Рита Браун - The Hounds And The Fury

After this display of agility, he made a beeline for Sister’s house.

Golly, not a cold-weather girl, had been out for her constitutional. The racket intrigued her, so she sat on the back stoop to watch the show. Her cat door, not far, reassured her she could escape if need be.

Comet, seeing the snotty cat, ran straight for her. “I’m going to get you.”

“Oh, balls, Comet.” Golly turned and ducked into her door, the flap closing as the magnetic strips touched each other.

Comet easily fit through the same door.

Facing Golly in the mud room, he heard Raleigh and Rooster come to life on the other side of the kitchen door.

Golly, frozen in astonishment, puffed up to twice her size. She danced sideways.

“You look like a broody hen,” Comet laughed.

“I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll pop through that second cat door there and tell those idiot dogs how smart I am. And how generous. I could bite you in two.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Golly hissed a spectacular shower of droplets.

He stepped toward her.

She backed right up to the door as Raleigh tried to poke his head through the cat door.

“Raleigh, you dolt. I need to get through.”

Raleigh withdrew his head. Golly turned and shot through the door, then hit Raleigh on the nose as hard as she could.

He screamed as bright red blood drops appeared on his moist black nose. “Harpy!”

“You were in my way. Comet out there could have bitten me, although I would have hit him, too.”

Comet, flamboyant stinker, stuck his head through the door. “Domesticated twits.”

Rooster lunged for him, but Comet just stepped back.

“You’re lucky I’m on the other side of this door. I’d tear you limb from limb,” the harrier threatened.

“Dream on, fatty.” Comet then sat back down to groom his tail while the entire pack hit the door like a tricolor avalanche. Couldn’t get in, of course. This pleased the gray fox immensely. Sister wouldn’t open the door. He was as safe as if he’d been in his own den, a half mile away.

Shaker, flummoxed, a rare occurrence, lifted both feet out of the stirrups, vaulting off HoJo, who, curious, stepped up after Shaker to get closer.

Shaker looked to Sister.

“Blow ‘gone to ground.’” She laughed.

He lifted the horn to his lips, the happy notes filling the air along with the cries of the pack, Raleigh and Rooster’s howls, and the voices of the entire kennel.

Golly hollered at the top of her considerable lungs, “I denned the fox!”

This shut up Rooster for a second. “You did.”

“Oh, Christ, Rooster, there will be no living with her now,” Raleigh moaned.

“Now? There’s never been any living with her.”

“I am the Queen of All I Survey.” Golly sashayed to the cat door and stuck her head out. “You’re the asshole.”

Lightning fast, Comet lunged for her. She reeled backward, falling over herself.

He now stuck his head through the cat door. “I’m the boss. You’re the applesauce.”

As the house pets endured Comet’s doggerel, Sister said, “Let’s pick them up, Shaker. I don’t believe we’ve ever had a day like this. Best to stop while ahead.”

“Want to go into the house? Through the front door,” Shaker laughed. “I’ll hold Lafayette.”

“No. I don’t hear crashing about. I expect he is availing himself of the dog food in the mud room. I’ll let him out later if he doesn’t leave of his own free will.”

With some effort, as the hounds were terribly thrilled with this new type of den, Shaker, Betty, and Sybil managed to walk them to the kennels.

No sooner were they all in than Comet slipped out through the outside cat door to sit on the stoop. Leaving was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Tally ho,” Tootie whispered, taking off her hat.

As she was back at the Custis Hall trailer, Val, Felicity, and Pamela turned, also removing their caps.

Vicki Van Mater noticed and took off her cap. Joe Kasputys followed suit.

The babble of human voices subsided. Everyone turned. Even the hounds in the kennel runs who could see that side of the house watched in amazement.

Finally, Sister, having dismounted, stepped forward. She removed her cap, bowed, and swept her cap before her with an actor’s grand flourish. “I salute you, Comet.”

Smiling, he walked down the steps, took in this tribute, then walked around the house and vanished as only a fox can do.

The humans cheered.

Walter, buoyant, raised both arms over his head. “Well, we’ve cheered the fox. How about three cheers for the hounds!”

After three lusty cheers, the people wiped down their horses and removed their bridles. Some took off the saddles; others loosened the girths but allowed the saddles to stay on the horses’ backs. As the horses cooled down, their riders threw blankets over them.

The hunt breakfast was potluck. People gingerly negotiated the snow, dishes in hand.

No one could miss Comet’s scent when they hung their coats in the mud room.

Raleigh and Rooster, let out, tried to pick up the wily fellow’s trail. No luck.

Golly, meanwhile, told everyone within earshot of her valor.

Excitement bubbled over along with the coffeepot.

Few mentioned Iffy. She hadn’t been a part of the club, although Sorrel, Walter’s steady, expressed her sympathy to Jason on losing Iffy.

“Thank you,” he replied. “She turned the corner.” He drank a hot toddy, then spoke again. “One of the things about our profession”—he nodded toward Walter—“is you must accept death.”

“I suppose, but Walter hates to lose a patient.”

“I do too, but Sorrel, there’s a time to live and a time to die.” Then he smiled. “You know what’s worse than death? The paperwork!”

Tootie patted her britches pocket. The lockback knife Sister had given her was there. She hadn’t expected anything for leading back Aztec on Thursday and was delighted with the beautiful knife.

A foxhunter should always have a pocket knife in a coat or britches pocket.

The girls talked with one another. Pamela felt more of the group these days, although she could still get on their nerves, especially Val’s. She did, however, give each of them a steel-tipped stock pin from Horse Country, as promised.

Sister pulled Walter to the side. “Haven’t had a minute to talk to you.”

“What a day.”

“Was, wasn’t it?” She touched glasses with him.

Tedi came up. “I feel twenty-one again.”

“Me too.” Sister laughed. “Today is Felix of Nola’s feast day. I remember because of Nola.”

“How do you remember these things? What did Felix do?” Walter grinned.

“Survived torture and persecution in the third century AD, going on to perform conversions and miracles. Died 260 AD.”

“Every day is a miracle.” Tedi beamed.

“Today certainly was.” Walter noticed Sorrel motioning to him. “Excuse me.”

The phone rang. Val, next to it, picked it up and cupped her head over the receiver. “Sister,” she called over the din. “Sam.”

Sister pushed through the crowd, listened, then hung up the phone as Gray walked over to her. She started laughing. “Crawford has hounds out all over the country. Sam asks if we see any, would we pick them up.” She asked for silence, then added, “You can take them to the barn in the back.”

“Damned if I’ll help Crawford,” a member groused.

“Hounds first,” Sister simply replied.

Margaret DuCharme slipped in the back door. Her eyes watered a bit from Comet’s signature odor. She found Ben. Sister had invited her and told her that no one thought for a second she had anything to do with Iffy’s disappearance. However, it was damned inconvenient that Iffy’s wheelchair had been in her SUV. With Iffy dead it became quite upsetting.