Homeward Hound

CHAPTER 37

Pale light cast iridescence over the light snow. Watching it, Sister wondered how that could be. Was there enough sunlight behind the clouds to reflect? Whatever it was, the sparkle was beautiful, as was the stillness.

She, Betty, Tootie, and Weevil walked out the hounds Friday morning with Shaker driving behind. He swore he could drive without messing up his neck. As Skiff was working for Crawford, she could only be with him in the evenings and early morning. But Shaker, like most huntsmen, proved tough and determined. Sister watched him climb into the truck without saying a word.

As hounds walked over the road into the wildflower field, one could hear the soft click, click of the snow.

Ardent stood up on his hind legs to bat at snowflakes. The other youngsters thought this was a good idea. Hunt staff laughed at their high spirits.

“I like it when it hits my tongue.” Aero trotted forward.

“Melts,” Audrey replied.

The older hounds walked along happy to be out, thinking the young ones were silly kids but it did look like fun.

Weevil wore Wellies and heavy socks, as did Tootie. Sister wore Thinsulate L.L.Bean hiking boots but she stuffed her pants into the boots. Betty, feet usually hot, also wore a high pair of boots but these were French Le Chameau, terribly expensive but she’d bought them thirty years ago and they were as good as the day she purchased them.

Betty’s motto was “You get what you pay for.”

As she wasn’t a well-to-do woman, she watched her money. If she spent a large amount, the object better be long-lasting; hence the old yellow Bronco.

Shaker hit the horn.

“Hold up,” Sister called out. “He’s having a fit. He wants us to come back and walk on the road.”

“This is one way to keep him from driving.” Betty put her hands on her hips, warm in gloves.

Betty had the secret to staying warm, a high metabolism.

“Madam?” Weevil turned to face his Master behind him.

“If he pounds on the steering wheel, that will be worse than his driving. And here I thought I was being smart. Come on, let’s turn around and get on the road.”

Tootie smiled, looked over at Ardent. “There will be snowflakes everywhere.”

“Good!” The small hound smiled.

“Doesn’t take much to make you happy.” Dreamboat came alongside the little boy. “I think I’ll try it.”

The two of them hopped along side by side as the humans and hounds enjoyed the spectacle.

Tootie moved forward, reaching the wide farm gate first. The snow, only two inches at this point, didn’t bunch up under the gate. Tootie unhooked the Kiwi latch, held the gate; all walked through, then she closed the gate.

A jump was up ahead in the fence line but on foot a gate was easier than climbing over. One never realized the true size of a jump until you tried to get over it on foot.

Sister waved at Shaker, who did not wave back. He crept behind them.

A half mile later they reached the bottom of Hangman’s Ridge. Not only did they not wish to go up there, it was a climb on foot, it was creepy. It wasn’t that easy on horseback, either.

“Let’s hold up for a minute.” Weevil reached into the tool apron, short, around his waist, fetching cookies.

Calling each hound by name, he handed the animal a cookie.

“Milk-Bones.” Dragon complained.

“I like Milk-Bones.” Ardent chewed a large one.

“Greenies. I want Greenies,” Dragon bitched.

“Greenies are expensive,” Pickens said.

“How do you know?” Dragon smarted off.

“I heard Sister and Shaker talk about costs. We get Greenies for special occasions. You’re spoiled.”

“Got that right.” Dasher agreed.

“Bugger off.” Dragon growled, then left the hound circle, veering slightly off the road as the others, sitting, watched him.

“Dragon!” Weevil knew how hardheaded this hound was.

Give him an inch and he would take a mile. Some animals are like that.

“Horn. Deer horn.” Dragon grabbed what he thought was an antler piece.

“What the hell?” Betty stepped toward the hound.

“It’s a crop, a stag-handled crop under the snow.” Tootie wondered how it got there.

“Dragon, I’ll take that now.” Weevil held out his hand and Dragon turned his head sideways so he wouldn’t have to look Weevil in the eye.

Sister walked up to him, grabbed the crop. “Drop it.”

He did. “It’s mine. I found it.”

“This is beautiful. Two silver collars.” Sister held the large crop in her hand, then turned it. “There are engraved initials on the top collar, the widest collar.”

Betty, not worried about the hounds for they were good hounds despite Dragon’s attitude, came over to inspect. “G.E.L.”

“What’s it doing here?” Tootie, surprised as were they all, blurted out.

“I have no idea but I’ll stand here, well, wait—that might not work. Don’t know when Ben can get here. Weevil, give me your lad’s cap.”

Sweeping it off his head, he handed it to Sister. She walked over to where Dragon found the crop, placed his hat there.

“I’ll get you a new one. You all take the hounds back to the kennel. I’m going to call Ben Sidell from the truck.” She hurried to the truck, opened the door, reaching for the phone, an old phone but serviceable, affixed under the dash.

The others could see her dialing as she was talking to Shaker.

Hounds, aware of the emotions, quietly went back to the kennel, where Weevil, Tootie, and Betty put them up.

“We can’t all fit in the old hound truck. Come on, get in the Bronco. We can wait on the road for Ben.”

The snow continued to fall. Sister and Shaker sat in the truck as the Bronco sat behind them.

Twenty minutes later Ben, driving a sheriff’s department SUV, pulled behind the Bronco, cut the motor, got out as Betty, Weevil, and Tootie also got out.

Sister, seeing them, also opened the door.

“Here.”

Ben examined the crop. “Show me where you found it.”

Except for Shaker, they walked down the road to the spot where Dragon pulled it off the ground, Weevil’s hat keeping the deer antler outline in the snow covered.

Ben knelt down, stood back up. “This would make more sense if you’d found it on the other side of the ridge.”

“Yes.” Sister agreed. “If anyone had driven up the ridge before the hunt here, we would have known. To put the body up he had to come from the other side in the dark. This is almost as if it’s been cast aside.”

Looking at the crop again, Ben nodded. “No tooth marks. Not that I can see. The team will look it over.”

“We found the body. Everyone had to come down this side of the ridge. Well, they went up this side, too. Obviously, there was confusion, distress. Anyone could have walked back here, I suppose, to drop it. What was he doing with it in the first place?”

“Sister, if I knew that, I’d be a lot closer to solving this mess.” Ben sighed. “Do you think you’ll hunt tomorrow?”

“I hope so. The snow’s supposed to stop. We might get a few flurries tomorrow but if there’s any way, you know I’ll go. It’s from Tattenhall Station. I hope you can hunt tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.”

“It’s occurring to me that maybe, and this is a beautiful crop, he couldn’t bear to part with it. Then realized he must. Who among us would go up and look at the collars of an old, beautiful crop? Crawford has one with gold collars.”

“He would.” Ben looked closely at the crop.

“Whoever this is took off Gregory’s boots. Apart from knowing quality, he, well, I think he’s supremely confident we’d never think of who it is.”

Ben leaned against Shaker’s truck for a moment and the injured huntsman ran down the window. “Sheriff.”

“Good to see you, Shaker. This is odd, isn’t it?”

“Odd. Gruesome. Almost like he’s playing with us.”

“Yes.” Ben agreed.

The others crowded around.

Betty asked, “Any luck with freezers?”

“No. I sent out my team. Members of the hunt club have been cooperative. Margaret got the keys to the Gulf station. I’d hoped that might be the place but no.”

“Is it possible the body was wrapped in plastic, something like that, so no fibers or hair would come off? Even one strand of hair would do it,” Weevil asked.

“It is. This is an intelligent person,” Ben replied. “Well, I’ll take this back. Who picked it up?”

“Dragon. So there might be his tooth marks but I couldn’t see any chewing marks. I don’t think any other animal found it,” Sister said.

Ben peered closely at the crop. “Cost about four hundred dollars new?”

“Yes, the two silver collars make it expensive. An antique one would be expensive, as well. All the fine braiding on the shaft adds to the cost,” Sister added.

“Don’t forget the kangaroo thong and the cracker,” Weevil noted. “All put together, this is worth about one thousand dollars. That’s if it’s a staff thong.” He looked again. “This one’s shorter. Would cost maybe three hundred just for the shorter thong. Must have upset him to part with it, so about seven hundred dollars.”

“Arrogant. Didn’t think we’d notice and you know what, we didn’t. Then he thought better of it,” Betty replied.

“Well, we don’t go up and inspect people’s gear,” Sister responded. “It’s the arrogant part that scares me.”

What also disturbed her was she was observant and logical. She could usually figure things out. Granted, she was not used to solving murders regularly, but still. She felt stupid. A ripple of fear coursed through her. What she didn’t know could hurt her.