I am the Romer

{1885}
Seated upon the heaving back of a chestnut demon,
Nostrils flared for midmorning air to bring to me fresh scents,
I jostled for every step and held my stubborn chin high.
A hat on my brow kept the sun from my eyes and tanned face,
As my horse's heavy-hoofed gate sent shivers of anticipation through my spine.
I knew my demon well and so, when he flicked one ear in my direction,
A grin of high spirits spread across a well-worn face and I dug in my heels.
Muscles surged between my thighs and I laughed as he surged into a canter.
My thoughts wandered over a life no Lady had ever lead--not that I'd heard of at least.
Born into the family of a Governor, I was pampered and praised and protected from the crib.
The excuse was always that I was "an angel" and "too good for work."
But, whenever I tried to put in my two sense, I was suddenly "just a woman."
I'd been very interested when the Father informed his audience that,
"Women are angels sent from the Heavens to watch over Man,"
Even as he stood idle whilst men beat their wives and daughters,
Or slandered them, forced them into marriages and even made them whores.
A smile of pride brushed my lips as I remember my first taste of Freedom.
Father had decided I was to marry a stupid man, though he himself was a man of high importance.
I'd fled my own wedding, stealing my would-be husbands best horse and riding into the horizon.
To my audience's horror, I'd stripped as I rode, leaving all my skirts behind me.
I ran a hand over the tough hide of the breeches I now wore,
Pale brown things tucked into leather boots.
I'd 'burrowed' them from a drunk not long back, but I felt no guilt.
He'd called me a whore, after all, and who was he to insult someone like me?
I am the queen of the West, the rider of a demon and, above all, I am the Romer!