Shirley Murphy - Cat Pay the Devil

“I’d guess it would catch up with you. What did Cage…?”

Wilma looked at him. “It’ll take a while to tell. Charlie shot him. She shot Cage. She’s shaky, too. Pretty upset.”

Clyde held her hands. “I guess this will take a lot of telling. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Coffee, and a sweet roll Brennan gave me. Before that…Breakfast in Gilroy around eight this morning.”

“You need a rare steak and a drink.”

“I’d kill for exactly that. But where’s Joe! You went to Gilroy…Where’s Joe Grey?”

Clyde pointed up to the wall, where six silhouettes lingered, two of them sitting close together, Joe’s white markings bright in the flashing lights.

Wilma laughed, and relaxed. “Those other cats are the ferals. That, too, will take a bit of telling. You won’t believe what they did. I hardly believe it.”

“You need to eat. Tell me over dinner. You don’t need to hang around? Let me go up and see Charlie, then we’ll get you a steak.”

From atop the broken wall the six cats watched Clyde step out of the squad car and head up to where Charlie stood, safe in Max’s arms. Cotton was worn out; the white tom had never pursued the kind of madness he had tonight. Approaching the village, he’d been scared out of his skin, and he still wasn’t sure why he’d done it. But now that it was over, he was proud he’d found the courage. Now, he wanted only to sleep.

Willow looked at Cotton stretched out limply along the stone wall, and wanted to snuggle down with him. Until tonight she hadn’t known which of the two tomcats she favored; she thought she loved them both. But now she knew. Cotton was brave and staunch, Cotton made her heart race.

Coyote might be more dashing and handsome; certainly he would have no trouble finding his own lady. Maybe among their own ten, or maybe he’d slip back to their old clowder and lure away one of the discontented young queens. Coyote was her friend, they would always be close, but Cotton was her chosen.

Coyote watched her, and knew. He felt sad and a little lonely. Felt shy beside them now-but he was often shy. He looked away to the high boulders where the others of their small group were hidden, then lifted his nose to look south. Some miles away, their old clowder might still be ranging. He thought about the young queens there, and he wondered, and his green eyes lit up with speculation.

Joe Grey and Dulcie and Kit glanced sideways, watching the little scene, and they smiled. Dulcie and Kit felt sad for Coyote, but Joe knew the challenge that gripped the striped, long-eared tom. The hunt was everything, the hunt for game, the hunt for a mate. And, in Joe’s life, the keen and wily search for human prey, the hunt that drove him ever more powerfully. He glanced at Dulcie and twitched a whisker. The hunt that absorbed them both, a hunt no other cat in the world but the three of them would understand or care about.

Looking up the hill, they watched Clyde hug Ryan and hold her for a moment as they talked, then Clyde sat down on a fragment of broken wall beside Charlie, who was wolfing down coffee and a sandwich. There was some laughter, a few tears, and a lot of hugging. But then at last Clyde rose and headed back for his car.

Wilma stepped out of the squad car and stood with Clyde beside the Lexus, looking up at the cats. At once, Dulcie tensed to leap down. With a lick at the ferals’ ears and a nudge of noses, a special nuzzle for Cotton by way of a thank-you, Dulcie dropped from the wall and streaked for the road where Clyde and Wilma stood waiting. Joe followed close on her heels. Behind them Kit made her own farewells, then raced for Lucinda and Pedric.

Parting from the wild band was hard for Kit-but she’d already made her choice many months ago about how she wanted to live her life. In her deepest heart, she’d already left their wild ways-she did not want to change her own life, she wished only to see them sometimes, here among the ruins. If they remained here. With a wild band, who knew where they would go? She could only wish them well, wish them happiness. Nuzzling each cat, she spun around and raced away following Dulcie and Joe, her little cat heart hurting, but not regretting.

From the top floor of the Pamillon mansion, from the old nursery, Violet Sears had stood for some time watching the scene below. She felt sick when Charlie shot Cage. She knew he deserved it, but he was still her brother. She watched Eddie run, and saw those cats leap on him. That had shocked and deeply frightened her.

She had watched the police clean up Eddie’s wounds and force him into a squad car, and she didn’t know how she felt about his arrest. Maybe she felt nothing.

Eddie would be in jail now. For a little while, she was free of him. She shivered at the thought that she was on her own; she didn’t know what to do about that. How would she live? Where would she live? There had always been someone else to decide about her life. Their parents. Lilly and Cage. And then Eddie. She thought that woman, Wilma, wouldn’t really help her. She stood watching the dark scene before her, shivering and afraid.

Watching Clyde step out of the squad car and head up in her direction, Charlie had suddenly and inexplicably found herself crying. Pressing her face into Max’s shoulder, when he turned back to her after briefing Brennan and a handful of other officers, she felt weak and shaky-but she was safe now, safe in Max’s arms. He held her away from him and wiped her tears. She looked up at him, ashamed of her weakness, embarrassed at crying in front of his men. He handed her a paper bag.

“Hunger’ll take all the starch out. Here’s Brennan’s lunch. Roast beef and coffee and you’ll be yourself again.”

“I can’t take his lunch, he…” Knowing how Brennan loved his meals made her tear up all over again.

Max laughed. “He kept one sandwich of the three, and a slice of cherry pie. He gave his coffee roll to Wilma.”

Charlie glanced across at Brennan and blew him a kiss. The portly officer looked embarrassed, grinned at her, and turned away. She had sat down on the remnants of a tumbled stone wall and was wolfing down the second of the sandwiches and slurping hot coffee, nearly scalding her mouth, when Clyde sat down beside her.

“Glad you got out of that.”

She nodded, her mouth full.

Clyde laughed. “Wilma’s pretty hungry, too. I’m taking her for a steak. Want to come?”

She swallowed. “Going to ride back with Max, take the horses back. I think Ryan’s going with Dallas, her truck is at our place.”

He nodded. “How did the snitch know where you were?” he said softly. “She called Max, but how did she know?”

“The white cat, Clyde. That feral cat. He…Against all odds, that wild little animal went down into the village. Went to Kit for help. Dulcie was there at the Greenlaws’ with Kit, and it was Dulcie who called.”

Clyde shook his head. “Seems impossible.”

“But then,” she said, “the other two ferals…all three of them and Dulcie and Kit chewed my ropes. They had me almost loose when Wilma found me.” She swallowed the last of the sandwich, washed it down with more coffee. “And there’s a lot that we don’t know yet, that Dulcie and Kit will tell us. But you…You and Joe…”

“Same thing,” Clyde said, grinning. “A lot to tell. Too much for now, Wilma’s starving.” He hugged her and rose, stood a moment with his hand on her shoulder. “She’s pretty upset that Jones dragged you into whatever he wanted from her.”

“She doesn’t know what he wanted?”

“Not a clue.” He leaned down to hug her again. “Have a good ride home.”

She watched him stop to talk with Ryan and make a date with her for the next night, then head down to fetch Wilma.