“Ok. Well, I’m glad you survived,” he said with a distinct smile in his voice. I so liked that voice. “The doctor said you should rest, so I’ll let you go. Bye Elliott,” he said.
“Bye.”
The line disconnected. Gone.
What was that about? Why on earth did he call if he was just going to hang up on me?
I resisted every raging urge in my body to dial back that number, but Southernmother training overruled. Never, never, never call boys. Never. But?… “Never!” – I could hear Grand’s voice and even see her peering at me with her black eyes.
“Who was that?” Leslie asked. No secrets in the dorm.
“Oh, just one of the foxhunters calling to check on me,” I said as casually as possible.
“Ben’s called twice. He didn’t want to bother you on your cell in case you needed to sleep,” she said.
“Thanks, Leslie,” I said. Sleep. That’s what I wanted right now. I was so tired and frustrated and just worn out trying to figure out Griffen. Nice, then not – distant, close, but always reserved. What was up with him? He must know nothing about personal space and the signals he’s radiating – if he did, then why is he not…acting on them?
Maybe he’s not feeling what I’m feeling – he must have heart problems, too, like I do, or rather, did. Poor guy. Poor guy? I don’t even know who he is. Well, I intended to use all my resources to find out, he’s way to…gorgeous… for me to trifle with not knowing anything about him, but it would have to wait. I laid my head back on the soft pillows, remembered how he looked on that black horse and let the blankets pull me to sleep.
~~~
Sunday morning I woke with a start at 6:00. My arm ached a little, and my hand still looked like a boxing glove. Otherwise, though, I felt fine. I wrote Leslie a note telling her where I was going and left quietly before she could hear me stir and trap me in the dorm.
My truck was where it always was. Thank you, Ben. I’m sure he took care of that. I made the thirty minute drive to the barn feeling no worse for having had a near-death experience merely hours before. The winding gravel road took me through a pine thicket that soon opened up into a honey golden tunnel of hickory trees that led to the barn. This time of year, they were breathtaking, and I paused a moment to admire their splendor.
Viva was in the pasture, so I whistled. She picked up her head and trotted happily to me. Food or love? Who knows? I always came prepared with both. She greedily reached for the baby carrot I proffered while I rubbed her behind her soft ears. She was clean-shaven for the festivities, so her usual little black whiskers were gone. Her dainty nose nudged my hand while her delicate lips made sure no more treats remained. Her smell surrounded me, and I relaxed just being near her.
Slipping the halter over her ears, I led her to the barn. Yesterday’s braids had been removed. Another thanks to Ben, I’m sure. Ashley really has herself a catch. He thinks of everything, and she’d better appreciate that. I’ll kill her if she hurts him, even though she, too, is my friend. I don’t think she knows what a treasure she has in him. Silly, she probably knows better than I. What do I really know about guys?
Viva was filthy, so I gave her a quick hot bath in the concrete wash stall and toweled her dry. The weather was still warm, but I hated her to be blown too much in the trailer. I tacked her up at the barn – better for ensuring I did not forget anything – and headed to the meet. Ben and Blazer had already left. No one would be expecting me to return so soon after yesterday’s incident.
As I drove to Collierville, I could tell I was not yet at 100%. No matter, I could enjoy riding in second flight today and taking it easy. I’m sure William would understand. The thought of hearing the hounds even from a distance was certainly reason enough to get up and try. And maybe, Griffen would hunt today. After all, he hunted for both Opening Meet days in Mississippi last season. I could only hope.
When I pulled into the lot, all of the staff spots and most of the good spaces were taken. I was so used to arriving early to help with hounds, that it was strange to have to find a place to park. Even in the mud, my truck and trailer were easy to maneuver, and I found a spot near Ben and Blazer.
“Well, good morning,” Ben smiled. “I see you’re back among the living. How do you feel?”
“Fine, just still a little tired. I’ll ride with second flight today and enjoy being here,” I said.
“Good idea,” he agreed. “Glad to see you. I can take care of your horse for you later at the barn if you’re not up to it. Just let me know.”
“I’m sure I’ll owe you big for all this!” I grinned. “Thanks for taking care of her, Ben.”
“You’d do the same for my horse,” he said. “And don’t think I’m so good, I just tipped the stable kids a little extra.”
“Still, Ben. The thought matters however you get it done,” I smiled.
Viva stepped carefully out of the trailer, and I secured her to the side. One last swish of Show Sheen on her legs to help keep the mud at bay, and I was up and off – albeit a little less enthusiastically having to still nurse my left hand. Ben had gone to gather first flight, so Viva and I made our way to second flight. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the black horse tied to a trailer – no rider.
So he is here. There’s no mistaking that horse. His mane and tail were long and wavy from being braided the day before, but it was well groomed and his tack gleamed. I could tell that Griffen took great pride in his horse for he was jet black, the most difficult color to keep that way. He either kept the horse up all the time in a stall or blanketed him, or had people take care of that for him. Either way – high maintenance. From the looks of his really nice truck and trailer, he either had money or just spent it like he did.
I joined the others – no Griffen in sight. I was sure he was busy with the pack. The rest of the staff appeared, including Lydia, who glared at me, I am sure, for not being here early enough to help. I ignored her.
William had us bow our heads for a brief blessing that ended with “Go in Peace – Return in Safety.” This was another of my favorite parts of hunting – always remembering who created this and allows it all to happen. I was delighted I’d come and admired the scenery as William and the pack trotted by, looking ever the picture of perfection. I eagerly looked for my vision – he was certain to follow shortly, and he did.
He and his horse were shimmering. The blue-black sheen in the horse’s coat rippled as Griffen lightly used his reins and seat to contain him. They were an impressive sight, and I tried to compose myself and look interested, but aloof, as he passed. Working up as much poise and charm as possible, I lifted my chin and eyebrows to acknowledge his passing.
The look he gave me registered something much more than simple disapproval of my outing. He nodded slightly with his jaw clenched and turned his attention back to the pack. His gaze was so cold, I shuddered from…fear. If I’d not known better, I would have thought I’d done something to really anger him.
What in the world was that? Did my being here make him that angry? How dare he think he can tell me when and where I could and couldn’t be at my own hunt!
Viva pulled toward the hounds, but checked easily enough as I pointed her to second flight. Reluctantly, she acquiesced and slid into the crowd.
“Glad to have you with us, today, Elliott,” Jane Rings, the field master said. “How’s the hand?”
“Other than looking like a blowfish appendage, it’s fine,” I said, trying hard to control my tongue and not snap at innocents in spite of the anger and…disappointment that had exploded so quickly to the surface at Griffen’s reaction.
A fractious little bay swung her quarters near and threatened to kick as we tried to merge into second flight.
“Watch yourself, Missy!” a sharp female voice barked.
With increasing difficulty, I held my tongue as I rearranged positions to give the mare a wide berth. Often new and not so new to hunting riders were over mounted and they often verbally bit the hea
ds off innocents – their universal manner of dealing with trepidation. We call them hunting “harpies” and I had rarely encountered them while riding as staff. However, I was not staff today, so there was no deferring to Viva and me. I’d make a note to watch that one.
Today’s hunt attire was ratcatcher, and the muted tones blended beautifully with the gold, orange, and red autumn leaves. Horses were sleek in their fall turnout as well – coats glistening, and the ones who were clipped shimmering in the November light…another beautiful day in the field. The scenery and Viva’s rhythmic trotting calmed me. I willed myself to focus on what I could of the hounds from this position hoping to smother all thoughts of Griffen’s strange reaction.
Hounds struck and we were off – a little less recklessly today for me, but I was soon splattered with mud from Jane’s horse. Glorious! Hounds were circling circling back and around and Jane had us in a perfect position to view the drama.
Out leapt an enormous buck – covering the clearing in a few graceful bounds. I watched him as he vanished in the woods – pale antlers gleaming in the morning light. One young hound trailed him with some uncertain yips – hard to resist one so close – and the snap of a whip and bark of the nearby whipper-in set him straight.
Griffen. My hand pulsed where his lips had tried to keep the poison from getting too far into my system. The only part of my body that had touched his lips – acting foolishly of its own accord. Stop this!
The rest of the pack rallied and focused on something down in the ravine. I tried to do the same. What hounds were those? Gypsy I think – maybe they’re on a bobcat.
Galloping, flying around the woods to get in position to view the other side – Jane was great at making sure her group saw game. She had a sixth sense about bobcats, and I was so glad to be with her today. We circled and stopped, horses panting more from excitement than exertion. Viva’s heart thumping regularly – such a comfort to me – and her ears twitching flicking – taking it all in.
~~~
Jane’s radio cracked, but she had it turned down to keep from disturbing the atmosphere and the game. We were hoping to see whatever they were chasing come out of the cover at any moment.
“Elliott, William is missing a hound and he thinks it may be near where we are. Would you mind checking that covert and let me know what you see?” Jane asked.
“Sure Jane, I’ll take a look,” I said, thankful for the diversion. In foxhunting terms, covert is pronounced, “cover,” and it means a place where the chased may be hiding, such as the woods. “I have my cell phone with me, so you can go on. I’ll find you later.”
As I trotted near the covert I heard Spice in the ravine below. She was in trouble – her voice had the low mournful lost hound sound.
“Sweet Spice, it’s ok. I’m here,” I said.
She was down in a ravine on her side and looked up when she heard my voice, but didn’t try to rise. I looped Viva’s reins over a sapling, checked carefully for snakes, and slid down the bank to her. She was breathing regularly and all looked well, until I saw her front leg. Her forearm was bent at an unnatural angle.
“Hold on, Spice, it’s going to be ok,” I patted her smooth coat. I certainly could not lift her, so I pulled out my cell phone to call for some help. Before I could fumble the phone from my jacket with my catcher’s mitt, a horse approached.
Griffen. He frowned down at me, and I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have rather been approached by a snake. His face disappeared, no doubt finding a place to tie his horse, so I had a minute to think. My hand started throbbing again.
“What are you doing here?” he growled.
So much for the minute. “Taking care of this hound,” I said through my teeth. And getting angrier by the second.
He slid down the bank in one lithe movement. The air was getting thin again.
“I mean, here, Elliott, today,” he continued in a not so silken voice.
“Hunting, Griffen. This is my hunt you know.”
“What about twenty-four hours? You were specifically told to rest twenty-four hours,” he said getting ever so much closer to me.
My hand was pounding and my heart was following suit.
“I’m in second flight,” I argued.
“Yes, I can see that,” he snapped, sarcasm dripping from his remark.
I fumbled for my phone feeling ridiculously inelegant with my swollen, errant hand.
“What are you doing now?” he asked. His voice less angry, just exasperated.
“Calling for help,” I said, attempting to regain some control over this situation.
“I can handle this,” he said as he turned to examine Spice. He loosened his tie and wrapped it gently around her muzzle and neck. His fingers explored her sleek side and rested on the injured foreleg. Spice relaxed visibly at his touch.
I, on the other hand, thought it was good that we were sitting in the ravine. Loosening his tie drew my attention to a perfectly formed chest that had supported my unconscious body just hours before. It seemed like my body hadn’t forgotten. Hand throbbing again. Stop this now!
Focusing on the hound seemed to have calmed him, and his next words were much softer.
“Let’s get her back to the trailers,” he said after radioing to William about her condition.
We scrambled up the bank protecting Spice from branches. Griffen cradled her like a kitten; she never whimpered. He lifted her on his horse’s back over the pommel of his saddle. I was astonished that his horse never stopped grazing. Viva, I was sure, would have bolted for the barn had I flung a predator over her shoulders.
I turned to get Viva’s reins, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. His light touch surprised me and felt almost like a blow. I did what I could to remain composed…and to keep breathing.
He looked directly at me, green eyes much softer now. With his free hand, he brushed a clump of mud from my cheek.
“Dirt becomes you, Elliott,” he smiled, eyes sparkling and leapt upon his horse.
We rode for a moment in silence. My heart and hand were now throbbing uncontrollably. I started to get angry again.
“So Griffen,” I began, focusing hard to breathe regularly. “You speak to me only when I’m in dire straits, covered in mud, or, basically helpless and ridiculous. Otherwise, it’s the cold shoulder. Why?”
I regretted the question as soon as it flew out. Too late – no chance to recall the bullets.
He didn’t speak for a moment, just kept his eyes on Spice and rode quietly ahead. I noticed he wasn’t using his reins, just guiding his horse with his legs. Amazing. He and that horse are like one entity. So perfect, so complete. I’ve never seen anything like that – except in movies. But his silence was deafening. Why did I have to blurt out my feelings to him of all people?
“Elliott, I’ve not been fair to you, you’re right,” he said.
Unexpected. I wanted him to fight, not agree. This time I kept my mouth shut and clenched my left hand to keep it from throbbing.
“You really do look good covered in mud,” he laughed – all tension gone.
So strange and sudden, but I was relieved nonetheless.
“So, what’s your horse’s name?” I asked trying to distance myself from my outburst and understand what was going on behind that magnificent face.
“Jet,” he said, and the lines around his jaw vanished.
“What’s his story?” I asked.
Lines crept back into his face and I feared for a moment I had once again gone too far.
“My uncle gave him to me after my Mom…my parents…died,” he said. “I was 15 and needed something…something to do, a project. So, he bought me a yearling and a puppy told me to raise them.”
“He’s beautiful,” I said.
“He was just the right thing for me, especially then,” he said. “How long have you been riding?” he asked, deftly switching the topic from him back to me, I noticed. Touché.
“Two years,” I said.
“Two years?�
�� he truly sounded surprised at that. “Yes, why, is it that obvious?” I said.
“No, I mean, you’re really good,” he said. My hand started throbbing again – stop that. “You and Viva have only been doing this for two years and you ride better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
How does he know just what to say to a girl? “Better watch this one!” Grand was saying and pointing her finger at me.
“You’re too kind, Griffen. You seem to find me at the worst possible moments to be saying things like that,” I said.
“What do you mean by that?” he smiled.
“Well, every time I see you I’m covered with mud wallowing around in ditches,” I laughed.
“That’s not the only time I see you,” he said.
When has he seen me? I never see him. What does he mean by that? He’s making me blush again.
“Tell me about your uncle,” I said, remembering, with difficulty, my mission.
“He spends a lot of time in the woods,” Griffen said. “And lucky for me, he took me with him.”
“The woods?” I asked.
“He hunts, that’s his real passion,” he said.
“What about your aunt?” I asked.
“She died years ago, and he never remarried,” he said. “He’s retired now and spends most of his time in the Delta. Both of their kids, my cousins, were almost grown when he adopted me.”
“Is there a lot of hunting in the Delta?” I asked.
“Oh yes, the best,” he smiled. “Ducks, deer, turkeys, doves, hogs, you name it.”
“So, you like to do those things, too?” I said, not sure of where this conversation would go, but glad we were finally having a conversation and that I’d directed it back to him.
“I do, even though I don’t spend as much time with him since I started foxhunting,” he said. “This takes up so much of my time.”
“I know all about that,” I said, glad to return to something I understood.
We were nearly back at the trailers, and I thought quickly of what Mother would need to know to check him out.
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