Outfoxed (32 page)

“I don't trust him,”
Comet snarled at Rooster.

Golly wasn't sure Rooster could be controlled under the circumstances. Back on the ground she leaned into Raleigh, who understood her wordless thoughts.

In the distance they heard hounds; then they heard silence.

Comet knew hounds would find scent soon enough but they weren't where he thought they'd have to cast again.
“I need to get out of here before the pack is here.”

“You're in dangerous territory even if you do get out. Your one hope is to go under the porch.”

“You can't let him go! You can't.”
Rooster was beside himself.

“I have an idea.”
Golly spoke to Comet:
“Stay here. We can't get in. The hounds can't get in. If you don't kill one chicken, Sister will put hounds up and us, too. She'll let you go. It's better than taking a chance with Rooster.”

“No!”
Rooster spun in circles of frustration.

“Calm down.”
Raleigh's deep throaty growl meant business.
“You can hunt rabbits all you want but leave the fox alone.”

“But I'm a harrier. I can hunt foxes as well as those damned foxhounds.”

“I don't doubt that but you're not supposed to hunt foxes and besides, where would you be if Sister hadn't brought you home? She doesn't want any fox killed. This is no way to reward her. Peter would be upset if he knew you offended Sister.”

Rooster, anguished, lay down, putting both paws over his eyes. He moaned.

“Your word?”

“Yes.”
Comet, full of corn, wouldn't have killed a chicken anyway, but no point in spoiling his image.

Raleigh stood over the harrier. “
I'm bigger, I'm stronger, and if you even twitch, I will tear you up.”

“And I'll scratch your eyes out.”
Golly puffed up to three times her size. Then she hissed at Comet.
“You, too. Worthless carcass!”
She was brave but sitting under Raleigh's chest she was especially brave.

The gyps in heat, the household animals, and Comet listened as cry picked up, then stopped again.

“I thought they'd be halfway here by now,”
Comet commented.
“I wonder what's going on?”

Back at the edge of the woods, the hounds hit a hot pocket, one of those swirls of air sometimes ten or more degrees hotter than the air around it. The scent, already over their heads, scattered. As the hounds cast themselves St. Just flew low overhead. He circled, then flew down just above their heads.

“Target's in the ravine. Comet split off from him. You'll have a split pack if you aren't careful.”

Dragon, ready to roll, shouted to Cora,
“Let's follow the raven.”

“No. We pick up scent properly. We aren't gallivanting across the county because of one raven's revenge. Put your nose to the ground and get to work. Now!”

The check, that pause in hunting where hounds must again find scent, although unexpected, was near the ravine, a half mile away if one could move in a straight line, which one couldn't.

Sister leaned over to Martha. “Will you take the field? I'm feeling punk.”

Thrilled to be given such responsibility, acting field master, Martha gushed, “I'd be glad to. Would you like someone to go back with you?”

“You know, I think if I walk back I'll be fine and if I feel better I'll find you. I must have eaten something that doesn't agree with me.” Standing in her stirrups, Sister said, “Stay with Martha.” Then she rode across the meadow as though heading home. To her surprise, Walter Lungrun followed her.

“Ma'am, are you all right?”

“Upset stomach. I'll be fine.”

“I'll escort you home. We're close enough to go back to your place, don't you think?”

“You rejoin the field. I'll be fine, thank you.”

He hesitated. “It won't take long. I can find them.”

It occurred to her that Walter might have killed Fontaine to revenge his father. She thought he was too smart to risk his career, his own life . . . but that didn't mean he couldn't have done it. Find a motive and you find the murderer. A thin ripple of fear shot through her. She shook it off. Even if he did have reason, she didn't think he could ride well enough or knew enough about scent to lay a good drag. She was fluttery inside.

“I'm the master and I'm telling you to rejoin the field.”

“Yes, Master.” He obediently turned Clemson back toward the field, which was still waiting for hounds to find the line.

Sister walked across the creek meadows to the base of Hangman's Ridge. She followed the base of the ridge until she was out of sight. She heard hounds strike again, moving across the creek meadows toward the woods. Once into the woods she turned back, squeezed Lafayette into a canter, skirted the meadow, jumping in at a stiff coop—three feet nine inches—used only by staff. This dropped her closer to the ravine. She dismounted, leading Lafayette to a sheltered overhang. Tying him to a low limb, she patted his neck. “Stay here, buddy, and stay silent.”

“Yes, but don't leave me for long. It's too good a day,”
he pleaded.

She rubbed his head. “Silent, dear friend.” Then she used whatever cover she could find and slowly worked her way toward the rock outcroppings. She reached them in five minutes, slipping a few times. At the outcroppings she dropped down to the ledge, partially protected from view by holly bushes at the edge plus the low full limb of a fir tree. There she waited.

She heard hounds at the other edge of the ravine, the sound funneling down, then lifting up to her. She heard another check, another find, and she heard the pack split, the bulk moving away from her, a splinter group heading down into the ravine. Below her she saw Target, fat, glossy red, trotting down to the creek. Then he walked through the creek, crossing a bit above the rocky crossing where the envelope was tacked to the tree. To her amazement, Aunt Netty popped out of her den and Inky called from the tree she was perching in.

Target paused, barked something to Netty, then hearing the splinter group close in, he hurried up toward the rock outcroppings as Netty ducked back into the den, her nose still visible.

Low into the ravine flew St. Just, dive-bombing Target. And behind St. Just, closing fast was Dragon, three couple of young hounds racing with him.

“Kill him. Kill him,”
St. Just screamed.

Hoofbeats thundered behind the rock outcropping. Sister shrank farther in, flat now against the rock. She prayed Lafayette, beautifully gray, wouldn't catch the eye of the whip above her and he wouldn't whinny to the horse. He didn't.

Down into the ravine the whip rode and it wasn't until she saw Keepsake that Sister knew it was Cody.

“What a gifted rider,” she thought to herself as Cody cracked her whip, trying to turn back Dragon.

St. Just dive-bombed Target again, so intent on his mission, the blue-black bird didn't hear Athena overhead. She waited for St. Just to reach the bottom of his dive. Then with open talons she streamed down, raking the raven across the back.

Sister had never seen anything like it. The two birds climbed into the air and St. Just screamed at Athena, who silently flew to a high tree branch. St. Just swooped past her, then dove for Target again, who was climbing up toward the rock outcropping. Athena opened her wide wingspan, lifted off, again striking the raven, this time with her claws balled up. Black feathers flew and St. Just pulled off Target to face the huge owl. St. Just's only weapon against his foe was speed. Athena's size, wisdom, and famed ferocity ensured that only a fool would tangle with her.

By the time St. Just pulled away, turned in the air to strike again at the red fox, Target had reached the rock outcroppings, climbing to the ledge.

He froze when he saw Sister, then boldly ran right between her legs, ducking into the den behind her.

St. Just flew toward the den, squawking loudly. Cody, down at the creek crossing, would have seen Sister if she'd looked up but instead she was whipping off hounds and finally went to the ratshot to stop Dragon.

She fired.

“Ouch!”
he yelped.

“Leave it!” She commanded. “Hold up,” she yelled at the other hounds, who were scared now.

Sister admired Cody's whipping ability just as St. Just flew right in her face, screaming about Target. Athena struck again, knocking the raven sideways in the air. She scared Sister, who grabbed the fir limb.

Down below, Cody saw the envelope. She dismounted, holding the reins. She dropped the reins to reach the envelope.

As she did, Aunt Netty, who'd figured out the truth, stuck her head out of the den and taunted,
“Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!”

Dragon, butt full of ratshot, bolted toward the den. The others followed and Keepsake, green, spooked. He tore up the ravine.

Cody, hands shaking, whip draped around her neck, knew she couldn't get him back. Then she heard Lafayette whinny.

“Come stand with me!”
the gray called from his hiding place.

Keepsake, scared at the hounds bolting, scared that he would really be in trouble for leaving, picked his way up to Lafayette. By the time he reached the seasoned master's horse he was lathered.

So was Cody as she read the letter. “I know who you are. Give yourself up and make it easy on everybody, yourself included.”

She slipped the letter into her frock coat pocket, looked around. She didn't see Sister but she caught sight of Keepsake. She began climbing the ravine to reach her horse.

The hounds dug outside Netty's hiding place but she was safe in the back with lots of ways out. She laughed at them.

Inky stayed put in the tree. St. Just, bruised, repaired to the top of a walnut. Athena sat opposite him just in case. She watched Cody finally reach Keepsake, where she saw Lafayette. Defeated, she waited for Sister.

Sister reached the rim of the ravine, picking her way around to the horses. Cody led out Lafayette, handing him to a woman she had been trained to obey since childhood.

“Why?”

Tears rolling down her face, Cody simply answered, “Jennifer. Even after rehab he'd give her drugs.”

“Oh, Cody, there had to be another way.”

“I hated him.”

Knowing that hate, like love, can't be explained neatly away, that passion defies all logic, she put her hand on Cody's shoulder. “Come on.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.” Sister swung up in the saddle.

“I'm not sorry I killed him. I'm sorry I dragged everyone into it.” A flash of panic hit. “Is there no way out?”

“No.” Sister turned to her as they reached the farm road in the woods. “Crawford shouldn't pay for your sin.”

“He's so rich he'll get off.”

“That's not the point. You have to turn yourself in.” Sister inhaled. “In a way I can understand why you killed Fontaine. You believed Jennifer wasn't strong enough to resist him. You were wrong but I understand. But to kill a healthy red fox and to use the hunt for your revenge . . . Cody, that was beneath contempt.”

Although Cody could have fired ratshot straight into Sister's face the thought didn't occur to her. She'd acted impulsively once, fueled by love for her sister and hate for Fontaine. Her mind worked clearly enough now, even if her moral sense remained tilted. She hung her head, saying nothing.

Sister cupped her hands. “Come to me.” She yelled for her hounds, who, tricked by Aunt Netty, ran up out of the ravine. Knowing they'd been bad, once in sight of Sister, they crawled on their bellies. “I'm ashamed of you. Now come on.” She reprimanded them, which was worse than any ratshot from a whip, for the hounds loved Sister.

Each woman rode back with a heavy heart: Sister, distressed that a young life was wasted as well as a man's life taken away, no matter his irresponsible behavior. Cody, burdened with shame and fear, fought her tears.

In front of them they heard the hounds heading toward the kennel. Well, Cody would give herself up but they might as well hunt their way back.

They flew over the jumps, galloped across the upper meadow and then through the woods into the creek meadows, around Hangman's Ridge, reaching the chicken coop in about fifteen minutes of hard riding, the three couple of hounds behind them.

Shaker, on the ground, stood outside the chicken coop. The entire field, mounted, watched with amusement. Doug and Betty had come in from their posts as Shaker blew them in.

“Sister!” Shaker called out. “You okay?”

“Yes. Are you hunting chickens now, Shaker Crown?”

“Look here.” He pointed and Comet stuck his head out from the chicken coop.

“Well, I'll be.”

Golly, in a tree, bragged,
“He's afraid of me!”

Raleigh ignored this.
“I promised he'd be safe.”

“This is a first.” She smiled, dismounting. “Well, folks, you'll long remember this day. Shaker, take the hounds back to the kennel. And let's lock up Rooster in the tack room. Folks, we've put foxes to ground today but we've never put one to a chicken coop, so I think we'll call it a day. Thank you for hunting with us.”

People raised their caps, others reached down, touching Sister's shoulder. Betty noticed the greenish-white cast to her older daughter's face.

Sister smiled up at Cody. “Ride on back to the trailers with your family. I expect you to call Ben Sidell.”

Cody nodded yes.

As everyone left and Sister, Doug, and Shaker got the hounds in, praising them lavishly, they marveled over the day's hunt.

“If we ignore the chicken coop, he'll climb out and leave,” Sister advised.

“Funny he hasn't killed any chickens,” Doug remarked.

“Guess he's full,” she replied, not revealing that she'd put out enough corn to feed a regiment of foxes. “But to be sure I'll put out corn.” She left Doug to care for the horses. She opened the door to the chicken coop, warily eyeing Comet. “Here. Go when you're ready.” She admired him, for he was a handsome gray. “You know, fellow, anyone who says grays aren't fun to chase doesn't know foxes.”