Bitter Business

to a whitewashed building that looked like a big henhouse. “We keep about fifty hunting dogs. I love the horses, but the dogs are Jack’s pride and joy.”
    A jeaned and cowboy-booted farmhand brought out mounts, a set of reins in each hand. Peaches took the bridle of a pretty palomino, stroking its neck and talking quietly as she led it out into the sunshine.
    “You’ll be likin’ Scarlet, ma’am,” the hand advised me with a self-conscious pull at his cap as he handed me the reins to the bay. “She’s a real push-button horse. You don’t need to be tellin’ her what you want more’n once.” He laced his fingers together to give me a leg up. I put my foot into his palms and managed to hoist myself up on the first try, giving a grunt as I swung into the big western saddle.
    “Water’s real high over by the river, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he advised Peaches as he shortened up my stirrups. “And them banks are gettin’ real soft on account of all the rain we’ve been gettin’. I’d take the path that leads out by the big pond if I was you.”
    “We’ll do that, Tom. Have you heard anything about the weather?”
    “More rain’s supposed to be comin’ through tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Well...” Peaches sighed. “Let’s just pray the Lord keeps the rain away until after the funeral.”
    Then she turned her horse and gave him a kick.
     
    * * *
     
    It had been a while since I’d last been on a horse, and for the first few minutes I fought down the uneasiness that comes from sitting on the back of an animal much bigger—and stupider—than yourself. But after a few minutes I found my seat and fell into a comfortable slow trot beside Peaches. Jack’s wife, obviously at home on a horse, turned her high-spirited palomino onto a rough track that ran through fields planted with alfalfa.
    We rode for a while without talking, adjusting stirrups and shifting saddle blankets. I am, as a rule, a city girl at heart. There is something undeniably frightening about the country. It is full of shadows and secret places, natural violence, and no one to hear your cries for help. But after everything that had happened over the last few days, I found in the silence and the space of the Georgia countryside a kind of relief.
    “The police said that you were there both times,” said Peaches, finally breaking the silence. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I can’t discuss it with Jack. It’s too painful for him. But even if we don’t talk about it, it’s all we think about. What do you think killed them?”
    “I wish I knew, but I’m convinced that whatever it was happened to them both. The similarities were just too striking for it to be otherwise. Dagny was lying on the same place on the floor in virtually the same position as Cecilia was when we found her. It was almost as if Dagny was trying to copy her secretary.... I don’t know. The whole thing is eerie.”
    “When the police came to the house they kept asking us if Dagny ever used drugs. We kept on telling them no, but I’m not sure they believed us. I know what cops are like from when I used to do the news. All they deal with all day long are lowlifes, addicts, and thieves. Still, if it wasn’t drugs, what was it?”
    “I don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to wait until the test results come back.”
    “But what I want to know is how do we live until then?” Peaches demanded bitterly. “Jack is drinking too much and he can’t sleep without pills. I don’t think Claire has eaten since her mother died. Vy and Eugene are doing their best, but they were both close to Dagny and they have their own grief to deal with. Their pastor, Father O’Donnell, is coming down tomorrow to say the funeral mass and Vy wants us all to talk to him, but honestly I can’t imagine what he’ll say....”
    I knew what he’d say. I’d heard everything that anyone ever said to the grieving. None of it ever helped, but I thought it best not to say so.
    “There’s a good place for a gallop coming up,” Peaches announced suddenly. “There, just over the rise. Do you feel up to it?”
    “Absolutely,” I said, and gathered up the reins.
     
    It is as close as I’ll ever come to flying, that glorious combination of speed and freedom that comes when you’re standing in the stirrups, balanced over the withers of a galloping horse. We thundered up a gentle hill, along a grass-covered earthen dam, and the entire way around a large pond. The water was so