“How much money did they make?” Gray asked.
“Six and a half million dollars. They also sold forged signatures of George Washington. Bill is a man of many talents.” Ben reached for a chocolate chip cookie.
“And a good actor,” Walter said.
“This is terrible for Custis Hall. It will be public record,” Charlotte honestly stated.
“They were clever. They might have gotten away with it for several more years if Pamela hadn’t thrown a monkey wrench into the works. There’s no way anyone could have foreseen this,” Gray said soothingly.
“No, but it might have been prevented if there had been better security on those cases,” Charlotte said, admitting her failing.
“Knute would still have been able to get into the cases. He was treasurer of the school. You trusted him. We all trusted him,” Sister said.
They talked, ate, considered why some people break the social contract and others don’t.
As people returned to their trailers to head for home, Walter asked Tootie why she stepped in front of Crawford at the hunt ball.
“I owed him one, Mr. Lungrun.” Tootie smiled sweetly. “He helped us when we were lost in the fog.”
“A debt of honor.” Walter, towering over her, dropped his arm over her shoulder.
While Tootie was with Walter, Pamela, Felicity, and Valentina had seen to the horses, even cleaning the tack using the five-gallon water carrier in the trailer tack room.
Sister double-checked the hound list at the party wagon with Shaker.“Good day, huntsman. Good day, hounds.” She called out to Betty and Sybil, “Thank you. Good work.”
“It was a good day, wasn’t it?” Betty beamed.
Sister gazed at the four girls, all together now at her trailer.“Shaker, it’s wonderful to have children in the house. Today is the feast day of Dominic of Silos. He was born around A.D. 1000. He’s credited with healing powers, especially about pregnancies.”
“Thinking of throwing a litter?” Shaker laughed.
“Ah,” she smiled, “my time has passed, but if I could, I would. Well, you can make up for me.”
“I don’t know.” His face turned red. “Funny how we hunt Chapel Cross and there’s St. John’s of the Cross at Little Dalby. And so many times the foxes will run to the little country churches. Guess they’re getting religion since those churches are full of dens.”
“Crawford has already broken ground for St. Swithun. The foxes at Beasley Hall can now worship. It will cost a bloody fortune.” Betty now stood with Shaker and Sister. “We haven’t talked, but Jane, I know what you have to do. I think most of the members will understand. He’ll go down swinging.”
“Well, we’ll get through it, Betty. We always do.” Sister paused a long time. “Funny thing about getting older. You realize every relationship you ever had, on every level, is always with you. The people who hate you. The people who love you. The people whose love turned to hate. And the people who didn’t think much of you and over time learned you were worth your salt. And then you think of the ghosts. Their feelings about you. I sometimes think RayRay is near.”
Shaker nodded,“And Archie.”
“Always Archie.” Sister named the great anchor hound they lost to a bear years back. “I loved that hound with all my heart and soul.” She sighed. “Well, if everyone is building chapels, churches, or cathedrals, I suppose we could build one.”
“St. Archie?”
“There isn’t one, a human one anyway. We could build a little one, would have to be clapboard, to St. Hubert. That would be in keeping.”
“Sister, I’ve got it. We build one to St. Rita, the saint of impossible causes,” he laughed.
Sister laughed with him, glad that life goes on, no matter what, and foxes will always run.