Рита Браун - The Hunt Ball

Lafayette,a gray Thoroughbred, is eleven now, fabulously athletic, talented, and wants to go.

Rickyroois a seven-year-old Thoroughbred gelding who shows great promise.

Aztecis a six-year-old Thoroughbred gelding who is learning the ropes. He’s also very athletic with great stamina. He has a good mind.

Shaker’s horses come from the steeplechase circuit so they are all Thoroughbreds. Showboat, HoJo,and Gunpowdercan all jump the moon, as you might expect.

Betty’s two horses are: Outlaw,a tough quarter horse who has seen it all and can do it all.

Magellan,a Thoroughbred given to her by Sorrel Buruss, is bigger and rangier than Betty is accustomed to riding, but she’s getting used to him.

Czpaka,a warm-blood owned by Crawford Howard, can’t stand the man. He’s quite handsome, not as quick as the Thoroughbreds, and when he’s had it, he’s had it. He’s not above dumping Crawford.

THE FOXES

The reds can reach a height of sixteen inches, a length of forty-one inches, and they can weigh up to fifteen pounds. Obviously, since these are wild animals who do not willingly come forth to be measured and weighed, there’s more variation than the standard cited above. Target,his spouse, Charlene,his aunt Nettyand his uncle Yancyare the reds. They can be haughty.

A red fox has a white tip on the luxurious brush, except for Aunt Netty, who has a wisp of a white tip as her brush is tatty.

The grays may reach fifteen inches in height, be forty-four inches in length, and weigh up to fourteen pounds. The common wisdom is that grays are smaller than reds, but there are some big ones out there. Sometimes people call them slab-sided grays because they can be reddish. They do not have a white tip on their tail but they may have a black one as well as a black-tipped “mane.” Some grays are so dark as to be black.

The grays are Comet, Inky,and Georgia.

Their dens are a bit more modest than those of the red fox, who likes to announce his abode with a prominent pile of dirt and bones outside. Perhaps not all grays are modest nor all reds full of themselves but as a rule of thumb, it’s so.

THE BIRDS

Athenais a great horned owl. Horned owls can stand two and a half feet in height with a wingspread of four feet. They can weigh up to five pounds.

Bitsyis a screech owl and she is eight and a half inches high with a twenty-inch wingspread. She weighs a whopping six ounces and she’s reddish brown. Her considerable lungs make up for her stature.

St. Just,a crow, is a foot and a half in height, his wingspread is a surprising three feet, and he weighs one pound.

THE HOUSE PETS

Raleighis a Doberman who likes to be with Sister.

Roosteris a harrier and was willed to Sister by her old lover, Peter Wheeler.

Golliwog,“Golly,” is a large calico and would hate being included with the dogs as a pet. She is the Queen of All She Surveys.

C H A P T E R 1

Ashining silver shroud covered the lowlands along Broad Creek, deep and swift-running. The notes of the huntsman’s horn, muffled, made his direction difficult to determine. Three young women, students at prestigious Custis Hall, followed the creek bed that bordered a cut hayfield. A gnarled tree, bending toward the clear water as if to bathe its branches, startled them.

“Looks like a giant witch,” Valentina Smith blurted out.

They stopped to listen for hounds and the horn. Smooth gray stones jutted out of the creek, the water swirling and splashing around.

“Can you hear anything?” Felicity Porter, slender, serious, inquired.

“If we move away from the creek, we’ll hear better.” Valentina, as senior class president, was accustomed to taking charge.

Anne “Tootie” Harris, one of the best students at Custis Hall, was just as accustomed to resisting Valentina’s assumed authority. “We’ll get even more lost. Broad Creek runs south. It divides the Prescott land from Sister Jane’s land. If we keep going we’ll eventually reach the big old hog’s back jump in the fence line. If we turn right at that jump we’ll find the farm road back to the kennels.”

Angry that she hadn’t paid attention at the jump to where the rest of the riders disappeared into the fog, and now angry that she hadn’t paid attention to the flow of Broad Creek, Valentina growled, “Well, shit, Tootie, we could go into menopause before we reach the hog’s back jump!”

“One dollar, potty mouth.” Felicity held out her hand with grim satisfaction.

“Felicity, how can you think of the kitty at a time like this? We could be lost for days. Why, we could die of thirst and—”

“Val, we’re next to Broad Creek,” Tootie deadpanned.

“You two are ganging up on me.” Val tossed her head; her blonde ponytail, in a snood for riding, swayed slightly.

“No, we’re not.” Felicity rarely ran off the rails, her focus intense. “The deal when we started hunting with Jefferson Hunt was that each time one of us swore, one dollar to the kitty. I’m the bank.”

Valentina fished in her tweed jacket. “You’ll probably end up being a banker, F. I can see it now when you make your first million. You’ll count the money, put it in a vault, and not even smile.” She did, however, hand over her dollar.

Felicity leaned over to reach for the dollar, their horses side by side. She folded it in half, neatly sticking it in her inside jacket pocket. Felicity knew she wasn’t quick-witted. No point in firing back at Valentina.

With Felicity and Valentina it was the tortoise and the hare. With Tootie and Valentina it was the hawk and the hare, two swift-moving creatures with opposing points of view.

“Come on, I’ll get us back to the kennels,” Tootie promised.

In the far distance the hounds sang, voices ranging from soprano to basso profundo, from tenor to darkest alto. The heavy moisture in the air accounted for the variation in clarity. The girls would hear the hounds moving toward them, then it would sound as though the hounds were turning.

“Coach will tear us a new one.” Valentina did not reply to Tootie’s suggestion, speaking about the coach’s wrath instead.

“Coach? What about Mrs. Norton?” Felicity thought the headmistress’s disapproval would be more severe than Bunny Taliaferro’s, the riding coach, although Bunny naturally leaned toward censure.

“Wonder if they know we’re not with the field? I mean, it’s possible they’re still in the fog, too. Sister Jane would get really upset if she thought we were in trouble.” Valentina inhaled deeply. “If they don’t know, let’s swear never to tell.”

“The Three Musketeers.” Tootie half-smiled.

“All for one and one for all.” Valentina beamed.

“But you always manage to be first among equals, Val. It’s not exactly all for one and one for all. It’s all for Valentina and then maybe Val for all,” Tootie said, shooting a barb.

“Tootie, you can really be the African queen when you’re in a mood. You know?” Valentina raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, right.” Tootie, an exceptionally beautiful green-eyed African American, shrugged it off.

“Will you two get over yourselves? If we don’t find our way back, we’re in deep doo-doo. If we do find the field, we’re still in deep doo-doo but maybe not as deep.”

“Felicity, say shit and be done with it.” Val took out some of her discomfort on her sober classmate.