Рита Браун - The Hunt Ball

He reached the covered bridge, ran across it, then made a loop, coming back to Snake Creek, where he recrossed it. It was an obvious ploy but it would buy him just enough time. He could hear the hounds closing and he prayed they were as hot and tired as he was. If only he hadn’t been such a damned pig.

He traveled right over Nola Bancroft’s grave, Tedi and Edward’s daughter, who died in 1981 at twenty-four. She was buried with Peppermint, her favorite horse. He outlived her, making it to thirty-four. A beautiful stone fence enclosed the plot.

The hounds tore across the bridge. The field clattered over it, hooves reverberating inside, the noise deafening.

“Reverse!” Sister quickly turned when she saw the hounds jump back into Snake Creek.

Shaker knew he’d get balled up in the bridge because someone wouldn’t be able to turn their horse around. He jumped down the steep bank, into the water, grabbed mane, stood up, and leaned forward on HoJo. A young horse who didn’t make it on the steeplechase circuit struggled to find purchase.

Tootie, thinking ahead, turned her horse’s head and slid by everyone else as soon as Sister called “Reverse.”

The Custis Hall girls and Bunny followed.

Marty Howard stuck a minute, but she finally got herself around. Her horse spooked at some goblin seen only by himself.

Sister knew better than to try to pass them all, so she waited, tried not to bitch and moan, then hurried through as Tedi finally managed to get them out of the way. “Good job, girl.”

Tedi smiled and quickly fell in behind her old friend. The hounds leapt over the stone wall, ran over Nola and Peppermint’s grave.

Far from aggrieving Tedi, the sight of hounds running over her firstborn made her happy. For a fox or hound to cross a foxhunter’s grave is a sign from heaven. It’s to be wished for, not avoided.

With a maniacal burst of energy, Target skidded through fallen leaves, hoisted himself over a larger stone wall, this one separating fields closer to the main house. The outer fields had three-board fencing.

His den in sight, he soared into it like a basketball that doesn’t touch the rim. “Thank God!”

Dragon, Cora, and Doughboy reached the den first. Little Diddy had had a bit of a time getting off the tree and had needed Walter’s help. They brought up the rear as everyone tried to pile into the opening.

The remnants of a nice pattypan squash as well as a pumpkin littered Target’s den. He’d meant to clean it out but the morning, fresh with hope, lured him outside.

“Come on out!” Dragon dug.

Target kicked pumpkin seeds at him.

Betty rode up, as she’d come in from the left, took HoJo’s reins. She knew they were all on, no point in staying out there. Wouldn’t be a second cast in this heat.

Shaker blew and praised his hounds. As he withdrew them from the den, he watched pumpkin and squash seeds spew out like a tiny white and orange Vesuvius.

Sister saw it, as did those closest to her.

He paused. More seeds were tossed into the morning light.

“He thinks he’s so cute.” Ardent smiled.

Shaker laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Betty, too.

They thought they’d seen it all but this reminded them, foxes do have imagination.

Shaker didn’t mount up but walked over to Snake Creek. HoJo was too hot at that moment to drink but he called all the hounds into the creek. They gratefully plunged in, cooling off and drinking.

“I have never seen anything like that in my life.” Sister rode up, laughing.

“I bet if we opened up dens we’d find missing watches and old love letters.” He laughed along with her.

“None of mine, I hope,” Sister giggled. “I can’t write a line.”

“Ha.” Betty rolled her eyes heavenward as Magellan, her second horse and a Thoroughbred, drank. “You probably have a stack of envelopes tied up with powder blue ribbons.”

“Sure.” Sister wiped her brow with the embroidered handkerchief she’d stuck in her pocket. “You know, we’re so close to the farm, let’s hack over. I’ll see if someone can go back to Mud Fence and bring the rig and my truck. I need two warm bodies.”

“Only two?” Shaker finally remounted.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Actually, after this run, a long drink of anything cold.”

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that.” Betty was parched and she didn’t want to drink from anyone’s flask as it would only make her thirstier.

Sister turned Rickyroo toward the field, sweat running down their faces and in some cases mascara as well. “Folks, let’s hack back to Roughneck Farm. It doesn’t make any sense to ride all the way back to Mud Fence. Some of your horses are spent.” She noticed that Sam Lorillard’s horse was in splendid condition. The man could train and ride. “If anyone wants to let their horse drink in the creek, go ahead. Use your judgment. Back at the farm you can untack them, we’ll put them on a tie line if they can get along, you can wash them down or whatever, and then we’ll figure out a way to get everyone back to their trailers.”

This process took two hours but it went off without a hitch. Sister brought down drinks for everyone as they washed their horses. Tootie took care of Rickyroo while Valentina washed HoJo. Then the two girls washed their own horses.

Using the old farm truck as well as Sister’s new truck, they piled everyone in the beds. This took three trips, but all went well.

Tootie and Valentina squeezed into the cab with Sister on the last run out since she invited them, too.

“Well, ladies, what’d you think?”

“I’ve never had so much fun in my life,” Valentina effused.

“Me, too,” Tootie concurred.

“For the record, if you need someone to talk to, I can listen. I know things are crazy right now. And if your parents will allow it and Mrs. Norton, if you want to stay here some night before hunting, I’d love to have you. Now, I can’t take everyone in the riding program so we’ll have to discuss numbers.”

“I’m not telling. I don’t want to share,” Valentina honestly blurted out.

“Sister, we don’t all get along. I mean, we can’t stand Pamela Rene.”

“Ah.”

“She’s a good rider and all, but she’s, uh—” Valentina paused.

“Off the chain,” Tootie said.

“I see. Well, let’s just keep it between us, and when you’re ready, let me know. I’ll talk to Mrs. Norton. It’s a nice way to know the hounds better.”

“It’s a nice way to know you better,” Tootie said and meant it, and it pleased Sister.

“We don’t want to sound negative, I mean, about Pamela. She’s real competitive and she’s always trying to buck us off, you know,” Valentina whispered. “She said to Tootie that Tootie thinks she’s better than her, Pamela, I mean. She said Tootie thinks she’s part of the Niggerati.”

“She didn’t say that!” Sister was surprised.

“When I called her on it she told me to shut up because I’m white.” Valentina’s voice returned to normal.

“Well, Tootie, what do you think?” Sister wisely asked the beautiful young woman.

“I think that word in any form ought to be banished from the English language,” Tootie replied without rancor. “She’s mad at me because I wouldn’t be part of the protest. You know, Sister, I do think Custis Hall ought to pay more attention to its history. Those buildings were built, the early ones, by slaves. But I don’t think confrontation is the way to do it. I mean, that is so sixties.”

As they neared the entrance to Mud Fence, Sister slowed even more since the bed was jammed with people. “Anything weird at school? Anything that makes you kind of take notice, apart from what just happened?”