The Peace Maker

by Michele Chynoweth

  When Henry learned that a small horse ranch in Lexington called Little River was being put on the auction block, he had scraped together every cent of his life’s savings to buy it.

  Little River had come with three horses at the auction. Henry had always dreamed of one day entering his own horse in the Kentucky Derby. With a lot of time and effort, eventually he turned the small horse farm into a thoroughbred racehorse breeding farm. Little River had entered horses in at least a dozen stakes races at Churchill Downs, and a few had won. But the filly was his first hope at having a Derby contender, so he wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone after finding out Little Sally had come up lame and pregnant.

  Still, he had promised Raymond Silas he would have him over for dinner one night soon. Unfortunately, that night was tonight.

  Arguably the wisest and most influential leader of the national Republican party ever and the current Republican National Committee chairman now serving a second term, Silas had surprised the Mitchell family by asking if he could visit them, including all four sons, about a political matter of urgency. The former senator and Speaker of the House had watched as the Little River ranch made national headlines with its Derby contender as the big race grew near, and he was on a mission.

  Silas had a problem: the empty Kentucky gubernatorial seat vacated by Governor Nicholas Ramone, who had been impeached after being indicted on money laundering and fraud. Ray Silas needed to fill the position with a candidate who could stir up some good press for his party, and help him turn this debacle around as quickly as possible.

  He didn’t have time to waste; the special recall election was scheduled for that October, only nine months away. Since the lieutenant governor had also been involved in the scandal and was facing jail as well, there was no incumbent, nor any readily viable Republican candidate, in his opinion, to run for the seat.

  Silas had thought long and hard, and realized he needed to find a man completely outside of politics who would be well liked by the people of Kentucky once he was introduced to them. The governor’s fall had tarnished nearly everyone around him, and the people’s faith in their state politicians was waning fast. The best candidate for election would be one of their own, Silas knew—a man who was educated yet down-to-earth, smart yet compassionate, easy on the eyes but not too much of a ladies’ man and, obviously, a Republican.

  It was a difficult combination to find, but Ray Silas was never one to give up without a fight. He had research done on the Mitchell boys, found they all had become self-made men (which the people of Kentucky would appreciate), made sure each had a spotless reputation, and watched on television as they, along with their father, adeptly fielded the media as their horse farm was put in the spotlight with the upcoming Derby. He felt in his gut at least one would be a good choice. He had prayed about it. And between his gut and what he heard when he prayed, Silas was usually right.

  He just needed to pay them a visit and choose wisely.

  As the sun set in a glorious sky that late January evening, Ray Silas paused before ringing the front doorbell of the Southern plantation-style house, hearing men’s voices raised in debate from within. He stood on the wraparound porch with its white columns, glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, and strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t make out the words. The front door suddenly opened, startling him before he had a chance to ring or knock.

  He was greeted by a short, rotund woman of Spanish descent in her fifties, dressed in a typical maid’s outfit replete with starched black dress and white apron, her curly black hair cut short. She smiled tersely, asked if he was Mr. Silas, and opened the door wider, asking him to please come in.

  Henry Mitchell and three young men who Silas figured were his sons quickly hid their startled expressions, their frowns instantly turning to smiles. Henry strode across the oak parlor floor and warmly shook his guest’s hand.

  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything; I know I’m a few minutes early. You know airlines these days—they want to get you on and off the plane as quickly as possible.”

  “No problem; we were just finishing our discussion.” Henry Mitchell shot a look of admonishment to his three sons, whom he then introduced one by one.

  Ray Silas rapidly sized up all three young men, making mental notes.

  “This is my oldest, Charles, who is the vice president of Farmers National Bank in Danville. He was hired right away after graduating with a business degree from DeVry. Of course, I get free financial advice when I need it for helping him pay back all those student loans.”

  Henry and Silas chuckled as Charles Mitchell firmly shook his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “And this is William. He graduated summa cum laude from Louisville and went on to get his law degree at the Brandeis School of Law. He’s with a law firm right here in Lexington and hopes to make partner soon.”

  “Hello, Mr. Silas. You can call me Will.”

  “Only if you don’t call me Mr. Silas. It’s Ray.”

  George Mitchell beat his father to an introduction. “Hi Ray, I’m George. I wanted to introduce myself, since I’m in the field of public relations and can probably do a better job at it than dad.” He winked at his father, who gave him a mock frown. “I attended Asbury University, where I starred as Hamlet before graduating with a degree in communications. I am currently the PR director with a big ad agency in Owensboro. Charmed to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Ray Silas said, smiling.

  “Always the actor,” Henry said jokingly with a broad smile. It was obvious he was quite proud of the sons he had raised.

  Silas frowned.

  “Is there something wrong?” Henry asked him in a worried tone.

  “Well, it’s just…I thought you had four sons. Where is—”

  “Leif? You’re right, he should have been here by now.” Henry didn’t fully mask the slight irritation in his tone.

  “I thought his name was Phillip…that he was named after a king like your other sons?” Silas was perplexed. His researchers were experts. He was sure they had done their homework correctly.

  “He was. Phillip Leif Mitchell. He chose to be stubborn and go by his middle name when he became a teenager.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’s on his way. I’ll go ahead and tell you about him anyway. Like my other three boys, Leif also made a name for himself at a young age. He graduated from Thomas More College with a degree in theology. I’m not sure what he plans to do with it, but meanwhile, he is becoming known as a country-rock singer and songwriter. I don’t know if you’ve heard his songs on the radio, but it looks like they’re climbing the charts. He’s a big help around here since he has a knack with horses. He’s helped train some of our best.”

  “That reminds me—we haven’t even gotten Leif’s opinion yet on what to do about Little Sally.” The statement was out of George’s mouth before he could take it back. His father glared at him with disapproval, his mouth set grimly, hoping Ray Silas wouldn’t notice the family secret had just slipped out.

  But it was too late. Silas was very perceptive, and curious to start them discussing a matter of importance to see their various opinions, which might offer him a clue as to which one to select. “By all means, now you have my curiosity raised. How is your Derby filly doing?”

  “We have a small issue with her health, but it’s nothing to worry you about, with everything you already have on your plate,” Henry told his guest, trying to redirect the conversation. “You’re here to discuss which one of my sons might possibly interest you as a candidate for a political office within the party, right?”

  “Right. But first, maybe I can help with your issue. I’m known to give sage advice from time to time.” Silas winked at the brothers, who nervously laughed. “Tell me what’s up. I promise I won’t spill the beans to anyone outside this room.”

  Leif entered the back door of the house into the kitchen and stopped to give his mothe
r a hug as she was putting the finishing touches on the dining room table. His hand had been ready to open the door to the adjoining parlor when he overhead Ray’s comments. Intrigued, Leif paused and stood with his ear to the wall, putting his finger to his lips to caution his mother not to speak.

  Elizabeth Mitchell loved all her children, but Leif knew she was fondest of him. They just seemed to have a special bond since both of them were musically talented and loved to sing together. Maybe it was also because he was the baby of the family. While her other sons were all gifted and special, Elizabeth secretly believed that Leif would someday go the farthest in his life’s journey. So she stood still and quiet, watching helplessly while her youngest son’s expression turned from interest to perplexity to an angry mask of fury.

  Henry recounted how his prize filly had not only come up lame but was discovered to be with foal. She was resting in her stall for the moment, but they were all undecided as to her eventual fate. “We’re just not sure whether it will be a lot more costly to keep her alive than it will be to put her down.”

  “Costly in a monetary way, or for the reputation of Little River?” Silas asked.

  “Both.”

  “It could become a public relations nightmare,” George chimed in, now that the matter was going to be openly discussed. “I’ve been trying to tell Dad that I know this won’t bode well for any of us, and could have enormous ramifications. The media, animal rights’ activists and the like will all probably deluge us with protests if they find out that Sally is pregnant and we were running her to get ready for the Derby.

  “I say we put her down and tell the press she broke her leg trotting around in the paddock, which is the truth, and we’ll conduct an investigation into how it happened, which of course will show it was simply an act of Mother Nature,” George continued. “The media will cover it and it will be over. They’ll never know about the pregnancy. If we go the other route, there’s no telling how long the media will hound us.”

  Leif shoved his hands in his pockets and angrily pursed his lips. He wanted to punch a hole through the door but decided to listen to the rest of the conversation.

  “Not to mention the attorneys.” Leif heard Will speak up. “We’ll probably be the target of a bunch of lawsuits by everyone from the ASPCA and PETA to our competing Derby entrants, who could jump on the bandwagon claiming we had an illegal entry. It could be financially disastrous.”

  “What about the foal? Won’t it be worth something?” Silas asked.

  Leif nodded to himself, remaining quiet.

  “That’s a possibility, given her mother’s excellent breeding, but not knowing what horse sired it, we’d have to look into it,” Henry said. “Even if one of our prize colts had, uh, had his way with Sally, the percentage would still be small that the offspring will be thoroughbred racing material. It’s just the nature of the business.”

  “And even if the foal is a potential racehorse, the winnings it might earn wouldn’t begin to offset the costs of vet bills, nursing a lame horse during her pregnancy, the delivery—and of course the financial tornado that could hit if what Will and George are predicting actually happens,” Charles added. “If the truth comes out it could bring an end not only to Little River but the careers of each one of us. And of course…” the eldest son stood taller in an all-knowing manner, directing his gaze at Ray Silas, “it would not look good for you to have a Mitchell running for political office in the middle of all that.”

  Leif had enough. He banged open the parlor door and stormed into the room, his face red with anger. He faced all of them staring at him. Dismissing with any pleasantries, he directed his raised voice at his brothers.

  “How dare you talk about Little Sally like she’s a piece of merchandise we can just throw away? You’re talking about killing an innocent animal, a member of our family, no less, who ran her heart out to make us all richer, just so you can save face with the media, avoid some stupid lawsuit or save money. I’m ashamed of you! I love that horse, and I’ll do what it takes to save her and her foal. You can say the whole thing was my fault that she got pregnant. I’ll say the horse belonged to me alone, disassociate myself from the rest of you, and say the decision was mine. They can all come after me and sue me.”

  “Calm down, son.” Henry crossed the room and put his hand on Leif’s shoulder. “We were merely having a discussion about the matter while we were waiting for you. No decisions have been made yet.”

  “Why are you all discussing it with this man anyway?” Leif shrugged off his father’s hand and glared at Ray Silas warily. “No offense, but you’re not even a part of our family.”

  “Because he happens to be wise in these matters and has promised not to let it leak out before we do,” Henry said.

  “And he’s a politician?” Leif barely held back a sneer.

  “Correction. A political and government advisor. Name’s Raymond Silas.” Ray held out his hand and, after a brief moment of hesitation, Leif shook it. “Your father invited me to dinner at my request to meet all of you in hopes that I might find the next Republican candidate to run for the highest office in Kentucky—that of governor. But clearly I’ve come at a bad time…” Silas let the bait hang out for a moment before turning to go.

  Upon hearing that the office in question was that of governor, Leif’s brothers started to grumble and object to Ray Silas leaving.

  “Wait.” Leif took a deep breath and walked over to Silas and shook his hand again. “I’m Leif Mitchell and I’m sorry. That was very rude of me. I had no business taking my anger out on you, or eavesdropping like I did. It’s been a very rough day, and I apologize for being late. Can we all start over? I’m sure part of my problem is that I’m starving, and I’ll bet you’re all hungry as well. Why don’t we have dinner and talk more about this afterward?”

  Conversation during a spread of homemade chicken and dumplings was kept to small pleasantries about the weather forecast for the Derby, gossip on the other contenders and Elizabeth’s homemade apple pie.

  Afterward, Ray asked if Leif could take him to see Little Sally in her stall, saying he had never seen a racehorse up close.

  Leif agreed to walk him down to see her. His brothers, meanwhile, said they needed to get home; Charles had two children below the age of five and wanted to get home in time to tuck them in, George had an infant and needed to get home to help his wife, and Will said he had a big court case the next day for which he still had to prepare.

  After Ray took a peek at the peacefully sleeping horse, he lit up a cigar outside the stalls. Leif pulled up two chairs and the two of them sat to talk.

  “So you want to be a singer?” Ray sat back in his chair, taking a long draw on the cigar.

  “I am a singer.” Leif stressed the word ‘am,’ a little perturbed. “Actually I don’t know what I want to be. It seems God gave me a few talents. I’m good with animals. And I like to write songs as well as sing them.”

  “So you believe in God?” Ray puffed on the cigar, its tip glowing red in the oncoming dusk.

  “I do. Don’t you?”

  “Yes of course. It sounds like you believe in yourself and your convictions too.”

  “I believe that God has big plans for me. I’m just not sure what they are yet. I believe in doing His will. Today, that was saving Little Sally.”

  “You were very…passionate when you came in.” Ray looked at Leif and started to chuckle. Leif joined him, and the two sat laughing until they had tears in their eyes.

  After their laughter subsided, Ray looked at Leif thoughtfully for a moment. “I like your spunk, kid, and the fact that you can laugh at yourself. That’s a good thing. I also like your ability to stay rational, despite the fact that you were so angry. But most of all, I like your compassion for your horse and the fact that you think God has big plans for you.” He took another puff, blowing smoke into the night air. “You know, I think He does too. And believe it or not, I hear God talking to me sometimes. And right now He�
��s telling me He wants me to choose you to run for the Governor of Kentucky.

  CHAPTER 3

  Chessa

  Chessa strained to see past the common street sights flying by outside the bus window until she finally caught a glimpse of what she was looking for. Wow. There it is. The Capitol. It was miles away, but she could see the white-domed building gleaming, just like it did in the brochures she had seen.

  As soon as she had noticed the fliers posted all over campus announcing the spring bus trip to DC for the Human Rights Rally, Chessa had started saving every dime of her meager income from the paper, as well as from a part-time waitressing job, to make the trip. She had even managed to sign up to attend the Senate hearing and vote on Bill 713, the International Violence against Women Act. The bill had been indefinitely tabled in Congress several years earlier but had been redrafted and brought successfully before the House Foreign Affairs and House Armed Services committees. A victory in the Senate would mean the bill would go to the president for his signature, while a defeat would probably kill the measure altogether.

  The bill aimed to make violence against women and girls, both nationally and globally, a US foreign-policy priority. It would establish an Office of Global Issues under the direction of the Secretary of State to combat such violence, and promote gender equality and the empowerment of women. The bill would supplement research, take emergency measures to respond to critical outbreaks of violence against women and girls in situations of armed conflict, and increase humanitarian funding to support the policy to several million dollars. The funding, in the wake of the US recession, was the hot issue of debate.

  Chessa believed the funding was nominal if it meant the US would take the lead with the United Nations on stepping in and protecting women in the Congo, the Middle East and other countries that oppressed women from more brutal mass rapes like those they had suffered in the past by warring soldiers and terrorists.