“Everyone needs something that makes them happy, something not driven by profit. Well, ladies, I am glad we could share the day, me on horseback, you all in the car. Best I get back home, but don’t forget a day on the Chesapeake?” He slightly bowed then turned to go.
“No one can fault his manners,” Kathleen remarked.
“As long as he doesn’t try to sell me jewelry, I’m fine.” Yvonne smiled sardonically.
One by one, the thrilled hunters finally did leave, driving back to their barns and homes, filled with wonderment at their unique experience.
Weevil and Tootie left early to take the hounds to the kennels.
Gray left with his brother to see the new mare at Crawford’s, the stunning Sugar.
Sister drove the trailer while Betty rode shotgun. As they pulled into the Roughneck Farm driveway off the old state road, another sign was tacked to a telephone pole: “Stop Bloodsports.”
Next to this, side by side, a large photo of a youngish man, big black letters underneath the photo: “Elect Jordan Standish.”
Sister slowed. “What the hell is this?”
“I have no idea but I bet we find out.”
In the kennel, everyone fed, boys in their side, girls in theirs, Weevil and Tootie finished up their chores.
Barmaid snuggled next to Tootie on the raised bench, warm air from the overhead vent, but not too warm, wafting over the girls.
Barmaid licked Tootie then put her head on Tootie’s back. “This is the best day of my life.”
CHAPTER 11
February 16, 2020 Sunday
The Episcopal church at Greenwood was the church of the Langhorne family, the family famous for the four beautiful daughters, one of whom became the first woman to serve in England’s Parliament, Nancy Astor. Lady Astor was also a terrific horsewoman, as were her sisters, Phyllis being quite famous for her skills. Irene became the Gibson Girl, the personification of the “New Woman.” Nora, also beautiful, lived a quieter life. Beautiful, hard-riding women drew attention in the hunt field. Almost a century later their exploits were remembered in the United States and Great Britain. They were the kind of women Sir Alfred Munnings painted, the sheen of their skills apparent.
Driving home from the service, the air cold but clear, Sister turned for the Lorillard place, knowing Gray, Sam, and Aunt Daniella would be there, having gone to their church service together.
She knocked on the back door, as an old friend would do. Sam opened the mudroom door for her. They walked through the kitchen door to the warmth of the old wood-burning stove, its iron potbelly looking as though it had had a good meal.
Uncle Yancy watched them from his perch over the kitchen door. Flattened on the ledge over that door, the spoiled fox was missed by the humans, despite the whiff of fox scent. They attributed it to the old towels in the corner, thinking they had old cologne smell, even old washed-out dirt. Uncle Yancy lived quite well.
“The gang’s all here.” Sister smiled, for Yvonne was also there. “Yvonne, aren’t you Catholic?”
“I am. I went to mass and like you dropped by here.”
“We know where the good times are.” Sister walked across the shiny old kitchen floor, the original, to kiss Aunt Daniella on the cheek, then Yvonne. Ladies in Virginia believe in kissing, so Yvonne had adjusted but she still sometimes raised her shoulders and grinned.
“Sit down here,” Aunt Daniella ordered.
“I will but first let me put this in the fridge, shepherd’s pie. Perfect for a cold day, and boy, it’s cold.”
“Good sermon?” Sam asked.
“Was. How about yours?”
He sat by the stove. “All those Sundays after Epiphany. I lose count. What really gets me is shifting the calendar to the Gregorian.” He looked to Yvonne, sitting next to him. “These chairs are old kitchen chairs. Wouldn’t you all rather be in the living room with the big fireplace?”
“Not a bad idea.” Gray rose, preceded them into the living room, threw more logs on that fire.
The fireplaces helped cut the electric bill. The odor of pearwood, cured hardwoods, wonderful odors, made one relax and breathe deeply.
Sam walked Aunt Daniella to her favorite chair while Gray brought her drink. Sam then attended to everyone else’s drinks. Although an alcoholic he had no trouble smelling liquor, creating mixed drinks. He poured himself a tonic water with lime, one for Sister, too, and joined the others, who had encapsulated the sermons they heard.
“See the news this morning?” Aunt Daniella asked.
“No. I was tired from yesterday and overslept. What is the outrage du jour?” Sister smiled slyly.
“Not so much outrage, for which I am grateful, but the man killed at Showoff Stables was Parker Bell.”
“Really?” Sister’s eyebrows raised.
“Maybe he had it coming.” Sam shrugged. “That’s the creep that kicked Trinity then Weevil, right?”
“Yes. Ben later told us his name. He took statements to have a record should there be any legal proceedings.”
“For what?” Yvonne wondered.
“Trespassing. That’s what he was shouting about. We sat, oh, seventy yards behind one of the paddocks. I didn’t go down those lanes because you could hear him screaming about trespassing. Weevil kept his cool. Well, anyone know how he was killed?” Sister was curious but figured Parker Bell got his due.
“Strangled with a lead shank, a brand-new Fennell’s lead shank, the commentator reported.”
Aunt Daniella filled in, “Here’s the strange part. His right forefinger and second finger had been cut off at the first knuckle, the wound long healed. They discovered this when they removed his gloves.”
“Probably an old accident. Farm work is dangerous,” Gray wisely noted. “I think, too, many of those workers or anyone’s workers do odd jobs for others for cash. One gets injured over years of labor.”
“Oh, remember when Yugoslavia blew up after Tito died?” Sister thought back as the others nodded. “It was Muslim vs. Christian. I’m sure there were other hatreds as well but that was the one that made the news over and over again. It was quite savage.”
“There is such a thing as an enlightened dictator, and I guess Marshall Tito was one. When he was alive nothing like that happened.” Aunt Daniella relished her bourbon. “If there isn’t some unifying principle or strongman, things fly apart.”
“In our case the unifying principle is the Constitution,” Sam offered.
“We hope.” Yvonne smiled, as she had her doubts that people even read the Constitution anymore.
“Well, we took you off the track,” Gray apologized.
“That’s what happens when we all get together.” Sister opened her hands, palms up. “We are all over the map.”
“Then let’s go back to the former Yugoslavia.” Sam untied his shoes, slipping them off.
“Lots of killing. I saw a photo, it was in The Manchester Guardian newspaper. I remember that and it showed Christian dead soldiers, facedown. Their forefinger and second finger had been cut off. Everyone.”
“Why mutilate a corpse?” Yvonne shook her head lightly.
“You keep hating them after they’re dead.” Gray was right about that. “That’s why law enforcement people study the victim as they do. Was it a clean killing? Get them out of the way. Or was it hate?”
“Gross but human, I guess.” Sister then added, “The point of the mutilation was that they couldn’t make the sign of the cross. Also a signal to other Christians that the Muslims would give them no quarter. This hatred was well repaid by the Christians when they got their hands on any Muslims. Never ends, does it?”
“No,” Yvonne said with finality.