Shirley Murphy - Cat Laughing Last

"Can you believe that Harper sprang for front-row seats?" Dulcie whispered. Harper was dressed in a well-tailored, dark sport coat, tan slacks, pale shirt, and tie. Charlie wore a long, rust-toned skirt and a brocade jacket in orange and turquoise that was, Dulcie whispered, "stunning with her red hair."

The house lights dimmed and the orchestra shifted from a soft tango to the opening strains of Act 1. The curtain opened to the patio of the Ortega-Diaz hacienda, filled now with angry, arguing rancheros-with Don Ortega-Diaz and a dozen of his contemporaries, resplendent in Spanish finery, discussing with Latin passion the sudden foreclosure on their lands. Not until the American, Hamilton Stanton, appeared in their midst offering to pay Ortega-Diaz's commitments, did the mob quiet. What was this? What a fortunate turn of events, that their friend could marry off the eldest of his five daughters to a rancher of obvious means and, at the same time, save his lands.

But when Catalina's hand was promised, she stepped from the shadows fiery with rage against her father; the angry violence of her song shook the audience. When the lights came up at the end of Scene 1, the theater was silent. Applause, when it broke, was like sudden thunder.

It was Scene 2, as servants locked Catalina in her room, that her saddest lament rose-and that a small movement in the shadows drew Cora Lee's attention. The cats saw her glance into the wings though her singing didn't falter. Dulcie caught her breath. Joe Grey crouched, ready to leap across the rafters and down, to haul the kit off the stage.

Dulcie stopped him, her teeth gently in his shoulder. "Wait, Joe. Watch-look at the audience."

Catalina's voice faltered for only a second as she reached out to the dark little cat that had slipped up onto her couch beside her. As Cora Lee's song held the audience, she drew the kit to her in a gesture natural and appealing. Singing with a broken heart, she cuddled the kit close. Every person present was one with them, not a sound in the darkened theater. Cora Lee and the kit held them all.

The kit appeared in two more scenes, both times when Cora Lee glanced into the wings to draw her out again, the two seeming perfectly attuned to one another. Cora Lee might be amazed at the kit's behavior, but she was a child of the theater. And the audience loved the small cat. When Cora Lee glanced into the wings at Sam Ladler, he was smiling-Cora Lee played the kit for all she was worth. When Catalina was fed on bread and water, the kit slipped in through the window grate to keep her company. The kit disappeared after the wedding and did not return until Catalina's lover, in desperation, began to ravage the Ortega-Diaz lands, stealing cattle and burning the pastures. Now again the kit was there, with exquisite timing, as Catalina herself set a trap for her lover.

In the last scene, when Marcos escaped Hamilton Stanton's vaqueros and came to take Catalina away, and when Stanton was there in her stead, Catalina stood in her chamber holding the kit in her arms, weeping for Marcos, for her part in his death, as the curtain rang down.

Among the cats' closest friends, response to the kit's theatrical adventure was frightened and guarded. While everyone in the village raved about Cora Lee's performance and about the wonderful part the little cat played, and the kit had front-page newspaper coverage, her friends worried for her and wanted badly to put a stop to her foolishness.

"You're racing too close the edge," Dulcie told her. "Don't you think people will wonder?"

"But no one-" the kit began.

"Kit, this scares me. Don't you understand what could happen?"

The kit looked at Dulcie sadly, filled with misery.

"You're lovely in the play, Kit. You're exactly what the play needed. Everyone loves you. But, Kit, you know that not all humans can be trusted. Even if they believe you're no more than a trained cat, the way Wilma and Clyde have tried to convince people, don't you know how many no-goods would steal such a cleverly trained kitty and try to sell you."

"But they wouldn't hurt me. And I would escape, I would get away."

Dulcie just looked at her. Life before the kit had been so peaceful and predictable-and, compared to life with the kit, seemed in retrospect deadly dull. "If we stick with Wilma's plan," Dulcie said, "maybe it will come right." It broke her heart to scold the kit, the kit took such joy in the play. But when she licked the kit's ear, the kit brightened.

By the next morning, Wilma and Charlie and Clyde had convinced Cora Lee that it would be best to tell admirers that she and Wilma, together, had trained the kit. They set up a scenario for the remainder of the play that included Wilma taking the kit to the theater each night, standing in the wings with her, and giving her hand signals like a trained dog. Cora Lee followed the plan, understanding quite well the danger to the kit-as far as she knew it.

But the wonder of the kit's creative performance didn't pale. To Cora Lee and to her audiences, the kit was a four-legged angel, a magical creature.

Wilma told Sam Ladler that onstage, when Cora Lee's emotions built through song, the young cat was naturally drawn to her in a powerful response. She said that was how she trained the kit. Ladler said the kit's appearance had been a nice surprise, that the kit added just the fillip the play needed. "This couldn't have happened," he said, laughing, "if Vivi had been present. She would have pitched a fit."

The play was to run for six weeks. Dulcie told the kit, "Except for performances, you'll stay in the house. When the play's over, you'll stay in the house until, hopefully, people forget about trained cats."

"If they ever forget," Joe said darkly.

"I will stay in the house," the kit said dutifully, her round amber eyes glowing with the magic of the theater, with a wonder and dimension that stayed with her each night long after the last curtain had fallen, so it was hard for her to fall asleep. She prowled the house worrying Dulcie, prompting Wilma to rise and warm a pan of milk for her then stroke her until she slept. If Wilma began to look haggard, people put it down to her demanding cat-training regimen.

Thorns of Gold, with the kit's added magic, contributed to the village of Molena Point a warm and glowing experience; and maybe the magic spilled over to anoint others. It was a week after opening night that Charlie made her announcement, at the engagement party at Clyde's house in honor of her and Max.

Ryan came early to help Clyde lay out plates and glasses on the seldom-used dining table. Mavity and Susan arrived just before Charlie and Max, bringing trays of canapes. Wilma and Gabrielle and Cora Lee of course were at the theater. Mavity had dressed in a powder blue pants suit that was not a uniform. Susan wore a long skirt and a hand-knit sweater. Soon after Detectives Garza and Davis arrived, loaded down with ice buckets and champagne, and before the engagement announcement, Charlie broke her news.

"Looks like the last chapters of Elliott Traynor's Twilight Silver will be published after all," she said quietly.

Garza frowned, "How did that happen? I thought Vivi couldn't write her way out of a paper bag. That's what alerted her agent in the first place."

"Vivi won't be writing the last chapters," Harper said.

"Who, then?" Garza said, waiting for the punch line. "Not Willie Gasper?"

"Charlie will be writing them," Harper said. "She talked with Traynor's editor yesterday. They like her work very much, they're sending her a contract."

"And," Charlie said tremulously, "I guess I have a literary agent. If I… if I decide to write something more."

Dulcie glanced at Joe, remembering how frightened Charlie had been when she first learned that her drawings had been accepted by the Aronson Gallery, how nervous she had been before the gallery opening-then how bubbly with excitement when everyone loved her work.