Рита Браун - Sour Puss

Harry flipped open her pocketknife. She always carried one, as do most country people. The blade, at four-and-a-half inches, was sharp. She was confident it was better than nothing. That was all she was confident about.

"Harry," Arch called. When he received no answer he cut the loud motor. He noticed her truck. He walked to the back porch door and knocked. No answer. He gave the fields a cursory look, since she was usually out working or in the barn. The next stop was the barn.

When he saw Tucker he knew Harry had to be there. He checked the tack room. Checked each stall and the feed room. He wasted no energy calling for her. He now knew she knew and he knew she was hiding. Didn't take a genius to figure that out. Arch was no genius, but he possessed ample cunning.

A call came on the cell phone. Scared Simon so bad he flipped the phone right up in the air and it hit the floor with a thud. The ringing reverberated on the wooden floor, which made Flatface open her eyes. She was even more displeased than Matilda.

Mrs. Murphy flattened herself on a hay bale to the left of Harry, who was crouching behind hay bales. Harry wished she hadn't dropped her phone, because she would have called Coop. Too late.

Harry knew her only hope was surprise. Her heart beat so hard she thought Arch could hear it.

He swung through the top of the ladder, his work boots hitting the floor. He scanned the hayloft, then walked over and picked up the flashing cell phone. He tossed it on the floor and it skidded toward Simon, who watched with his black shining eyes. His nest faced away from Arch, but the big manwalked over, his boots hitting the boards hard.

Flatface's anger rose accordingly.

Simon, terrified, flopped on his side and played dead. Arch kicked the cell phone again as he walked past Simon toward higher stakes. Simon, still as a corpse, nevertheless opened his eyes, then twitched his nose. Relief flooded over him, since Arch couldn't have cared less about one slightly overweight possum.

"I forgot how smart you are." Arch walked with deliberation now. "Of course, Harry, you can't be all that smart. You married that two-timing bastard again."

Mrs. Murphy flattened herself as much as she could. She scarcely breathed.

Tucker frantically ran back and forth under the ladder. "Pewter, do something! Climb the ladder."

For all her carping and diva ways, Pewter came through in a crisis. She shot off the saddle, brushed past Tucker, and then stopped quickly. "Stay to the side of the ladder. If he comes down, bite hard. Run circles around him and keep biting. Maximum pain." As Pewter hauled herself up the ladder she called over her shoulder, "Shut up. You don't want him to know where you are when he comes down."

Tucker immediately stopped barking to crouch by the ladder.

Pewter just reached the top as Arch found Harry, who sprang out like a jack-in-the-box. She hit him with her shoulder low, a decent enough block. Arch reeled back two big steps, his heel squishing into Matilda's eggs. She struck with such speed that all Harry saw was a black blur.

Matilda caught him above the right ankle, sinking her fangs in full length, then she disengaged and slithered with amazing speed to the back of the hay bales. Mrs. Murphy launched off the top of her hay bale as Arch screamed in pain. She hit his head hard, nearly slipped off, and dug her claws into his face to hang on.

Arch bent his head. Harry saw her chance and rammed her knife up under his chin as hard as she could. She stabbed him at an angle. She'd used so much force that the blade stuck in his jawbone. She couldn't dislodge it. She stayed too close. Arch could use his long reach even with the tiger valiantly biting and scratching. He graspedHarry's right wrist, twisting her arm. She hollered in pain.

Pewter, frantic at the sight, climbed up Arch's leg. He didn't bother to shake her off. Arch was fixated on killing Harry. Pewter climbed up his torso, reached his shoulder, perilously dug her claws in, and hung on as she inched down his right arm. Finally she reached his hand and bit for all she was worth. Howling, he released his grasp.

Maybe Harry should have run, but white-hot rage flooded her. She lowered her shoulder again and slammed his gut as hard as she could. This time, his leg throbbing from Matilda's deep wound, struggling to see because of the blood running into his eyes, he hit the floor hard with his knees. But he lunged forward, closing his left hand over Harry's ankle like a vise.

The cats leapt off as Arch went down.

Simon watched in horror. A bit of a coward, Simon's first instinct was to withdraw deeper into his little nest. All creatures recognize their own, who cares for them, and this won over his natural timidness. Simon waddled forth as Harry slugged Arch over and over again, aiming for the exposed handle of the pocketknife so each blow causedsearing pain. But he dragged her down. As he wrapped both hands around her throat, blood now pouring out of his right hand and from under his chin, she hit again, so hard that the knife snapped off at the hilt.

The cats, knowing he was strong enough to choke Harry to death despite everything, went for the eyes. When Pewter sunk her claws into his left eyeball, clear gel oozed out. She knew she'd succeeded. He'd never see out of that eye again. The pain seared. Arch had never felt such pain in his life. He let go. Harry scrambled to her feet. Four big strides and she reached her cell phone. Arch, screaming, covered his face with his hands. She prayed her cell worked, and it did. She punched the preprogrammed button to call Coop. As she did, Arch again struggled to his feet.

Wily, Harry knew she couldn't reach the ladder, since he was between her and that escape route.

"Hello."

"Coop. Help. I'm home."

She said no more as he stumbled after her again with the power of someone who no longer cares whether he lives or dies.

Harry stepped back slowly, throwing thecell phone at him. The cats stepped back with her. Simon stealthily crept up behind Arch.

"Hoo hoo, hoo hoo." Flatface had seen enough. She stood poised at the edge of her nest, opened wide her large wings, pushing off without a sound.

By superhuman effort, Arch overcame his pain and ran for Harry again. She took two hurried steps backward, then cut left. His forward momentum and the swelling in his leg prevented him from turning as quickly as Harry. The opened doors of the loft yawned ahead, but he stopped himself just at the edge to keep from falling out.

His full stop allowed Simon to scurry up behind him and bite above his ankle. His little sharp teeth were not capable of as much damage as Matilda's or the cats', but those teeth still hurt. Arch gasped, then he felt a tremendous blow to the head. Flatface blasted him, talons balled tight. He tipped over, flailing to right himself, but fell out of the loft, breaking both legs as he crashed.

Harry ran to the open doors just in time to see Tucker fly out of the barn and grab Arch by the throat.

"Leave him, Tucker. Leave him."

Drenched in sweat, her wrist hurting like hell where he'd twisted her arm, Harry fought for large gulps of air.

"I'll rip his throat out"The mighty little dog had felt so helpless hearing the terrible struggle in the loft.

"Tucker, no, no." Harry fought off a moment of dizziness.

"We need a confession!"Mrs. Murphy yelled.

The infuriated dog understood. She released his throat, but not before leaving some puncture wounds. She guarded him, ready to bite again.

"Thank the Lord, Tucker's a corgi,"Pewter, upset herself, blurted out. "Smart as a cat."

Harry sat down, putting her head between her legs. Flatface, who'd flown out of the loft doors when Arch sailed out, flew back in. She swooped low over Harry, the air from her wings refreshing, then she soared up to her perch.