Homeward Hound

CHAPTER 4

Tired as they were, everyone rose at first light. Sister threw on her robe, looked out the window. Snowdrifts piled up on the north side of buildings and trees. Snow continued to fall now as big lazy snowflakes. At least she could see and what she saw were trees snapped in half, others uprooted, those being mostly pines due to their small root-balls. Snow covered each roof so if there was damage she couldn’t see it. At least, no part of any roof had blown off.

The old curving back wooden stairway led down to the kitchen where Golly commanded the kitchen table. Raleigh and Rooster followed Sister, their claws clicking on the worn steps.

Golly put on her loving face. “I’m hungry.”

Sister filled a bowl, mixing kibble with canned cat food. She put it up on the corner of the counter so the dogs wouldn’t get it. Then she quickly filled their bowls, placing them on the floor by the back stairway. She then filled up the water bowls, grateful that she still had power, a miracle considering the force of the wind.

Footsteps down the hallway pattered into the country kitchen.

“Scrambled egg or over?” Betty, who knew the house as well as her own, pulled a large iron skillet, number 5, out from a cabinet.

“You make scrambled for those who want that. I’ll make the easy over. Gray can make biscuits.” Sister pulled out another iron skillet.

“He makes the best.” Betty dropped butter in the skillet.

“Aunt Daniella’s recipe. I’m glad she stayed with Yvonne. Neither one of those ladies is a fool.” The phone rang, the landline. “Hello.” A silence followed as Sister listened.

The sheriff, Ben Sidell, informed her about road conditions. “Some of the roads are passable. The interstate has been plowed throughout the night. Slow going. Route 250 is being cleared of trees. Stay put.”

“What about Soldier Road?” She asked about a state east-west road on the north side of the high plateau on her property called Hangman’s Ridge for that’s where colonials, found guilty, were hanged.

“Clearing. Plows behind the chain saw crew.”

“Shall I assume no one has looked for Gregory Luckham yet?”

“That’s why I called. Obviously, no one could do anything last night. It’s still coming down. I commandeered a snowplow to get us to Chapel Cross. The board of supervisors was too overwhelmed to argue. Wires came down out there so Central Virginia Electric Cooperative is there. They’ve called in repairmen from other states. The damage throughout central Virginia all the way up through Pennsylvania seems to be severe.”

“Anyone killed on the roads?”

“Thank God, no. When the governor told people to stay home, off the roads, they listened. But a missing person means we’ll have our search team out there, so tell me what you know.”

“Started behind Tattenhall Station, headed south toward Beveridge Hundred, but we never got there. Picked up a fading line, which fortunately heated up. Crossed the road. Took the tiger trap and wound up at the large rock outcroppings. You know the place.”

“Den there.” He did know the place.

“It was cold but the weather held. The forecast was that the storm would come in after noontime. Anyway, I wasn’t worried, so after putting that red to ground, we headed west toward Chapel Cross. We hit again and ran within sight of Old Paradise, could see the columns in the distance and then lost. I have no idea why. That’s when, almost as if the sky had been unzipped, no warning, really, the snow came down and thick. The clouds were so low, you could almost touch them, but Ben, it truly happened so fast. The wind screamed. So Shaker picked them up, we headed back for Tattenhall Station. Everything seemed to be in order. I didn’t turn around and count heads. If something is amiss, someone rides up to tell me. We were all on so to speak like the hounds, all on, or so I thought.”

“Were people riding in twos or in groups?”

“Twos, groups, whatever. Heads down against the wind. The snow became so thick but there were no stragglers and Bobby Franklin brought up the rear with Second Flight. How he did it, I have no idea. Everything seemed to be in order.”

“What about the whippers-in?”

“They had moved close to the pack. By then we couldn’t really see. A hound could get swallowed up so all three whippers-in rode up close to hounds to make sure they packed up, but Ben, by the time we reached the chapel we couldn’t even see the cross on top. I could barely see Shaker and I could just see Weevil, who rode at the rear of the pack.”

“No shouts or anything like that? Anyone falling off?”

“No. Everyone realized this could be dangerous and everyone wanted to get on the road and home before trees came down, accidents. We made it to Tattenhall Station. I could see trailers once I was upon them. It was a blizzard. A true blizzard.”

“Then what?”

“Blankets on horses, loaded, people began to pull out. Shaker and Tootie got the hounds up. Betty and I loaded staff horses. Shaker loaded Showboat”—she mentioned his horse—“onto the hound trailer. Weevil rode in the truck with Shaker. Ronnie, Tootie, and I would drive back in the horse trailer, but before I climbed into the rig, Ronnie came over, upset. Now Ronnie is usually a cool customer, as you know. His guest was missing but the horse came back.”

“And he just noticed?”

“Yes. He said the horse was right behind him. He didn’t turn to see if Gregory Luckham was on but he said even if he were, he might not have seen him.”

“Wouldn’t he have heard him if he fell off? Or perhaps someone behind hear?”

“I actually don’t think anyone would have heard a thing because of the wind. I had to shout just to try to talk to Weevil as we crossed Chapel Crossroads. And Weevil really couldn’t hear me. If Gregory fell off and was hurt or knocked unconscious, no one would have known.”

“And if so he’s dead by now.” Ben spoke honestly, but he could to Sister.

“I don’t see how anyone could live in that blizzard. Even if he wasn’t hurt, was mobile, he wouldn’t see where to go. You couldn’t see the hand in front of your face.”

“Let me be clear, you or Ronnie last saw him where?”

“I last saw him with Ronnie when hounds threw up at Old Paradise, the columns in the distance. Then I turned for Chapel Cross. I didn’t look behind.”

“Did Ronnie say where he last saw him?”

“Around the same place. He couldn’t pinpoint it and he faults himself. No one was riding holding hands. He’s, well, you know, he’s beating himself up.”

“I’ll need to talk to him. Did he go home?”

“No. No one did from those last two trailers, well our last two trailers and then Ronnie’s. Everyone is here still asleep except for Betty and me.”

“Once he’s awake, have him call me on my cell.”

“I will.”

“Everyone else okay? Hounds? Horses?”

“Yes.” She hung up the phone. Betty, hearing the conversation, asked no questions, as she cracked eggs.

Sister hovered over the second skillet. “Betty, I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

She waved her hand. “I know, I know, but I don’t know what to do for Ronnie.”

Betty walked over and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “We’re here. That’s the best we can do.”

“When RayRay was killed, Ronnie and Xavier”—Sister named another of her deceased son’s best friends—“visited me. Came to the house, did chores. Stacked the hayloft, and then, as they moved through high school, they invited me to their football games, to their graduations.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s got into me. I hate to see Ronnie upset.”

“Ronnie and Xavier look on you as another mother, I think, and you, well, you love them. You think of them as your boys.” Betty smiled. “Your boys who are now in their mid-fifties.”

Sister, too, began to crack eggs. “Betty, where does the time go?”

“I don’t know but if I find out, I’ll go bring some back.”

Sister leaned over and kissed Betty on the cheek.

The smells were bringing everyone down. Whatever happened, they’d face it together.