Yancy laughed. “That would be a changed world.” He savored the bread. “Ewing, do you have any idea of the size or disposition of Francisco’s estate?”
“Large certainly. I believe most of the money is in the Caribbean, in her father’s bank. I do think Maureen knows. She is shrewd about those funds. Like you, I question not so much Jeffrey Holloway but the tone of operations on the estate. Such unhappiness.”
“Never found Moses and Ailee nor the tiny cook’s assistant. Waste of money to print the escaped slave notices.”
“She was a sweet little thing as I was told.”
“Ewing, given our problem with currencies, our difficulties with trade, is it possible that Maureen will be financially embarrassed?”
“We could all be so.” Ewing’s face froze for a moment. “The French, as you know, are falling behind in their payments to their military. I do not know if businesses are failing but I know ours will if we don’t create some form of financial authority. Must you or I create a different set of figures and payment values for each state? How can we do that? And if we are not consistent as a nation, why would other nations want to do business with us? For profitable business, funds should be fluid, Sir.”
“Yes, yes, I quite agree. Anything not owned outright is vulnerable, and how can one buy? Land values are uncertain. I predict speculators will be destroyed. If the values fall because no one can determine what is what if the value or currency falls, if the states squabble over tariffs, we are lost.”
“Ah, the chowder. Thank you, Henry.” Ewing smiled at the agreeable fellow who evidently enjoyed all of Mrs. P’s cooking. “Yancy, have you a bank you trust?”
“No. Given the shakiness in Williamsburg, I moved my funds to Philadelphia, and now I am not sure that was wise. Boston, New York? So very far if one needs one’s funds immediately. On the other end, Charleston and Savannah, also, too far. Richmond is improving but lacks the depth of men engaged in finance that the other cities enjoy.”
“We’re in a vise.” Ewing thought the chowder remarkable. “I wonder if those among us with resources should not attempt our own bank.”
This surprised Yancy, his spoon midway to his mouth. “I, well, our money would be close.”
“Money should make money. The question is who could shepherd the funds, guard our treasure, so to speak. She may not be able to manage her estate, but remember, Maureen’s father was one of the most successful bankers in the Caribbean. Shipowners, merchants from Europe and America trusted him. And he made them money, pots of it. I have always wondered how much she knows.”
“Yes, Yes…” Yancy’s voice trailed off.
“And would she use her husband to further her own interests? Could she hide, so to speak, and in hiding take everyone else’s measure? She is uncommonly shrewd. As to her current situation, that has nothing to do with financial acumen.”
“Whatever she told him, I doubt he could understand it. Jeffrey Holloway is a cabinetmaker’s son and he himself remains a cabinetmaker.”
“Let us both consider the dispositions of our monies. I have become uncertain. Perhaps if we observe Mrs. Selisse,” he used her old married name, “she will lead us to the right man or men.”
“Or lead us to hell.” Yancy exhaled.
November 10, 2016 Thursday
“Low to the ground.” Pewter sniffed as she looked down from the hay storage, windows open.
“True. Every dog is bred for something useful to humans. Beagles are bred to find small game,” Mrs. Murphy replied.
“Well, Tucker is low to the ground and I can’t see that Bubblebutt performs useful duties.” Pewter watched that very same bubblebutt trailing the Waldingfield Beagle pack.
“Herder. She nips heels,” Mrs. Murphy sagely commented.
“Nah. She does that to irritate.” Pewter noted the goldfinches flying in and out of bushes. “All that color. You’d think birds would want to blend in.”
“I don’t know. I guess wings make one superior,” the tiger mused.
“Certainly not. Cats are the crown of creation.” Pewter lifted her chin.
Below, Amy Burke whipped-in on the right front of the pack while her brother, Alan Webb, took the left front. At the left rear came Bob Johnson, who like Arie, the master, had such a long stride others struggled to keep up with him, apart from Arie.
Up front the radiologist walked, his horn hung around his neck with rawhide. On the right rear, Joe Giglia walked, whip with thong in hand.
Harry, Cooper, and Susan followed the beagles. The pack walked some Thursdays at Harry’s farm. She and her two friends greatly enjoyed the activity done near sunset. Chores finished for all three in their separate duties, walking the beagles provided a punctuation point for the day and daylight.
In the front of the pack of twenty-one beagles, Empress, a sturdy female with drive, per usual led her friends. The crisp air put a lift to their step. Each human wore a jacket. The harsh cold lurked about a month away but a jacket now was welcome. However, being right by the mountains one never did know. Often storms came up so quickly the weather radar didn’t report them until the fury was right on top of you.
Overhead, a whitetail hawk circled. Of course, the beagles, too big, couldn’t be snatched up but one could dream.
Harry glanced up to see the impressive bird. “I can never figure out why some raptors head south in October and others, like her, stay.”
“Pickings are good here and it’s her territory,” Susan said.
“You’ve been reading the materials MaryJo has given us for the wildlife group.” Cooper smiled.
“I have. I’ve always liked watching birds but now I’m trying to become knowledgeable,” Susan replied.
“Don’t you wonder what she thinks looking down at us?” Harry laughed.
“Bet any creature without wings looks funny.” Cooper noted Verdi, a beagle, nudging to the edge of the pack.
“Verdi,” Bob reprimanded her, for she could take a notion and scoot.
“I was just looking,” the adorable little hound fibbed.
Tucker stuck close to the three women, for if she’d dashed up front she would have upset the pack. They could tolerate other animals when hunting, ignoring house dogs, horses, cattle as they concentrated on finding and trailing rabbit scent. A walk was a different matter. Minds could and did wander occasionally and another dog might upset the applecart. A cat, especially Pewter with her smart mouth, would definitely break their concentration of staying together.
“Lot of game here,” Verdi whispered to Cyber, next to her.
“We can’t do anything about it if he doesn’t tell us to ‘Find a rabbit!’ ” Cyber groaned. “I even smell grouse. Don’t smell much of that anymore.”
They walked a mile out, along the creek, then a mile back cutting through the harvested fields readied for the winter.
Once back at the farm, all stopped as the hounds drank water, waited to be picked up and put in their small wooden trailer.
Cooper parked the black Tahoe next to the barn where the trailer was also parked. She’d picked it up from the dealer, late. Darrel dropped her off and she just ran out of time. She’d take it back to the sheriff’s department in the morning.