Aztec popped over but the seven-board coop deterred some riders, who drifted back to Second Flight. Hounds roared over the back pasture of Tattenhall Station down to the strong running creek before the railroad tracks. Sister noticed in the distance no cars were parked along the road. The protesters had been dispersed.
The fox, a healthy red, turned south and within minutes all were on Beveridge Hundred again, where the sly fellow made straight for the main house then veered off to Yvonne’s dependency, executed a confusing circle only to blast straightaway back to the road, where the cheeky devil ran straight down the macadam road for a quarter of a mile. Ruined scent. By the time hounds reached the road, the loathsome smell of oil and gasoline, not very discernible to the humans, fouled the fox scent. Sister, clearing the two jumps to reach the road, pulled up on the side. Weevil stood in the middle of the road, blowing his hounds back while the car followers blocked one end of the road. Tootie quickly stood in the middle of the other end. Fortunately no cars were about.
“Good work,” Weevil praised his hounds, gathering them as he trotted back to Beveridge Hundred.
Sister, following, thought they’d done as much as they could on a strange day. She’d let him determine the next move. If at all possible she did not intrude on a huntsman’s decisions.
Weevil, sensibly, chose to hunt back toward Tattenhall Station, where all they found were four deer shooting in front of them. Hounds paid them no mind. Twenty minutes later all reached the parking lot.
Once in Tattenhall Station everyone found a place to sit with food and drink, including the car followers. Elise bubbled with excitement and Gigi, less excited, was happy with his wife’s enthusiasm. Ronnie made certain to introduce them to others, seating them amidst a lively group.
Along with the day’s sport, the protesters provided discussion.
Aunt Daniella, head of the table, listened and laughed. “If people are out here on a brisk Saturday, you know they have nothing else to do. Then again, some people like to be upset, to have a cause that brings them attention.”
Sister happily dropped into a chair. Gray brought her Perrier with lime plus a salad. She thought she wasn’t hungry but once she ate a bit she discovered she was.
Betty, now next to Sister, devoured her macaroni and cheese, always a favorite on a cold day. “Have you all been keeping up with this virus thing?”
Yvonne replied, “Not too much. The information is conflicting.”
“Odd,” Carter simply said.
“As far as we know today, anyway, anyone whose health is compromised with a chronic condition or who just had an operation, or who is older, is more in danger.”
“I’m not worried,” Sister flatly stated. “Old though I may be, I’m in better health than most of the forty-year-olds sitting behind a computer in a corporation. I’m not going to worry until we are given clear information, and even then I have to ask, who does this really benefit?”
“Cynical.” Betty lifted one eyebrow, dropped it. “I am, too. It seems to me if there’s any way someone can figure out how to profit from a virus, they will.”
“Betty.” Kathleen looked at her.
“Well, I’m sick of if Democrats say ‘apples’ then Republicans say ‘bananas.’ Nothing gets done. Why should this be any different? Party is more important than people.”
“You have a point.” Gray nodded. “But we can hope the welfare of our people takes precedence even in Washington; that is, if this turns out to be more serious than we are presently being told.”
Aunt Daniella listened then added, “My parents were in their prime when the Spanish flu hit. So many people were dying. No one knew what to do but they carried on. That was probably the worst thing apart from wars to happen in the twentieth century. I remember in 1949 when the polio epidemic took over. We’d always had polio but this was a wave. Again people carried on. I don’t recall panic. Some people took their children out of schools. Kids did get polio in school but no one knew how. What I predict is no matter what happens, the media will beat it to death and scare the bejesus out of people.”
Freddie said, “Let’s hope the media puts news ahead of profit. Scaring people makes them money but I think all the media, electronic or newspaper, must live up to their true responsibility, to give us the most accurate information they can.”
Carter changed the subject. “We’re almost at the end of the season. Hard to believe. I’ll miss next week but not Saturday. Have to go to Charleston.”
“Lucky you.” Kathleen smiled.
“Clients. The shops on King Street could wipe out any profit I make.”
“Well, Carter, discipline,” Freddie teased him.
“Easier said than done,” he replied.
A beep snatched Carter’s attention from the people. He took his cellphone out of his pocket, stood up, and left the table with an apology.
Elise walked over to Sister. “I’m glad Ronnie wouldn’t give up until Gigi and I said yes to following the hunt in a car. It was fascinating.”
“I look forward to the day when you’re riding with us.” Sister smiled. “If you can take those jumps I saw at your show ring the day hounds ran over there, this will be a piece of cake.”
Sister neglected to say the show ring had flat ground.
“You’re a flatterer.” The newcomer smiled.
“You have all spring and summer. We have trail rides. We visit other hunts for their trail rides. I’ll send you a schedule. Well, Betty will send you a schedule. She’s our hunt secretary. You’ll meet interesting people. Foxhunters aren’t dull.”
Betty grinned at Elise. “Bet you already knew that.”
As the Sabatinis left, Carter rejoined the table. “Betty, Buddy agrees to the price.”
“Good.” Betty beamed.
“Then he told me.” Carter addressed the people at this end of the table. “We’d better make hay while the sun shines, given the increasing attention this virus is getting.”
Once the breakfast broke up Yvonne drove Aunt Daniella and Kathleen to Aunt Daniella’s, where Kathleen had left her car.
“Come on in,” Aunt Daniella invited them.
“Don’t try to feed us,” Yvonne suggested.
“I won’t, but we can have a drink.”
Ribbon investigated everything in the house. The Norfolk terrier had become Yvonne’s constant companion. The three women chatted a bit, talked about the hunt, the members, the breakfast, whatever.
“Well, ladies, best I go home and walk Abdul.”
“Are you worried about the virus?” Yvonne asked as Kathleen stood up.
“A little. My fear is that no one knows what they are doing.”
Aunt Daniella lifted her bourbon as a goodbye gesture. “Kathleen, no one knows what they are doing wherever they are, regardless of profession. It’s all bullshit. If we knew what we were doing, do you think we’d go to work forty hours a week and do it for somebody else?”
CHAPTER 28
March 8, 2020 Sunday
Standing in her tack room, Sister inspected the hunting tack. All was in good order. Church that morning, Reverend Taliaferro gave a sermon on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Usually sermons did not stray into Revelations or literature, as that was a famous novel written by a Spaniard, Vicente Blasco Ibáñez, in 1916.
She stepped out into the center aisle, all cleaned, horses out in their pastures, stepped back in, for it was chilly. Raleigh and Rooster stuck with her. Shutting the door to the tack room, she sat down at the small desk. Lifting up the top, it was an old school desk, she pulled out a notebook and a pencil. She liked No. 1 lead pencils, having good pencil sharpeners in the stable, in the kennels, and at the house.