Рита Браун - Out Of Hounds

“No, but I heard the ruckus.”

Both Ewald and Hortensia eagerly told their story, which involved a human who couldn’t smell and who had left a bag of gummy bears in her open trailer tack room. Every detail was expressed: the tastes of the different colored bears, the round tin of shoe polish, the coats hanging up, the wind blowing the door shut. It was a good story.

As there was so much food at Mill Ruins, another fox wouldn’t create problems. In fact, another fox could add to the hounds’ confusion.

It was also a good story back at the trailers when staff finally got the still excited hounds loaded. Barmaid wanted to check out Freddie’s trailer but she finally did get on. Freddie, meanwhile, regaled whoever was around her with Ewald brushing her as he escaped.

Finally, the people made it to Walter’s breakfast, everyone laughing, beside themselves with what had happened.

The bar saw a lot of activity. Aunt Daniella, in a chair, bourbon in hand, announced in all her nine decades she had never seen anything like that, never.

Kasmir and Alida, with Yvonne, Ribbon in her lap, and Kathleen, covered the event then Yvonne inquired, “Anyone read this morning’s paper yet or see the news?”

They shook their heads.

Yvonne filled them in. “One of the workers at Showoff Stables was found murdered. Found at twilight by a Central Electric repairman up in the box.”

“Did they say who it was?” Alida wondered.

“Next of kin has to be notified first,” Yvonne answered.

The conversation moved on, as no one thought a worker at Showoff Stables had anything to do with them.

“It’s an impressive place,” Kasmir noted. “Carter, have you shown Gigi your jewelry yet?”

“No. You know, often when I hold the old jewelry from families, not all of them needing money, by the way, I wonder who wore the rings, necklaces, bracelets, pins? Jewelry is so personal and it’s not all women’s jewelry, men have rings, watches, of course, and for some even a bracelet. Whatever I’m holding in my hand was expressive of someone’s personality, their years,” Carter mused, grateful to be inside. “My work can be enjoyable. I see so much.”

Buddy stood in the group.

“Marion Maggiolo gets a lot of the equine jewelry, studs, cuff links, wonderful stuff.” Kathleen had seen Marion’s jewelry case.

Carter spoke up. “When I go to England, if I see old equine jewelry I text her. It really is her market. To hold that jewelry, to see the workmanship, makes her want to get the stuff.”

Buddy joined in. “I’m glad she doesn’t sell furniture. She’s too good at what she does.” He paused. “Kathleen, you have that good eye.”

“Thank you.” Kathleen smiled.

“It’s nice to see you, Aunt Daniella, and Yvonne out there. You must see things we don’t.” Carter spoke up as Buddy didn’t know what to say next to Kathleen.

“I do but I don’t know what I’m seeing.” She laughed at herself. “Lucky I’m with the girls.”

“You must be good at it. You’re driving a new, three-horse Sundowner.” Yvonne named his horse trailer, as Tootie had explained to her the various brands.

“How observant.” Carter smiled. “Ladies, I don’t have to pay rent on a store. I do not have any employees, nor do I have an employer. Marion has to be at the top of her game. Look how big her store is and loaded with pretty much the best of everything. I can carry my inventory in my pocket.”

Kathleen nodded in affirmation. “I hate to think what the rent on the 1780 House would cost me. Harry left me a wonderful store, living quarters upstairs and a good business.”

“But you give the store flair.” Buddy worked up the nerve for a personal compliment, being rewarded with a genuine smile.

“I don’t know how you can run a retail business. I couldn’t do it. I don’t have the patience,” Yvonne confessed.

Carter looked at Yvonne. “Neither of us has to predict fashion, but you had to show it off walking down the runway in New York. You had to have hated some of that stuff.”

Yvonne, still buzzed from the day’s events, laughed. “I had to wear some things, rags that I wouldn’t have used to clean the car. Fashion is a ruthless business. Look what happened to Halston or Yves St. Laurent. Poor Halston. He gets bought out then, in essence, paid not to create. Well, I’m not really creative, but when we were married I ran the media business with Victor. I began to understand the power of media for good and for evil.”

“You could still command the runway.” Carter flirted a little.

“Yvonne, he’s right. Oops, let me grab our host. I’ve got to find out where he bought the coffee.”

“He made it,” Yvonne informed Kathleen.

“Made it?” Carter’s dark eyebrows knitted together.

“He buys coffee by the burlap bag. Goes down to Shenandoah Joe’s and tests what they have then orders a bag. He and Alida entertain a lot. Plus he bakes, as you may know.”

“A man who bakes.” Kathleen held her chin lightly. “That’s a real recommendation.”

Buddy smiled at her. Now he knew what to bring to the store. Something freshly baked. This would take some thought.

“Before we all go our separate ways, when summer comes please come out with me on my boat. Sailing the Chesapeake is relaxing. It’s funny what happens when you leave the shore. You leave your troubles behind. It’s a forty-foot boat, has a cabin and a kitchen,” Carter invited them.

“Are you moored near where Crawford keeps his boat, that big sailboat? If you’ve been to his house you’ve seen the photo in the hallway,” Kathleen mentioned.

Carter smiled. “That is more of a ship. He’s got radar, a captain, a crew. Can you imagine the expense? He is moored down in Hampton Roads. He likes to go out the mouth of the James River and into the Atlantic. My boat is powered and more modest.”

“A forty-foot boat wouldn’t be described as modest,” Yvonne noted. “However, not having to fiddle with sails seems like an advantage to me.”

“People who sail love it. It’s like foxhunting, a passion,” Kathleen posited. “Not that I know that much about either activity, but I am absorbing foxhunters’ dedication.”

“Everyone needs something that makes them happy, something not driven by profit. Well, ladies, I am glad we could share the day, me on horseback, you all in the car. Best I get back home, but don’t forget a day on the Chesapeake?” He slightly bowed then turned to go.

“No one can fault his manners,” Kathleen remarked.

“As long as he doesn’t try to sell me jewelry, I’m fine.” Yvonne smiled sardonically.

One by one, the thrilled hunters finally did leave, driving back to their barns and homes, filled with wonderment at their unique experience.

Weevil and Tootie left early to take the hounds to the kennels.

Gray left with his brother to see the new mare at Crawford’s, the stunning Sugar.

Sister drove the trailer while Betty rode shotgun. As they pulled into the Roughneck Farm driveway off the old state road, another sign was tacked to a telephone pole: “Stop Bloodsports.”

Next to this, side by side, a large photo of a youngish man, big black letters underneath the photo: “Elect Jordan Standish.”

Sister slowed. “What the hell is this?”

“I have no idea but I bet we find out.”

In the kennel, everyone fed, boys in their side, girls in theirs, Weevil and Tootie finished up their chores.

Barmaid snuggled next to Tootie on the raised bench, warm air from the overhead vent, but not too warm, wafting over the girls.

Barmaid licked Tootie then put her head on Tootie’s back. “This is the best day of my life.”