As they had planned, Walter rode up out of the mist onto the far side of this low pasture.
She saw him out of the corner of her eye. On a horse like A. P. Hill, a stout handsome hunter, Walter looked so much like Raymond, she couldn’t hold back a tear.
She pressed on. A murmur behind her swelled and she heard a gasp.
Xavier’s voice came out of the mist. “Did you see that?”
Tedi simply replied, “I’m not sure. It’s too strange.”
By the time the field came up out of the swale, the schoolhouse now in view, a few riders were bug-eyed. Sybil came up alongside her mother; they were still cantering.
“Mother, did you—”
“Yes.”
As the pace again increased, conversation decreased.
Uncle Yancy paused at the door to the schoolhouse long enough for everyone to admire him, then he ducked under the stone steps into the den.
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum,” he sang in his reedy voice.
Dragon, there first, started digging. “Yancy, you push your luck.”
“Three blind hounds, three blind hounds, see how they run, see how they run—” Yancy threw in vibrato for effect.
“Come on out!” Diana called in as she dug next to her brother.
“When the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls.” Yancy loved the sound of his own voice.
“Good hounds, Good hounds.” Shaker praised them, then blew “Gone to Ground.”
Jennifer held Hojo’s reins. Usually Shaker took Gunpowder on Saturdays, but he wanted to see how his younger horse would handle the crowd. Handled it just fine. Shaker scanned the field, saw a few of them whispering excitedly. A few wondering whether to speak to Sister about what they thought they’d seen.
“Dragon, come on, boy.”
“Yancy! Yancy, you’re a coward. Show your face.”
“When I’m calling you-oo-oo-oo,” Yancy imitated Nelson Eddy. It was not a success.
Dragon blinked as he heard the “oo-oo-oo.”
Shaker pulled his tail. “Dragon, come on, fella. You’re a good hound.”
“Some of us don’t agree,” Asa barked.
Out came Dragon, dirt all over his face, to the cheers of the humans. He looked around at the other hounds, then at the humans. “I am the greatest!”
Shaker patted each head, sure to let the young entry know they could not have accomplished this victory without them. Then he nimbly vaulted up into the saddle, winked at Sister, called his charges, and headed northwest into the breeze, exactly as planned. By now, the cloud cover was overhead, but the eastern sky was still clear. The effect was dramatic.
As they rode across the beautiful pasture, rambling roses clambering over some of the fence, Bobby Franklin spied Raleigh and Rooster. Hearing the excitement, they’d come out into the pasture instead of staying in the woods. Bobby hadn’t seen “Raymond,” but the buzz reached him. He figured it was some type of illusion, but he did note that Walter was absent. Being an instinctual creature, he shut up. He sensed something was afoot. He became very alert.
As hounds weren’t cast yet, Bobby gave the field over to Kitty English, a reliable person, and rode up to Sister.
“Sister, Raleigh and Rooster are here.” He turned in the saddle and pointed to where the two house dogs, in their excitement, had revealed themselves.
The two culprits hurried back toward the woods, but too late.
“Those devils!” Sister fumed. “Well, there’s nothing to do for it now. Thanks for telling me.”
“And Sister,” he whispered, “a few people think they saw, in the mists, Raymond on A. P. Hill.”
“Trust me, Bobby. It’s going to be a strange day.”
“Okay.” He touched his cap with his crop and rode back to the Hilltoppers.
Hounds moved on, a little scent here and there but picking.
Grace, down at the waterwheel ponds, heard them. She’d been fishing when Melissa and Brandon, led by Walter, took up their position on the far lip of the upper pond. The soft lap of the waterwheel had covered the sounds of their arrival, but Grace moved away before they reached the pond. She crept back because they didn’t speak. Her experience with humans was they just had to yak.
As she silently circled them, Melissa’s horse swept his ears forward and back. He snorted, stamping his foot. She made a little sound.
Brandon whispered, “Pat his neck.”
They sat there in the swirling silver mists while the air danced over the ponds. Grace was astonished.
She stayed behind them until she heard hounds coming. Then she trotted over by the waterwheel and dipped down into the meadow heading back toward the stables, which were one mile away. Fishing was good and she wanted to get back to it, so she thought she’d run to the first den between the ponds and the stable, which was a large entrance on the creek embankment.
Grace usually didn’t mind giving the foxhunters some fun, but today she preferred fishing. She tracked across the ponds pasture, swallowed in ground fog, rubbed against a fence post, and walked along the top of a fallen log. She put down so much scent that if one of the humans got down on all fours, he’d smell it, too.
Cora had reached the waterwheel, gently turning, each large cup of water spilling to the pond below. The sound alone was better than any tranquilizer. She smelled the two horses and riders, then saw them. They frightened her for a second. She let out a gruff little yelp.
Diana came right to her. “Why aren’t they riding?”
“Don’t know. But they rode past the kennels at seven. The lady is very nervous. Let’s take the pack up ahead. I’m pretty sure we can pick up scent there. It’s fresh.” Cora put her nose down.
Melissa’s horse had quieted, but she was so frightened, he began to worry and jig a little.
Brandon whispered, “Remember, smile. Pick up your reins a little. Our horses might want to join the others.”
A smile froze on Melissa’s gorgeous face, moist with mist.
Cora and Diana loped along the pond embankment, then tore down the side of it.
Shaker flanked the embankment. He said, as much for Melissa and Brandon as for his pack, “You’ll get ’em!” He dipped deep into the cauldron of mist rising over the twin ponds, then he, too, dropped into the pasture, rivers of mist snaking through it, silver stripes next to green.
Within thirty seconds, horn blowing, hounds baying, the field reached the waterwheel ponds.
Edward, even though he knew Melissa and Brandon stood in the mists, was shocked when he caught a glimpse of them. Melissa, the spitting image of Nola, stopped his heart. He sucked in his breath.
Tedi, all steely resolve, refused to cry.
Ron Haslip, overwhelmed, blurted out loud, “Guy! Guy and Nola!”
Xavier pitched forward on his horse.
Sybil screamed.
Ken stopped, so all the horses behind him had to stop, too.
Walter, hiding in the woods near the pond, imitated a mourning dove. That was the signal for Melissa and Brandon to evaporate into the shroud of silver.
Raleigh and Rooster stuck with Walter.
Just like remembering blocking on a stage, Melissa and Brandon turned their horses’ heads. They disappeared as St. Just cawed overhead.
Chills ran down people’s spines.
Although hounds were running, people couldn’t help it. They started talking.
Sister, pretending not to see or know, said quite firmly, “Hark!”
The field shut up and followed her, but she and they could feel a force building, a long hidden emotion.
Hounds flew to the creek, which meandered into the pasture closest to the stables, finally feeding into Broad Creek not far from where Broad Creek crossed Soldier Road. Grace ducked into the den.