Рита Браун - The Hounds And The Fury

Trident, finding the smell gross, asked, “ How can they drink that stuff?”

“If they eat spinach, I reckon they can eat or drink just about anything,” Asa laughed.

As the happy group of hounds walked up and out of the ravine, Matador asked Keepsake, “Is it always like this?”

The gelding replied, “No, you just had a special initiation.”

“Whew.” The gorgeous flea-bitten gray exhaled, which made Sister laugh.

Ben and Alfred smashed up what was left of the equipment with axes. Once Ben felt the horses were far enough away not to become frightened by the smell, he lit a match, and the place blew up like a tinderbox.

Alfred sighed deeply. “Best damn country waters in the state of Virginia, if I do say so myself.”

“Do it legally, then, Alfred.”

“Ah shit, Sheriff, I’d choke in laws like kudzu.”

Ben didn’t reply, but he sure did think life had become overregulated. He couldn’t enforce much of the law; he’d need an officer for every five people.

Enlisting Alfred in his search for the killer was one reason why Ben had let him off the hook. The other reason was that he wanted Alfred’s tacit blessing as he courted the old man’s niece.

Margaret didn’t know it yet, but Ben meant to win her. For him it had been love at first sight.

Once back at Roughneck Farm, Tootie took Sister’s Matador. As she and Gray cleaned the horses, Sister and Shaker checked each hound.

“Let’s give them a treat,” Sister said as she walked into the feed room to put down the troughs. She noticed Iffy’s ashes all over the feed room, the box chewed to bits. “Great day, Shaker.” She used the old Southern exclamation.

He walked in, the hounds were in the draw pen. “Jesus.”

“I expect she’s with him now if forgiveness comes as advertised.” Sister burst out laughing. “What a sight. Iffy all over the kennel floor. Who did this?”

“Oh, that’s not hard to figure.” Shaker walked through the swinging doors to the special medical runs, as they called the sequestered housing and runs for an injured hound.

Dragon, bored, had lifted the latch on his gate with his nose. He knew well enough where the feed room was, so he pushed through the doors. Couldn’t find any extra feed, since it was all in tightly closed zinc-lined bins. But the toasted bones were a treat. He’s chewed up the box, chewed up some of Iffy, and then sauntered back to his special quarters.

Shaker, in a fog this morning, had forgotten to put the pin through the latch that prevented it from being lifted up.

He apologized to Sister as she swept up what was left of Iffy.

“Look at it this way,” Sister said. “It may be one of the few times Iffy provided genuine pleasure.”

Dragon, hearing this on the other side of the swinging doors, said, “Bones were a little too dry.”

CHAPTER 26

What remained of Iffy lifted into the air under the huge oak tree at Hangman’s Ridge. Gray dust and bits of bone that Dragon had passed over rose upward, then scattered as a great gust from the north sent ashes flying.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Sister pulled the collar of her coat up.

Shaker watched the dispersal of Iffy’s remains. “Sorry little life.”

“So it would appear.”

“Should we say a prayer, anyway?” Shaker, a good Catholic boy, folded his gloved hands together.

“You do it.”

“Heavenly father, into thy hands we commend this spirit. She didn’t do much in this life. Iphigenia Demetrios was a thief. But since Christ pardoned a thief suffering with him on the cross, perhaps you will pardon Iffy. Amen.”

As they climbed into the Chevy 454, both shivered.

“Iffy’s made contact with the other criminals,” Sister joked as Shaker slid behind the wheel.

He turned on the motor, heater cranking up again. “They’re here.” He lightly touched his toe to the accelerator and headed toward the farm road on the southeast side of the wide flat ridge.

“Feast day for St. Prisca, a Roman lady from the first days of Christianity. She’s attended by the two lions who declined to eat her or even take a swipe. Ah yes, those Romans thrilled to entertainments that make the NFL and the NHL look like Tupperware parties.”

He laughed as he carefully descended the side of the ridge. The farm road, frozen, demanded attention.

“Where’s the real January thaw? The big one?”

“Damned if I know.” She looked up at a light blue sky. “Too bad Gray couldn’t be with us for Iffy’s decanting. Electrician’s coming to his place, so he’s there.”

“Sam’s making a good recovery.”

“Yes, he is. He’s invaluable, too, telling us when and where Crawford will hunt. Sam has said he’s seen an abundance of fox at Beasley Hall. I feel sorry for the hounds even if there are a lot of foxes. Hounds need a good huntsman. They need to trust the person with the horn. That’s why we have such a good hunt. You.”

He smiled. “You, too.” He slowed even more as a big ice slick glittered on the farm road. “Think he’ll tire of it? Disperse the pack?”

“Not any time soon.” She reached for the Jesus strap when the hind end skidded. “Some pumpkins yesterday.”

Shaker laughed out loud. “Alfred’s face crumpled. Did you ever see anything like it?”

“No.” She laughed, too. “What a rogue.”

“Shrewd, not putting the still on his property.”

“He’d risk Paradise if he did that.”

Sister felt her toes warming. “I expect he shipped most of it out of the county.”

“Could Iffy have organized that for him? Shipping?” Shaker asked.

“She probably could have. Iffy was smart, organized.”

Shaker breathed out once they reached the bottom of the ridge. “Whew.” Then he said, “Think Garvey is in on this somehow?”

“Moonshine?”

“No,” Shaker replied. “In on whatever Iffy was doing. She’d fake purchases, say, and they’d divvy up the money.”

“I’ve thought of that, too. Be a good scam.”

Shaker drove slightly faster. “Garvey doesn’t seem like the type to loot his own business, but I guess you never know.”

“Ben said there wasn’t one incriminating article in Iffy’s house, old barn, car. No hidden account books. Even her computer was innocent. Ben said it was so old he thought it was slowly dying of fatigue. Now, on the other hand, Garvey has been on a buying spree these last years, snapping up smaller companies. Still…” Her voice trailed off.

“Reminds me, you said you were going to buy a new computer for the kennels.”

“Yes, once Christmas was over. Know what you want?”

“Same as yours. The iMac G5.”

“By now they’re probably better than mine. Take the farm credit card and buy what you want.”

“Great.” He smiled as they passed the apple orchard, the kennels coming into view. “We’ve got a drop-in.”

“Damn. That’s one I’d like to drop-kick.” Sister recognized Jason’s mighty Range Rover.

They pulled beside the white SUV. Jason kept the motor running as he talked on his phone. The Rover was wired for a phone, so he spoke up toward his rearview mirror, where a tiny microphone was located. He signed off as Sister stepped out of the Chevy.

“Hello, Sister, Shaker.” He closed the heavy door behind him. “I called but no one answered, so I thought I’d take a chance and run by.” He paused. “Long night at the hospital.”

“You must be able to sleep on your feet.” Sister motioned for him to follow her and Shaker into the kennel.

They filed into the office. Sister sat behind the desk.

“Boss, I’ll see to Dragon.”

“Fine. Sit down, Jason. It’s basic but comfortable.”