The hounds formed a semicircle around the Goose Creek Hunt’s Huntsman as the children who had been waiting descended on the dogs to cuddle and pet them. The rest of the one-hundred-plus riders crowded into the gravel parking lot behind them. I watched Victoria as she went to Clay’s side, pulling him down for a long, deep kiss. It seemed jarring and out of place among the lighthearted atmosphere and the crowd of families with children, friends, and admirers who wanted to talk and ask questions about horses, hunting, families, and holiday plans.

“Come on,” Quinn said. “Let’s go watch the kids. And stop staring at Clay and Victoria.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes you are.”

He tugged my arm and for the next fifteen minutes we watched Hope and Zach and the other children petting and hugging the foxhounds until waiters from the Red Fox showed up carrying silver platters with finger sandwiches for the members of the Hunt, followed by stirrup cups—small glasses of port—for the toast.

The crowd quieted down for the Master of Foxhounds to raise his glass and thank the town of Middleburg for its hospitality to the Goose Creek Hunt and for a good year. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said.

Eli came up to us holding the children’s hands. “We’re going to take off.”

“I thought you were leaving before the toast,” I said.

“I couldn’t get them away from the hounds,” he said.

The Huntsman had already left with the hounds and the other riders were slowly filing out of the parking lot onto Marshall Street. The crowd melted away as well, heading toward the parade route.

“Uncle Quinn,” Hope said, “will you give me a horsey ride?”

He knelt down. “Of course I will. Climb on, sweetheart.”

“Where’s Sasha?” I asked Eli.

“She just texted me. It was too crowded at the intersection of Washington and Madison. So she moved up farther, across the street from the antique emporium,” he said as Quinn left the parking lot with Hope. “We’d better go.”

Zach tugged on Eli’s hand. “I want to see the horses and puppies again.”

“Be right with you, buddy. Luce? You coming?”

“In a minute,” I said. “There’s something I need to do.”

“The porta-potties are down by Safeway.”

“Not that.”

“All right,” he said as Zach pretended to strain as he pulled Eli toward the street. “Don’t be long or you’ll miss everything.”

“I won’t,” I said. “I just need to check something.”

Where President Washington and President Madison met. Could that also be a street named for each of them—as in the intersection of Washington and Madison Streets? Right here in Middleburg? If the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence had been hidden in Leesburg for safekeeping, why couldn’t the Bruton Vault documents be hidden here in Middleburg?