Рита Браун - The Tell-Tale Horse

Before first cast, the tall lanky Vietnam veteran had asked Sister if she would care to hunt hounds with him. Flattered as she was by the prospect of being that close to these aggressive hunters, this would be her only time to be one of the field as opposed to leading. Joyce Fendley enjoyed being in the field for the same reasons. She had no decisions to make. Camilla and Diana had to make them.

Hounds began to feather, then tails whipped like propellers. One lone deep note from Tosca alerted the others, followed by a crescendo of sound, beautiful spine-tingling music for the only pack voices as beautiful as these belonged to Penn-Marydels.

The rabbit, still in the covert, headed along the stream, then shot out over the pasture and ran a tight circle, hounds in hot pursuit and humans pursuing as hotly as their legs would carry them.

This rabbit could run, and the chase lasted fifteen exhausting minutes up and down the pasture—which had a steep roll to it—and then the rabbit disappeared, just popped down a hole. No amount of furious digging could dislodge Peter Cottontail, who lived to run another day.

Rabbit scent is fragile, but the afternoon proved a good one and hounds worked another narrow covert. Mary Reed hollered, “Tally-ho!” Al quickly pushed the bassets up to the line, and off they ran again.

Sister noted at the next check that most of the Jefferson Hunt people hung in with first flight, but huffing and puffing were evident. She was breathing hard too, and all those broken bones of decades past began to speak to her.

After another short burst, light fading and temperature falling, the group walked back to the old silo to enjoy a tailgate.

Betty asked Cabel if she’d heard anything from Clayton.

Gratefully drinking mulled wine, the warmth most welcome, Cabel airily replied, “He can’t call out. It’s lockup.”

“All for the best, I’m sure.”

“I’m lost,” Cabel suddenly blurted out. “He plucked my last nerve. Let’s call a spade a spade; my husband is a philandering drunk but we’ve lived together for twenty-two years and I miss him. If nothing else, he did take out the garbage, drunk or sober. I can’t believe how much I miss him….

“How do those Custis Hall girls get out of school? When I went there you were only let out of class if your mother died.” Cabel nodded toward Val, Tootie, and Pamela, abruptly changing the subject.

“Where’s Felicity?” Ilona asked. “Val, Tootie, and Felicity are the Three Musketeers.”

“Aluminum Manufacturing,” Betty answered. “She’s working three afternoons a week.”

“I thought the Porters had money,” Ilona said.

“They do.” Betty wasn’t about to tell them Felicity was pregnant, as well as the rest of it. “But she wants real-life experience, as she puts it.”

“Good for her.” Cabel nodded. “What else do they have to do at that age except drink, drug, and have sex?”

“Cabel, we didn’t.” Ilona recalled her own Custis Hall days.

“Speak for yourself,” Cabel wryly responded.

Betty held up her hands, palms outward. “I was a bleeding saint.”

“Spare me.” Cabel rolled her eyes, then stared at the girls again. “They are beautiful girls. Well, Pamela’s a pudge, though she’s losing some of it. But Val and Tootie are two of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”

“The men notice, and they notice which other men are looking. Bobby tells me everything,” Betty noted. “He said if anyone lays a hand on one of those kids—did I get it right, lay? Well, if anyone does, he and Walter will dismember them. But I don’t think the men in our club are like that.”

“They all are,” Cabel stated flatly. “I’m amazed that Clayton didn’t make a pass at one of them. Too loaded.”

“Never stopped him before,” Ilona said uncharitably.

“Ramsey’s better?” Cabel fired back.

“Ladies, good to talk to you.” Betty backed away.

“Oh, Betty, don’t be so goddamned proper. You’ve seen us fight before. We’re joined at the hip. We’re bound to fuss sometimes. If you want to know who I think has really been dipping his stick throughout the county, let’s discuss High Vajay. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he was sleeping with Faye Spencer. All he had to do was fall out of his own bed to fall into hers.” Cabel warmed to her subject.

“Wouldn’t want to be in his boots right now.” Betty avoided the sex suspicions. “He’s the main suspect for the Lady Godiva murders.”

“Boots? How about pants? I’m surprised he isn’t singing soprano. Mandy must have an iron will and a forgiving patience,” Ilona marveled.

“There are worse things than a husband who cheats.” Betty opened her mouth before thinking.

“Such as?” Cabel and Ilona said in unison, both incredulous. “Wanton cruelty. Loss of honor.”

“You don’t think sex outside of marriage isn’t cruel?” The pheasant feather bobbed on Cabel’s hat.

“I think it hurts, but I don’t think the intent is cruel.” Betty held up her hand to stay the protests. “Would I be devastated if Bobby ran off the reservation?” She used the old phrase. “I would, but I would be far more upset if he was cold, critical, and cruel to animals and people. Or if he proves a coward when Gabriel blows his trumpet. A man with no honor isn’t worth having and neither is a woman. As to sleeping around—well, sex is irrational and in a different category from other human endeavors.”

“You have a point.” Ilona was thoughtful. “But consider the intimate betrayal. I don’t know if I will ever completely trust Ramsey. I love him but I don’t trust him. That’s not good. And have you ever considered that your straying husband might bring home a gift that keeps giving, like AIDS?”

“I know it’s terrible. It must eat you from the inside out.” Betty was compassionate. “But look at Sister. Neither she nor Ray was monogamous, and they had a good strong marriage. Gay men are like that too, or so it seems to me, and their relationships last longer than most heterosexual ones, a fact the sex Nazis can’t concede. I don’t want Bobby fooling around, don’t misunderstand me, but I truly believe there are worse sins. We make a small god of monogamy.”

“I hope you never find out.” Cabel headed back to the food.

“I’m sorry. I’ve upset her,” Betty said to Ilona.

“She’s having a hard time. She’ll get over it.” Ilona smiled. “We all do and if we don’t, we’re pretty stupid, aren’t we? You can’t spend your life massaging old wounds.”

“Plenty do,” Betty said. “Virginians mistake personal injustice for history.”

“Isn’t that the truth! There are a lot of embittered injustice collectors out there.” Ilona started for the food, then turned back to Betty. “I was on my way to becoming one of those people. Finally couldn’t stand myself, and I said, ‘Ilona, you’ve got to do something or you’ll turn into a snitz.’”

Snitz is a dried apple.

“Glad you got hold of yourself,” Betty complimented her.

“Me too.”

Betty then joined Al and Mary, the whippers-in, the Custis Hall girls, and Sister. She slipped her arm around Sister’s waist.

Neither woman thought a thing about that. They loved each other deeply and were not afraid of touching. Touch is healing. Men are denied this except with their wives and their children; they don’t get the same loving reinforcement from their own gender.

“Master.” Tootie addressed Al, who was a natural teacher. “Why did you draw the first covert up one side and then down the other? Shaker doesn’t do that.”

“Because Shaker is hunting a predator. I’m hunting prey. A rabbit will survive more often than not if it is still, if it sticks in its warren. The bassets have to bolt them. When you hunt foxes, you usually pick up their line when they themselves are hunting or returning to their den from a night’s hunt. So I have to make good the ground in a very different way.”