“That was wonderful!” exclaimed Cherity.
“What happened?” laughed Seth as he cantered up behind her.
“My hat flew off—didn’t you see it! I thought it was time I came back for it or I might never find it.”
She hopped down to the ground, ran a little way, picked up the hat and replaced it on her head, and was quickly back in the saddle.
“Oh, that was so fun!” she said. “I’m not used to being able to gallop at full speed. In Boston where I ride at the outskirts of the city, you have to be careful since there are so many people about. But here…”
She could think of no words to express her delight, though the expression on her face said more than even the most perfectly chosen words could have conveyed.
“You fooled us all!” said Seth. “You didn’t tell us you could ride like that!”
Cherity threw her head back and laughed with glee, almost losing her hat again.
“You didn’t ask!” she said. “You just assumed, because I’m a girl, that I couldn’t ride as well as you. Then you were going to stick me on some old plough horse!”
“Diamond isn’t a plough horse!” laughed Seth. “He’s just—”
“Old and slow… and reliable!” added Cherity with mock annoyance. “How insulting!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“I’m only joking!” she laughed. “And it doesn’t matter. That was a great ride. But where are the others?” she asked, glancing about.
For the first time Seth realized they were alone. “There,” he said, pointing, “there’s the dust from their horses, see… where it disappears into the trees at the end of the pasture.”
“Do you know where they’re going?”
“Up to the top of the ridge, like we were talking about before. They’ll wait for us there. Come on, we’ll take another way.”
“Will we be able to catch them?”
“Not if I know Wyatt,” laughed Seth. “He’s competitive enough, once the race is on, he won’t look back.”
“Where does he live?” asked Cherity as Seth led the way and they began cantering gently across the grass toward the opposite side of the high meadow.
“On the other side of the ridge.”
“Is it true what his brother, the little boy… what was his name?”
“Cameron?”
“Oh, yes—is it true what Cameron said about his sister?”
Seth laughed a little uncomfortably. “We all sort of grew up together,” he replied. “Wyatt and Veronica and Cameron, and Cynthia and Thomas and me. Veronica’s at that age where she’s sweet on every boy she sees. But that was really something back there,” he added, anxious to change the subject, “I’ve never seen Silverfoot move so fast! She must like your touch.”
“I did nothing except let her run,” said Cherity.
“Maybe. But some people possess a knack for letting them run faster than others. Horses know when they can trust whoever’s on their back.”
“She’s a beautiful animal.”
“Do you have a horse of your own in Boston?” asked Seth, leading diagonally across the pasture-meadow toward the narrow trail that would lead them to Harper’s Peak.
“Just buggy horses. But my father takes me to some stables where they rent horses for saddle riding.”
Seth led them off the level and soon they were climbing slowly over rocky ground, moving steadily higher up the ridge to the plateau that ran along its crest. As once more they pulled even with one another, Seth spoke again.
“Horses are such noble creatures, don’t you think?” he said.
“Oh, yes!” rejoined Cherity enthusiastically. “I know they call the lion king of beasts, but I’ve always thought horses far more regal and kingly.”
“And they seem to have such a special bond with men… like dogs do too.”
“I don’t know about dogs,” laughed Cherity. “I’ve never had a special dog.”
“I’m not quite sure about dogs either,” said Seth. “But I think there will be horses in heaven—because of their stateliness and nobility.”
“Heaven!” laughed Cherity. “You make it sound like a real place.”
“It is.”
“What do you mean?” said Cherity. “It’s just a fairy tale place, isn’t it? I mean people don’t really live in the sky after they die and go around doing things like riding horses!”
“Maybe not in the sky—but they go to heaven… someplace,” rejoined Seth. “Don’t you think heaven’s real?”
“I’ve never thought about it.”
“What about the church you go to—don’t they talk about heaven?”
“We don’t go to church.”
“Oh… why not?”
“I don’t know. My father’s not very interested. He used to be, I guess, and my mother was. Why, are you religious? Do you go to church all the time?”
“Not all the time, but often enough I guess,” replied Seth. “It’s not that I think we are religious or anything like that. But God is a part of our lives.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“That God lives inside us and is our friend, that he is involved in what we do and think, and that we try to live the kind of lives he wants us to.”
“That sounds a lot like something your father said to me last year. But why would you want to have God be part of your life? It sounds stuffy and boring to me.”
“If God made us and loves us and wants the best for us, shouldn’t he be part of our lives?”
“I don’t know—I guess that’s another thing I’ve never thought about. Do you really think God is everywhere, I mean that he’s around… right here?”
“Sure!” laughed Seth. “If he created the universe, and made you and me… where else would he be but everywhere?”
“So you think he’s even listening to what we’re saying?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s spooky!”
Again Seth laughed. “I don’t see why. I think it’s kind of nice that he’s so close. But then I suppose it depends on what kind of person you think God is.”
Cherity did not reply. The brief conversation had already succeeded in turning her thoughts into channels where they had never ventured before. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Come on!” said Seth. “Let’s have another gallop—we’re almost to the top!”
He led out, not so fast as they had below for the footing was not quite so secure, but at a good easy gallop, until at last they crested the top of the ridge, then continued on to the summit known as Harper’s Peak.
He reined in and they sat gazing all about them at the low lying hills and valleys and the river winding its way in the distance. The only sound for several minutes came from the breathing and fidgety movements of the two horses beneath them.
“I thought you said Wyatt and the two younger boys would be waiting for us up here,” said Cherity.
“I thought they would be,” replied Seth, glancing about and listening for any sound of horses. He thought her comment a little strange since, in his eyes, their guest for the day was easily a year or two younger than Thomas.
“Where is Greenwood?” she asked after she had gazed in nearly every direction.
Seth pointed to a collection of red roofs in the distance. Then he turned in the opposite direction and pointed down the northeasterly slope of the ridge. “That’s the Beaumont plantation down there,” he said, “where Wyatt and Veronica and Cameron live. Over there,” he added, swinging around southward, “you can see the town of Dove’s Landing.”
“Are your family and Wyatt’s good friends?” asked Cherity.
“My father and Mr. Beaumont grew up together and rode all over these hills.”
“Do you and Veronica and Wyatt—”
“Oh, look—there they are!” said Seth. He pointed down the slope about halfway between Oakbriar and Dove’s Landing.
“Where are they going?”
<
br /> “I don’t know. But I know which trail they took… come on!”
They turned and began the ride down the opposite side of the ridge. It was quiet as they went, a more subdued mood settling upon them.
Suddenly Cherity cried out.
“Look… what’s that!”
“A cave,” laughed Seth. “There are all kinds of them around here.”
“Can we explore it?”
Without awaiting an answer, Cherity was off. By the time Seth had pulled up behind Silverfoot, she had dismounted and was running inside the cave’s mouth.
“How far does it go!” she asked, her voice echoing into the black void in the side of the hill.
“I don’t know,” replied Seth. “I’ve only gone a little way inside this one. You need a lantern to go past where you can see… and they say they’re haunted.”
“Phooey! You don’t believe any of that, do you?”
“This used to be Cherokee land… so you never know. Besides, caves are dangerous.”
At the words “Cherokee land,” a strange sensation suddenly swept through Cherity’s frame, a tingling feeling that gave her goose bumps all up and down her back. What had caused it? Why did she almost feel like she had been here before? That she somehow knew this place… or ought to?
By now they had turned slightly so that the cave’s mouth was no longer visible, and were standing in near total darkness. As Cherity continued to creep forward, she stretched out her hands to make sure she didn’t bump into anything.
“Why do you say caves are dangerous?” she asked at length.
“I don’t know—legends, ancient burial sites, hexes and curses and witch doctors… you know.”
“Phooey!” said Cherity again. “The Cherokees are civilized just like us. Did there used to be a Cherokee tribe around here? I’ve always been very interested in them and have read about them. I thought they were farther south.”
“I don’t know about a tribe… I don’t think so. Mr. Brown was a Cherokee, that’s all, and we’re on what used to be his land.”
The words “Mr. Brown was a Cherokee” again caused the uncanny feeling to flood her, a sense that said she ought to know more about the enigmatic Mr. Brown than she did… or perhaps it was the feeling that one day she would.
Finally Cherity stopped. “Well, you’re right… it is starting to get a little spooky,” she said. “I’m ready to get out of here and get back to where we can see where we’re going.”
She turned, but as she tried to make her way back, she bumped straight into Seth.
“Oops!” she exclaimed.
“You see,” Seth laughed. “You’ve got to go slow when you’re in a cave—you never know what you might run into.”
A minute later, they were walking back out into the bright sunlight.
They remounted and rode on. Again Cherity saw something in the distance that attracted her notice. “There’s a house down there,” she said, pointing through some trees to a clearing behind. “That’s not the big plantation you showed me where your neighbors live?”
“No, that’s Mr. Brown’s house. No one lives there now.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask my father. Mr. Brown gave the house and his land to my grandfather, and no one’s lived in it since Mr. Brown left. We use the land and occasionally some of his barns and stables for storage or for some of the animals. But mostly it’s not used except the land.”
“It seems too bad.”
“I suppose. But there’s not much my father can do with it—it’s too far from our house to be of much use.”
“How far is it?”
“Two or three miles.”
“Doesn’t it get used for anything?”
But Seth pretended not to hear as he rode a few paces away. He had promised his parents to tell no one that Reverend Jones’ secret congregation of slaves from the area was now using the old Brown house as a makeshift church. It was easier not to answer at all than try to make something up without crossing the line into actually telling an untruth.
By the time the two riders reached the valley west of Dove’s Landing, there was no sign of the others and they had no alternative but to make their way back to Greenwood by the most direct route. Seth did not want to go to Oakbriar looking for them and run into Veronica just now. And he thought he ought to get the girl home before her father began to worry about her. He didn’t know how long their guests planned to stay.
As they skirted along a seldom-used road about a mile west of town, they rode up to a walker coming toward them. As they reached him, Seth reined in.
“Hi, Scully,” he said to a sloppily dressed young man a year or two older than himself.
“Hey, Davidson,” said the other, glancing up toward the girl on the other horse, then back at Seth, without smiling at either.
“Have you seen my brother or Wyatt Beaumont riding along here?” asked Seth.
“No, I ain’t seen nobody. But me and Wyatt’s good friends.”
“Yeah… but they haven’t been around here, huh?”
“I said I seen nobody.”
“All right… see you later, Scully.”
“Why didn’t you introduce me to him?” asked Cherity after they continued on and were out of sight.
“I don’t know,” replied Seth. “I guess I didn’t think of it. He’s from… you know, the wrong side of town, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I know what you mean.”
“Let’s just say that Scully Riggs isn’t the kind of person you need to know. I mean, he’s all right, I guess—I’ve known him all my life, just like Wyatt. But he’s just… I don’t know, different.”
“He seems to like Wyatt.”
“He looks up to him. A lot of the boys around Dove’s Landing do. Wyatt’s the kind of guy other kids want to be around.”
They rode into the precincts of Greenwood a couple of hours after setting out. They saw Thomas just emerging from the barn after unsaddling his horse.
“Hey, Thomas, how long have you been back?” called Seth.
“Ten or fifteen minutes,” answered his brother.
“Where’d you go? We tried to catch up with you.”
“Wyatt just kept galloping,” said Thomas. “He didn’t say anything even after we got to the top, but just kept going.”
“Yeah, we saw you down the ridge.”
“Then when we got to the bottom, he headed back to Oakbriar, so I just came home.”
“Did you run into Scully?”
“Riggs… no.”
“And Wyatt didn’t say anything?”
“Nope.”
Just then the two men came walking toward them from the direction of the slave village.
“Cherity!” called Waters. “You were gone a long time—did you have a good ride?”
“Oh, Daddy… it was spectacular! What about the train? When do we have to go?”
“I finally convinced your father that you two ought to stay and spend the night with us,” said Richmond.
“Oh, good—then maybe I can have another ride!”
Twenty-four
The uniformed rider who appeared on horseback one afternoon in the fall of 1856 had not been seen at Greenwood for several years. He was, however, instantly recognized for he was an old family friend.
“Colonel Lee!” said Carolyn, walking from the house to meet him as he dismounted. “How good to see you again!”
“Carolyn… it has indeed been too long, for which I apologize.”
“You are a busy man, Colonel. Your duties take you far from home. We certainly understand that.”
“Not so far that I should neglect old friendships.”
“But I thought you were commanding a regiment in Texas after leaving West Point. How do you come to be here?”
“A brief trip home for family business. Unfortunately I must be back in Texas next month.”
“How is Mary Anne?”
; “Well, thank you, and Richmond?”
“Well also,” replied Carolyn. “I am sure you have heard about the changes around here?”
“All of Virginia has heard of them!” laughed Lee. “Indeed, if not all the nation, certainly all of the South. The news did not actually reach Texas, but as a fellow Virginian, I keep up on these things! That is why I have come. I had to see you and tell you personally how proud I am of your decision.”
“That will mean a great deal to Richmond, as it does to me… especially coming from you. There has been much criticism.”
“I can imagine.”
“Come in!” said Carolyn, leading him toward the house. “Would you like a julep or cold tea while I ride out to tell Richmond you are here?”
“Where is he?”
“Out with the slaves. We’re in the middle of harvesting a field of cotton—but what am I saying? You see, the change is even difficult for us to get used to! He is out in the fields with our hired workers.”
Lee laughed. “A julep sounds wonderful,” he said. “Perhaps Richmond can take a break and join me. I will go find him myself. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Let me get Moses started on the juleps, then I will ride down with you.”
An hour later Richmond Davidson and Robert Lee were seated in the midst of the Davidson arbor sipping mint juleps and reminiscing about old times, when their fathers had visited one another at their respective plantations.
The two had not been bosom friends as children and youths, only occasional acquaintances. Their fathers, who encountered one another through Virginia politics, had developed a mutual respect and an abiding bond of friendship, which they passed on to the sons. Circumstances and geography, however, prevented them seeing one another oftener than every two or three years. The sons were always included in such meetings and thus kept in touch as they grew—first as playful boys, then as rambunctious teens, then as thoughtful young men, and during the last ten or fifteen years as representing Virginia’s rising new generation of leaders. The Davidsons had followed the rise of their friend’s military career with pride. Though they saw less of one another than both might have wished, Lee perceived a deepening spiritual wisdom in the countenance of his friend. In recent years he had come to consider it a relational touchstone in his own life that kept him oriented through the troubles that were steadily encroaching upon their beloved Virginia’s former peaceful existence.
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