Рита Браун - A Hiss Before Dying

“Darling, I’ll pack a few things. You go on down and tell Barker O. to drive you on down to Scottsville. And I’ll have Bettina put together a basket.” She disappeared back into the house as John trotted over to the barn.

Rachel, having also heard the flying hoofbeats, saw Milton walking the gelding to the barn. She called over her shoulder, “Charles, something’s amiss at Big Rawly.”

“What?”

“Milton flew up our road to John and Catherine. I’m going over to the house.”

“I’ll go with you.” He tossed on a jacket, Piglet at his heels, and they briskly walked to the duplicate white-framed two-story house.

“Catherine!” Rachel opened the back door. “It’s Charles and myself.”

“Come in. I’m upstairs packing for John.”

Two sets of feet rang out as they climbed the wooden stairway with Piglet’s nails clicking behind.

“What’s happened?”

“Jeffrey Holloway has left for Richmond to personally challenge Yancy Grant. Grant made so much about the women for hire that night at our party. How does Yancy know so much? Jeffrey can’t wait for Grant to return from Richmond. He wrote he can’t sustain the attempt to dishonor him for any longer.”

“Dear God.” Charles shook his head.

“Throw in a shirt or two, socks,” Rachel suggested.

“And my old pistol,” Charles said.

“Why?” Catherine’s eyes widened.

“Just in case.”

“But if Grant does accept the challenge and he does choose pistols, Jeffrey won’t be able to use yours…well, John’s.”

Rachel dryly added, “The family pistol. True, he will have to choose from the two shown him in the box by Grant’s second.”

“Jeffrey must have a second who can inspect the firearms.” Charles exhaled. “This is madness. Noonday sun madness.”

“Well, that it is.” Catherine had calmed down. “But none of us has been accused of sleeping with nightingales.”

Charles turned to go back out. “Rachel, I’ll pack myself. Catherine, if you see John before I get to the stables, tell him to wait. I won’t be long. This may take two of us.”

“Then I’m going too.” Piglet dashed after his master.

The sisters looked at each other.

Rachel said, “Men are fools. To die because of low gossip.”

Catherine inhaled deeply. “What choice do they have? Who will do business with Jeffrey if he is dishonored? And even if they do because of his newfound riches, he will never have any respect. We wouldn’t fight a duel but we don’t need to. We have nothing to prove and little is expected of us. You and I can work in our husbands’ shadows and who will know what we do or do not do?”

“Catherine, you can’t hide your abilities.” Rachel wasn’t having any of it.

“Not completely, but I can certainly disarm men. They can only try to beat one another down.”

“Our husbands aren’t like that.” Rachel’s lower lip stuck out.

“Rachel, my husband is a war hero and yours proved himself at Saratoga. It wasn’t his fault he was captured. Only a deranged man would challenge our husbands, because they are who they are, they could shrug it off. Or they could magnanimously refuse, citing their skills at firearms and fencing due to their military training.”

“I never thought of that,” Rachel admitted.

“Here, let’s go to the stable. I’ve got what he needs.”

As they walked out in the cool early spring air, Rachel wondered, “Do you think John and Charles can get there in time?”

“They just might. Even if Jeffrey finds Yancy and delivers his challenge via a letter or slapping Yancy in the face with his gloves, it would take at least a day to arrange the duel, find a quiet place to have it. There is some hope.”

“What if Jeffrey kills Yancy?” Rachel inquired.

“Unlikely.”

“I don’t much care for Yancy. He’s pompous.”

“He can be,” Catherine agreed. “But don’t forget during the war he risked his fortune, he openly worked against the king. Had we lost he would have been hung along with our father. He is worth some consideration. But yes, Jeffrey is far more likeable and even this wild behavior is understandable.”

“I suppose.”

They reached the stable as Charles, small travel bag slung over his shoulder and Piglet racing in front of him, emerged from the house.

John looked up as Serena came down with a big basket of goods.

Catherine stepped inside. “Charles wants to go with you. He’s packed.”

“Good.” John smiled. “Ralston, will you run up to the big house? Tell Mr. Ewing what happened.”

Ralston tore out of the stable.

Catherine ordered Serena, “Go along. Tell Father we’re down here.”

She curtseyed, ran out of the stable.

Barker O. and Jeddie rapidly hooked up the simple wooden cart, painted a dark blue, harness all set. They drove around to the front and Jeddie hopped down. As he did so, Ewing puffed down from the big house.

On reaching the stable, the older man handed Charles a second lovely gun. “I have pieces of the story.”

“Father, we will tell you all, but our husbands haven’t a moment to spare.”

The sisters kissed their husbands, who then swung up into the cart.

Ewing, deeply troubled, ordered Jeddie, “Go with Barker O., Jeddie.” He then handed the two men brass passes, Number One and Number Four, having had the presence of mind to grab them.

As the cart rumbled down the packed dirt road, up at the main house cobblestones had been laid, Catherine and Rachel gave their father the details.

“To think this started at our house.” He shook his head.

“Father, you aren’t responsible for Yancy drinking too much and having a loose tongue.”

“I know.” He hung his head a moment, then looked up. “But what he said was designed to hurt Mrs. Holloway and inflame Jeffrey. Even drunk, he had to know a bit of what he was saying.”

“You approve of dueling, Father?” Rachel took his hand.

“No, but I see no other way. Go to court for slander? A man would be a laughingstock. Gentlemen use lawyers for business, not for matters of honor.”

“No honor in the courtroom?” Catherine’s eyebrows lifted upward.

“Precisely.” He half closed his eyes.

April 6, 1786 Thursday

M ignon moved the long wooden rolling pin over dough on the back table while Eudes minced potatoes brought up from basement storage. Fortunately, the potatoes held out, a few more eyes than usual but good. The basement, dry, provided excellent storage. The two big ovens cooked chickens, the smell of hickory filling the kitchen as it slowly burned.

Herbs hung upside down from rafters, that odor pleasing as well.

“I’m sure we’re past the last frost,” Eudes hopefully predicted.

“I hope so. I’ll be happy when the garden in the back gives us some early carrots. When all else fails, you can do all kinds of things with carrots, even make cake.”

“True.” He glanced up at the clock. “Where does the time go? We’ll have this food ready just in time. The crowds are picking up, Georgina’s happy, the girls are happy. The men are spending.”

“Don’t you ever wonder where they get all their money?”

He laughed. “Some I know. Others aren’t worth squat. They live off other people. The most worthless are the ones that haven’t had to work.”

“Why?”

“Oh,” he smiled, “they inherited just enough money to make bums out of them.” He paused. “Some good ones, of course.”