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Middleburg. I've heard of that before, but I don't—” ”Thanks, Eric,” I said. ”Thanks for the information.” After driving through Middleburg, one of those ”quaint” little country towns that looked like it had barely cleared the eighteenth century and was obviously dripping in old money, we drove for maybe six more miles. The scenery was quite an attractive and calming switch from the frenetic pace and arid conditions I'd left that morning—rolling Virginia countryside of majestic oak trees, well-trimmed pasture land, and endless sweeps of white wood rail fencing set against the backdrop of bluish-shaded mountains to the west. We turned off to the south and drove not more than a half mile more before we turned right between two massive stone columns with marble eagles perched on top of each. A bronze plaque in one of the columns announced we were at Five Oaks. We drove for maybe another quarter mile on a freshly asphalted two-lane road running between some or all of those hundred oaks, which must have been pretty mature when they were planted, because they were quite impressive now. The braying voice belonged to a distinguished-looking, trim, yet solidly built, handsome in a matured way man, carefully barbered hair with graying at the temples, standing at the foot of a sweeping curved staircase rising to the upper story, several paces short of a double door with wide side windows looking out onto the portico. The doors were open, and I once again saw beyond those the swirl of scarlet jackets and fine horse flesh standing in a frenetic swirl of braying hounds. The man, who obviously was in charge—who obviously was in charge no matter where he was—was alone in the foyer by the time Eric and I reached it. He turned and saw us and scowled. The same man who had just walked out the front door onto the portico. Wirth in chat roulette scam.Imagine my surprise when Ron walked toward my camp a few minutes later.
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