Shirley Murphy - Cat Playing Cupid

Kit hadn't said good-bye to the Greenlaws. When Charlie asked her why, she wouldn't talk about it.

As they emerged from the woods onto the open hills that rose vast and green above them, Sage's small body went rigid with anticipation. Charlie held him securely as Bucky made his way up through the tall grass toward the high woods.

Within an hour they were on the little trail that led along the edge of the cliff between the pine woods and the sea. Far below, the sea crashed against the rocks, foaming and pounding, stirring the smell of iodine. Then, when at last they turned away from the sea into the woods, the smell of new spring grass came sharply again, crushed under Bucky's hooves. Nothing stirred among the woods; no bright eyes watching them, no shadow of a cat, not even a tail-flicking squirrel. She urged Bucky in deep among the trees, then pulled him up, letting him snatch at mouthfuls of grass though Max wouldn't have allowed him to do that. Around them the woods were silent. Snuggled before her in the saddle, the cats looked and looked, but they saw none of the clowder. Kit, leaping down into the carpet of leaves, began to search for scent. Sage crouched to follow, but Charlie held him back.

"You don't want to jump so far on that newly healed leg." She looked down at the pale-colored tom. "You'll be taking care of yourself now. You'd better do what the doctor said, Sage. If you give that leg time to heal fully, it will grow strong again. Otherwise, you'll cripple yourself. You don't want to live all your life lame, unable to run or hunt properly."

Sage scowled deeply at her. He'd had enough of being bossed by humans. But then, he'd had enough, too, of being crippled by the cast, and he remained obediently still.

They watched Kit circle where the clowder had often sheltered at night when she had run with them, the dense stand of blackberry brambles offering a safe haven from predators. Working in ever widening circles, Kit stopped suddenly and reared up, looking around her.

"They were here," she said. "Call them, Charlie. Call Willow."

Softly Charlie called. And warily she watched the woods, hoping some unseen hiker wouldn't emerge and wonder what she was doing. Again she called, and again.

"Louder," Kit told her. "Call louder."

She called, watching the dappled sun and shadows beneath the blowing pines. Every shape seemed to change and move in the shifting light, yet nothing really moved at all.

She called three times, then three times more. Bucky pulled at the reins, reaching to snatch at the sparse grass. Her voice, out of place in the silence, seemed to her a rude invasion of the wild woods. She was answered only by silence, and by the distant crash of water breaking against the cliff. Below her, Kit stood up on her hind legs again, like a little rabbit, watching the woods and listening. But when Kit looked up at her, Charlie couldn't read the expression in the tortoiseshell's yellow eyes. Agitated. Unsettled. A look that could mean anything.

When after a quarter of an hour there had been no response, no faint and distant mewl, no stealthy shadow approaching through the blowing-tree shadows, Charlie said, "I don't think they hear us. Can you track them away from the bramble?"

In her lap, Sage fidgeted, wanting down, wanting to search, too, but still she held him. If they had to hurry away from some danger, Kit could leap to the saddle or could vanish as swiftly as a bird. But Sage's weaker leg would slow him, nor should he make a flying leap.

Kit, after a long search nosing into zigzags among the brambles, leaped to the top of an outcropping of granite boulders, a hill of tumbled stones that rose against an oak. There she reared up tall, staring into the treetops. Loudly she mewled, and mewled again. A strange, wild cry that made Charlie shiver; then Sage's voice joined her, their cries eerie in the empty woods.

And suddenly the woods weren't empty. Cats appeared all around them slipping out from among the far trees and from beyond the boulders and descending from the highest branches, down the rough trunks. They paused and stood looking, their ears forward, their tails twitching; none approached too close. Only Willow came to them, trotting up to Bucky.

Quietly Charlie dismounted, holding Sage against her. She knelt before the bleached calico lady, and put Sage down.

Willow licked the young tom's face, then turned to look at the clowder cats. And now all the cats came around them and rubbed against Sage and licked his ears and made over him. But all the while, ready to bolt, they watched Charlie and the big buckskin.

Then Willow's mate appeared, the white tom Cotton, racing out of the far woods, his friend Coyote beside him. The white tom and the dark tabby tom strode forward boldly to inspect Sage.

IT TOOK Awhile to tell Sage's story. Charlie, sitting on the grass among the cats, told the story alone; Sage and Kit had wandered away. Willow and the two toms sat close to her, listening, the shy clowder cats gathered behind them in a ragged half circle. Like children, Charlie thought, children gathered at story hour, their faces filled with wonder at Sage's ordeal, with amazement as Charlie described the hospital and how Sage had been helped by humans. And, like children, most of the cats believed her but a few did not. These five, their expressions skeptical, turned to look away toward the rock hill where Sage and Kit sat together.

Charlie could see that the two were arguing. She couldn't hear their voices-but with the sudden dropping of ears and lashing of tails, she could clearly read Sage's beseeching, and Kit's short, willful temper, and it was hard to keep her mind on the story. Then Sage reared up as if his patience was at an end, and smacked Kit hard in the face-a businesslike blow that made Charlie catch her breath.

All the cats were watching. Cotton growled, and Willow's surprised intake of breath was followed by her whispered, "Oh, my." And this was the moment of decision. Would Kit stay with him, now that he'd shown some tomcat macho? Was that what she'd been waiting for?

THE JOURNEY HOMEwas silent. Kit rode in Charlie's arms, her face hidden against Charlie's shoulder. She said nothing, she didn't look up at Charlie. She huddled deep in her own thoughts. Above them the sun pushed higher into the clear sky; the chill day grew warm despite the sea wind blowing up the cliff. Charlie didn't know all that had occurred between the two, she knew only that Kit was going home again, and that for Lucinda and Pedric and for all Kit's friends, that was the best news. But she grieved for Kit, and wished Kit would share with her what she was feeling.

R IDING CUDDLED AGAINSTCharlie, leaving Sage behind, Kit was both sad and relieved. And was uncertain, too, wondering if her decision had been the right one and yet knowing, deep down, that it was right.

Lucinda had once told her that a person should not let pity shape their decisions, that pity seldom fostered clear thinking. Now, Kit clung to Lucinda's words, assuring herself she'd done what she must do.

She had, sitting with Sage atop the hill of boulders, looking down at Charlie with the clowder gathered around her, and then looking away deep into the woods and then out to the bright, wild sea, tried to think clearly. The trouble with clear thinking was that her feelings kept getting in the way.

She had looked at Sage and then looked away toward the village whose life was so far removed from the ways of the wild. She had looked back at Sage, looked deep into his eyes as he sat waiting for her decision, his patience at an end since he felt well and strong again. His sudden demanding attitude had pleased her, for Sage's sake. But then…