Рита Браун - Outfoxed

As it was, Crawford could have used Velcro in his saddle.

“Sister?” Shaker worked closely with his master. She’d carried the horn in her youth when the then huntsman died unexpectedly and violently in a bar fight Saturday night. She had a great eye for terrain and a good sense of casting hounds. Not a professional huntsman by a long shot, but she was no slouch either.

She inhaled deeply, the heavy air filling her lungs. “Warming fast.”

“Northern edge of the woods?” He swung gracefully up in the saddle.

“Good idea.”

As the hounds packed in and trotted to the next cast Diana whispered, “Is Dragon in trouble?”

Dasher, her litter mate, as was Dragon, whispered back, “If not with the people then with the snake. Boy, is he going to be sick.”

Jefferson Hunt named their hounds using the first letter of the bitch’s name. Dasher, Dragon, and Diana had been born to Delia, an old lady now retired to laze in the sun.

“If that copperhead hadn’t bit him, I would have!” Archie exclaimed.

Shaker stared down at Arch. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry,” the steady fellow apologized. Wouldn’t do for him to be accused of babbling.

“How do you know it was a copperhead?” Dasher whispered.

“Head already getting fat. A nonpoisonous snake would have left two fang marks and that’s about it.”

“Rattler,” Cora quietly said.

“He’d be dead by now.” Archie tried not to gloat.

At the northern edge Shaker pushed the hounds toward the hay field. They picked up a fading scent moving at a trot. The next hour the hounds worked diligently with a few small bursts as their reward.

Sister lifted hounds and they happily walked back to the trailers.

“Bobby, dear, we could hear you all the way down to The Rocks,” his wife chided him.

“Oh.” His face reddened.

Behind them Crawford rode in silence, Fontaine behind him. Fontaine was studying Czapaka intently, especially his hindquarters. Confirmation, the way a horse is put together, reveals a lot about the horse’s potential use and longevity of service. Cody observed this.

“Nice horse.”

Fontaine turned his head back. Cody drew alongside him so they could speak without shouting. “Yes, he is a nice horse.”

“Quick with his hind feet?” Fontaine called up to Crawford, meaning “Does the horse kick?”

With disdain, Crawford, not even turning his head, called back. “No, but I am.”

“I’ll remember that.” Fontaine smiled broadly and benevolently for all to see.

“What’s Fontaine up to?” Cody thought to herself.

Walking back to the trailers, Target was a deadly foe.

CHAPTER 13

“Going to be a great year. One of the best. They go in cycles.” Lafayette dropped some of his hay, reaching down to snatch it up.

Rickyroo, in the next stall, stuck his nose between the iron stall divider bars. “We were right behind Aunt Netty.”

“Could you see her?”

“No. She vanished. The usual.” Rickyroo picked up his red play ball with a handle. He threw it over his head.

Ricky, full of energy, found things to do, things that were upsetting to the humans. If a bridle hung on the stall door, he’d play with it until he had pulled the reins into his stall; then he’d chew them to pieces.

He tore off other horses’ blankets when they were turned out in the field.

He also tore a flap off Cody Jean Franklin’s frock coat last year because he felt like it.

The humans called him a handful. The horses thought of him as a joker.

Aztec, a graceful five-year-old light bay, a blaze down her face, said, “It’s not fair. You two go and I stay home.”

“You’ll go out in the field, Az. Sister believes in bringing along horses slow,” Lafayette counseled her.

“I’m as big as you are.”

“And so you are, but I’ve seen a lot more than you have. The last thing we need is you spooking all over the place with Sister on your back. She’s a good rider but she’s no spring chicken.”

“I’m not going to spook. I hilltopped last year.” She referred to the practice of hunting but not taking the jumps.

“Be patient,” Rickyroo advised.

“You’re not,” Aztec grumbled.

“I know what I’m doing.” He threw the ball at the bars between them.

Golliwog strolled in during the conversation, Raleigh behind her. “If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be playing with that stupid ball.”

“Raleigh plays with balls,” came the retort from the dark bay.

“My point exactly.” Golliwog sat down on a hay bale, picked the tip of her tail up with her paw, and began grooming.

Raleigh, an exceedingly good-natured dog, said, “Golly, you’re such a snot.”

“Cats,” was all Lafayette said.

“You’re jealous. You’re all jealous. You have to work for a living whereas I simply exist to be beautiful and catch the occasional offensive mouse.”

“You’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” Aztec laughed.

“Oh, really?” Golly dropped her tail. “Do you have any idea how many places there are for mice to hide? Shall I list them, grass-eater, eyes-on-the-side-of-your-head, big fat flat teeth, no-good . . . !”

“We’re scared.” Lafayette reached for more hay in his hayrack.

“I could scratch your eyes out if I wanted to. You’re lucky that I like you—basically.”

“Golly, cool it.” The sleek Doberman nudged the cat. “We all know that you are the most beautiful, the smartest cat that ever lived. Even smarter than Dick Whittington’s cat.”

Having heard what she wanted to hear, Golly’s mood instantly improved. “Say, I heard Dragon got nailed.”

“Archie told me on the way home that the little shit had it coming,” Lafayette said. “When Archie realized they’d split and told his group to catch up with Cora, Dragon refused. He even called Cora an old bitch. Archie’s furious.”

“She should have drafted him out when he was a puppy. He was beautiful but he was rotten even then. I told her but she missed it. The problem with Sister is it takes her too long to figure these things out. I knew that puppy’s attitude was wrong. Outrageous.” Raleigh stood on his hind legs to peer into Lafayette’s stall.

“But you’re a dog. Dogs know about one another. Same with us.” Lafayette nodded to his stablemates. “We know if a horse will work into the program long before Sister or Douglas knows. It’s the nature of things.”

“I suppose, but I’d like to save her the trouble.” Raleigh loved Sister with all his heart and soul.

“Humans need trouble. Makes them think they’re living.” Golliwog laughed.

“Cynic,” Raleigh returned to the cat.

“Means ‘dog’ in Greek, you know.” Golly adored showing off.

“It does?” Aztec was surprised.

“Yes. Diogenes lived like a dog. Really, he lived in a hovel and wore rags but he was brilliant. He questioned everything, especially authority. He upset the rich, obviously. They called him a dog. They called the people who followed him dogs. Stuck.”

“How do you know all this?” Aztec asked, her deep-brown eyes filled with admiration.

“I read whatever Sister is reading. I sit on her shoulder or on the pillow behind her shoulders. She reads all the time.”

“I don’t understand the appeal of books.” Ricky tossed his ball again.