Kasmir vaulted off Nighthawk. Middle-aged, a touch of a paunch, he hauled off and hit Parker smack in the face.
“You goddamned Arab!” Parker punched back.
“Goddamned Muslim,” Kasmir responded as Parker insulted him, then punched the worker in the gut.
While Kasmir may have been past his prime, he had boxed at Oxford. He was actually enjoying this so he crashed his right fist into Parker’s jaw when the large man doubled over.
Weevil, holding Trinity, frightened but unharmed, handed the sweet fellow up to Betty, who draped him over her saddle.
“It’s all right, sweetie. I’ll put you down in a minute,” she reassured the trembling animal.
A distant siren preceded the cursing. Alida had called the Sheriff’s department just in case. Ben Sidell drove down the main entrance, lights flashing, which of course caused more equine consternation. He cut the motor, got out, beheld Parker struggling to his feet, Kasmir standing over him.
“Sheriff,” Kasmir simply said.
“Trespassers! Trespassers!” Parker unsteadily stood up. “Goddamned hounds ran through here. These assholes ran through here. I want them charged with trespassing.”
The sheriff, calm as always, handed him an envelope, which he’d pulled from his pocket. “The Goodloe law. These people have the right to come onto this property to retrieve hounds. It’s the law in Virginia.”
“My boss will change that. He can buy you and sell you.”
Kasmir just smiled, for this field hand, which is how he thought of him, had no idea who he was or what he was worth.
“Here comes your boss now,” Ben remarked as Sabatini strode from his house. He did not look angry but he did look concerned.
Ben snatched the papers from Parker, held out his hand to shake Gigi’s, and with his left hand gave him the Goodloe law.
“Mr. Sabatini, I had hoped to call on you, but not in this fashion.”
“Scared the horses,” Parker sputtered, although it was dawning on him that this was not going to be an ordinary tribulation.
“Are you all right?” Betty asked Weevil, who nodded he was.
“Given the uproar, Sheriff, if you will permit me, I’d like to get the hounds out of here. For the record, this oaf kicked Trinity.”
Gigi, whip smart, knew the minute the name was spoken that the sheriff also knew the hound. While he was not happy that a pack of hounds had roared over his farm, he was shrewd enough to not wish to make an enemy of the sheriff. These hunting people had pull. He was the new guy in town. New guy with a big ego, but he was smart.
“Yes, go on, huntsman. Before you go, do you wish to bring charges concerning the hound?”
Parker’s face was now purple.
“No, Sir, I just want to leave.” As Weevil mounted, Parker’s dirty footprint on his side was visible.
Ben looked from Weevil to Parker to Gigi. “Mr. Sabatini, this place is beautiful. I can understand your concerns and I know that Jefferson Hunt did not willingly come onto your property. Hounds can’t read. If the scent is strong they will follow it. I’m sure the masters of the hunt will call upon you to secure any damages, should there be any. I realize you’ve come from New York,” Ben had the information before he drove down the driveway thanks to a terrific staff, “and I hope you learn to like it here. You should know that foxhunting is the state sport of Virginia and the foxhound is the state dog. I’ve given you the Goodloe law, which will make clear the rights of hound owners. I do hope this settles things.” He touched his cap, got into the squad car, and slowly drove out.
Parker bawled his innocence but Gigi turned his back on him without reply. He had some things to think over, one of which was Parker’s behavior. Gigi hired ex-cons. They were grateful and they were cheap. Unfortunately he had other things to worry about than foxhunters, but he did not want people hunting over his land.
Hounds reached Sister, the field, the woods behind.
“Master?” Weevil said.
“Are you all right?” she asked, for they all saw him get a hard kick.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Weevil, you showed extraordinary discipline and I thank you.”
Kasmir, touching his cap with his crop, apologized. “Master, I fear I evidenced no such discipline. That lout kicked a hound.”
Weevil piped up. “He called Kasmir a goddamned Arab.”
“I corrected him.” Kasmir grinned mischievously.
Alida, now alongside him to ride back, said as they moved off, “Honey, you let him have it.”
“If he had insulted you, my dear, he would now have no teeth.”
She smiled, reached over to touch his arm as they walked the hounds back.
Once hounds were loaded, the small field of twelve, horses tied to trailer sides, hay bags also tied to trailer side, grabbed their food baskets and folding chairs to sit by the tailgate. Everyone poured over the scene.
Walter sat next to Sister. “We’d better get over there.”
“Something tells me that fellow who I met at Kathleen’s opening will do better with another man. I’ll come along, naturally, but you carry the ball. I am sorry. None of us ever wants to run over territory we don’t have permission to hunt, and in a way, Walter, we are at fault. We knew a big show stable was coming in here but we didn’t come by before hunt season.”
“Two reasons: One, we have never had a run like that from Welsh Harp in this direction. It’s always west. And two, this place is now finally open and in business. Was over a year in construction.”
“Seeing it, I can understand why.” She took a deep draft of a hot tea handed to her by Betty, who also plopped down.
“Trinity is fine. Poor little guy.” Betty sighed. “What’s wrong with people?”
“What’s always been wrong with people,” Father Mancusco offered. “We are all God’s creatures and they don’t respect that.”
Kasmir and Alida joined them. He came in for a ribbing but everyone was impressed.
“So, Kasmir, they didn’t have anger management training at Oxford?” Walter teased.
“Oh, Walter, I’m so old, they didn’t even teach psychology,” he teased back.
“Do they now?” Walter asked.
“I actually don’t know. I will say, no offense to your university system, that studying with a don made me come up to the mark. I had nowhere to hide. Oh, plenty of fellows didn’t study, their families pouring money into the various colleges at Oxford, but I knew I had this one chance to learn before life filled up with obligations.”
“You obviously learned.” Sister adored him.
“I did.” Kasmir stretched out his legs.
Alida changed the subject. “How about another Munnings painting being stolen?”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Betty remarked.
“Those paintings, the smaller, are worth between six hundred thousand and eight hundred thousand. The big ones are worth millions, as in three or four million.” Kasmir had become familiar with Munnings’s work when he studied and lived in England, for so many of them are still there. His estate is a museum, The Munnings Art Museum.
“Sidesaddle,” Alida added.
“So elegant. So feminine.” Sister smiled.
“We all look pretty elegant right now.” Walter grinned. “Of course, you ladies look better.”
“Right thing to say.” Betty laughed.
CHAPTER 9
February 14, 2020 Friday
Standing in the bucket, lifted high up, Melvin Willis, called Willis, maneuvered the connector for the heavy optical fiber wire. The late-afternoon sun lent a shimmer almost blinding if one faced it. Oddly shaped, not quite round and not quite elliptical. The connection was necessary, as the high-speed fibers, thicker and heavier than an old normal telephone wire, had to be properly secured.