“To Cousin Richmond!” they said in unison.
Twenty-three
Richmond Davidson was the first to see their unexpected visitors coming up the drive in a buggy and horse rented from the livery stable in town.
He approached with a great laugh of disbelief.
“James Waters… I don’t believe my eyes!” he exclaimed, running toward them from the direction of the barn. “Is it really you… not only in Virginia, but in Dove’s Landing… and on the very threshold of Greenwood!”
Hearing both the buggy and her husband’s voice from the kitchen, Carolyn hurried outside almost before Waters had explained the purpose of their visit.
“Carolyn, can you believe it!” exclaimed Richmond as Waters and his daughter climbed to the ground. “Look who’s here!—James,” he added to their guest, “please meet my wife, Carolyn—Carolyn… James Waters.”
“I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Davidson,” said Waters, offering his hand.
“Thank you,” replied Carolyn. “And I you.”
“And this is my daughter.”
“Hello, Mrs. Davidson,” said the girl who was nearly a foot shorter than her father, walking toward Carolyn with a bright smile and extending her hand. “I am Cherity Waters.”
Their eyes met. For an instant, the world stood still. Each gazed into depths of silent recognition that was yet but a glimmer, a germ, a mustard seed that faith and further knowing would have to nurture into life. Yet in that moment, the seed also became for both a reality only time would bring to fruition.
Carolyn took the offered hand and found its grip strong in spite of the girl’s diminutive size.
“I am so happy to meet you, my dear,” said Carolyn. Though she smiled, her voice choked on the words. Her throat had suddenly gone very dry at hearing the girl’s name.
“Carolyn,” said Richmond exuberantly, “Mr. Waters is the renowned journalist from Boston who took in a wayward stranger from Virginia last year.”
“Not renowned,” laughed Waters. “But I enjoy what I do.”
“That James Waters—how wonderful!” said Carolyn as she turned again toward the men and regained her equanimity. “I could tell from your voices that you were from the North. Richmond spoke of you after his trip to New England. He was full of praise, I should add. I am so happy to finally meet you.”
“Your wife is as charming as you said, Davidson!” laughed Waters.
“Now I see why my husband is so astonished,” added Carolyn. “You are indeed a long way from home.”
“We are on our way to Norfolk where my daughter, one of Cherity’s sisters, had a baby about six months ago.”
“Oh, I see—the new grandchild! A boy or a girl?”
“A little boy.”
“Congratulations.”
As her father began moving toward the house with the two Davidsons, already Cherity Waters was gazing about and wandering off.
“You are something of a celebrity in the North,” said Waters as they went.
“I’m afraid I don’t… what do you mean?” said Richmond.
“What you did with your slaves.”
“Ah… you heard!”
“Your grand experiment made the papers even up in Boston,” replied Waters. “You are quite a hero in some circles there.”
“And a traitor in most down here,” rejoined Richmond with a humorless smile.
“That is one of the reasons I wanted to stop by on our way to Norfolk, to offer my personal congratulations, if that is the right word. I could not help reading the account with pride. I am eager to hear more about your decision.” He glanced about as they reached the house. “I wonder where Cherity went,” he added.
“She’ll be fine,” said Richmond. “As I recall, she was fond of horses.”
“The understatement of the year!” laughed Waters.
“Well then, she should find plenty to interest her about the place!”
Not wanting to impose unannounced, and intending that he and Cherity would catch another train later that same day to Richmond where they would spend the night, James Waters had planned merely a brief visit to the Davidsons. But neither his acquaintance from Boston, nor his wife, would hear of it. Within an hour of their arrival, the hospitable Virginians had insisted they spend the night, and were doing their best to convince the New Englander to extend the visit even longer than that.
“My husband tells me you have three daughters,” said Carolyn, as she and her husband and their guest sat down on the back porch with tall glasses of cold tea.
“Yes. Actually, my wife and I had four children in all. First we had two daughters, now married, then a son who died at birth, and then some years later, our delightful surprise. Unfortunately,” he added as his tone grew melancholy, “it was her birth that cost me my wife. Kathleen died after Cherity’s birth.”
“I am so sorry,” said Carolyn.
Waters acknowledged her sympathy with an appreciative nod.
“It was… let me just say, a difficult time for me. She was a good woman, a faithful churchgoer, and I still do not understand why God would—”
He stopped himself and smiled mordantly. “Well… old wounds, deep scars,” he said. “No sense in spoiling the day by dredging up all that,” he added, glancing momentarily toward Carolyn’s husband.
Meanwhile, Cherity had discovered the corral and pasture where most of the horses were kept. She stood looking out over the fence at the dozen or so horses grazing in the distance.
When sixteen-year-old Seth Davidson came around the barn and saw the strange figure with its back turned standing beside the pasture, from the trousers, boots, and cowboy hat he assumed it a boy, and from the fact that whoever it was stood barely tall enough to see over the top rail, he judged it to be a boy of ten or eleven, several years younger even than his brother, Thomas. A glance toward the house, where the horse and buggy still stood, told him half the truth, that his parents must have visitors. He continued forward.
“Hi,” he said as he walked up. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yes!” said Cherity, turning to face him, her expression alive with pleasure at her surroundings. “Who are you?” she asked, with more candor than abruptness.
“I’m Seth Davidson,” replied Seth, trying to recover from his shock at finding the face of a girl beneath the wide brim of the cowboy hat. Why he hadn’t noticed the long hair spilling out below it, he did not stop to ask himself. He was not overly sophisticated for a sixteen year old. Yet his was nevertheless an age at which younger years, in his perception, fell back exponentially into memory. Whether she was ten or twelve, maybe even thirteen, made little difference. She was obviously several years younger than he was, and for a sixteen year old that meant she was a child.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Cherity Waters. My father and I are visiting. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Davidson’s son.”
“Yeah,” nodded Seth. “So can I ask you the same thing,” he said with a smile. “Who are you?”
Cherity giggled. “Mr. Davidson visited my father and me in Boston last year.”
“Oh… now I recall the name. Sorry—I didn’t remember at first.”
“That’s all right. How could you possibly know who I was?”
“And walking up from behind, when I saw your hat I didn’t expect a girl.”
Cherity laughed again. “Nobody does!” she said gaily. “Are these all your horses?”
“If you mean my father’s—yes.”
“Wow—there are so many!”
“I never thought of that before. I guess you’re right.”
Seeing his brother talking to someone he didn’t know, fourteen-year-old Thomas now walked up behind them. Cherity turned.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” returned Thomas, glancing at Seth with a look of question.
“This is my brother, Thomas,” said Seth. “Thomas, this is—Sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Cherity.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, right… Cherity Waters.”
Cherity extended her hand to the newcomer. “Hi, Thomas,” she said. “My father is visiting your parents.”
“I wondered where you three were!” said a voice from the direction of the house. They looked up to see the elder Davidson walking toward them.
“I got distracted looking at your horses, Mr. Davidson,” said Cherity. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I see you’ve met my sons. How would the three of you like to come up to the house for something to eat?”
The two young men did not have to be asked twice when it came to food. As they began following them back toward the large brick house, Davidson fell in step with their guest. “My wife has just about got your father talked into bringing your bags in from the buggy,” he said, “and staying on an extra day with us.”
“Oh good!” exclaimed Cherity. “I can hardly wait to see everything there is to see!”
Thomas glanced back briefly, concluding, like his brother, from her high voice and girlish enthusiasm that the daughter of his parents’ guest was only eleven or twelve.
A couple of hours later that afternoon, as Richmond and his guest were discussing a walk down to the former slave quarters, which Waters was eager to see, the sound of horses riding up to the house interrupted them. Thomas leaped from his chair and ran from the room.
He reappeared a minute later.
“Wyatt and Cameron are here,” he said to his father. “They want to know if Seth and I can go riding. They’re going up on the ridge.”
“Sure,” replied Richmond. “Bring them in so they can meet our guests.”
Thomas disappeared again. When he returned, two other boys followed him into the room, one taller and older than Seth, the second a year younger than Thomas.
“Hello, Wyatt… Cameron!” said Richmond pleasantly, rising and shaking hands with both boys. “Out for a ride?”
“Yes, sir,” said the older of the two in a deep, manly voice.
“It’s a fine day for it. I would like you to meet our guests from Boston. This is Mr. Waters—James, these are our neighbors, Wyatt Beaumont and his brother Cameron.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Wyatt, shaking his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Waters,” said Cameron politely in a high boy’s voice.
“And this is his daughter, Cherity.”
“Miss Waters,” said Wyatt with a nod, allowing his eyes to glance over her face briefly.
“Hi, Wyatt… Hi, Cameron,” said Cherity. “I am happy to meet you.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be going, then,” said Seth, rising from the table to join the three boys.
“Maybe Miss Waters would like to join us,” suggested Wyatt.
The words seemed to fall like cold water on the countenances of the other three boys. They hesitated and glanced at each other with looks that conveyed anything but enthusiasm at the thought of having a girl along to slow them down.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” said the elder Davidson.
“Uh, I don’t know, Dad,” said Seth. “Some of the footing up there’s not the best.”
But Wyatt glanced toward Cherity, whose eyes had widened considerably more than usual at his suggestion.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“A little,” she replied, trying not to sound too eager, glancing toward her father, who could not help smiling at her answer.
“Let her come, then,” Wyatt said to the others. “We’ll take it easy—if you want to, that is,” he added, again turning to Cherity.
“Uh… sure—it sounds fun!”
“Then let’s go,” said Wyatt.
Cherity rose and followed the four out of the house. As they walked toward the barn, Wyatt fell into step beside her.
“I’ll saddle up a horse for you,” he said down to her, for her head barely came to his chest. “Which horses are you going to take, Seth?” he asked, turning toward Seth.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll ride Dusty. What about you, Tom?”
“Paintbrush.”
“What about for Miss Waters?” asked Wyatt.
“I guess we’ll put her on old Diamond,” said Seth.
“He sounds slow,” said Cherity with disappointment. “And old.”
“But he’s reliable,” said Seth. “I don’t want you getting thrown off.”
“I won’t get thrown off,” she rejoined confidently. “And I don’t want to just plod along—I want a horse that’s fast enough to keep up.”
Seth and Thomas glanced at each other, Thomas’s expression saying Girls always think they can keep up… but they never can.
“My sister never rides,” said Cameron, now coming up on the other side of Cherity with boyish eagerness as they continued to the barn. He was still young enough to be excited at the prospect of having someone new along.
“How old is she?” asked Cherity.
“Sixteen,” replied Cameron.
“Why doesn’t she ride?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she likes horses.”
“What’s her name?”
“Veronica. She’s sweet on Seth.”
“She is not, Cam!” said Seth, though the color rising in his cheeks showed that he took the words more seriously than he let on.
“She is, too. Everyone knows it—don’t they, Wyatt?” said Cameron, appealing to the wisdom of his older brother.
“I don’t know, Cam,” he said. “Since Veronica isn’t here, let’s leave her out of it and stick to horses.”
“Oh, all right… but it’s still true.”
No more comments followed in that direction. They reached the barn, Seth and Thomas called three horses from the pasture to be saddled, and ten minutes later the five set off up a gentle slope toward a wooded hillside in the distance.
“What’s this one’s name?” asked Cherity as they went. “It’s not old Diamond, is it?”
“No,” laughed Seth. “I thought maybe you would like Silverfoot better—she’s reliable and reasonably fast. But I wouldn’t gallop her if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said before, some of the terrain is uneven and steep. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I will make sure nothing happens to her,” said Wyatt.
They reached the woods and continued through it. The conversation was subdued except for Wyatt at Cherity’s side who kept up what he could of a conversation. Before long Cherity realized that she was the reason that the other three seemed bored with the slow pace.
Gradually they emerged into a clearing about two-thirds of the way up the ridge. There the path widened and eventually gave way to a flat expanse of lush grassy pasture where the Davidson horses were sometimes taken to graze and roam and run.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” exclaimed Cherity as they came out of the shadow of the trees behind them. “I had no idea we would find such a place up here after we’d climbed like we had.”
“It’s like a hideaway of meadow with hills all around,” said Seth.
“We bring the horses here to graze,” added Thomas. “Sometimes we train them here.”
“But there are no fences.”
“We don’t need any.”
“Won’t the horses wander off?”
“There are enough natural barriers to keep them here,” replied Seth. “The only way up to this meadow is through woodland, some of it steep. It’s surrounded on two sides by the slope of the ridge up to the summit, and on the third by a small river that runs over there behind us. The horses could leave the meadow, I suppose, but they are content to remain here, or to wander back down by the trail we just came up, which takes them straight back to their pasture by the barn.”
“What’s that up there?” said Cherity, pointing to the highest point rising beyond the meadow.
“That’s Harper’s Peak,” said Cameron.
“It’s the highest mountain around here,” added Thomas.
“It�
��s not a mountain,” said Wyatt, riding alongside Cherity again, “but it’s all we’ve got for one.”
“Can we ride up there?” asked Cherity.
“That’s where we’re going,” said Wyatt.
“Now that we are on the flat… did you say this horse can run?” said Cherity, a gleam in her eye.
“Yeah,” began Seth, “but—”
Before he could reply further, the girl they thought they had been pampering since leaving Greenwood shouted and lashed her horse’s rump and tore off across the grassy expanse.
The two older boys looked at each other in astonishment, then one by one the four took off after her. Catching her, however, proved easier said than done. Whatever the other qualities of the steed they had selected, with a light girl in the saddle, the mare called Silverfoot was capable of moving with greater speed across the meadow than any of them could have predicted. Fifteen seconds later, the four boys, galloping as fast as they were able and yelling at their mounts at the top of their lungs, all still trailed her.
She glanced back, saw them desperately trying to catch her and could not help laughing with delight. When the faint sound of her laughter reached them over the wind, it made her pursuers—in two groups now, the sixteen and seventeen year old side by side, followed a few lengths back by the thirteen and fourteen year old—dig in their heels all the more, but without effect.
As Cherity turned to look behind her, the brim of her hat caught in the breeze and flew from her head. She gave a little cry as she watched it sail back, only missing by inches being trampled under the four sets of hooves behind her. But she turned forward again and continued on, flying across the grass, her auburn hair flowing out behind her, a great smile of exhilaration on her face.
At length, some two hundred yards farther on, suddenly Cherity reined to the side and peeled off in a great arc which gradually took her back the way she had come. The boys’ horses thundered past as she galloped back in the direction of her hat. Glancing back, she saw one rider, light hair blowing wildly, following her, while the other three disappeared in the distance. By the time she reined in, her lone pursuer had nearly drawn even. The sides of both horses were heaving and great puffs of air burst from their distended nostrils.
American Dreams Trilogy Page 19