Рита Браун - The Hunt Ball

“Those who do not know their past are doomed to repeat it,” Gray stated.

This set off a lively conversation, which delighted Crawford. He considered himself a Renaissance man even if he appeared nouveau riche to others. Better nouveau riche than nouveau pauvre.

“What shall you name your church?” Sister returned to his building project.

“I was thinking of St. Swithun, a good English saint.”

Tedi wrinkled her brow. “Oh, dear, all I remember is if it rains on St. Swithun’s Day it will rain for forty days following. July 15. So much for my catechism studies.”

“We think of you as St. Tedi.” Sister laughed at her old friend.

“Lots of St. Theodores, but they’re men.” Crawford read history constantly and since saint days and the ecclesiastical calendar bound Western culture for close to two thousand years, he was a font of information on such subjects, as was Sister.

“We’ll make a new saint, then,” Sister said as she ate a second bowl of oatmeal.

“There’s a St. Teath, a woman of Cornwall, thirteenth century. Nothing is known of her,” Crawford expounded.

“Why St. Swithun? Is there another reason apart from his being English? I mean, you could have picked St. George. Who’s more English than the dragon-slayer?” Tedi was curious.

“Swithun had healing power. He was bishop of Winchester. Died in 862. I admire those people in the so-called Dark Ages. Think of what they accomplished and with so little, with such personal hardship.”

The breakfast broke up after an hour. More snow had fallen, and the drive home took longer.

Sister and Gray crept along in his Land Cruiser. Betty was driving the gooseneck loaded with horses. Sister liked hauling to the meets with Betty but Gray wanted Sister with him so they could talk and he adored showing off what his Land Cruiser could do. At a base price of $55,000 his sold for almost $60,000 since Gray couldn’t resist any gadget.

She had to admit, the vehicle could probably double as an armored car and it plowed through everything.

“Wonder how much Crawford will spend on his chapel? St. Swithun. I like that he’s naming it that,” she mused.

“He’ll use the best stonemason in the county so that’s forty dollars a cubic foot right there; he’s lucky because that price represents a bargain.”

“My God.”

“Sobering.”

“I keep forgetting how rich he is.”

“You’re the only one.” Gray laughed at her. “Hey, have I told you how much I love riding behind you?”

“Tell me again.”

“You’re bold, you know what the hounds are doing, but mostly I like seeing your little butt over the fences. Your butt is so little it’s like a boy’s.”

“More.”

“Your breasts aren’t bad either. Of course, I can’t see those when you’re leading the field.”

“Gray.” She just ate this up. Suddenly she sat upright out of the comfortable seat. “Honey, can I use your cell phone?”

“Sure, it’s wired through the car. All you have to do is push these buttons and the phone icon. When you want to hang up, push the icon where the phone is level.” He pointed to a green button, then a red button. “Forget something?”

“No, no, I’ve had a terrible thought.” She dialed the Widemans. “Henry, hello, we missed you Saturday.”

Sister’s voice was distinctive, so he knew immediately who it was. In fact, Sister rarely had to identify herself.

“Wish I could have been there. Heard that fox ran you clean to the old granary at Beveridge Hundred.”

“Did and thumbed his nose at us, too. How was your trip to Baltimore?”

“Good.” He paused. “City’s changing. Guess they all are. I worry that all this renewal will throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

“Excuse me for being nosy, but I was wondering if you’d gone out to St. John’s before you left for Baltimore.”

“I’ll get in there sooner or later.”

“Would you mind if Gray and I drove to it? We’re in the Land Cruiser so we’ll get in. I think I lost something there,” she half-fibbed.

“No, not at all. Anything I can do to save you the trip?”

“Thank you, no. Letting us come back and hunt Little Dalby is the best thing to happen to our club in years. I can’t thank you enough, and you know, we stand ready to make good on gates or if you have a project that takes strong backs, call. In fact, I’m sitting next to Samson here.”

After a few more pleasantries she disconnected.

“What are you up to? What have you gotten me into?” He shook his head.

“Honey, won’t take too long. You know the way.”

Gray, a good driver, was particularly alert if another vehicle was on the road. So many people, deluded by technology, would fly down a snowy road only to soar off into a bank, a ditch, or flip over. It was as though two generations of Americans had lost all sense of nature’s power.

Within twenty minutes they were at St. John’s of the Cross.

Sister stood before the doors. She opened them. Cold. No sign of change since she and Betty were there. A disturbed “Hoo” let her know who else was in there.

“What are you searching for?”

“Gray,” she rested her gloved hand on his chest, “Betty and I were here marking jumps and trails. We walked on back here and I guess I took a trip down Memory Lane. Anyway, it was apparent no one had been here in years. But when we hunted Saturday I noticed tire tracks, covered now, obviously, and the hounds went straight to the chapel rear. Shaker called them off. I didn’t pay attention. The chase was too good. But I did note somewhere in the back of my mind that the tracks didn’t pass over tracks coming from the other direction. Whoever came here came to the chapel. And I smelled rot.”

“It’s deer season, Jane. No reason a hunter wouldn’t park here and go deeper into the woods. Can’t drive into the brush. And you know as well as I that some hunters will leave the carcass or parts of it.”

“Got a flashlight in that tank of yours?”

“I do.”

Within seconds they were walking around the chapel.

“I’m looking for any recent disturbance.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know, except that I trust my hounds. Shaker called them from here in short order but they were highly interested. Of course it’s below freezing now so I can’t smell a thing.”

“Fox under the chapel?”

“Could be and if it is, I need to worm him or her. If I’m lucky maybe I can lure him into a humane trap and get one rabies and distemper shot in.”

They walked around to the back. The old stone foundation had some gaps in it large enough for a hound to crawl in, or a human for that matter.

With the biting cold the decaying leaf smell was not discernible, although a pleasant odor to the human nose.

She crouched down, shining the beam into the opening. She handed the flashlight to Gray as he hunched down next to her.

“Jesus H. Christ on a raft!” He dropped the flashlight and sprinted for the Land Cruiser.

C H A P T E R 2 5

The snow, still falling, drifted, creating waves that looked like Cool Whip. Ben Sidel, Ty Banks, and three other officers patiently worked in the cold. Although only three in the afternoon, the deep gray clouds hung low; visibility wasn’t too good.

On the one hand, the cold had preserved what remained of the body under the church. But the snow obscured any tracks or other bits of evidence that might have been there. Ben knew, when this snow melted, evidence would melt with it.

Ty rubbed his gloved hands together as he stood up. He shook his legs for circulation. “Sheriff, how long do you think she’s been under there?”

“Maybe a week. And we’re lucky. The animals that got to her didn’t take the head. We’ve got the teeth.”