Рита Браун - Sour Puss

"Yeah. The closest farm with horses is the old Berryhill farm. Let's walk that wayfirst. If there's a mare in season—and this is the time they go in naturally—the little fellow will have picked up the scent long before we will."

"That kind of scent can travel a mile on a perfect day,"Tucker, the scent expert, agreed.

"What worries me, Harry, is we haven't seen so much as one hoof print."

"Yeah." Harry walked alongside the tall woman. "But there's been so much traffic on the farm roads that would wipe them out— most of them, anyway. And he's not shod, so he won't leave a deep print. But if there had been hoofprints, Fair would have seen them."

"He could have stayed on grass."

"He'd have to jump fences," Harry remarked.

"He can jump." Boom smiled.

They carefully examined the ground to the northwest of the barn, moving consistently in that direction.

"Remember when we were kids, how Grandpa Berryhill collected old farm tools? Everyone thought he was crackers. Be worth a fortune now." Harry liked things that were practical and enjoyed Mr. Berryhill's demonstrations of wooden cider presses, carding utensils, and butter churns.

"Line all died out. Not a Berryhill left."

"Kind of cruel, really. They were so prosperous, and then a dark cloud settled over them and just rained misery."

"You never know."

"No, you don't." Harry tramped down a soft, rolling meadow leading to low woodlands, a serviceable three-board fence dividing the open land from the woodland.

Harry grabbed the fence, because the grass, still slick, made the footing dicey. "I can't help wondering if Hy had something to do with Professor Forland's disappearance, only because Toby studied with Forland and still seemed enthralled with him in some way."

"Nah. Doesn't make any sense." Boom-Boom put her left hand on the top rail and gracefully soared over the fence with a push off.

Harry, not to be outdone, did the same. "Well, nothing makes sense until you find the links."

Pewter scooted under the bottom plank, as did Mrs. Murphy and Tucker.

The woodlands, cool and damp, reverberated with the sound of birds calling out their territory boundaries. Most daytime species already had eggs in the nests. Some birds sang for the pure pleasure of living.

"Bigmouths,"Pewter grumbled.

A piercing cry overhead alerted Mrs. Murphy to the red-tailed hawk. "She may be a big mouth, but don't insult her. She's fearless. "

Pewter did respect big birds. "Nasty beak."

"Ever notice how each bird has the right kind of beak for the food it eats?"Tucker found birds fascinating.

"Must be tough being a human with that flat mouth,"Pewter said. "They can't eat off the ground. They can't eat without their hands; well, I guess they can, but what a mess. Their jaws go up and down and that's about it."

"True, but they're omnivorous, which gives them a big advantage. They can eat grains and vegetables, fruits and meats.Cats are obligate carnivores. We must eat fresh meat or cooked meat. I really do envy themtheir range of choices, because it allows them to survive about anywhere," Mrs. Murphy said.

"Doesn't matter where they live, they can't live without us. We kill the pests,"Pewter bragged, then yowled, "It's wet here. My paws are soaking wet."

"Poor darling,"Mrs. Murphy sarcastically remarked.

"Pewter, you ran through a thunderstorm,"Tucker reminded the fat gray cat.

"That was different. I had no choice."Pewter climbed on a fallen log. "Pick me up! Harry, you come back here and pick me up!"

"What's she screaming about?" Harry turned to see Pewter marooned on her log.

For spite, Mrs. Murphy splashed past Pewter, puddle water now on her immaculate gray coat.

"/ hate you, Murphy."

"Who cares?"The tiger ran ahead of BoomBoom.

Harry, worried that they'd come back by another route, returned to Pewter and picked her up. "Jesus, Pewts, go on a diet."

Tucker mumbled. "What a phony."

"I heard that."Pewter wrapped her paws around Harry's neck as the human pushed through the mucky area.

After ten minutes of slogging through the lowlands, passing jack-in-the-pulpits on the edge of the swampy parts, hearing ground nesters in the swamp grass, they emerged at the edge of the old Berryhill place.

"I don't remember the place ever looking this good," BoomBoom commented on the restored Virginia farmhouse, the freshly painted white clapboard gleaming along with the new additions.

"The Hahns sure have done a lot in a year." Harry bent over, glad to put Pewter on the ground.

Pewter stood on her hind paws, reaching up to Harry's knee. "I'm traumatized. Carry me some more."

"I'm going to throw up the biggest hair-ball."Mrs. Murphy pretended to gag.

"Ha! You'll throw up worms,"Pewter sassed back, now following Harry, who hadn't fallen for her ploy.

"We get wormed once a month, remember?"

"Doesn't work for you. Only works for Tucker and me,"Pewter saucily declared as they walked through the newly fertilized pastures to the stable, a tidy four-four stall structure that matched the house, Federal-period style.

"Let's check here before we knock on the door." Harry walked into the stable, which was clean. Three horses, contented, lounged in their stalls. Each door sported a brass nameplate.

Munching away in a stall, the door still open, stood Jed.

"Bingo!" BoomBoom called out as she found him first.

Harry trotted over to her, and they closed the stall door. "He's perfectly sound."

"So he is."

"Not a scratch." Harry felt her stomach tighten.

Mrs. Murphy, with presence of mind, asked the happy little fellow, "Did you cut your leg yesterday?"

"No,"came the one-syllable reply.

No one ever accused Jed of high intelligence.

"Who let you out?"Tucker picked up the line of questioning.

"No one."

"How'd you get here?"Pewter joined in the questioning.

"Jumped the fence."

"Jed, did you see anyone on your farm besides Toby?"Mrs. Murphy asked.

Jed laughed. "No, didn't see anybody. Heard two trucks. I knew Toby'd be occupied, so I boogied on."

"Why'd you jump out?"Tucker sat down.

"Dunno. Felt good."

Harry and BoomBoom ran their hands over his legs. Jed didn't bat one loopy ear.

Mrs. Murphy looked at Tucker, then Pewter. Finally, she said, "Jed, Toby is dead."

Jed's lower lip dropped down. "Huh?"

"He was murdered yesterday."

Two big tears welled up in Jed's large, pretty eyes. He let out a bray that startled Harry and BoomBoom.

"/ loved Toby."

"I'm sorry, Jed. I'm sorry to tell you this."Mrs. Murphy was sympathetic.

"Harry will take you home until everything gets settled, Jed. Don't worry about anything like...you know."Pewter certainly didn't want to say what might happen to an animal no one wanted or, worse, pretended to want.

Many a knacker pretended to give a good home to a retiree or a homeless quadruped, only to cart the creature off to the slaughterhouse and pick up about eighty cents to a dollar a pound. Bad enough to cart an animal to a slaughterhouse. It's another sin to deliberately lie to people who trusted you.

Harry patted him on the neck. "Poor Jed. It's like he knows."

"Let's see if Christy's home." Boom-Boom wiped Jed's eye with a handkerchief from her coat pocket.

They walked out and knocked on the back door of the farmhouse.

"Just a minute."

They heard footsteps, then the door opened and pretty Christy Hahn opened it. Thirty-four and trim, she possessed a bubbling personality. "Come on in, Harry and BoomBoom. What a nice surprise."

"Actually, Christy, we've got to walk back to Pittman's farm. Jed's been missing, and we thought he might have come here and he did. When did he show up?"