“What are you studying in school?” I asked.
“English is my major, but I’m not sure what I’ll do after that. More school, but I don’t know what field,” he said.
“Is that what your uncle studied?” I asked.
“Yes. He was trained as an attorney but ended up in seminary, then invested in some really successful businesses and hunts all he wants now,” Griffen smiled. “It’s made it easy for him to help me, and I’m eternally grateful. He wants me to get graduate work done in some field. He’s a big believer in education.”
“So, will you see him over the holidays?” I asked.
“Some,” he said. “I’m, usually gone for most of the break.”
“Foxhunting?” I asked.
“No, South America,” he said. “To help a friend with one of his projects. Take Jet and tie him to my trailer, over there. I’ll take care of Spice.”
We were back at the trailers now, so he handed me his horse, and I walked him to his trailer. Jet went straight to his spot without protest and stood patiently while my bungled hand fumbled with his bridle and slipped the halter over his head. I was trying to hurry so I could remove my hard hat – no inhibitions just in case – fluff some sort of style into my hair, and get back to Griffen before the crowd returned.
Grand would be scandalized that I was considering allowing him, no actually hoping he’d try to kiss me before we ever even had a date. Parceling out the passion – Well, we’ll see about that. Whatever I could do to make it inviting for him to at least try, I was certainly game to attempt.
Viva followed me, her reins looped in my good arm, as I rounded the trailer and reached to open the tack room door to put away Jet’s bridle. I moved as quickly as I could without spooking the horses and making it too obvious should he happen to glance my way. Hurry, not much time.
As I opened the door, a low growl emanated from the darkness. Golden eyes met mine, and they meant business. I felt the beast bristle and approach as I quickly, but slowly, smoothly, easily stepped backwards, talking in low tones – very carefully moving away.
“Easy, boy,” I said lowering my eyes naturally attempting to disperse the tension. “Easy now.”
I gently closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. What kind of guy keeps a monster like that in his trailer? Every time I get into a rush…
I whirled to the other side of his truck, looped the bridle over the rear view mirror, and dashed over to mine. Viva was going to have to keep her bridle on, no time to get her untacked – I slipped the halter over her bridle, threw my hard hat in the tack room, smoothed my hair into a ponytail and checked for mud. Properly placed mud seemed to be an advantage with this one, so I left it and swiped just a bit of Burt’s Bees chap stick with just a hint of color on my lips and chewed a mint.
“Hussy!” Grand hissed.
Back at the hound trailer, Griffen had Spice settled comfortably and had radioed to William our whereabouts. We walked into the clubhouse and I hoped no one was there preparing food. Time to pour on the charm, perhaps we could get a better start. Chin up, what now? Southernmother training prohibited me from assaulting him even in private. He has to make the first move. I just have to make it easy.
“I met your dog,” I said. “Or was that a grizzly?”
“Eliott, I’m sorry, I completely forgot about Panzer!” he said. “He didn’t scare you did he? I’ve got to go let him out.” And he left.
Alone in the clubhouse. Completely alone.
I found a plate and piled on some food. Always good to have props. I see where I stand with him. Certainly behind his angry beast. Maybe I really need to reconsider this – moody man, angry dog, Grand’s good sense started peering through my libido and was actually making an impression. A few minutes later, he returned. The flicker of good sense firmly extinguished when he approached.
“What would you like to drink?” he said. He looked at me again, but I was able to breathe, somewhat, this time and form a “devil may care” lilt in my answer.
“Whatever – water, or sweet tea if they have it. Coke’s fine, too, as long as it is the red kind,” I prattled nervously. Grand is frowning. At least my legs were crossed, I had stopped fidgeting now that I had food, and I was sitting up straight.
He placed the Coke in my throbbing mitt, and it felt great to give that errant hand a job.
“Don’t you want anything?” I asked.
“Nothing I can have here,” he smiled and narrowed his eyes.
What? Does he want me to pounce?
I swallowed and put my Coke on the floor. When I straightened, he took my hand in his and traced his fingers over the bites. Heavenly day! The shock of his delicate touch almost unseated me.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, his eyes hard to read, distant, curious… magnificent.
Hardly. Breathe. Time screeched to a halt.
My good hand wanted to grab his dark wavy hair and crush his mouth to mine. My whole body had gone numb, but where his fingers traced the bite, I felt, with amazing intensity, his soft, electric touch. I glanced down and looked at my hand not believing that his simple curious gesture could cause so much turmoil within me. Recovering slightly, I looked up to respond.
“No, that feels…good,” I said, looking into his green eyes as my heart sank.
The crowd had returned.
He looked at me with, with what…regret… relief…and stood up to meet the others. I sat, plate in lap, hand throbbing, and wanted to scream. Instead, I kept my chin up and swallowed more food.
Lydia walked in first, saw me sitting alone with food on my plate, and stomped back out. Why was she already coming inside? She definitely should have been at the hound trailers. Who knows with her?
Once the crowd arrived the food team got to work. I was swallowed up by Ben and the others telling us all about their day. I tried to look interested while my eyes searched for Griffen. He must be taking care of Spice.
“Don’t go lookin’ for him,” Grand hissed in my head. “Hold your ground and your dignity.”
The crowd began to thin, and I remembered Viva still had her bridle on at the trailer. When I walked out, I noticed his trailer was gone. Gone? That’s so strange. Without a word? Maddening. I felt like I’d been slapped.
Viva was glad to see me, and I was ashamed that I had left her stranded. After untacking her, brushing her down, and loading her in the trailer, I collapsed into the seat. There was a note on my steering wheel.
Elliott –
Take care of yourself. Stay away from snakes.
Griffen.
(P.S Panzer promises he won’t bite should he run into you again.)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 11 - Stanford Hall
Cypress trees surrounding dark slews. Black Delta bottomland stretching for miles inviting gallops gallops gallops and lazy days in soggy swamps.
I did not think any Opening Meet could top either of the last two, and the only two, that I had attended. However, I was wrong. Big River Hounds had been invited to celebrate its annual event in the Delta this year, and I felt like I was living in a fairy tale.
Stanford Hall was the most magnificent home I had ever seen, and it was dressed in its finest today. Classical music emanated from the pecan trees towering over the elegant manicured lawn. People everywhere were admiring this stately home built in the 1920’s. As usual, all types of hours d’ourves were presented proudly, but this time on silver trays accentuated by the mahogany antiques that supported them.
Set in the heart of the picturesque and mysterious Mississippi Delta, this home was a pearl of the finest order. Today, I had given myself plenty of time to braid Viva’s mane and tail, get the hounds ready, and help the other staff with arrangements. Duties done, I worked my way to the breakfast and gave myself time to mingle and enjoy the lovely atmosphere.
Usually, I didn’t eat before hunts. Not only was this an old tradition among die hard foxhunters (I had read), my stomach fluttered before every me
et. Not nerves, really, just excitement. Three years of hunting now and still the same flutters – I hope I never lose them.
Food was everywhere – shrimp, crab dip, quail, ham, and of course, garlic cheese grits. There was a separate line for omelets made while we waited, and all the different types of jellies a girl could ever want. No chocolate fountain, though, I laughed to myself. And of course, Griffen came to mind.
“Elliott?” he said.
“Griffen!” I said and returned his casual hug. “Good to see you – I hoped you would lend us your expertise this year.” Good heavens, you look and smell fabulous.
His eyes sparkled as he looked down at me, “I don’t know about that, but why don’t you save me the trouble of having to find you and haul you out of the mud – again?” he asked. “Ride with me today.”
“We’ll see who rescues who!” I laughed. It was really good to see him, but memories of the gnawing pain of his mysterious disappearance last year pulled at my stomach. Why did he disappear? My left hand was acting fine, no embarrassing urges, yet. Keep it light. Like I could care less. Grand would be impressed.
“Good, I’ll clear it with William,” he said and left to make arrangements.
Oh Southernmothers please be with me now. Remain calm and act like this is no big deal. What in the world is up with him? Well, at least my eyes will be entertained – a day for elevating the senses.
“Good morning, Elliott,” Ben said kissing me on the cheek, “You’re amazingly clean for being at a foxhunt. You look great.”
“I intend to get dirty as soon as possible,” I smiled. “And, thanks, you, too! Where’s Ashley?”
“She’s getting the last minute details wrapped up on her art auction. I think they are hoping to make a lot of money this year for the hunt,” he said. “I see Griffen found you.”
“Yes. Why?” I asked.
“I’m telling you that something’s not right with him,” Ben said. “I can sense it. Have you heard from him at all since last year’s hunt weekend?”
“No, but, why does that matter?” I asked. And you are sounding muchtoomuch like a parent.
“Elliott, if a guy really is interested in someone, they keep in touch,” he said. “They don’t stomp around acting like they own a person then leave for a year with no contact.”
“Thank you, Ben, for that information,” I said. “I will keep it in mind. Are you taking first flight today?” I asked, changing the subject before the overwhelming urge to dump food in his lap overcame me.
“Yes, and I do think we’ll have a really big crowd,” he said, a distinct edge in his voice. “Jane will have her hands full, too, in second flight.”
“Well, I hope we get to see some game,” I said keeping the conversation directed away from Griffen. “I’m still hoping to see a bobcat. Maybe today will be the day. Did Christopher come?”
“No, they need him at Woodland,” he said. “I think he’s been conned into whipping-in for them. He complains a lot, but he loves it.”
“Oh look, they’re bringing in the puppies,” I said. Thank goodness. Maybe this’ll distract him.
Five precious little “s” puppies had been born this year to Rufus and Spice. One of the fund-raisers for this hunt was the privilege of paying for the right to name one. Each was passed around the crowd in hopes someone would fall in love and in Ashley, they certainly met their mark. I caught her eye as she grabbed one of the little black and white puppies. She immediately dashed my way.
“Elliott,” she hissed. “Griffen’s here!”
“I know, but thanks for the warning,” I said. “We’re riding together.” I gave her a conspiratory wink.
All year I had pushed him out of my mind, so seeing him again was a surprise, but not a thunderbolt. None of his actions made sense, but he did seem, well, less brooding, so far. I made up my mind to forget him and not search out his history. Now that he was back on my turf bouncing around like nothing happened – well, nothing did, really, probably to him – I had two goals. First, he was going to kiss me before the weekend was over. That shouldn’t be too hard to orchestrate. And if he did, I would find out about his parents. I should probably work the other way around, but Grand didn’t have to dictate all my actions.
Something was amiss about him; I knew that without Ben’s unsolicited opinion. Hopefully, I could retain enough control and sense to make an educated decision on whether or not we should even date, if, in fact, that was his intention. Not likely, since I had not even had a note from him all year. But he was here…but he came every year. Did he come because of me? I doubt it.
My reaction to him was unprecedented – not a single person since had yet to have the same effect in spite of my hopes that he had shaken loose what I thought must be my dormant heart. However, even hoping to recapture those feelings was not enough to let me make a bad choice about with whom I spent my time. Especially since just my silly feelings for him were so – predictable. Oh, Mother and Grand would be so proud. Such common sense and will power.
Bidding was getting impressively high for Ashley’s puppy. She kept shooting her hand up and staking her claim. When the price reached $500, she slowed in her enthusiasm. The auctioneer was good, so when she was outbid to $600, he put the pressure on Ben. As much as Ashley hovered around Ben, the auctioneer could tell they were an item and knew a smitten guy when he saw one.
“$650, do I hear $650, sir, that little lady really wants to name that puppy, do I hear $650? Anyone here for $650? Sold! To the young man in the red coat – for the lovely lady with the blue eyes!” the auctioneer cheered.
The rest of the audience roared with laughter as the new puppy licked Ashley thoroughly as if he knew she was his new benefactor. She named him Spur for the little black mark along his side.
The next puppy was my favorite, and I had to go squeeze on him. He had two perfect black dots on his rump that looked just like those on my left hand, my snakebite. Bidding started, and I raised my hand until it exceeded $200, then let the others bid on. I couldn’t see spending that kind of money on a name even for a good cause. There were plenty of others in this crowd who could afford to do this, so I didn’t feel obligated to part with my, or rather, my parents’ money.
Bidding climbed for my puppy to $600 – this group must really have been getting into the milk punch – then a voice I recognized all too well said, “I’ll pay $1000 for that pup.”
“Sold! To the fellow in the back,” the auctioneer quickly snapped.
Silence. Then a roar of applause.
That voice.
He put the puppy in my arms, and I was speechless.
“Will this make up a little for my not having called you in, oh, a year?” he said.
“Griffen, what in the world are you doing?” I asked, but of course had to smile.
“What’s his name?” he asked, leaning in closer to me so he could pet the puppy. Oh my. Puppy breath and Griffen – what more could a girl want?
“Snake, of course,” I said. “We’ve got a special bond.”
“Mmmm,” he said, as he took my scarred hand in his. “It looks like it’s healing nicely.” He turned it over in his hands, and I thought my knees would collapse – here – in front of all these witnesses – I couldn’t even hold hands with him without getting weak. Stand up!
The time for gathering the hounds was approaching rapidly, so I forced myself back to the tasks at hand. I handed Snake to the puppy sitters, sipped just a little bit of milk punch for courage, and told Griffen I needed to check Viva’s braids. We then went to help William with last minute hound details.
The fields were dark with mud, so I opted to braid a quick mud knot in Viva’s tail. Since the top was already finished, I just had to braid the bottom and run it up through the sides of her tail to top off the look. I stood back and admired my handiwork. Not perfect, but getting better each year.
“What would I have to pay you to do that for Jet?” Griffen asked, leaning in a little too, no
, way too close. I had my helmet on already and could have slapped myself for strapping it on so soon.
“Hussy!” Grand hissed at my way-to-eager-to-be-kissed-by-him fantasies.
“Radio check, Elliott?” William cracked.
“10-4, sir,” I answered, in spite of my dry throat.
“You and Griffen take the north end and spread out. Make sure the hounds stay well away from Highway 43,” he said. “I’m counting on your fast horses to be able to get there if we strike a coyote.”
“Yes sir,” I said.
I love this sport.
“Stephen and Lydia will be in the south, Bo and Bob on the far side of the canal in case something swims it, and Susan will cover the east side close and help me. Stay in touch, but no chatter. Let me know what’s going on with the puppies especially,” he said.
Griffen had left to go get Jet at William’s radio check. “Let’s go,” he said, as he trotted up on his stately horse.
There goes all the air. My, my what a pair – my hand started its throbbing thing again. What is this? It’s been a year and my hand hasn’t forgotten! Chin up – take charge since he’s never hunted here before.
“Follow us. We’ll be your pilots for a change,” I said.
We rode near the pack and helped contain them for the ceremony as the priest recited the long, glorious, Blessing of the Hounds. This day, each of us was beribboned with St. Hubert’s medals – the patron saint of the hunt. I was going to need all the high holy help possible keeping my head about me and was glad for the physical reminder to remain focused.
Hounds were off, and Griffen and I left the others at a slow canter. I told him where the coverts met, how the fields ran, and where the highways posed the greatest danger. He absorbed this information without comment, but I knew he was calculating the best possible positions for us to attain.
Once in our assigned area, Griffen found a place that looked like somewhere foxes would play all day. It was an emerald green meadow nestled between two long cypress brakes and a barren black field.
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