The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  Jessica smiled at the lanky gentleman. “I would love to work with River’s Edge and Maison Dixon. Thank you.”

  “Hoyt? Miss White?” John addressed them both seriously. “I don’t want to sound insincere in the least. But what I witnessed today was incredible. I am honored to have been at the beginning of a legend.”

  Before Jessica had a chance to protest, the crowd ushered them into the larger tent. On the podium was a generously proportioned older woman dressed in a smart blue gabardine dress, an expensive pearl necklace and a hat. She wore a scarlet banner across her chest indicating that she was the Harvest Hunter Pace Marshal. To her left was a man of similar build dressed in fine tweeds and gray flannel trousers. To any casual onlooker, they were certainly a man and wife who grounded themselves and their life in the horse world and community.

  From the way the woman surveyed the crowd, Jessica guessed she was an old hand at this. Jessica recognized the people the woman was speaking with as the starting official and several other course checkers. To the right of the podium was a table where the trophies and plaques for the day were displayed.

  The older woman tapped the microphone and noisily cleared her throat to get the attention of the crowd.

  “Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen. I know those of you who rode today are tired and sore. Let me speak for everyone else, we all are sore just watching you!” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. “So let me get to the point. Today’s Harvest Hunter Pace enjoyed one of the largest turnouts in its history and one of its toughest courses yet. I am quite pleased to tell you, however, that today’s winners set a new course record.” The Marshal raised her hand to quiet the buzz that went up in the audience. She spoke a while more about the day, past hunter paces and other anecdotes and the crowd certainly enjoyed its host. After a few minutes, she paused. “Now without further delay, I am pleased to announce the winners of today’s Hunt.”

  In keeping with tradition, she read the last place names first. It was the custom for this event to award the top ten teams, leaving the suspense for the end when the winners’ names would be read. Hoyt and Jessica enjoyed watching the reactions of the winners as they went up to collect their trophies. Some did so with great pride and excitement, and others did so graciously, but trying to hide the disappointment of a ride that fell short of expectations.

  Jessica had allowed her mind to wander to the chores she had to do back at her farm. She was tired and looking forward to a long hot bath when she felt someone pulling at her arm.

  “Tess! Tess! Go on! Get up there! Ya did it! The Royal Blue Team won!” Hoyt was beside himself with excitement. He practically dragged Jessica to the podium.

  Jessica stared at her other team members in disbelief. Mr. Bleauvelt had come on to the stage supported by two ancient wooden crutches. His right leg was wrapped in a bandage, and his left cheek was red and badly swollen. At this moment, pain was the farthest thing from his mind.

  Chad Bleauvelt was jubilant accepting his trophy. As team leader, his trophy was the largest, with the other three trophies being slightly smaller replicas of it. He shook the Marshal’s hands vigorously and accepted the congratulatory kiss from her fondly. She turned and shook the hands of each of the other team members, pausing slightly to look Jessica in the eye. Flashes from one hundred cameras sparked around the crowd as it roared its approval. Cries of “Speech! Speech!” could be heard.

  Mr. Bleauvelt gripped the microphone and looked around the tent. He took a deep breath and began to talk but was overcome with emotion. Instead of making the grand speech he had dreamed of, he croaked out a thank you to his team members and to their horses. He was about to step down when another thought came to him.

  “I do have to make a special mention of Hoyt Percival and Tess White. Without Hoyt’s generous loaning of his horse, Gapman, to our team, and without the expert training and fearless riding of Miss White, we would not have won today.” He paused and looked at Jessica with a smile. “It is even quite possible that I would still be out on the course!” The crowd laughed and cheered at the four tired riders. Lights flashed as cameras recorded the winners of yet another Harvest Hunter Pace. Several people helped Mr. Bleauvelt down from the podium and into a waiting car. He finally relented to go for an x-ray of his leg.

  Jessica waved at him as the car pulled away from the curb. “Ya know ya’ll see that ol’ coot at the party tonight, don’t you?” Jessica turned and looked up at Hoyt.

  “Party? I hadn’t heard of any party,” she lied. Most of the talk surrounding the day revolved around who was going and what to wear. The thought of going to something big and glitzy did not appeal to her. “Besides, I’m bushed. I’m just going back to my farm and relax after I check on Gapman.”

  “Sorry there, Tess, but ya’ll don’t have a choice about that party. This is Electra Lavielle’s biggest event of the year given to celebrate another successful Harvest Hunter Pace. Why you and the Royal Blue team are to be the guests of honor! It’s tradition around here for everyone to go. Why, I’ve e’en rented myself a Tux! ClaireAnne just about died thinking I’d be the only guy there in a sports jacket.”

  “This is black tie? Oh, God no. I definitely can’t go.” Her years of working as a ski bum and ranch hand did not present her with an occasion to buy anything even remotely resembling formal attire. Jessica winced at the thought of going to some stuffy ball in a pair of jeans. “No. I’ll send along my regrets to Mrs. Lavielle.”

  “You most certainly will not! I will hear of no such thing!” Jessica turned to see the Marshal and Father Steeves approach her. Father Steeves looked slightly flushed from the excitement and sherry. The amply proportioned woman walked briskly up to Jessica and took her hand.

  “First, let me extend to you the most heartfelt of congratulations and thanks. I just could not have lived in this town another year if Chad had not won today! Thank you! And to do it with such style, why I have never in my life heard of such a feat. No one gave that old horse of Hoyt’s a second look this morning, and now, well now is a different story.” The woman looked at Hoyt with a smile. “But you all must come tonight. I’ve been planning this for weeks!”

  Father Steeves stepped forward and made the formal introductions. “Mrs. Electra Lavielle, this is Miss Tess White.” He did so with a flourish enhanced by a touch of sherry.

  Jessica looked at the stately woman and sensed that she had just met a bottled hurricane. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Lavielle, but I am completely unprepared to attend your event tonight. I have nothing suitable to wear.” She hoped her excuse would be enough to relieve her from the night’s event. She looked at Hoyt and Father Steeves for support and found none.

  “Nonsense! And please call me Electra. And since we’re neighbors, you should know I don’t take “no” for an answer.” Electra looked at Jessica carefully. “I can tell you’re a woman who thinks owning sequined finery is irrelevant. I understand, and I can help!” She suddenly began to scan the crowd. “Lainely! Lainely Smythe! Come here child!” motioning for Lainely to join them. “Miss White fears she does not have anything suitable to wear to tonight’s event. You are such a dear. If you were not planning on wearing that little blue number you wore to my house last month, would you mind terribly if Miss White borrowed it this evening?”

  Lainely and Jessica stared at one another in shocked amazement. Lainely’s brown eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened into a smile. Red fingernails flashed as she extended her hand. “Why Miss Whi-yat, so nice to see you again. Congratulations on a wonderful event!” Lainely turned her smile to Electra, “Now what’s this you say about this sweet girl not having anything to wear?” She looked Jessica up and down. “Why I think my clothes will just be too snug for her. And I think that blue dress is still at the cleaners. So sorry, sweetheart.” Lainely’s voice dripped with southern sweetness, and she furrowed her brow in pained distress.

  “The cleaners?
” Electra looked at her watch, “That’s fine. We have just enough time to get it. Thank you so much Lainely for being such a doll. Tess, I’m sure you want to check on your horses, so please come to my house as soon you can. I have a butler who is a wonder with a needle and thread, and I’m certain he can get that dress to look wonderful on you. You can have a long, hot bath and just relax with a hot cup of tea while we do the work. See you all soon!”

  With a brief wave, the Marshal disappeared into the crowd with a ramrod straight Lainely following close behind.

  Jessica stayed in the suite of rooms Electra’s butler had shown her to well past the beginning of the ball. She was dressed in Lainely’s blue dress and was unsettled to realize that Lainely was right; it was a bit snug. It was a long strapless sheath with a bolero jacket and a slit up the side to her thigh. The tightness served to accentuate her curves by nipping in her waist and pushing her breasts almost out of the top. Jessica was embarrassed at how much of her someone could see both in and out of the dress. Even the shoes Electra had conned from another friend were too tight. Jessica felt very uncomfortable.

  Music and the murmur of the people in the great hall drifted upstairs. She tried several times to get the courage to go down and join them, but she just couldn’t. Scolding herself for being so childish, she knew that the sooner she went down, the sooner she could go home and get out of those awful clothes.

  Electra burst into the room. She was wearing a long red silk gown with a scooped neckline and long sleeves. It was very flattering to her ample figure. “There you are! Come on! We are about to present your team to the guests. Chad just arrived. Poor thing is still on crutches. A bad break. No dancing for him for a while!” She was even more charged up than usual with the thrill of her party being underway. “Wow! You look great!” She surveyed Jessica critically and seemed to nod her approval at how the top of the snug gown accentuated her cleavage. “Lainely’s going to just hate you for looking so good in that dress!”

  Electra took Jessica by the elbow and led her down the hall. “Now you just have to tell me all about yourself,” the older woman gushed as she leaned her head closer to Jessica to give an air of intimacy. “Tell me everything. I have been so remiss in not getting to know my own neighbor. Do forgive me.”

  Jessica smiled down at Electra. “Well, there’s not much to say. I’ve loved horses all my life. Oops!” The thin heel of the shoe caught in the carpet’s thick pile. “I guess I’m used to boots.”

  Electra allowed her guest to steady herself on her arm. “You are very intriguing, Miss White.”

  “Oh?”

  “Women like you don’t just materialize out of thin air.”

  The two women descended the sweeping staircase and made their way to the front of the small orchestra. Waiting for them was the rest of the team and Father Steeves.

  “Well, Tess! I hardly recognize you! You look absolutely beautiful!” Father Steeves blushed as he tried to find a safe place for his eyes to settle.

  “Oh, um, thanks, I guess.” Jessica wanted to borrow the priest’s robes and hide.

  Electra cleared her throat, and her guests hushed for the expected presentations. She introduced the Royal Blue team with much flourish. Father Steeves led the guests in a brief blessing and thanks for the day’s events then stepped aside to give the team center stage.

  John, Ruby, Mr. Bleauvelt, and Jessica stood awkwardly in the center of the dance floor, looking at one another as the guests applauded their accomplishment. Electra signaled the band to play “My Old Kentucky Home” and John took Ruby in his arms and began to dance. Jessica looked at her wounded team leader, and they both laughed.

  “No dancing for me tonight, Miss White. I am so sorry.” Mr. Bleauvelt looked down at the cast on his leg.

  Jessica smiled. “I am not nearly as disappointed as you might think.” She began to walk off the dance floor when she was stopped.

  “It would be bad luck for a winner of the Harvest Hunter Pace not to dance.” Jessica turned and looked up into Michael’s face.

  “Oh! I just thought... I mean Mr. Bleauvelt... ”

  He followed her glance to see Mr. Bleauvelt being ceremoniously seated in a large chair, surrounded by well-wishers. “I think tradition will excuse your teammate, however.”

  Electra materialized by Michael’s side, smiling broadly. “Perfect! I guess I don’t have to do the introductions!”

  Michael’s eyes did not leave Jessica’s. “Yes, Electra. We’ve met.”

  “Excellent!” Electra gushed, “She’s a mystery woman. Find out everything you can about her!” Mission accomplished, she rushed off to tend to more guests.

  Cornered, Jessica placed her right hand into Michael’s and held her breath as she felt his other hand settle on her back. She began to stiffly follow his lead.

  “The whole town is talking about your ride today. Electra’s right. You’re a woman of surprises.”

  “I’m just the new face in the crowd. A novelty. There’s nothing much to know about me.”

  “I doubt that.” Michael held her tightly. Even teetering on her high heels, he was still a head taller than her. He wore a richly tailored tuxedo with satin lapels. The black onyx buttons fastening his starched pleated white shirt glinted in the lights as he placed his hand more firmly into the hollow of her back and guided her effortlessly around the dance floor. Letting the moments pass he allowed the music to fill their conversation. Eventually, he moved his mouth close to her ear. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica’s voice was barely above a whisper. She was aware of him... aware of his hands... just how close he was. She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on his scent. She let herself go for just a few moments before she regained her senses and hoped she would not step on his toes. Other couples were twirling gracefully around them, and she concentrated on making her feet follow the rhythm of the music.

  One song ended and another began, and they were both lost in silence. Michael seemed amused at Jessica’s struggle to mimic the other graceful dancers. Jessica thought she glimpsed Lainely staring at them from the sidelines with an expression she could not quite grasp. She felt a pat on her back, and Hoyt cut in.

  “Sorry, Conant.” Hoyt’s face was flushed with excitement and bourbon. With exaggerated formality he asked, “May I have this dance?”

  Jessica tried to hide her relief as she thanked Michael and faced Hoyt. “I’m glad to see a familiar face.”

  The orchestra transitioned to a livelier tune, and they made a valiant effort to keep up. Jessica wobbled on her heels. Hoyt laughed. “My hunch is that ya’ll would rather be muckin’ out stalls than wearing that getup, right? But boy! You sure do look nice. Let’s sit this one out, Okay?” Jessica gratefully followed Hoyt through the crowd.

  In seconds, Jessica was surrounded by people who wanted to talk with her. Hoyt got swept away by another group of people. Jessica had to admit that Hoyt was right. Gapman really lit a spark of fame for him today, and Hoyt was enjoying every minute. Suddenly alone, Jessica nervously looked after her friend.

  “Miss Why-iet?”

  Her name was pronounced with an exaggerated drawl. It made her heart catch.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Rowdy Howe from the Louisville Howe family.” A red-faced man in an ill-fitting tuxedo pumped her hand. “Chad’s been tellin’ me everythang about ya’ll helpin’ him out with his horse. When I first heard that some lil’ woman was tacklin’ his stable, why I had money-on-odds-out that ya’ll ne’r would do good. It is so refreshin’ to find a woman in these parts that knows how to train an animal.” Small round eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “I’ve seen a lot of trainers around the track in mah day, but nuthin’ could coax a horse to do what you asked of that one today. Tell me, where did you learn how to handle horses and ride the way you do?” Tiny flecks of saliva stuck to the c
orner of his mouth as if awaiting a long delayed meal.

  Jessica’s stomach muscles tightened in reflex. “I... I’ve just come from a ranch in Utah. I did a lot of training there.” Her blue eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. The mention of his experience at the track set her nerves on edge. She was compelled to break away from this repulsive little man.

  “Utah!” A tiny dart of spittle dislodged and landed on his protruding belly. “Why I ne’r would have thought a fine lady like yoorself would come from such a roughneck place like that. Why I had you more pegged for New England or somethang.” Rowdy’s tiny eyes seemed to want to bore a hole through her skull to better examine its contents.

  “No. Utah.” Jessica looked around frantically for anyone else to talk to. A pit formed in her stomach, and all she wanted to do was hide. She removed her hand from his and absently wiped his feeling off on Lainely’s gown.

  “Now when I furst heard yar name I thought it sounded kindda familiar-like.” He hesitated for additional emphasis and proceeded. “Why-iet. Why-iet.” He again forced the southern drawl into his pronunciation as he experimented with her name.

  Jessica squirmed at the sound of it. “White,” she said, emphasizing the “T.”

  “Ya know, bein’ able to read a horse like you did with that ol’ Percival hack is a gift that only a few people have. And I try to remember each and every one. I ne’r forget anyone who has that gift.”

  “Mr. Howe. We’ve never met. I... ” Jessica felt lightheaded and tried to continue her protest.

  “Why I remember back about ten or so years ago, thar was a trainer at the race tracks in Massachusetts that had that gift. Now, what was his name?” Rowdy tilted his head to the side in a dramatic effort to remember. He looked at her with his coal eyes. “Ya’ll don’t happen to know, do ya?”

  Jessica caught the scream in her throat and forced herself to look at the man directly. “No. I came here from Utah. I don’t know of any other trainers anywhere, and I really don’t know anything about racing.” She raised her head in a more desperate attempt to find a familiar face to break away to. Cold shivers of fear rippled up her spine. Droplets of sweat formed at her hairline, and some trickled down between her breasts. She could feel the edges of the room close in on her.