Ewing, conciliatory, per usual, offered, “You’re right, Yancy, right. But then you foresaw much of what was to pass before we fought England. Perhaps it is in the nature of men to argue. Each man thinks he has a better plan.”
“True. Think of our neighbors who returned to England or fled to Nova Scotia rather than join the rebellion, as they put it. But that was clear. The wrong done to us was so clear. This, I don’t know. I was talking with Sam Udall. His focus is that without a national monetary policy we are doomed.”
“Yes,” Ewing simply replied.
“That is why your plan for sport, for shifting people’s focus, is so wise.” Catherine smiled at Yancy. “Perhaps their mood will lift. People will become more cooperative simply because the burden has been lightened for a short time. They’ve needed a good time.”
John, not a political bone in his body, paid little attention to this, but as a former combat major in the Army, he worried about future bloodshed. “Gentlemen, you know far more of the intricacies of this than I, but I do not want to be called to fire against my fellow citizens.”
Catherine reached for his hand. “Dear, surely it won’t come to that.”
“Let us pray that you are right, Madam.” Yancy leaned forward, a crunch could be heard in his knee. “What I propose is we host races, match races as done in England. An owner can pay a fee to run against a horse he feels is well matched with his own. Both owners must agree. We can’t promote lopsided races. As this is so new we would race only one day, let us say a card of four races, the last one being the highest contest.”
“Spring or summer?” Ewing inquired.
“Late spring perhaps. Early spring can be so wet,” Yancy replied.
“Where would you hold the races?” Catherine’s curiosity rose.
“Along the James. The Levels. We might need to do a bit of work but that seems the best place. The soil has much sand.” He took a breath. “Sam Udall knows the owner. Of course, he would need compensation, but I do think this is possible. I come to you because you own one of the best horses in Virginia. Reynaldo. If you would consider running him, I think great interest would be aroused.”
Catherine, silent, waited for her father to speak. She actually owned Reynaldo, Crown Prince, and Serenissima, a wonderful brood mare. Ewing, not ignorant of good horseflesh, lacked his daughter’s gift, but this being business, appearances had to be kept.
“You flatter us, Yancy.” Ewing nodded slightly.
“Might you express some interest?”
“I am intrigued. I will need to discuss this with my daughter, of course; she is the one training the boys, as she calls them. But I am intrigued and I do think your idea of some form of entertainment valuable in these times. We are spread so far apart. This would bring us all together.”
After he left, John, arm around his wife’s waist, said, “You shouldn’t be riding close to the summer. I wonder should you be working so hard now?”
“Honey, it’s only twelve weeks.” Catherine had known for twelve weeks that she was pregnant. “Don’t worry.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“What would you like. Another boy or a girl?” She put her arm around his waist now.
“A little girl who looks just like her mother, her beautiful, radiant mother.” John, not the most verbal of men, came up with radiant, which impressed his wife.
“You.” She kissed him.
Ewing walked back having seen Yancy to the door. Roger, the butler, escorted Yancy down to the stable, glad to be out of the house for a bit. He offered the walking stick for Yancy to keep, compliments of Ewing, but once mounted Yancy handed it back.
Up at the house, Catherine and John sat with Ewing for a moment.
“What do you think, dear?”
“If I’m going to run a horse, Father, it has to be for a big purse.”
“Should we win, it would bring people here to breed, would it not?”
“Yes. It is a good idea but I would like to see The Levels before agreeing to anything. And I want to hear about purses.”
“Yes, yes.” Ewing nodded. “I expect Yancy is trying to see who might be interested and then he and Sam will gather the monies for handsome purses. Silver cups, too, I should think. We can’t let the English outdo us on such a pursuit.”
John smiled. “We can’t let Yancy outdo us.”
This made Ewing laugh, then he stared at his son-in-law. “John, do you think there might be violence? Do you think you might be called should this come to pass?”
“I pray that won’t happen but yes, I would be called. We fought so long and so hard to free ourselves from the king. We can’t fall apart now. We must hold, find some agreement.”
“Ah, John, I fear fighting is the way of men.”
“Perhaps we can be different. We must be different,” John said with feeling.
Catherine, sitting down and sampling a biscuit for she was hungry, listened. “The solution to these competing ideas is to let the women organize the men.”
“My dear.” Ewing’s eyebrows shot upward.
“Lysistrata.” She giggled.
Ewing explained to John, not a well-educated man, about Aristophanes’s play in which the women go on a sex strike to knock some sense into the men.
John laughed, turned to his beautiful wife. “That would work. Yes, it would.”
The three laughed then Catherine, as though as an afterthought, pounced. “Father, if we do race, it will be Jeddie who rides. He will need quiet, good sleep. He does not have that under his mother’s roof.”
“Felicia can be strong-minded. Rachel mentioned this to me the other day.” Ewing raised his eyebrows again. “Jeddie’s situation must be more pressing than before.”
“Felicia wants him out of the house so she’s pushing him to get married. That’s what I think,” Catherine posited.
“I see. Well, he is of an age. What is he now?”
“Nineteen, Father.”
“Ah yes.” A smile spread across Ewing’s face. “No girl in sight?”