“You don’t have to be old for that.” Harry feared overmedication, too.
“Right,” Deon agreed.
Rae said to Cooper, “I didn’t question Edward Cunningham why he wanted us to shoot this footage.”
Cooper stood up. “We all saw the governor’s condition. I would guess Edward needed a video of him. The old man is frail, but he’s still presentable and still powerful.”
Fed up with politics, Harry said, “Elections are now never-ending. Edward Holloway Cunningham has his website. The amount of money spent these days on running for office is astronomical.”
“A big waste of money,” Deon said. “All that money could be put toward fixing some of our problems.”
“True, it is, but that money is coming to us,” Rae reminded him. “For which I’m grateful. It’s all ego, don’t you think?”
Bethel grimaced. “I know when I’m old enough to retire there won’t be any money in Social Security. All that money taken out of my paycheck and Deon’s paycheck will be squandered.”
“Yeah,” Deon simply agreed.
“Well, you could run for public office,” Harry suggested.
“And be like them?” Deon’s eyes widened.
Rae quietly added, “I really think when most people take that path they want to do good. Then the process corrupts them.”
“As a public servant I can’t partake in this discussion,” said Cooper. “But I can also tell you Albemarle County has a good sheriff. We are chronically underfunded and people want more and more services. Harry’s right. You all should run, or find someone young who you like, and encourage them.”
Harry added, “Someone young who isn’t corrupted.”
Deon felt cynical. “Yeah, but won’t they become corrupted, like Rae says?”
“You can always hope that a few won’t,” said Harry. “I don’t think anyone can corrupt Ned Tucker or could corrupt the late Emily Couric or Mitch Van Yahres, before your time. They were liberal, but I trusted them. We all did. But such people are few and far between now.” She stood up. “Maybe it was always this way and we think times were better in the past.”
“Do you think Governor Holloway was corrupt?” Deon asked.
“When he was governor, it was the Old Boys’ Club, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. They didn’t think of that as corrupt. I doubt that Governor Holloway or generations of Virginia governors questioned how business was done.” Harry vividly remembered her parents discussing politics.
“It’s still the Old Boys’ Network.” Deon, a young man of color, distrusted most all elected officials who were white.
Harry thoughtfully answered him. “Maybe it’s a shadow we’ll never shake. Little by little, the process opens up. I guess my question is, will it open up enough in time?”
“Hmm.” Deon listened.
“I’m going to be forty-two on Sunday.” Harry looked at Rae, Bethel, and Deon. “Sounds old to you, I’m sure, but it’s not that old and yet, I think about things a little harder, I feel things a little deeper, and I know I can’t turn my back on our problems. By the time you’re forty you know you have to step up to the plate. Otherwise you’ve left politics to all the creeps.”
“That means you’ll be working on Ned’s campaign next year.” Cooper smiled, then turned to Rae, Bethel, and Deon. “Thank you for your time. I may be back to ask questions as they occur to me. We’ll try to get to the bottom of this peculiar break-in. The good news is no one stole your equipment.”
Back outside, Harry climbed into Cooper’s squad car. “What an outburst.”
Cooper nodded. “It’s got to be painful being used by your grandson, used in a way that dredges up old hatreds.”
“Maybe they aren’t so old.” Harry fastened her seatbelt.
“I don’t know. I sure hope not.”
“I do, too, but Eddie wants to make political capital out of them.”
Saturday, September 18, 1784
Not wishing to offend, Jeddie bowed slightly to Jeffrey Holloway. “If you wait here, sir, I will fetch Miss Catherine.”
Handsome Jeffrey inhaled the fragrance of cleaned oiled tack. The bridles hanging on the tack room wall, bits gleaming, saddles on racks, also perfect, announced a well-run establishment.
Outside, divided into separate pastures, the horses grazed, mares separated from geldings, driving horses from saddle horses.
In the distance, Catherine approached with Jeddie. Struck by her grace, Jeffrey smiled.
“Mr. Holloway,” she greeted him, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Inclining his head, executing a half bow, he bounced back up, “Mrs. Schuyler, I’ve come to inquire if Serenissima has been bred?”
“Ah, Mrs. Selisse is taking an interest in affairs. That’s a good sign,” Catherine remarked. “Yes, she has been bred, but I would like to keep her for one more week. Of course, if Mrs. Selisse wishes her returned immediately, we will do so. There’s never a guarantee about these things. I hope she has caught, as it promises to be a fine breeding. Francisco relished an outstanding horse.”
“That he did.” Jeffrey cleared his throat. “You may be wondering why she sent me here.”
Graciousness itself, Catherine intoned, “I’m delighted that she did. You saw the crowd around her at the funeral. None of them horsemen, except Mr. Grant, of course, and I think of him as a gambler first.” She smiled conspiratorially.
Jeffrey’s face flushed. “Madam, I’m not much of a horseman myself. Yancy Grant fancies himself the best in the county, although we all know pride of place belongs to you.”
“You flatter me, sir.”
Taking all this in, Jeddie glanced out the barn doors. Covered in mud, John Schuyler walked toward the barn.
“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.” Jeffrey smiled and Catherine knew Maureen had to be under his spell. “Mrs. Selisse sent me, as she is not yet ready to pay calls. Also, she fears that Yancy Grant will try to buy Serenissima from her. She is unsure of the mare’s true value, but she knows you will tell her the truth. She asked me might I inquire of you if you think she should sell the mare? Grant has offered her four thousand dollars.”
“A fine sum, Mr. Holloway, but Serenissima, especially if she’s caught, is worth far more.”
Jeffrey’s brow furrowed. “I knew he’d try to take advantage of her. Beg your pardon, I shouldn’t have—”
Catherine shook her head. “We all know what Yancy Grant is about. He wants to win, he wants the best horses, and I suspect he wants Mrs. Selisse.”
John strode into the barn at that exact moment. “Hello, Mr. Holloway.”
“John, you’ve arrived in the nick of time,” said Catherine. “I was being indiscreet and spoke much too directly about Yancy Grant.”
Her husband came alongside her. “Ah, well, no harm done. Mr. Holloway will keep a confidence.”
“Of course, I will,” Jeffrey responded, pleased to be taken seriously by his betters. Plus, he liked them. They were close in age.
“Husband, might I ask what you’ve been doing?”
“Charles and Karl wanted to reinforce the bridges over the narrow deep ravines. They held. We knew that, but you know how those two fret, so I’ve been waist-deep in water, as have they, as well as all the men we could pull off their chores. Done.”
“Mr. Garth has the gift of seeing into the future.” Jeffrey admired the older man. “The work he did on the main bridge during the war has opened up commerce. Mr. Garth just sees what we do not.”
“That he does,” John agreed.
Catherine invited Jeffrey to come up to the big house, enjoy a sip of tea or something stronger.
Studying her husband, she shook her head and laughed. “As for you, don’t set foot in that house until you’re cleaned up. Father will fret. He won’t say anything, but he’ll fret.”