Рита Браун - Sour Puss

"But it's still coolish and damp. They love that. You'll be infested if you go into the wrong places!"Mrs. Murphy worried about her buddy.

"Yeah, like the world."Pewter stabbed the tick a second time.

"That's a happy thought,"Tucker grumbled.

"What about that gun in Toby's truck? No happy thought there?"Mrs. Murphy asked the corgi, whom she and Pewter had informed of the P95PR.

"I'm surprised Harry didn't jump the gun, forgive the pun, and assume he was going to shoot Hy— or himself maybe. She's still reading about things that can attack her grapes. She's occupied and no danger to herself," Tucker replied.

Harry, in the kitchen, stepped on the bleeding tick and slid. "What the—" She looked down. "The scourge of the earth."

"Tucker had the tick. Probably carrying Lyme disease."Pewter was a font of optimism.

"Shut up."The corgi flattened her ears.

"I'm terrified. I'm so scared I might widdle,"Pewter said.

"You only do that on the way to the vet's office,"Tucker fired back.

"I do not," Pewter huffed.

"I'm amazed none of us did when we ran into the bear's cave."Mrs. Murphy thanked her stars the mother had a full belly and was nursing contentedly.

"We were lucky. But like she said, she'd rather eat berries, honey, and sweets. Likes grubs, too. How can any animal eat a fat white grub?"Pewter grimaced.

"Chickens love them."Tucker liked chickens, although their clucking could get on her nerves.

"Wonder if Harry will get more chickens? That last hen was Methuselah's chicken. I bet she was the oldest Rhode Island Red in the world."Pewter fondly recalled the ancient bird who cackled with delight to the last day of her uneventful life.

"When Harry puts straw in the chicken coop we can bet on more chickens."Tucker watched Harry wipe up the tick goo.

"All right, you all, I'm going to warm up Miranda's corn bread. Wish we hadn't missed her."

Miranda Hogendobber had driven by when Harry was at St. James. Finding no one home, she placed a large tin of corn bread on the screened-in porch with a note.

"Susan!"Tucker barked as she heard Susan's Audi station wagon turn off the state road onto the farm road.

Harry checked the old railroad clock on the wall, knew it was too early for Fair, but put up coffee since someone was coming. She trusted Tucker.

Within minutes Susan burst through the door, tulips in a pot. "Can you believe the color?"

Harry inspected the yellow tulips with deep red throats, red lines fanning out to the end of the petals. "They're incredible."

"My garden," Susan boasted. "For you."

"Thanks." Harry kissed her on the cheek. "Coffee, tea, Co-Cola, what?"

"Fresh coffee."

"Still percolating."

"I could use it. If it's not coffee, then it's my hot chocolate."

"You'll like this coffee. It's Javatra from Shenandoah Joe's."

"What are you having?"

"Co-Cola. Want some corn bread?"

"Well..." Susan wavered.

"Miranda's corn bread."

"Yes," came the decisive reply.

As the two stayed there happily slapping on butter and jam, drinking their beverages, the cats leapt up to sit in the window by the sink. Tucker repaired to her bed.

"I've been riding All's Fair." Harry mentioned the four-year-old gelding by Fred Astaire that Fair had given her as a yearling. "He did very well last year just walking along. I like to bring them along slowly, but he's got such a good mind."

"That was a wonderful present from your husband. I forget how old Tomahawk and Gin Fizz are getting."

"I forget how old I'm getting."

"Don't push it. We aren't forty yet."

"We aren't far, honeypie."

"Say, I came by to tell you that wine people are lunatics. Are you sure you want to grow those Peti-whatever out there?"

"What happened now?"

"Tanking up at the Amoco—"

Harry interrupted, something she rarely did. "Did you refinance your house?"

"Ha." Susan laughed drily. "Prices are so high that Ned and I talked the other night to see if we could get by with one vehicle and we just can't. Those trips to Richmond he takes devour the budget. He sold the BMW by the way, in Richmond, of course." She paused. "Filling the wagon. I hear these voices. Hy and Arch. Not angry but increasing in volume. Hy was worked up because Toby, I don't know when, sounded very recent, had been ugly to Fiona on the phone."

"Toby's really losing it," Harry interjected.

"Arch was telling Hy that Toby's gone to pieces over this Forland thing and to let him be. Hy said that Toby's rude and irresponsible, and everybody lets him get away with it. He's not going to put up with him. When Hy called to explain why Concho was on Toby's property, Toby blew up. Then he called back and blew up at Fiona. Hy's version, anyway, and Hy said we all needed to slap Toby down hard."

"What did Arch say?"

"He kept trying to soften Hy. I mean, it wasn't an argument. More that they didn't see eye to eye. Arch said he didn't much cotton to Toby, either, but there was no point in making a bad situation worse."

The phone rang. "Drat." Harry rose to pick up the old wall phone. "Hello. Hi, honey, where are you?"

"I'm on my way to Toby Pittman's," Fair replied. "I hope it won't be too long and then I'll be right home."

"What's going on over there?"

"His donkey, Jed, cut his hind leg. Toby sounds hysterical. Probably stitch him right up and be on my way."

"Susan says hello. Hurry home."

"I will."

She hung up the phone and relayed the information to Susan.

"Sure hope Fair isn't treated to one of Toby's lectures."

"I heard the one about Andrew Estave the other day."

"Andrew who?"

"Andrew Estave was hired by the Virginia Assembly in 1769 as winemaker and viticulturist for the colony. Virginians grew our first grapes in 1609, but we had a mess of problems. Anyway, over comes the Frenchman and he couldn't get the European grapes to do diddly, but he came to an important conclusion, which was that Virginians needed to use native grapes."

"Then what?"

"With Toby or with grapes?"

"Grapes," Susan laughed.

"Jefferson, the man of a million interests, brought over Philip Mazzei, an Italian wine merchant, and he was doing okay but the Revolution wrecked everything. Tell youwhat, when Toby gets wound up on this stuff, you can't tone him down. You should have heard him today at Alicia's. He accused Hy of trying to destroy everyone's crop. He accused him of killing Professor Forland!"

"What is he doing making these accusations to Alicia?"

"He wanted her to speak to Rick. He said the sheriff wouldn't listen to him. Arch was there, too. Alicia was cool as a cuke, as you'd expect."

"She probably witnessed major tanties in Hollywood." Susan used tanty for tantrum.

"She rarely talks about her film career. I'd like to know what Ava Gardner was like and Glenn Ford and..."

"Wrong generation. She was huge in the seventies and eighties."

"But those actors were still around. They interest me a lot more."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't rightly know."

"I do. Better material. The studio system was still strong; they developed the actors, and the stars had better material. Also, stars didn't have their own production companies like they do today. I mean, I realize why they do it, but usually the stuff they select is just a star turn. Boring. I don't care how handsome or beautiful or even talented those people are; if they're in every frame of the picture, if the supporting roles aren't strong, I'm bored out of my head."

"Guess that's why we don't go to the movies." Harry failed to mention she had no time. "You were interested in film when we were kids. I sometimes wonder why you didn't go into it."

"Movie-star looks, that's me," Susan joked.