Let Sleeping Dogs Lie (29 page)

The hound was Cora.

The two Masters shut up and squeezed their horses into a trot.

Hounds sang out but the pace stayed at a trot. Shaker stayed behind them, rain hitting him in the face.

Kasmir, Alida, Freddie, Phil, Mercer, Ronnie, Xavier—the stalwarts—filled First Flight, along with the guests. People in this part of the world organized their work schedules so they could hunt at least one day a week—if lucky, two.

Walter usually kept office hours on Thursdays and Bobby Franklin had an appointment today. He asked Ben Sidell to lead Second Flight, which he happily did.

The field crossed a meadow, took a log jump into another meadow, then threaded through woods, tree bark turning darker. Hounds continued after their fox at the same pace.

When they reached the back of this woods, everyone noticed swirling low mist rolling up from the abutting meadow. The swirl turned into a wall, a dense ground fog. The temperature dropped so rapidly everyone felt it. This wasn’t a lower temperature in proximity
to water or a dip in the terrain. The mercury headed straight down, the rain continued, but now a
pip, pip, pip
could be heard hitting helmets.

Joe tweaked Vicki. “Honey, just remember this was your idea.”

As the freezing fog enveloped them, hounds opened wide.

In territory she was learning, Sister stayed on the widest path she could find. Ahead, she could just make out Shaker, thanks to the scarlet coat.

Hounds turned toward them, then veered into the woods again. Staying on the path, Shaker halted a moment to listen.

Twist’s voice sounded the closest to Sister, then he, too, moved away. Sister couldn’t see a thing except Rickyroo’s ears and neck. If she stopped, everyone behind her would collide into one another. She thought moving along the outside of the woods, keeping between the trees and the back fence line might work. If nothing else, the fence line was a better guide than being in the middle of the woods in a pogonip.

Did Woodford drag this curse along with them?

No point wondering about that. She trotted along, reached the corner of the back fence and turned in what she felt was the direction back to the barn. No way to hunt in this. The problem now was getting everyone back.

Maria Johnson knew her property but she couldn’t see anything either.

Hound voices echoed in the fog, near, then far, then near again. Sister heard the horn: two beeps to tell hounds and staff where Shaker was.

She thought she heard galloping hooves, perhaps a whipper-in, but that faded away.

“Maria,” Sister called out loudly.

“Yes,” a voice replied, seemingly from the middle of the riders.

“Come up here. Can you?”

“Yes.”

As Sister waited, she felt O.J.’s horse now beside her. “Can you believe we’re in this freezing pea soup again? I blame it on you.”

“And how do I know you didn’t bring it to Kentucky?” countered O.J. “Don’t blame me if we’re in this mess again.” Her voice floated toward Sister.

“Can you see me?”

“Not well.”

“So you can’t see me flip you the bird?”

O.J. laughed. “Sister, I am shocked, deeply shocked.”

O.J. felt a horse slide by her, then she saw Maria. O.J. fell back.

Sister minced no words. “How the hell do we get back?”

“We aren’t far. I’ll ride next to you and when we have to we’ll go single file. I’ll go up front. All right?” offered the blue-eyed Maria.

Sister kept her sense of humor. “Do I have a choice?”

“Come on.” Maria asked her dark bay Thoroughbred, Annie, to walk out.

Ten minutes later they reached another fence corner. Maria turned right, still inside the fence. The freezing rain stung as it turned to sleet, lots of sleet.

People dropped their faces. Gloves became soaked. Those who did as was proper had white string gloves under their girths and pulled them out. They would become soaked, too, but the reins didn’t slip.

There was abundant misery for all.

“We’re almost there.” Maria spoke to Sister.

The next ten minutes seemed like an eon. First one trailer appeared, then disappeared, then another. But everyone did find their trailers.

“Thank you,” Sister said to the much younger woman.

“Do you need help? I can go look for hounds,” Maria volunteered.

Just then they all heard the horn close by. Giorgio appeared, Sister spied a few tricolor coats next to her. Then Shaker.

She sighed. “How glad I am to see you.”

“Damn, this came out of nowhere.” Shaker dismounted, walked his horse toward where he thought the trailer was. Wrong trailer. He looked at this one, getting up close, then remembered where the others had parked.

When he finally reached the right trailer, Betty was already there. She held open the door and hounds gratefully hurried inside, snuggling in the straw.

Shaker blew for Sybil and Tootie. “Betty, go on and see to your horse,” he said. “I’ll wait by the trailer.”

Hojo, his mount today, usually rode in the trailer with the horses. Shaker had a divider for the horse so hounds wouldn’t get underfoot. The hounds had a second story in the trailer with a rubber-covered walk so everyone could get in and not be crowded. Shaker didn’t want to put Hojo inside until his other whippers-in showed up. He prayed they had the hounds Parker and Pickens with them.

As he waited, he threw a blanket over Hojo, over the saddle, too. “Hold on, buddy. Let’s hope this doesn’t take long. If it does, I promise I’ll walk you to their barn, if I can find it.”

A hound wiggled between his legs.

Sybil appeared. “That’s Pickens. Would you blow again? I think Parker was with me five minutes ago. Lost sight.”

Shaker blew three long notes.

As Sybil dismounted, they both waited.

And waited.

Shaker was ready to walk Hojo into the stable, wherever it was, when he heard a little yell.

“Where are you? Where am I?”
came Parker’s mournful howl.

“Parker. Parker. Come along.” Shaker’s voice radiated warmth
and within seconds, a sleety hound raced up to him, couldn’t contain himself, stood on his hind feet to see the huntsman.

“I’m so happy. I was scared!”

“All right, Parker, in we go.” Shaker opened the door and the youngster scooted in.

No one wanted to come outside.

“Sybil, go on to your trailer. We’ve got everyone. I’ll see you in the house.”

“I think we need a compass,” she joked.

Curled up in the straw on the trailer, Ben and Gandy rose to greet their masters, Joe on Ali Kat and Vicki on Boo Bear.

Gandy shook himself.
“You all are crazy.”

“Not me,”
the TB/Shire mix replied.
“It’s her.”
The horse indicated the human.

Fortunately Vicki understood nothing of this exchange.

“Joe, hurry up and put me in the trailer,”
his TB/Hanoverian begged.

The two Middleburg Hunt members hurried as fast as they could. Once the horses were up and wiped down, they looked at the dogs.

“We’ll put them in the truck when we leave,” Joe said sensibly. “It’s warmer here with the horses and the straw than in the truck with the heater turned off.”

“Okay,” Vicki agreed.

When the humans left to grope their way to the house, Ben lifted his head.
“Hmm.”

Gandy Man inhaled deeply.
“Filthy day but that smells too interesting.”
With that, the shepherd left the comfort of the trailer for the driving sleet. Ben followed.

Taking care of their mounts took longer, but after twenty minutes most people had put up their horses and done whatever needed to be done. Then some, holding hands, made their way to the house.

“We could form a chain.” Alida smiled.

“If we don’t reach the house in the next two minutes, we’d better,” Xavier added.

Once inside everyone started talking, hurrying for hot drinks, breathing a sigh of relief.

The Woodford group caught up on the Hinson news, as well as Middleburg Hunt news. Everyone wanted to know about everyone else’s season.

Phil made his way through the crowd, looking around. He spoke to people one by one, then came up to Sister and Gray. “Have you all seen Mercer?” he asked.

“No.”

“His horse was at the trailer but untied. I put him on the trailer. I figured maybe he slipped the knot. Mercer doesn’t always tie the best knot.” Phil looked at the door when someone opened it. “It will be a good story when he gets inside.” Phil rejoined the circle.

Sister made sure to speak to each Woodford guest, most of whom she knew. Maria, Nate, and Sonia kept a shuttle between the kitchen and the dining room. A good cook, Nate outdid himself.

Sister inhaled. “Did he make shepherd’s pie?”

“He knows it’s your favorite,” Gray replied.

“How did he know that?”

“I told him, and I bet he’s saved you a big slice in the kitchen. Otherwise, you won’t get any.”

True enough, for people stood in line for a slice—plus Sister rarely got to eat much at these gatherings.

A half hour passed with food, drink, chat and feet warming.

Phil returned. “Still no Mercer.”

“That is peculiar,” Gray said.

“I’m going out to look for him,” said Phil. “This isn’t like him. Maybe he fell and his horse came back. Who would know?” He walked toward the hall to fetch his jacket.

“I’ll come with you.” Gray put his plate on a small table and, as
he walked away, he said to Sister, “Phil and I are going to look for Mercer.”

“I’ll come, too.” She hurried to them.

Seeing them leave, worry on their faces, Xavier, Ronnie, and Kasmir also followed.

Once outside, the brutal weather hit them again.

“Won’t do any good to look for hoofprints,” Phil said. “They’re all over the place.”

“The only thing I can think to do is to backtrack,” said Kasmir. “Let’s walk down the middle path, then turn toward the fence line. At least I think that’s the fence line.” He pointed west.

Staying together, they trudged through now stinging sleet. The fog hadn’t thinned.

Two dogs howling alerted them to something in the barn.

They reached the edge of the Saddlebred barn but couldn’t see the glowing skulls, the sleet was so thick.

“Blood.”
Ben held his nose up, following the scent inside the barn.

“Fresh.”
Then Gandy Man shouted, as he heard the humans outside.

The mannequin sprawled on the barn floor. Swinging slightly from the rafter was Mercer, blood dripping down his coat.

“Terrible trouble.”
The two German shepherds sang a dirge, hoping to hurry along the humans outside.

Following the cry as best they could Sister, Gray, Shaker, Phil, Kasmir, Ronnie, and Xavier stepped into the barn.

“Oh, my God,” Phil gasped. “Mercer! Mercer!”

In the old barn, Phil Chetwynd rolled old hay bales under Mercer’s body. Being tall, he stepped upon them, holding Mercer’s legs and, with great strength, lifted the body so the pressure was off the neck.

Ronnie Haslip, the most nimble, climbed up the rafters. Gray joined Phil. Gray knew Mercer was gone, but Phil, a man possessed, kept pleading, “We have to help him. Help me.”

And so the other men did. Ronnie, like most foxhunters, carried a pocketknife. He cut the rope and Mercer dropped down into Gray and Phil’s arms, the unexpected weight toppling them off the hay bales.

The two German shepherds, sitting down now, didn’t budge.

Kasmir, Shaker, and Xavier, also by the hay bales, did their best to break the fall, trying to prevent Mercer’s body from hitting the ground hard.

Xavier left the group to go back to the house and find Ben Sidell. Given the thick fog, he only found his way through the noise coming from the house.

Ben hurried out of the house with Xavier and Sister, groping their way to the Saddlebred barn. Once inside, the sheriff walked over to Mercer, carefully laid on the ground, on his back, bloodshot eyes staring upward.

Ben removed his leather hunting glove, placing his finger on Mercer’s neck. He said nothing, for it was obvious that Mercer was dead. He wanted to feel the temperature of the body. His guess was the body had cooled very slightly. Clearly the man’s neck was broken. Putting his glove back on so as not to leave more fingerprints, he gingerly tilted Mercer’s head to the side where his hair was matted with blood. He’d first been struck by a blunt instrument.

Phil leaned over on the other side of the body. “Let me perform CPR. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

Ben rose, “I’m afraid he is, Phil.”

“No!” Phil knelt down to pump on Mercer’s chest.

Gray and Shaker had to lift Phil up, protesting.

With kindness but firmness, Ben said, “He’s gone. Anything any of us do to him will compromise this crime scene.” Turning to Sister, he said, “Will you go inside, tell everyone there has been an accident and no one must leave the house? Oh, Sister, when you get inside stay there until I get there, which will be some time. Don’t tell anyone what has happened, only that there has been an accident. I’m going to call the department right now and hope a team makes it out here in this miserable fog before too much time passes. Obviously, the faster we can go over all this, the better.”

“He can’t be dead.” Tears filled Phil’s eyes. “He can’t really be dead.”

“Phil, I’m going to ask you to sit down on one of the hay bales. Xavier, will you sit with him? Oh, Gray, perhaps you’d better go in with Sister. And whose dogs are these?”

Sister, before heading into the slashing weather, answered, “Vicki and Joe’s. The Middleburg folks.”

“Ah, well, they seem well behaved. They’ll have to stay here until folks are free to leave the house.”

Fortunately, Ben’s team arrived within forty minutes, a good time considering the deplorable conditions. Two law enforcement officers, both women, were sent into the house. Ben knew the women would be very good at calming people and getting statements. The new head of his forensic team went immediately to work and another young man carried a bright flashlight, as the electric power had long ago been cut off in this barn used only for hay storage and odds and ends.