John Steinbeck, author of The Grapes of Wrath, wrote, “A man on a horse is spiritually, as well as physically,
bigger than a man on foot.”[1] Phil knew that would be true when he was “on the hunt” with Mary Katherine.

During the week, Phil counted the minutes until the hunt.

He didn’t want to be thrown [off a horse] again. The therapists [at Lawson Army Hospital] and some of his buddies rigged up a 55-gallon barrel strung up by four ropes hung over two thick mattresses. They took an old English saddle and strapped it to the barrel.

One man would mount “the beast,” as they called it, and four others would pull on the ropes. The harder they pulled, the more violently the beast bucked. The men laughed uproariously as one after another was conquered by the barrel.

When it was Phil’s turn, his buddies took it easy on him at first, but by the end of the week, they couldn’t buck Phil off. He was ready to hunt with both the beauty and the beast.

On the morning of the hunt, Mary Katherine picked him up early. He was decked out in a borrowed [fox hunter’s] “uniform” she had brought to the hospital the day before.

Once they arrived at the country estate where the hunt would begin, they found her father at his horse trailer. He already had the horses out and brushed. Together they tacked the horses, and when the first bugle call came, they mounted and rode out to the pack. Mary Katherine introduced Phil to everyone she could, which he deeply appreciated. And he was incredibly honored when she introduced him to the Master[2] just before he addressed the riders and explained the rules of the hunt.

“We have more guests than usual,” the Master began, “so allow me a moment to review our rules. These foxhunting guidelines are commonsense rules of safety, courtesy, and the traditions of the sport we enjoy together.

“First of all, leave the gates open that you find open. If the gate is closed, the first one there opens it. The last one through is to close and latch it securely. Stay to the headlands[3] when navigating around planted fields. Following the pack will keep you out of trouble.

“Be sure to slow down and ride slowly around livestock so as not to excite them or make them run. Be extra careful around loose horses. They tend to jump fences behind you.”

The Master stopped to see if there were any questions. Hearing none, he continued. “If your horse refuses to jump a coop, please go around to the end of the line to attempt the coop again. A hunting day is not a training opportunity for green horses. When the hounds are running, pass slower horses only in a safe and open area. Remember, foxhunting is not a competitive sport. The winners are those who come home safely; the losers are those who spoil the sport for others. If you see a situation that you think is dangerous or improper, report it quietly and confidentially to me.”

All the riders in their colorful attire nodded.

“Above all, keep your horse’s heels away from any passing rider or the hounds to avoid accidents,” the Master continued. “Safety for our riders, our hounds, and our horses is our priority. Understand?”

Again, everyone nodded. Phil was duly impressed. He loved the emphasis on rules, order, and safety. Before they knew it, the bugle sounded, and the hounds were off, baying like crazy. The First and Second Fields led the way, and he and Mary Katherine rode with a rather large Third Field. The pace increased, and soon they were trotting. Phil couldn’t believe how comfortable and relaxed he felt.

By midmorning, Mary Katherine had moved them up, with their Field Master’s permission, into the Second Field. After a delightful picnic lunch, they were admitted to the First Field and performed admirably. The hunt was not successful in cornering a fox, but the participants did tree a bobcat, which the dogs quickly abandoned. In the late afternoon, the huntsman bugled “End of the Day,” and they rode back to where they started.

Back at the trailer, they put up the tack and began brushing down the horses. Phil and her father brushed with one hand and held a glass of scotch on the rocks in another. Phil had never felt so welcome or so at home.

Once the horses were trailered, Phil and Mary Katherine offered to follow her father home to help stable the horses, but he refused the offer.

“You kids go and have a nice night on the town.” He looked at his daughter and peeled off several big bills from his money clip. “Make it on me, honey. We owe this soldier our gratitude for all he’s done for our country.”

Turning toward Phil, he set his jaw, stuck out his hand, and took Phil’s hand into his. “Thank you, soldier!”

That night was an evening of dining and dancing, this time at the famous Empire Dining Room at the Biltmore Hotel.[4] A small orchestra played swing music tunes as couples drifted off and on the dance floor around them. After a delicious dinner, Phil and Mary Katherine joined them on the parquet floor. His confidence was surging, although he was careful not to make any fast moves with his feet.

“I don’t think I’m ready for the Lindy Hop just yet,” he said between songs.[5]

Mary Katherine caught her breath. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great.”

His favorite time on the dance floor was when the orchestra played leisurely tunes that allowed them to slow dance. As he held Mary Katherine close, Phil felt pampered, spoiled, and appreciated. He sensed she had chosen this venue to get him even more used to dancing with a new prosthesis and a new partner. The more they talked and danced, the more he came to know her and like her.

Mary Katherine had him back at the hospital by the midnight curfew, walked him to the door, and sent him off with a kiss. “I’ll pick you up for church tomorrow,” she promised.

“I may need to go to confession first,” Phil said, laughing.

“For what?”

“Having impure thoughts.”

Mary Katherine laughed as she turned on her heels. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “Take a cold shower, soldier. See you tomorrow.”

She smiled and blew him a kiss. After returning the gesture, he felt like he floated into the officer’s ward. The men still up that evening teased him with catcalls. He didn’t care one iota.

Phil Larimore was falling in love.[6]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 288.

[2] The foxhunt is led by a “Master of Foxhounds,” sometimes called a “Master of Hounds” or “Master” for short.

[3] The headland was a strip of land left unplowed at the end or side of a field.

[4] Built in 1924, the Biltmore Hotel was the focal point of Atlanta’s business and social life for almost sixty years. The Empire Room was a dancing-and-dining venue known for its exceptional food. The Biltmore closed its doors in 1982.

[5] The Lindy Hop, named after Charles Lindbergh’s “hop” across the Atlantic Ocean in May 1927, was an American dance that began in the African-American community of Harlem in

[6] Larimore, At First Light, 288-290.

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