“I thought low clouds, cool temperature but not too cold nor too warm was best.” Kathleen was determined to learn.
“Usually it is, but even on a good day it might take time to bolt your fox. It’s easiest when you catch scent of someone going home or, given it’s breeding season, a gentleman fox visiting a lady. You know, breeding, convincing a mate is a lot of work.” Aunt Daniella smiled.
“My feeling is, let men do all the work. I’m not chasing anyone.” Yvonne slowed, as a big jump loomed up ahead.
“Oh, when did you ever chase anyone?” Aunt Daniella teased her. “Fess up.”
“In high school. There was this guy in music class. I thought he was wonderful but he wasn’t interested in me. I was crushed.”
“Had to be gay.” Aunt Daniella laughed. “Before you have a moment, Kathleen, my son, so handsome, was gay.”
“Why would I have a moment?” Kathleen’s eyebrows raised.
“I suppose someone could take that remark as anti-gay. One doesn’t know what to say anymore,” Aunt Daniella remarked.
Yvonne laughed. “That is hardly your problem.”
“Well…” Aunt Daniella trailed off. “Back to high school. Was he gay?”
“He was.” Now Yvonne laughed. “We became best friends and he was the one who told me not to marry Victor. I should have listened. He declared a man can see through a man easier than a woman can.”
“I think he’s right. Desire clouds one’s judgment,” Kathleen declared. “Not that I have bad stories to tell. Harry and I simply grew apart.”
“Victor and I didn’t grow apart. I wanted to kill him.”
“Oh, Yvonne, no man is worth killing. I ought to know.” Aunt Daniella leaned forward, turned to stare out the now rolled-up window. “Listen.” Then she rolled the window a crack.
“They’ve hit.” Yvonne stopped, for hounds crossed to the west side of the road, bounding onto the southernmost part of Old Paradise. “They are flying.”
Back at Tattenhall Station after a hard hunt, for some riders, when their boots touched the ground their legs shook. The trailers had parked at Tattenhall Station. The hounds walked to Beveridge Hundred for the first cast. There wasn’t enough space to park at Beveridge Hundred, plus Cecil Van Dorn was in poor health, fighting a nasty flu. So was Edward Bancroft. The two were friends.
The usual wonderful repast awaited the people. There wasn’t one person who didn’t sit down. Fortunately the long tables accommodated the field and the gentlemen even with shaky legs did fetch drinks for the ladies.
“Thank you, sweetie.” Sister took her tonic water with lime from Gray, who damn the hour had a scotch for himself.
He left her after putting his drink next to hers so then he and Sam could serve Yvonne, Aunt Daniella, and Kathleen.
The fire crackled in the fireplace, for even though not a bitter day all had worked up a sweat, so on the way back the sweat turned cold, seeping into their bones. A few people took a chill, so that fireplace was welcome.
The drinks and food revived most folks, including staff, who Sister insisted come inside and take care of themselves first. The hounds had cookies, were snuggled in the straw, a few extra minutes in the hound wagon wouldn’t hurt anyone.
“The best! Just the best!” Betty glowed as she sat down next to Sister.
“Was,” Sister agreed as Ben now sat across from her.
Carter, next to Freddie, handed her the small box in which nestled the one-inch-square inlay of Artemis; the stone, onyx, was surrounded by intricate red gold.
She discretely handed him an envelope. “This will be prefect on my hacking jacket, the one I wear to breakfasts.”
“Freddie, anything on which you pin Artemis will be perfect.”
“Carter, you flatter me.”
“Simple truth.” He slipped the envelope to his inside pocket in his tweed jacket. “Great day.”
She nodded. “The weather has been so rotten. This spring huge temperature bounces, rain, snow, and too much of it, and now,” she snapped her fingers, “bingo. Terrific hunting.”
“Is. Buddy Cadwalder called me from Philadelphia. He says Radnor’s last few weeks have been terrific. Then he drives down to Fair Hill. Good hunting.”
“Let’s cross our fingers that our luck holds.” She opened the box to admire the beautiful pin.
She rather liked that the Greeks worshipped women as well as men.
Carter looked across the table. “Thank you, Master.”
Freddie echoed the sentiment.
“I hoped we’d see Crawford, even if in one of his expensive trucks or cars.”
Ben answered, “He is determined to find his painting. He’s called museum directors. He’s even called the director of The Munnings Art Museum in England.”
“Anything?” Carter asked.
“A few thoughts. The sidesaddle ladies were known to Munnings. Usually the painting was a commission. Some of the sidesaddle paintings, not the ones here in America, he did on his own. Fascination with beautiful women and horses, I guess,” Ben replied.
“He rode, himself,” Carter responded. “I’m sure I read that somewhere.”
“Couple of photos of him on horseback.” Sister supplied the information.
“You’ve been on this.” Carter smiled.
“Curiosity.” Sister shrugged.
Freddie piped up. “Maybe this really is all about money.”
“Most things are.” Carter finished his drink.
“Yes, of course, but something nags at me about Munnings, the time he painted. I can’t put my finger on it.”
Carter teased her, “Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself.”
“Oh, I’ll get over it. Ben will solve the thefts and that will be the end of it.” Sister smiled at the sheriff.
“Thank you for your faith in me. Whoever this is is smart. Smart and can convince people, is probably quite likable.”
Carter swept his hand outward. “Ben, that’s everyone in the room.”
—
Back in the stable, horses cleaned up, wiped down, blankets on, a bit of warm mash for them, too, as well as those delicious soaked alfalfa cubes along with flakes of hay, Sister, Betty worked alongside each other while Gray popped into the kennels to see if Tootie and Weevil needed anything.
“No more signs.” Betty noticed the telephone poles driving back. “The old ones are torn off. Maybe our disgruntled person has given up.”
“You know it’s Sadie Hawkins Day.” Sister remembered.
Betty laughed. “That means no bachelor will answer the phone or his email until tomorrow.”
They both laughed.
Sister asked, “Did you want to get married, you know, like it was a goal?”
“No, but it was expected of me,” Betty honestly answered. “When Bobby asked me I cried I was so happy. I picked the right man.”
“You did. I never thought about it. Big Ray chased me for a year. I wouldn’t even date him, then I finally did. We went to a production of As You Like It in Richmond. Don’t know why, but we clicked. So when he asked me one year later to the day, I was ready to say yes.”
“Maybe we should say yes more often to all kinds of things.”
“Betty, you’re right.” Sister rubbed Midshipman’s muzzle; he didn’t hunt today.
“I really like Sadie Hawkins Day. I like the idea.” Betty stepped into the tack room, glad for the warmth.
Sister, following, agreed. “I do, too. Why shouldn’t a woman ask a man if she’s so inclined?”
A devilish look crossed Betty’s face. “We should call Ronnie Haslip.”
“Only if you pay his medical bill. Heart attacks aren’t pretty.”
They giggled, laughed, threw out every single man’s name they could recall, just silly stuff. The stuff that makes you love people.
Back in the house, boots off, Sister sank into a kitchen chair. “I’m too tired to move.”
Gray joined her. “Know the feeling.”
“It’s Sadie Hawkins Day.”