Out Of Hounds

CHAPTER 36

March 14, 2020 Saturday 4:00 pm

Shaken or not, when hounds returned to Roughneck Farm at one in the afternoon, chores needed to be done. Each hunting hound had paws inspected before being sent to their kennels with a full stomach. Given the rain, no temperature drop but rawness, Weevil warmed up the food. The kennels, efficient, had a small stove off the large feed room for such occasions as well as for helping anyone in sick bay. Despite all, this had been a lucky year in terms of health. Not one hound came down with Lyme disease, bad sniffles, or deep cuts.

Once hounds were curled up in their bunks and the condos, Weevil and Tootie walked over the herringbone brick walkway to the stables. Laid decades ago, too expensive to do now, the brick had gained the patina of age. Rain or not, Weevil was glad for changing his boots into workboots, a rubber tread. Tootie had done likewise. The adrenaline of foiling Carter’s murderous plans had vanished. They were tired.

Walking into the center aisle, their Barbour coats dripping rain, they arrived to help put blankets on the horses, all of whom had been wiped down then left to dry off totally, which they did.

Those outside were brought in as well, although Keepsake didn’t want to leave his run-in shed. He’d hunt in the rain but he didn’t want to stand in it or walk through it. Finally, Weevil wooed him in.

Sister, surprisingly calm for a woman who had a Glock 30 pointed at her, finished up with Aztec. Betty finished, too.

“Well, let’s do the tack. It only gets more onerous if we wait.” Betty walked into the warm tack room.

The others followed, each carrying their hunt bridle over their shoulder. Then they walked back to the center aisle to fetch their saddles.

Sister advised, “Hang your saddle pads over the railing there. They’re all wet.”

Back in the tack room, bridles on bridle hooks, they worked, feeling the supple leather between their fingertips.

As they were too far apart to talk while bringing hounds back, now they did.

Betty, of course, started. “I had no idea. Not even a hint.”

“No one did, Betty. You’d think seeing all his new purchases year after year we would have figured out he had a sideline apart from antique jewelry.” Sister wrung out a sponge.

“So you think he’s been stealing for years? Art?” Tootie asked.

“Stealing, but I don’t know what. I doubt he stole jewelry, because clients would have sooner or later figured that out. Someone might recognize old pieces. You know, like the Erté ring Yvonne bought last Christmas. It wasn’t stolen, of course, but many foxhunters would recognize it because the deceased owner wore it to hunt balls. That sort of thing,” Sister said.

“He could have pried out the jewels, replacing them with fakes. That would bring a lot of money,” Weevil suggested. “It would, but the people he sold to, like Delores Buckingham, would have everything appraised by a local jeweler. He couldn’t afford it.”

“His jewelry ran to the thousands. Thirty thousand and more for those pieces with big jewels. True old pearls. Think of Antique Hunt jewelry, the stuff E. B. Stutts has. Horns, lovely gold stock pins, lots of crops. Some of it can be a thousand or more but most of it is affordable.”

Betty, using a clean cloth now, wiped down the cleaned bridle. “E.B. can find Jasperware. Do you know how much I want a teapot and creamer, sugar boat? Oh, I love that stuff.”

“Carter’s competition would have been Marion at Horse Country but he wisely left the hunting stuff, the expensive jewelry, to her. Although once he offered a pin owned by the late Mrs. Markey, of her racing colors, all in precious stones. But in the main he did not go for that. And shocking as all this is, he did have a great eye.” Sister gave him credit.

“What were her colors?” Tootie asked.

“Devil’s red and blue. But those were sold to a Brazilian investment group,” Sister replied.

“You can do that? Sell your colors?” Tootie was aghast.

“Yes.” Sister shrugged. “Remember Citation raced under that devil’s red and blue. He’s my hero, Citation.” Sister smiled. “Back to Carter. How did you all know Gray and I were trapped at Pattypan Forge?”

Weevil wiped his hands. “We didn’t. Betty, Tootie, and I had hounds marching toward the Old Lorillard place and they stopped. Just stopped. I could see how intently they listened and then they turned and ran back. I thought maybe they picked up another line. Once I got near I could see Cardinal Wolsey and Aztec, but I couldn’t see you all clearly. Knew something was wrong, then hounds blasted into the forge and he took a potshot at me.”

“For me, I saw Weevil’s horse ground-tied.”

“Same here. Saw Iota and Aztec. Something wasn’t right. All I had was rat shot but it would help.” Betty added, “Of course, we didn’t know who it was because of the black breathing mask, he was all in black with a black lumberjack cap. Hadn’t a clue. But once I jumped into the forge, he heard me and, well, you were there. So I knew he had a gun.”

“You all were incredibly brave,” Sister again praised them, overwhelmed.

Betty laughed. “It’s odd, Sister, but I have been more frightened taking a four-foot drop into a hard-running creek. Anyway, I had a gun.”

“Me, too.” Tootie smiled. “When the mask came off I couldn’t believe it.”

“Evil often wears a friendly face.” Sister sighed.

“That’s the truth.” Betty lifted her saddle onto a sawhorse to start cleaning it. “Think of those people who foster children or take in the elderly then steal from them or the government. The funds for medications alone are enough to motivate someone with no ethics.”

“They’ll cheat on food, too.” Tootie had read of such low behavior.

“Well, ‘Thou Shalt Not Steal’ is one of the Ten Commandments. We’ve been doing it for thousands of years.” Weevil took a toothbrush to the bit.

“Funny. I thought of that commandment days ago after a painting theft. I guess Sunday School was good for both of us.”

Weevil smiled. “Sure didn’t like it at the time but now I’m glad my mother made me go. You’ve got to learn ethics somewhere.”

“One hopes.” Betty sat down to clean the underside of her saddle. “You know, I’m exhausted.”

“Emotion does that to you.” Sister looked out the window. “Is this spring ever going to really be spring?”

“It’s only mid-March.” Betty reminded her. “Some years the forsythias have bloomed by now. Other years we’ve been buried under two feet of snow. The changing seasons, well, they’re changing.”

“Gray and I truly owe you.” Sister again returned to gratitude. “I hope I can find a way to let you know how much I care, how much I trust you, and…” She teared up. “…how much I love you.”

Betty put her arms around her best friend. “You’d have done it for any of us.” She kissed her on the cheek. “The hell with social distance. We’re all together, anyway.”

Weevil laughed. “You two could be a sitcom.”

Sister wiped her eyes. “Weevil, you could be a movie star. Tootie, too. I’ll spare you hugs and kisses, but when this is over, watch out.”

They all laughed.

—

By six everything was in its proper place, cleaned up, hounds checked again. Betty crawled into her unbeatable old Bronco and drove home to her husband, to whom she told everything.

Running through the rain, Tootie said, “Weevil, come on with me. No point in driving in this.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He ducked his head in his truck, a three-quarter ton, two years old, to fetch the box that Carter had put there a few days ago before all this.

Once inside her delightful cabin with a clapboard addition, she threw him a towel. He wiped his face.

“I’ve got a Crock-Pot Mom brought over. I’ll turn it on. I need to call Mom before Betty does.”

“Why would Betty call your mother?”

“She won’t be able to resist.” Tootie smiled.

Before she could call, Sister rang up. “Tootie, Gray made dinner if you’d like some. And Ben Sidell will be here tomorrow at two. He’d like to see us.”

“Okay.” Then, after declining dinner, Tootie called Yvonne.

Twenty minutes later she walked into her kitchen, where Weevil was stirring the pot. “Smells wonderful.”

“That took longer than I anticipated. Mom had a fit. I told her I was fine. I told her you were here, which made her feel better even though Carter is in custody. And I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.”

They ate the beef stew brimming with carrots, potatoes, peas, and parsley. Neither talked much about Carter. Done is done. Sooner or later the truth would be known. They talked about the hounds, about Tootie’s studies, about Weevil’s mother, who lived outside of Hamilton, Canada.

Finished, Weevil made a fire in the stone fireplace; laid in the mid-eighteenth century, it had warmed many people.

“Mom brought wine. I don’t drink, as you know, but she said you have to have wine, scotch, bourbon, gin, and vodka, as well as mixers. I actually have those drinks.”

“No thanks. If I take a drink I’ll fall to sleep. Apart from the rain and cold, it’s been quite a day. To make it more interesting, I have a little present for you that Carter found for me.”

“Carter.”

“He found exactly what I asked for, so crook that he is, I hope you like it.” He walked to his hanging Barbour, reached into the pocket, and retrieved a small box wrapped in silver paper, the ribbon being navy blue.

She took it. “Weevil, you don’t have to give me presents.”

“You’ve been a terrific whipper-in.”

She slyly smiled. “Does that mean you’ve bought something for Betty?”

He laughed. “Actually, I did, but it’s not the same at all.”

She unwrapped the box, lifted the lid. Two white pearl studs greeted her. “What?”

“Those are fake. You need them for hunting, as a lady wears pearl studs. But if you lift that little cardboard up, the real present is underneath.”

She flicked up the cardboard onto which the fake studs were affixed, placing it on the coffee table. “Oh. Oh, those are beautiful. Exquisite.” She beheld two pink pearl earrings, perfect pink pearls in size and luster, 8.5 millimeter. “Weevil, these are beautiful.”

“Hold them up to your skin.”

She did, couldn’t stand it, so walked to the mirror. “This is too much. Really.”

“You have helped me so much. It’s my first full year hunting the hounds. I couldn’t have done it without you and they will look beautiful on you.”

She put the pearls in her ears. Indeed, they did look beautiful on her, but then anything would. Tootie had all of her mother’s beauty with none of her mother’s vanity.

“Weevil, I like working with you. I like your gentleness and how you watch the hounds. You know what everyone needs and you’re kind to them, kind to people, and way too generous to me.”

The rain pounded on the standing seam roof. He pulled his chair closer to hers when she sat down because they had difficulty hearing.

“I ask you to give me a chance.” Weevil folded his hands together so he wouldn’t show how nervous he was. “You don’t date. You have your girlfriends from Custis Hall. I don’t know if you don’t like men or maybe you would rather spend time with a woman, but I ask you to spend time with me, and the pearls aren’t a bribe, that really is for whipping-in.”

An agonizing silence followed his declaration.

“My parents’ marriage was poisonous. And I saw the way men behaved around my mother. I…I don’t want that and I feel like I’d be a failure. The only good relationships I’ve seen are since I’ve been here, Sister and Gray and Betty and Bobby. It’s not that I don’t like men, but I have this fear, I guess fear and mistrust.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re honest. So I’ll be honest back. I know that. You hang back even in groups. That’s okay but not all men are pigs, and I take it your father was and is a real pig.” She nodded so he continued. “He cut you out of the will.”

“Mom will make up for it but he was awful, especially since she moved here.”

“I am not your father. Most men are pretty decent. Maybe sex-obsessed.” He laughed. “But decent. Do I want to go to bed with you? Of course I do. I’m not dead. What I really want is to hear you sing when you’re happy, to maybe breed and make horses down the road when you’re out of vet school. And I want to work with you with hounds. I know women say they can take care of themselves and I believe it, but I still want to take care of you. Don’t worry about sex. I can wait, but I hope you get around to it.”

She laughed. “I have no idea what to do.”

“Well, I can help you there.”

They both laughed.

She brightened. “What do you have for Betty?”

“Crystal fox-head earrings. I’ve been on an earring kick. Women like earrings. Marion found them for me. She’s been terrific, as has Betty.”

“The pearls are better.” She smiled, got up, and kissed him. Then she kissed him again.

He blurted out, trying to contain his body. “Tootie, I love you. You must know I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

“You are worth every breath I take. What is that line from the Bible, a virtuous woman is more precious than rubies? Change it to pearls.” Then he really kissed her.

That was all it took.