Рита Браун - Homeward Hound

“Sister!”

“Ronnie.”

“Gregory’s horse came back but he’s not here.” He stopped, took a breath. “I thought he was with me. I could hear Pokerface snort, but I didn’t look behind me.”

“Wait here.” Sister reached the hound trailer as Shaker loaded his horse onto the back of the hound trailer. Tootie and Weevil’s horses, along with Betty’s, were already on Sister’s four-horse trailer. “Shaker, we have a missing person. Ronnie’s guest.”

“Jesus Christ,” Shaker muttered.

“Come with me. Take your horn.” She walked back to her trailer, where Betty, Tootie, and Weevil waited.

“Folks, Ronnie’s guest is missing.” She turned to Ronnie. “Where did you last see him?”

“I thought he was with me when we rode by the chapel. He was a little behind me. I noticed I couldn’t see the cross. I didn’t think to look back.”

Shaker interposed. “You wouldn’t have seen him anyway. We’re lucky we got here.”

“I can’t leave him,” Ronnie said, desperate.

Weevil, although the newest staff member, spoke up. “This is the beginning of a blizzard. If we all go out looking for him, we can become disoriented in minutes. It’s death. Trust me. I’m Canadian.”

“Ronnie, call the rescue squad. Betty, call Ben Sidell, the sheriff. God, I wish he could have hunted today. Report this. Shaker, blow your horn. With God’s grace he might hear it and come to the horn.”

The two made the required phone calls.

“Ben said they’d get here as soon as they can. Accidents everywhere. Trees are coming down. He ordered me to order you to go home. If we don’t go now, we’ll be stuck here.”

“At least we can go into the station,” Tootie thought out loud.

“The horses can’t.” Weevil smiled at her. “Hounds could but we can’t leave the horses in the trailer in these winds. We’ve got to do what the sheriff ordered.”

Tears came to Ronnie’s eyes.

“Why don’t you follow us, Ronnie? You can stay in the house with Gray and me. No point trying to get to your barn alone.”

“I can’t leave him. If he’s out there alone, he could die.”

“Ronnie”—Betty knew him well—“there’s no choice. This is getting worse by the minute. Come on, I’ll ride with you.”

Weevil and Shaker rode together while Tootie and Sister drove. Although only eleven miles away, it took them forty-five minutes to reach Roughneck Farm, Sister’s farm.

Hounds unloaded, horses put into the barn including Ronnie’s, and Pokerface, the horse he had lent to Greg.

“We’re lucky we made it.” Sister meant that as they could hear trees cracking in the woods. “Weevil, you’d best stay here, too. Even though your cottage isn’t far.”

His cottage was at After All, the adjoining farm.

“He can stay with me,” Tootie offered. “Come on, Weevil. I need to call Mom and make sure she and Daniella got home.”

Betty and Ronnie also walked up to Sister’s house, which they did as a human chain, for you couldn’t see a thing now. Once in the house, Gray was on the phone, for he had come in early, figuring he’d better get the house ready for stranded people.

He looked up. “Aunt Dan’s with Tootie’s mother. Everyone is bunked up with someone.”

Shaker made it to his cottage as Weevil and Tootie, heads down against the wind, made it to hers.

At Sister’s each person used the tall bootjack to pull off boots. Coats hung on pegs in the mudroom. Soon they were dripping melted snow. Betty noticed tears in Ronnie’s eyes. He wasn’t a man afraid to show emotion. She put an arm around his waist. He returned the gesture and they stepped into the kitchen.

The two house dogs and the cat observed all this as the house shook from the assaulting winds. Gray had a big pot of tea boiling. They could worry about supper once they got warm.

Sister, out in the mudroom, took coats as they were handed to her, lined up boots. She couldn’t help herself. She opened the mudroom door to the outside for a moment; then it slammed shut from the force of the wind.

Snow-blind, she thought to herself, and she also thought that if Gregory Luckham hadn’t tucked up somewhere, he would freeze to death. No rescue team could find anyone in conditions like these.

Snow-blind.

CHAPTER 4

Tired as they were, everyone rose at first light. Sister threw on her robe, looked out the window. Snowdrifts piled up on the north side of buildings and trees. Snow continued to fall now as big lazy snowflakes. At least she could see and what she saw were trees snapped in half, others uprooted, those being mostly pines due to their small root-balls. Snow covered each roof so if there was damage she couldn’t see it. At least, no part of any roof had blown off.

The old curving back wooden stairway led down to the kitchen where Golly commanded the kitchen table. Raleigh and Rooster followed Sister, their claws clicking on the worn steps.

Golly put on her loving face. “I’m hungry.”

Sister filled a bowl, mixing kibble with canned cat food. She put it up on the corner of the counter so the dogs wouldn’t get it. Then she quickly filled their bowls, placing them on the floor by the back stairway. She then filled up the water bowls, grateful that she still had power, a miracle considering the force of the wind.

Footsteps down the hallway pattered into the country kitchen.

“Scrambled egg or over?” Betty, who knew the house as well as her own, pulled a large iron skillet, number 5, out from a cabinet.

“You make scrambled for those who want that. I’ll make the easy over. Gray can make biscuits.” Sister pulled out another iron skillet.

“He makes the best.” Betty dropped butter in the skillet.

“Aunt Daniella’s recipe. I’m glad she stayed with Yvonne. Neither one of those ladies is a fool.” The phone rang, the landline. “Hello.” A silence followed as Sister listened.

The sheriff, Ben Sidell, informed her about road conditions. “Some of the roads are passable. The interstate has been plowed throughout the night. Slow going. Route 250 is being cleared of trees. Stay put.”

“What about Soldier Road?” She asked about a state east-west road on the north side of the high plateau on her property called Hangman’s Ridge for that’s where colonials, found guilty, were hanged.

“Clearing. Plows behind the chain saw crew.”

“Shall I assume no one has looked for Gregory Luckham yet?”

“That’s why I called. Obviously, no one could do anything last night. It’s still coming down. I commandeered a snowplow to get us to Chapel Cross. The board of supervisors was too overwhelmed to argue. Wires came down out there so Central Virginia Electric Cooperative is there. They’ve called in repairmen from other states. The damage throughout central Virginia all the way up through Pennsylvania seems to be severe.”

“Anyone killed on the roads?”

“Thank God, no. When the governor told people to stay home, off the roads, they listened. But a missing person means we’ll have our search team out there, so tell me what you know.”

“Started behind Tattenhall Station, headed south toward Beveridge Hundred, but we never got there. Picked up a fading line, which fortunately heated up. Crossed the road. Took the tiger trap and wound up at the large rock outcroppings. You know the place.”

“Den there.” He did know the place.

“It was cold but the weather held. The forecast was that the storm would come in after noontime. Anyway, I wasn’t worried, so after putting that red to ground, we headed west toward Chapel Cross. We hit again and ran within sight of Old Paradise, could see the columns in the distance and then lost. I have no idea why. That’s when, almost as if the sky had been unzipped, no warning, really, the snow came down and thick. The clouds were so low, you could almost touch them, but Ben, it truly happened so fast. The wind screamed. So Shaker picked them up, we headed back for Tattenhall Station. Everything seemed to be in order. I didn’t turn around and count heads. If something is amiss, someone rides up to tell me. We were all on so to speak like the hounds, all on, or so I thought.”