Back in the kitchen by five, she checked the outside thermometer: twenty-seven degrees. She clicked on the Weather Channel. The day, according to radar and a host of experts, should warm to the low forties, high pressure overhead. High pressure, theoretically, made scenting more difficult.
Golly leapt onto the counter.“I’d like salmon today. Andyou certainly look happy, happy, happy.”
Sister grabbed a can of cat food, which happened to be a seafood mix, and dumped it in the ceramic bowl—“The Queen” emblazoned on its side—then ground up a small vitamin. Golly stuck her face in the food as Sister finished sprinkling the vitamin powder over it.
Raleigh and Rooster patiently waited for their kibble mixed with a can of beef.
Sister made herself oatmeal. Today’s fixture was at Tedi and Edward’s, parking at the covered bridge. She thought about the draw. Then she realized she had to plan for the wind shift. She wanted to draw north, but if the wind wasn’t coming out of the northwest as was usual, she’d better produce a backup plan.
“God, this takes every brain cell I have,” she said aloud.
“You can do it!”Raleigh encouraged her.“Think of allthat good energy you got last night.”
“Yeah, sex is energy,”Golly agreed.
“Why do people do it under covers?”Rooster cocked an ear.
“No hair, they get cold,”said Golly, who thought of herself as a feline in possession of important facts.
“Oh.”Satisfied, Rooster returned to his breakfast.
“If all else fails, I bet I can pick up a line if I head toward Target’s den.” Sister was drawing a rough outline on a pad. “But usually I’ll get Aunt Netty just above the bridge. Well, I’ll see what Shaker thinks.” Then she smiled. “Bet he’s in a good mood. Making love with cracked ribs might test his mettle, if indeed he did.” She smiled, twirling her pencil.
By the time she and Shaker filled the draw pen, he was whistling, and she was singing. They looked at each other and laughed.
Lorraine’s car was still there.
Sister didn’t refer to it, but she peppered him with questions on the first draw, the wind, how quickly did he think the mercury would climb today?
Finally, Shaker slapped her on the back.“Cast your hounds. Be alert. The best advice I can give you is what Fred Duncan gave me when I was a kid, ‘Hunt your hounds and don’t look back.’ ”
“If Fred said it, must be true.” She had greatly admired the former huntsman and his wife, Doris.
Being a huntsman’s wife called for tact, patience, and humor. Doris had all three, plus creativity of her own. She would sit in the kitchen and write novels. Fred would read them and wonder how he had won such a talented woman.
Successful marriages mean the two main participants enjoy each other. Sister and Big Ray had. That foundation of truly liking one another saw them through many a trial.
“So, Gray left at four-thirty.” Shaker’s lips curled up at the corners, a twinkle in his eye.
“What were you doing up at four-thirty?”
“Had to take four Motrin and two extra-strength Tylenols. Breakfast of champions. Couldn’t go back to sleep. Saw the light on in your kitchen.”
“I didn’t see your light on.”
“Got one of those little book lights, so I can read some.”
“Lorraine still asleep?”
“Guess we both got lucky, huh?” He thought a minute. “The man is supposed to be lucky. What do women say to each other?”
“If they’re smart, nothing.”
He laughed.“Good point.”
“You … happy?”
He draped his arm around her broad shoulders, kissing her on one smooth cool cheek.“Yes. I’m a little nervous, too.”
“She’s a good woman from what I can tell.”
“Solid. Shy, but solid.” He kissed her again. “You?”
“Too early to tell, but I’m—” She stopped. “—I’m waking up. I thought I was too old for all this.” She laughed at herself.
“Not you.”
“You haven’t said one word about Gray being African American, black, colored, a person of color, take your pick.”
“I’d like to think those days are over.”
“I do, too. For us maybe they are, except the fact that I brought it up means the worries are still in me. Not like they would have been thirty years ago.” She paused, then spoke with a controlled vengeance. “God, we’re stupid. So bloody stupid. Do you think any of those beautiful hounds cares if another one is tricolor or red or black and tan? I hate it.”
“Ever wonder what it would be like if the situation were reversed? Wake up one morning and you’re black?”
“I’d slap the first silly bastard who mistreated me. Guess I wouldn’t get far in this life.”
Shaker, a thoughtful man, a deeply feeling man, softly replied,“If I was born that way, I would have been shaped, pruned, restrained to hold the anger in, you know, hold it in. All that negative shit, excuse my French, must be like a drop of acid on your soul each time you feel it. The only thing I can liken it to is sexual desire. For men anyway, we are taught to rein it in, control, control, control. One day you let go, and you feel like you’re flying.”
“I thought women were the ones who had to deny their sexuality.”
“Mmm. We both do in different ways. Takes its toll, and you don’t know it until you let it go. But I think about what it’s like to be black in this country. It’s better, but we still have work to do.”
“The work of generations … about lots of stuff.” She smiled a small, sweet smile. “I think that’s why I like foxhunters. Half of us are stone stupid and can talk only about hounds, horses, and hunting, or worse; the other half of us are the most interesting people I have ever met. Like you, for instance.”
“Go on.” He squeezed her tight, then released her. “Let’s load these babies up.”
Once at the fixture, Shaker handed her his horn, a symbolic gesture with the significance of a scepter being handed to a ruler.
“Still can’t blow this thing worth a damn, despite your quick lesson.”
“Do the best you can and use your voice. They know you. I’ll get in the truck. I’m on foot, it might confuse them. Their impulse will be to follow me. But you have to use the horn when you move off. They will go to the horn, and they’ll go to you if you encourage them. We didn’t put all those years into this pack to have them fizzle out because I’m on the mend. This is a great pack of hounds, Sister. You love them, and you’re going to do just great.”
She smiled down at him from her mount on Lafayette.“Shaker, you can tell the best fibs, but I love you for it.”
“I mean it.” He did, too. “You can hunt these hounds. Remember, hunt your hounds and don’t look back.”
She rode Lafayette to the assembled field, Edward, the logical choice, acting as field master. Tedi, who knew hunting and the territory, could have just as easily led, but the field was large for this time of year; she didn’t want to tangle with Crawford or other shaky riders. Edward possessed a quiet sense of command. She readily deferred to him. Tedi thought to herself that it was better someone get mad at Edward than at herself.
“Gather round.” Sister called in the faithful. As she scanned the field, she couldn’t help but linger on Gray, who winked. She blushed, smiled, then said, “Our hosts, the Bancrofts, will again spoil us with their hospitality. Breakfast follows. Shaker is mending quickly. He’ll be backThursday. Edward is your field master, so you’re riding behind the best. Edward will never tell you, but he won Virginia Field Hunter of the Year in 1987. The hounds of the Jefferson Hunt want you to know they are going to get up a fox for you. And I’m so glad they’re smarter than I am. Let’s go.”