Рита Браун - Full Cry

“He’s gone to ground!” Dragon shouted. “Let’s dig him out.”

“Dream on, you nitwit.” A high-pitched voice called out from inside.

“Uncle Yancy, what are you doing here? Where’s the gray?” Cora recognized the small red fox’s voice. He was not pleased with the visitation.

“You could be on a little red Volkswagen for all I know, Cora, but you haven’t been chasing me.”

Shaker dismounted and blew “Gone to ground.”

The hounds loved hearing that series of notes, but Cora, disgruntled to have been so badly fooled, sat down. Where had that gray gone?

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Dasher advised.

“Oh, yes, there is,” Cora determinedly replied. “I know the difference between Uncle Yancy and a stranger. Somehow we got our wires crossed back there in the pines, and we were all so excited we didn’t pay proper attention.”

Diana said, “Cora, if you’d switched to Uncle Yancy, you would have known.” She walked over and poked her head into the den. “Uncle Yancy, is he in there with you?”

A dry chuckle floated out of the main entrance. “He left by the back door not ten minutes ago.”

“Damn you, Yancy!” Dragon frantically began searching for the back door of the den, which happened to be outside the walls of the old barn.

The sound of Dragon’s travails made Yancy laugh even harder. Infuriated, Dragon could hear the fox’s mirth. He ran for the opening where a door used to be to get outside the ruins.

“Dragon, come back here and pretend you’re thrilled about this,” Cora commanded as Shaker finished the notes on his horn. “We can put up the gray once we’re out of here.”

And that they did. As soon as Shaker mounted back up, the hounds moved around the outside of the structure.

“Got ’im!” Asa called as he’d found the correct exit. With that he ran north, ever northward, as the scent was now hot, hot, hot on the cold snow.

Asa lost the line for a moment when they reached a small frozen tributary of Snake Creek, a silver ribbon of ice. Young Trident put them all right when he crashed across the ice, the water running hard underneath, and picked up the scent on the far bank.

The fox zigzagged west. After fifteen minutes of flat-out flying, the pack, the staff, and the field soared over the stone fence, leading into After All’s westernmost pasture. Within minutes, they’d be on Sister’s farm.

Again the fox turned; grays tend to do that. He was running a big figure eight, but the scent stayed hot. The pack, in full cry, ran so close together they were beautiful to behold.

Back over the stone fence, across a narrow strip, over the old hog’s back jump, which looked formidable in the snow. Lost a few people on that one. On and on, then finally Cora skidded to a halt beneath a pin oak, its brown leaves still clinging to the snow-coated tree. Those leaves wouldn’t be released until spring buds finally pushed them off their seal.

Snow spun out from paws as the hounds abruptly put on their brakes.

“Got you!” Cora stood on her hind legs, her forepaws as high on the tree as she could reach.

“He climbed the tree! He climbed the tree!” Trinity was so excited she leapt up and down as though on a pogo stick. “I never saw a fox do that!”

Asa, thrilled but in control, said, “If we get too close, those grays will climb up neat as a cat. Can you see him up there?”

“Yes!” Trinity spotted a pair of angry eyes staring down.

“Go away,” the gray yelled, just as the snow again began to fall, the clouds now dark gray.

“Who are you?” Diana asked.

“Mickey. You should all just go away. Look at it this way, you need me to come courting, don’t you? Means more foxes next year,” he said raffishly.

Shaker handed Showboat’s reins to Betty. He walked up under the tree. “Hey there, fella. Hell of a run.”

“Yeah, well, you can find your pleasures elsewhere,” Mickey barked.

Shaker lavishly praised his hounds for their excellent work, then mounted back up and called them along. He beamed.

The pack, in high gear, cavorted as they turned back east.

“I’ll find another fox!” Dragon bragged.

“You are so full of it,” Ardent, Asa’s brother, growled. “You aren’t the only hound with a nose, and furthermore, I suspect we’re going back.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t run another fox if we find one,” Dragon sassed.

“True.” Cora would have liked another hard run. “But we’ve been out an hour and a half, the footing is deep— slippery in spots—and some of the horses are tiring. Sister’s smart. She’ll end the day on a high note, and we’ll be back at the trailers in twenty minutes. Plus, it’s snowing again.”

“Ever notice how more people get hurt at the end of a hunt than at the beginning?” young Trudy wondered out loud.

“They’re tired, horses and riders, and sometimes they get so excited they don’t realize it. It’s those last stiff jumps that will get them if it’s going to happen. It’s New Year, we’ve got until mid-March to hunt. This is a wise decision.” Asa spoke to Trudy.

“Yancy is a cheat.” Dragon switched subjects.

“No, he’s not.” Cora laughed. “If another fox ducks into his den for cover, Yancy can hide him. But I’m surprised that Uncle Yancy is at those stone barn ruins. He lives closer in.”

“Oh, Uncle Yancy moves about.” Ardent knew the fox, same age as himself. “Changes his hunting territory and gets away from Aunt Netty.”

Aunt Netty, Yancy’s mate, harbored strong opinions and was not averse to expressing them. Yancy, a dreamy sort, liked to watch Shaker through the cottage windows or simply curl up under the persimmon tree. After the first frost when the persimmon fruit sweetened, Yancy would nibble on the small orange globes.

When the hounds returned to the covered bridge, cars, trucks, and SUVs lined the drive for a half-mile up to the house. Some cautious few parked nose out in case they couldn’t get enough traction. This way they could be pulled with one of Edward’s heavy tractors.

New Year’s breakfast attracted nonriders, too. Upon the riders’ return, After All was already filled with people. The event was hosted by social director Sorrel Buruss, who merrily bubbled with laughter and talk. Having Sorrel run the breakfast meant both Tedi and Edward could hunt.

“Well done.” Shaker patted each hound’s head as the animal hopped into the party wagon. Inside this trailer at the rear, a two-tiered wooden platform had been built. A second platform on a level with the lower one on the rear ran alongside the sidewall. This way hounds would climb up or snuggle under a platform and relax. Like humans, they preferred one hound’s company to another’s, so there were cliques. This platform arrangement allowed them to indulge their friendships. No one wanted to be next to someone who bored him or her silly.

Cora hung back. She liked to go in last, partly because she always wanted to keep hunting and partly because she liked seeing the humans back at their trailers. Some would dismount and be so exhausted their legs shook. Others would nimbly slide off, flip the reins over their horse’s head, and loosen the girth a hole or two. They’d remove the bridle, put on a nice leather halter, and then tie the horse to the side of the trailer, careful not to allow the rope to be over long. That caused mischief. The horse would step over the rope or pull back and pop it. Wool blankets, in stable colors, would be put on the horses. The different colors looked pretty against the snow.