His eyebrows raised, his voice did, too. “And who might I ask was the first?”
“Just this morning Jeffrey Holloway came to check on her condition.”
He snorted. “He’s a cabinetmaker, not a horseman.”
Rachel coolly observed while Catherine acted nonchalant. “True enough, but he mentioned that he wished to see to Mrs. Selisse’s mare, she being under such duress.”
Yancy’s face reddened, but he composed himself. “Upstart.”
Catherine shined her best smile upon him. “Well, he certainly doesn’t know horses as you do, but then how many do?”
“You flatter me.” A worried look flashed over the anger. “That poor lady is under great duress, as you stated. I can’t see how Jeffrey Holloway can relieve any of it. He has no experience managing slaves, he has no business experience other than that of a tradesman. Ladies, I fear, his motives are”—he paused to effect—“for personal gain.”
“Oh, Mr. Grant, I hope not. She has been through enough,” intoned Rachel, now in on the game.
If Yancy could win over Maureen Selisse, his moderate fortune would be enlarged by a great one. Not that he would hint as such, but his feelings about Jeffrey Holloway betrayed his own motives—plus, Holloway was incredibly handsome and young. Yancy was not a bad-looking man, but was middle-aged with a paunch. He could not have been immune to the figure in his mirror.
He shook his head. “Women in distress can be easily swayed. I have seen it.”
“You are kind to be so concerned.” Catherine fed his vanity.
In Yancy’s defense, he deserved some of that vanity. He’d supported the revolution, worked tirelessly for the cause, kept his estate afloat during the financial debacle that followed. Like Ewing, he had a broad vision.
Settling down, he walked back to the main stable with the ladies.
The slender fifteen-year-old Ralston stood outside the stall into which he had put Yancy’s horse. Catherine nodded to him, so he opened the stall door.
“Mr. Grant, please consider staying and enjoying a drink, some food?” Catherine repeated her offer.
“Thank you, but I’d best get back.”
Rachel asked him, “Have you heard, sir, any news of the slave who killed Mr. Selisse or the woman?”
“No. No one has. They’ve vanished. For now. If they can be found, that will relieve Mrs. Selisse. I can imagine she fears their return, and she may fear for her own life. It was a vicious business.” He swung himself up in the saddle without using the mounting block. That damned Jeffrey Holloway might be much younger, but Yancy could swing up like a young man and he knew he could outride Holloway. Still, he was worried.
“You honor me by wishing to look at my two boys; I call them my boys.” Catherine looked up at him while thinking about how to tell Rachel not to discuss Moses without giving anything away, although Rachel didn’t know the fugitives were on the farm.
Peering down into Catherine’s gorgeous upturned face, he smiled. “I shall send over my best mare. We can discuss terms later, but I would like her put to Crown Prince.”
She shamelessly flattered him. “Your best mare will make Crown Prince’s future.”
—
Yancy made one more stop before returning to his own estate. He called out at Dennis McComb’s small cottage on the way home.
It was now late in the day and Dennis had done all he was going to do for the county. His young wife could be seen in her flourishing garden at the rear.
Hearing Yancy’s voice, Dennis came out. “Mr. Grant. No trouble, I trust?”
Damned if Yancy was going to dismount and mount again. He reached into his waistcoat pocket.
“A down payment.”
Dennis took the coins from Yancy’s hand. “Yes, sir?”
“There will be fifty more when you bring in Moses. If you find the woman, sixty, but Moses, bring in Moses.”
“We’re doing all we can, Mr. Grant.”
“Damn the constable’s office, Dennis. You do what you must, you hear me, and don’t tell Hiram. Hiram lives by rules. If you must bribe people, do so. I will make good any expenses, but find that killer. A lady’s peace of mind depends on it.”
Thrilled at the possibility for future gain, Dennis promised, “I will find them both.”
Thursday, August 4, 2016
“I thought I heard someone out here,” Mignon greeted Harry.
“Sorry, I tried to be quiet.” She finished spreading the mulch on Penny Holloway’s front plantings.
“You were, but the truck makes a rumble. I’m taking a brief break from making notes with the governor. Perhaps sometime I can interview you, since you know the family so well. And Susan is your best friend.”
“Most days. Other days we fuss.”
The petite woman laughed. “Family history is how I became interested in Virginia history and beyond. Like the Holloways, the Skipworths have been here a long time.”
“Well, you’re standing on a pile of history.” Harry smiled. “Big Rawly goes back before the Revolution. French inspired, all these buildings. Gives it an exotic look.”
Mignon replied, “You do know the history around here.”
“I was raised here, but a year ago I found myself learning a lot more about The Barracks prisoner-of-war camp. Also, I’m a congregant at St. Luke’s Church, which was the first Lutheran church this far west.”
“Very beautiful. Designed by an Englishman. Working for the governor, I’ve been poking around western Albemarle County. Everyone focuses on Monticello and Ash Lawn and, of course, the University of Virginia, but a great deal happened out here. It was the Wild West for a while.” Mignon clearly enjoyed research, her work.
“Funny, isn’t it? Nothing is really lost. We just have to find it.”
“Good way to put it,” Mignon agreed.
“If I learn about the past it’s usually through farming practices, seeds, livestock,” said Harry, ever the farmer. “My paternal family has farmed here since shortly after the Revolution. The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, and as you know, lots of apples in Virginia.”
“Oh, yes,” Mignon said and chuckled. “Just this morning when I was reviewing the governor’s first year in office as governor, he recalled the primary crops, which were corn followed by apples. He keeps right up with things. He informed me that Virginia now ranks sixth in the nation for apple production, ten thousand four hundred acres devoted to apples, one hundred ninety-five million pounds of apples. He’s amazing how he can remember details. Can rattle off figures from the past and the present. He told me that the owner of all the land on the other side of Garth Road first started big apple orchards.”
“Ewing Garth,” Harry added.
“Yes.”
“Garth also grew peaches and pears, the old varieties. If I ever get rich, I am going to devote myself to growing the old varieties.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say that. They usually say if they get rich they’ll buy a new car, pay off debts, vacation in Hawaii.”
Harry looked toward the Blue Ridge Mountains. “What could be more beautiful than that?”
“That’s the truth,” Mignon enthusiastically agreed.
Another attractive woman came out the front door. “Mignon, he’s asking for you.” She then looked up at Harry.
“Harry Haristeen,” Harry introduced herself. “I promised Mrs. Holloway I’d deliver some mulch, and so I have.”
Relief crossed her face. “Good. I’m Rebecca Colman. I’m here part-time since Barbara Leader’s unfortunate accident. I’m learning what a good nurse she was,” Rebecca said.
“Penny finally told the governor,” said Mignon. “He was so upset. Rebecca, he’ll warm to you. Just tell him he’ll outlive us all.” She smiled.