The Hunt Ball Read Free Page A

quarry square in the eye.
    The beautiful music of hounds in full cry came closer. The girls stopped talking, almost holding their breath.
    Moneybags, Valentina’s big boy, started the chortle that leads to a whinny. She leaned over, pressing her fingers along his neck, which he liked.
    â€œMoney, shut up.”
    He did just as the head hound, a large tricolor, Dragon, vaulted off the far bank into the water. Trident, Diana, and Dreamboat followed closely behind the lead hound.
    Within a minute, the girls heard the larger splashing sound of Showboat, the huntsman’s horse, fording the creek, deep, thanks to recent steady, heavy rains.
    Another four minutes elapsed before Keepsake, Sister Jane’s hardy nine-year-old Thoroughbred/quarter horse cross, managed the waters. After that the cacophony of splashing hooves and grunts from riders, faces wet from the horses in front of them, filled the air.
    â€œCome on,” Tootie said as loudly as she dared.
    The three crept forward just as the noise seemed finished. Crawford Howard suddenly crossed, though. He’d fallen behind. He was startled to see the three young women riding out of the mists, as was his horse, Czpaka, who shied, unseating Crawford right in the middle of Broad Creek.
    â€œOh, shit,” Valentina said low.
    â€œOne dollar.” Felicity truly was single-minded.
    â€œNot now, F. We’ve got to get him up, apologize, and get with the field before we lose them again.” Tootie hopped off Iota, her horse, handing the reins to Valentina.
    â€œMr. Howard, this is my fault. I am so sorry.” She waded into the creek, cold water spilling over her boots down into her socks.
    Swiftly, she grabbed Czpaka’s reins, still over his head. Czpaka considered charging out and leaving Crawford. A warm-blood, big-bodied fellow, he wasn’t overfond of his owner.
    â€œWhoa,” Tootie firmly said.
    â€œOh, bother. I hope he freezes his ass.”
The horse did stand still, though.
    â€œThen he’ll kick yours,”
called out Parson, Felicity’s horse.
    â€œI can dump him anytime I want,”
Czpaka bragged.
“The only reason I let him sit up there like a damned tick is I like following the hounds and being with all you guys.”
    Tootie led Czpaka out. He stepped up on the bank. Crawford sloshed out. While he could be pompous on occasion he did see the humor of his situation. Besides, foxhunters had to expect the occasional opportunity to show off their breaststroke.
    The mist rose slowly, the sun higher in the sky now on this brisk October day. But one could still only see fifty feet. Tootie looked for a place where Crawford could stand to mount his big horse. The huge knees of the gnarly tree wouldn’t do. They’d be slippery, adding insult to injury.
    â€œVal, you hold Czpaka while I give Mr. Howard a leg up.”
    Valentina, at six feet one inch, one inch taller than Sister Jane, was stronger than Tootie, who stood at five feet four inches. “You hold. I’ll give him the leg up.” She handed Iota to Felicity and Moneybags, too.
    â€œGirls, I’ll be fine,” he demurred.
    â€œWell, your boots are wet and the soles will be pretty slippery, sir. It’s only cubbing. No reason to risk an injury before the season really starts.” Tootie’s judgment belied her years. She’d always been that way, even as a little thing.
    â€œGood thinking.” He reached up to grasp Czpaka’s mane with his left hand, resting his right on the pommel of his Hermès saddle with knee roll. He bent his left leg as Val cupped her hands under it, lifting him as he pushed off with his right leg.
    The tall blonde was grateful he pushed off. Some people, like sacks of potatoes, just stand there and you have to lift all of them up. Hernia time.
    Tootie held the right stirrup iron to steady the saddle, releasing her hand and the reins once Crawford was secure.
    Both young women gracefully