blue wrapper and pulled it tight around her small waist, so small in fact, that even her mother was jealous. She sat before the vanity mirror and brushed through her long black hair. As vain at it was she loved admiring herself, a trait she'd received from her mother according to her father. She smiled to the girl looking back at her in the mirror; she had a smooth square jaw that looked much like that of her mother's father, her nose was small and thin and sat above a perfectly proportioned set of full lips; it was her eyes she most admired about her face. They were strong eyes that seared deep into people's souls, almost as if they could read hidden emotions, they were like her father's eyes in this respect; her thick black eyelashes shadowed a pair of eyes that glistened with a shade of blue that could only be described as the dark crystal blue of the ocean. A grin settled on her face making her perfectly contoured cheek bones prominent, she knew she was beautiful and she loved it. Her father, most of all, always let her know how beautiful she was; he'd greet her every morning with a smile and he'd bend down to her height and say, "Give your best sweetheart a kiss my beautiful Bonnie Blue." She was so much like both her parents, vivacious and short tempered like her mother, shrewd and valiant like her father; she was a compilation of both of her parents and very proud to be a Butler.
A call from behind the door jostled her thoughts back into the present. "Bonnie, are you awake darling?" It was her mother calling from her room across the hall.
"Yes mother, I'll be right down." She laid the brush back on her vanity and rose gracefully, as she'd been taught, and headed for the door.
Bonnie loved Sundays, because Mammy always made a heap of ham, gravy, and biscuits; far too much for just one sitting. She opened the door and walked down the long hallway to the staircase; the smells of frying ham and grease gravy were flowing in waves up to the second floor. Bonnie stood and closed her eyes at the top step, what a lovely smell.
"Are we making a memory Bonnie?" Her father smiled as he stood behind her with his eyebrows raised.
She jumped at the sudden interference, "Oh, good morning daddy. Did you sleep well?" She hugged him and smelled the scent of the stables on his newly tailored jacket; he'd been riding early again.
"Oh yes Bonnie I slept just fine." A hint of mischief was in his face, but she let it go. She knew her mother disapproved of the way she and her father carried on about their horses so she thought it best not to let Scarlett know of his morning adventures.
"How did he ride today, is he broken yet?" Bonnie face stirred with interest.
Rhett smiled and laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "Now Bonnie, we should never go behind your mother's back and do things she doesn't approve of." He winked, "But if I had hypothetically been riding this morning I would say no, he needs more time; hypothetically of course." Rhett caught Bonnie's chin and half smiled, then he headed down the stairs and toward the kitchen.
Ever since Aunt Suellen and Uncle Will moved two counties over Tara had become the Butler's summer home, aside from New Orleans and Charleston of course. Rhett had become quite passionate about breeding thoroughbred race-horses and Bonnie was his main enthusiast. Scarlett, on the other hand, had a very bad taste in her mouth about the whole idea of a young lady being brought up on horseback. Sure, she'd ridden when she was young but she'd never taken part in the dirty work that horse ownership included. However, Bonnie loved it all; she'd work for hours in the stables brushing, washing, and always riding each horse. This new purchase baffled her though; how could a horse take so long to break? She wanted desperately to try her hand at breaking him herself, but her father insisted that she stay away while he was working with the new horse. Bonnie knew she could handle him; all she had to do was actually be given the chance to try.
When Bonnie entered the dining room she saw her father sitting at the head of the table with a cigar in his hand, "Finally decided to come down huh?"
"Sorry daddy...I was just thinking about that horse." She looked at him wistfully.
"Bonnie, you must not upset your mother by speaking about this. You know what I've said about that horse. He'll be yours soon, but I have to break him first." He looked at her with a stern eye but she knew he hated to tell her no. She was getting angrier and angrier at his persistence with this rule about the horse; he'd never gone this long without caving in.
"But daddy I'm ready for this; you've taught me everything I know. I can do it I..." Rhett held up his hand to cut her off; she was startled at his anger.
"Bonnie I will not hear this. I won't have you hurt." He stopped abruptly, realizing the irate tone he was using on his precious Bonnie had scared her. "I'm sorry Bonnie; I don't mean to upset you it's just that I don't want to absentmindedly put you in danger. This horse is green and hasn't been handled very carefully by the previous owner, please forgive me Bonnie."
Bonnie sighed, "Its ok daddy I understand."
"Understand what?" Scarlett cut in as she strode over to the seat in front of Bonnie at the table.
Both Bonnie and Rhett looked up guiltily, "Nothing mother, how did you sleep?"
Scarlett looked over to Rhett with a disapproving stare, "I slept fine, thank you." She knew he'd gotten out of bed early to tend to that new horse of his; he'd never change.
"Good morning my pet, I'm sorry if I woke you this morning." Rhett stared into Scarlett's green eyes until she melted, how could she be angry at him?
Mammy entered the dining room and served the three of them their breakfast. Bonnie and Scarlett ate as if they hadn't eaten in days; for them this was normal and Rhett loved to watch. His boasting laughter rang through the house during almost every meal; he loved how much alike Scarlett and Bonnie were. Bonnie had the same spirit now that Rhett remembered in Scarlett when she was young; he loved them more than he ever thought one man could love anything. As they ate Bonnie thought about what she could do to change her father's mind about the horse, or if she'd even be able to.