Read Online Riding Shotgun by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rita Mae Brown
Ads: Link
Grace spoke to a man she dropped one of her shoulders just a tad so he would appear even larger, she smaller. She turned her face up toward his, light shining in her eyes, all rapt attention. Her eyebrows danced up and down with his every intonation. She leaned forward toward him in a posture of invitation and supplication. Her voice lilted upwards as though each sentence ended in an unconscious question that only he, that repository of all strength and wisdom, could answer. They fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
Cig loathed choreographed femininity. She said she didn’t want a man in her life if she had to lie to him no matter how silent the lie. So she spoke directly to a man, gaze level into his own. No inflections upward She stood square and spoke her mind, usually diplomatically. The results were predictable. Men respected Cig. They liked her even if they were sometimes half-afraid of her. They lusted after Grace.
People who had not known the sisters as girls often wondered aloud, out of hearing range, of course, how Cig Deyhle had captivated handsome John Blackwood with the adorable Grace around. Those who had grown up with them or watched them grow up eagerly told the tale.
Cig, a junior at the College of William and Mary, met John Blackwood when he moved to the area to join the law firm of Marker, Gunderson and Shay… and to escape avituperative ex-wife still raging in Baltimore. Cig came home for Thanksgiving, and everyone agreed it was love at first sight for her. Grace, a freshman at William and Mary, was visiting a friend’s house that Thanksgiving. By the time she did meet Blackie, at Christmas, he was intrigued by Cig, and for whatever reason the seventeen years between them seemed a far greater gap than the fifteen years between Blackie and Cig. Even so, everyone was sure that if Blackie had met Grace first everything would have come out differently.
As it was, Grace met William Von Hugel, an intern at Columbia Presbyterian in New York City, after she graduated from college and moved to the big city. A far more judicious choice as it turned out than Grace’s sister’s handsome husband, will found a job in central Virginia so he and his bride could move back to her home. Grace found she liked New York in smaller doses than 365 days a year.
The worry over Blackie’s infidelities, plus the hard physical labor took their toll on Cig. Lines creased her face. A bit of gray appeared around her temples, making her look more imposing than she felt. Grace, on the other hand, took full advantage of her husband’s profession, going to doctor friends for a nip and a tuck whenever she felt she wasn’t perfect enough. She looked pretty perfect all right.
“Okay now. Let’s rehearse how to keep Harleyetta from murder and mayhem.” Cig watched the road as she crawled around a curve, careful not to suddenly shift the weight of the horses in the trailer. She liked to create an agenda on the drive to the fixture, as the meeting place for each hunt was called.
“Keep Binky in the back of the field,” Laura suggested sensibly.
“Harleyetta will run over anyone and everyone, so you might as well let her up front.” Riding near the Master was an honor that should be earned, but Grace believed harmony in the field was more important than protocol.
“If Binky’s sober he’ll stay in the back,” Cig commented.
“Mom, Binky is never sober. And I’m beginning to wonder about Harley,” Hunter said.
“She was sober in grade school.” Grace supplied this information. “That was when she decided to paint the arching eyebrows. She thought if she plucked her eyebrows she’d look better and older. They never grew back.”
“If she’d sober up she’d draw better ones,” Laura noted.
“Binky doesn’t mind.” Hunter shifted his weight.
“Too drunk to notice.” Cig eased down on the clutch and carefully slipped into third. “If sex were banned as a topic of conversation Binky would be struck
Cig loathed choreographed femininity. She said she didn’t want a man in her life if she had to lie to him no matter how silent the lie. So she spoke directly to a man, gaze level into his own. No inflections upward She stood square and spoke her mind, usually diplomatically. The results were predictable. Men respected Cig. They liked her even if they were sometimes half-afraid of her. They lusted after Grace.
People who had not known the sisters as girls often wondered aloud, out of hearing range, of course, how Cig Deyhle had captivated handsome John Blackwood with the adorable Grace around. Those who had grown up with them or watched them grow up eagerly told the tale.
Cig, a junior at the College of William and Mary, met John Blackwood when he moved to the area to join the law firm of Marker, Gunderson and Shay… and to escape avituperative ex-wife still raging in Baltimore. Cig came home for Thanksgiving, and everyone agreed it was love at first sight for her. Grace, a freshman at William and Mary, was visiting a friend’s house that Thanksgiving. By the time she did meet Blackie, at Christmas, he was intrigued by Cig, and for whatever reason the seventeen years between them seemed a far greater gap than the fifteen years between Blackie and Cig. Even so, everyone was sure that if Blackie had met Grace first everything would have come out differently.
As it was, Grace met William Von Hugel, an intern at Columbia Presbyterian in New York City, after she graduated from college and moved to the big city. A far more judicious choice as it turned out than Grace’s sister’s handsome husband, will found a job in central Virginia so he and his bride could move back to her home. Grace found she liked New York in smaller doses than 365 days a year.
The worry over Blackie’s infidelities, plus the hard physical labor took their toll on Cig. Lines creased her face. A bit of gray appeared around her temples, making her look more imposing than she felt. Grace, on the other hand, took full advantage of her husband’s profession, going to doctor friends for a nip and a tuck whenever she felt she wasn’t perfect enough. She looked pretty perfect all right.
“Okay now. Let’s rehearse how to keep Harleyetta from murder and mayhem.” Cig watched the road as she crawled around a curve, careful not to suddenly shift the weight of the horses in the trailer. She liked to create an agenda on the drive to the fixture, as the meeting place for each hunt was called.
“Keep Binky in the back of the field,” Laura suggested sensibly.
“Harleyetta will run over anyone and everyone, so you might as well let her up front.” Riding near the Master was an honor that should be earned, but Grace believed harmony in the field was more important than protocol.
“If Binky’s sober he’ll stay in the back,” Cig commented.
“Mom, Binky is never sober. And I’m beginning to wonder about Harley,” Hunter said.
“She was sober in grade school.” Grace supplied this information. “That was when she decided to paint the arching eyebrows. She thought if she plucked her eyebrows she’d look better and older. They never grew back.”
“If she’d sober up she’d draw better ones,” Laura noted.
“Binky doesn’t mind.” Hunter shifted his weight.
“Too drunk to notice.” Cig eased down on the clutch and carefully slipped into third. “If sex were banned as a topic of conversation Binky would be struck
Similar Books
