“Amazing.”
“Circadian rhythms. You’re a hunter. You know how important the diurnal rhythms are, the seasonal rhythms, even the phases of the moon. Right?”
“Right. I live by them.”
“Medicine reacts differently in the body according to the time when it is administered. But you’re instructed to take a pill in the morning or three times a day. The truth is, that might not be the optimum time to administer that drug, a drug, prescribed by your physician, that you’ve just spent hard-earned money buying from your pharmacist. And we sure don’t know enough to make the kind of outrageous pronouncements and promises you see every day in advertisements.”
“Now, would you like to know why I’ve asked you these questions, which have nothing to do with horses, hounds, or the weather for Tuesday’s hunt?”
“I would.” He smiled.
“A stray fact wandered in through someone Sam Lorillard knows, one of the alcoholics who hangs around the station. Ben Sidell told me this. When Mitch and Anthony picked up odd jobs delivering furniture for Berry Storage, Donnie Sweigert always drove the truck. Nothing too strange about that, but whatisinteresting is that those men only made deliveries to coaches or trainers.”
“Ah.” He held his breath for a moment. “You’re thinking this has to do with performance-enhancing drugs, maybe even recreational drugs. Have you said anything to Ben?”
“He’s smart. I expect he’s there ahead of me.”
“It’s deeply disturbing. Not only are three people dead, but other lives are being ruined. The chances of a high school athlete and then a college athlete making it to the pros are tiny, infinitesimal. But every kid thinks he can do it. Even more damaging, less than twenty-five percent of black male basketball players at Division 1A schools graduate. Graduate!” He exhaled loudly, which made Tonto stand up on his hind paws to make sure Walter was okay. “Here, bud.” Walter gave him a small piece of pumpernickel. “I guess every one of us needs a dream. I don’t mean to soundnegative, but more than a dream, they need a degree.”
“Not negative, just realistic. I probably have this fact wrong, but I remember reading somewhere that of all the college male basketball players, less than three percent will make it to the pros, and out of that percentage, most will wash out in five years.”
“Sounds close enough to me.”
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to say anything. That would be stupid, kind of showing my hand too early. This is inside our tent, I think. The finger points at Clay Berry or Xavier. Possibly Sam, because of his connection to the railroad station gang. From time to time Sam would help deliver furniture. I guess those who had any muscle power left took a job with Berry Storage from time to time. Makes me sick to think of it. I’ve racked my brain to see if anyone else could be doing this, using the Berry Storage as a distribution point. When you think about it, it’s pretty smart. Furniture with drugs hidden inside.”
His voice remained even, then rose.“Hard to think of Clay or X being involved in drug sales.”
“Yes. Well, I don’t know anything, but I have this instinct, like when I know where my fox is.”
“Your instincts have kept us all going.”
“And now I know something else.”
“What?”
“Professional athletes are on everything but roller skates.”
CHAPTER 35
Each time he blew the horn, Shaker’s ribs hurt, taped though they were. Yesterday’s rare day of sunshine was followed by more gray clouds this Tuesday.
In the far distance, the grand estate of Rattle and Snap, a Georgian pile, red brick with massive white Doric pillars, reposed on a hill overlooking its snow-filled acres. While it was exquisitely beautiful, everyone who bought it lost pots of money, eventually leaving it to the next rich outsider.
Sister, back leading the field, wondered if places didn’t have good spirits or bad spirits. Maybe the Chinese were correct in lining up their buildings and doorways according to their ideas of energy. Feng shui made as much sense as any other system for attracting luck.
The hunt club enjoyed a bit of luck as Alexander Vajay, owner of Chapel Cross, purchased a lottery ticket, one of the scratch kind, and won a thousand dollars. He happily gave half to the hunt club before the hounds took off this frosty morning.
Alexander, with his dark Indian skin, white teeth, and expressive eyes, delighted Sister and the members. He and his family had been members for only a year, but their exuberance, matched by their warmth and sophistication, had made the family quite popular.
Tuesday’s field consisted of twelve people: Tedi, Edward, Sam, Gray, Crawford, Marty, Alexander, Xavier, Clay, Ronnie, Jennifer, and Sari. The girls lucked out with a snow day. Two flakes of snow make principals shaky, the result being kids make up snow days well into May and sometimes June. It was one way to learn that one pays for one’s pleasures, but Sister always thought if a child had mastered the work, let him or her go.
They’d had a few good runs in the snow but nothing longer than fifteen minutes. It was one of those hunt-and-peck days, but still, anything beats a blank. The temperature nudged up to the midforties and then skidded right back down into the midthirties. Sister wondered what was behind it. Probablyanother storm, more snow. No one would be likely to forget this winter.
Shaker circled back toward the outbuildings behind the mansion. He might have a chance to pick up a line going in or out of the hay barns. The puddles in the dirt road were shining ice. The ice, close to an inch thick, could bear the weight of a hound, but not a horse.
Aztec, careful with his hooves, mistrusted the shine off the frozen puddles. He’d try to sidestep them, but too many puddles filled the road. Sister squeezed him on. He did it, but complained by flicking his ears back and tightening the muscles along his spine as though he was going to hump up.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I don’t like this,”Aztec answered.
“Oh, come on.” She hit him with her spurs.
“I’m doing it, but I still don’t like it.”He vaulted the puddle instead of going through it.
Fortunately Sister had a tight seat.“Wiener.”
“I’ll take any jump in anyone’s hunt field, but I don’t likeice.”He kept going, his trot eating up the yards.
This chase, out of a trot for all of five minutes, ended a mile and a half from the mansion, the fox ducking into the abandoned mule barns. Back before World War I, Melton supported a workforce of over three hundred laborers— men, women, and children. The main crops—apples, hay, corn, and some tobacco—needed many hands to plant, nurture, then pluck. All the old tobacco barns, built of heavy stone, stood, the lingering smoky scent tangible even to the human nose.
Mindful of Shaker’s ribs and his pride, Sister felt they’d been out for two hours, shown some sport on a dicey day. As he dismounted, blowing “Gone to Ground,” she waited for him to finish.
Riding on Showboat, she signaled him by tapping her hat with her crop. He nodded. He hurt more than he cared to admit.
The field, feeling the precipitous temperature drop now that they weren’t moving along, sighed with relief.
Gray rode with Sister as they turned back.
“What I most like about Melton is the mile-long drive lined with sugar maples.”
“It’s a beautiful estate,” she said.
“Did you watch Westminster last night?”
“Glued to the set. Loved the English setter in the hunting dog division. Thought the corgi was fabulous in the herding group. Course tonight we see hounds, terriers, and toys. And then the Best in Show. I guarantee it won’t be a hound, no matter how spectacular the hound. Just makes my teeth hurt, I hate that so much!” She laughed at herself. “I’ve half a mind to take my hounds to Madison Square Garden and really give the audience a show!”