Рита Браун - Hotspur

“Oh, Pepper, what a good horse you were.” He gently patted the dead animal’s neck, then rose and recrossed the green meadow back to the waiting group.

He leaned over the fence and simply said, “Gone.”

Sister lowered her head for several moments as the news sank in. She’d known this horse for more than three decades. As sad as she was, Tedi would be devastated.

“Shaker, Bobby, take the hounds back to the kennels,” she instructed. “Betty and Walter, if you can spare the time, stay with me. We need to bury this fellow before Tedi comes out and finds him. She loved him so.” Sister paused. “A last link with Nola.”

“And it is July, he’ll blow up fast,” Shaker said under his breath. Then he called to the hounds in a singsong voice, “Come along.”

The hounds followed after him, though Cora couldn’t help a glance over her shoulder at the horse she remembered well.

“Walter, do you mind finding one of Tedi’s men? Just ask him to meet us at the bridge with the backhoe. Button his lip. I’ll tell Tedi once we’ve properly buried Peppermint.”

Walter jogged across the bridge as Betty and Sister went to the carcass at creek’s edge.

Betty knelt down to touch the large shoulder. “What a great one he was. Godspeed, Peppermint. You had a wonderful life.”

Sister, with Raleigh at her side, consoled Domino and Merry Andrew before sitting down beside Peppermint. “Jesus, Betty, I’m getting old. I remember Pepper when he was steel gray. He’s pure white now.” She referred to the fact that gray horses, born dark, lighten in color as they age.

“Remember the time Tedi hit every fence perfectly in the hunter trials? Tedi couldn’t find her distance if you gave her measuring tape. But by God, she won the blue ribbon that year. I think it was one of the happiest moments of her life.” Betty continued stroking the animal’s beautiful gray head. “He did it for her. Pepper didn’t much like showing. He liked hunting.” Betty smiled, marveling at the capacity of animals to love humans, creatures who so often failed to reciprocate.

“God, I hope we can pull this off before Tedi finds out. I mean, I hope she’s not up there in the barn or gardening or something. If she sees the backhoe rumble out of the equipment shed, she’ll be curious.” Sister plucked a blade of grass, sucking out the sweetness. “Peppermint was the last horse Nola hunted. Tedi is going to be upset.”

“That’s why you sent Walter—in case the news has to be broken now.”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Sister grinned, an appealing, girlish grin for a seventy-one-year-old woman, thin as a blade and just as sharp.

“Poor Tedi, not that I wouldn’t cry my eyes out if Outlaw died, mind you.” Betty referred to her adored and sturdily built horse.

“We all would. Even that asshole Crawford Howard would cry if Czapaka died.” Crawford was a rich, blow-hard member of the Hunt, and his horse, Czapaka, endured him with only occasional moments of justified rebellion. Sister and Betty had known each other for all of Betty’s forty-odd years, so Sister spoke with complete candor to her. Had it been anyone but an old friend she would never have openly criticized Crawford.

“Tedi’s such a dear soul.” Betty sighed.

“Strange life.”

“I don’t wish inherited wealth on anyone. It’s a real curse,” Betty declared. “It’s one thing to earn a pile of money, it’s another to never work for anything at all.”

“I agree. I’ve known very few people who weren’t scalded by it in one way or t’other.” She pronounced “another” the old Virginia way.

“Tedi has surely had her share of suffering.”

“That she has.”

They halted their conversation, rising as a large backhoe chugged over the hill, down the farm road, then rattled through the covered bridge. Walter stood behind the driver, Jimmy Chirios, an industrious, cheerful young man only two years in the Bancrofts’ employ.

Jimmy cut the motor and looked down at Peppermint. “Just like that?”

“A peaceful death.” Sister had to shade her eyes to look up at him in the morning sun.

Walter hopped off the equipment. “Jimmy, we can’t bury him here. The creek floods wicked bad every couple of years. Higher ground.”

Domino and Merry Andrew, having moved away when the backhoe arrived, now returned to stand near their fallen friend.

“This side of the bridge is anchored on high ground. You wouldn’t have to drag him but a hundred yards. Did you bring a chain?” Sister inquired.

“Yep.” Jimmy handed the thick chain to Walter, who looped it around Peppermint’s hind legs, then snapped the heavy hook around another loop of chain on the back of the big yellow machine.

“Slow,” Walter ordered as the two women walked up to what they concluded would be the ideal spot above the abutment.

As Peppermint was dragged to his final resting place, Domino, his bay head bowed, and Merry Andrew, curious as always, followed behind, somewhat obscuring the mark Peppermint’s body made. Walter unhitched the chain, then unwrapped it from Peppermint. Jimmy started digging.

The rise, just above the bridge abutment, was a good place. Rain had softened the earth two days earlier, and the clawed jaw of the backhoe easily bit into it. Jimmy rapidly dug out a seven-foot-deep trench, then squared the sides, forming a tidy rectangle. As they were all country people, they knew that animals could smell decay under the earth. A good six feet or more for a grave was mandatory or, sure enough, whatever was buried would be resurrected by scavengers. And much as one might have missed the deceased, one did not wish the return of a hoof or a leg.

“Looks good,” Walter hollered through hands cupped to his mouth.

But Jimmy decided the side of the grave closest to the bridge needed more tidying.

He lowered the jaws into the earth. A crumble of rich alluvial deposit rolled down into the bottom as he swung the captured earth over the side of the grave.

“Stop!” Sister cried. She astonished them all by leaping into the grave.

“What the hell are you doing?” Betty said as Walter leaned over the grave. Then he, too, jumped right in.

At the bottom edge of the freshly dug hole, Walter and Sister stared at the whitened bones of what looked like an elbow.

“Human?” Sister asked.

“I think so.” Walter carefully brushed away the earth until more bone was revealed. Unable to resist, Betty joined them. Jimmy clambered down from the cab of the backhoe and knelt down at the edge of the gaping hole.

“I can’t believe this,” Betty gasped.

Walter kept brushing. More arm bones. Then a hand. Definitely human.

The long rays of the morning sun crept into the tomb, causing the royal blue of a huge sapphire flanked by two diamonds to glitter in the light.

“The Hapsburg sapphire,” Betty whispered.

“Sweet Jesus.” Sister’s hands shook as she reached to touch the sapphire, then pulled back.

CHAPTER 2

Creamy suds of disinfectant swirled down the large kennel drain as Shaker washed the feed room. The female hounds, called bitches or gyps, drowsy after their exercise and breakfast, lounged on the benches on their side of the kennels. The dog hounds on their side, separate from the girls, did likewise as well as being scattered throughout the runs like so many canine statues.

A few hound ears perked up, then dropped back as Sister Jane and Betty hurried into the kennels.

Shaker turned off the power washer. “Sad job putting old Pepper in the ground.” He hung the washer nozzle on a wall hook, then glanced over at his boss and dear friend. “Janie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ashen-faced, still a little shaky, she replied, “I have.”