Hotspur

CHAPTER 28

“And why weren’t you out hunting today?” Tedi, steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand, asked Cindy Chandler, the owner of Foxglove Farm.

The pretty blonde smiled. “I was going to go.”

“Sure, Weenie,” Betty Franklin, nursing roped coffee, teased. She’d roaded hounds back to the kennel and left her horse there. As a whipper-in, her concern was the hounds. And Sister never minded Betty putting her horse up in Sister’s barn. She’d driven Jennifer’s car to After All since Sister asked her to go on ahead and be her stand-in while she and Shaker removed collars.

“I really was. Cat Dancing and I are ready,” she mentioned her beloved mare, “but Clytemnestra and her calf, Orestes, broke down the back side of the fencing and escaped. Still haven’t found them.”

“Cindy, can’t you call that damned cow Bessie? Does it have to be Clytemnestra?” Betty checked her watch. “God, it’s terrible to have to work for a living. I’d better roll on.”

Tedi scanned her living room. “Sybil’s still not back.”

Betty frowned a moment. “Maybe she’s at the barn.”

Members had carried cakes, biscuits, and sandwiches they’d packed for a small tailgate into Tedi’s dining room. As with most spontaneous gatherings, it proved much more fun than the arduously planned variety.

Edward had shepherded the field back to his barns. Not often acting as field master, he had neglected to make a head count.

“Have any idea where the cow headed? Tracks?” Betty returned to the case of the missing cow and calf.

“I tracked her across Soldier Road but lost her trail in the wildflower meadows. This fog is unbelievable. Don’t know how you all were out there without getting lost.”

“Well, that’s another story.” Betty laughed.

“We were never lost. No, not the trusty Jefferson Hunt Club.” Ken sipped his coffee, a shot of Irish Mist adding immeasurably to his pleasure since he was wet and chilled.

“Rain dropped buckets on me, like the heavens had unzipped, so I went back home, took a hot shower, and then came over to ask Tedi and Edward to keep an eye out for Cly and Orestes. I’d better alert Sister, too,” Cindy thought out loud.

“Once this fog lifts, we’ll find her. She’s hard to miss,” Tedi said.

Clytemnestra, the black and white Holstein cow, was quite flashy. Her pastures, rich in redbud clover and alfalfa, should give the cow no reason for complaint, but Cly liked the excitement of escape. Also, she was nosy and wanted to see what was happening on other farms. She was teaching her offspring her tricks. Although still a little fellow, he eagerly absorbed his mother’s lessons. Their jailbreak over the summer when Sister, Walter, Shaker, and Doug built the new in and out jumps only inflamed them to further adventures.

People slowly began to head home. They checked on their horses in their trailers, then drove away.

“Hey,” Betty said, poking her head back inside the living room. She had left, gone to Jennifer’s car, then returned. “Ralph Assumptio’s trailer is down at the barn, but he wasn’t at the breakfast.”

“Edward,” Tedi called, and her husband came in from the library.

“What, dear?”

“Did you see Ralph at breakfast?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Ken?” Tedi asked her son-in-law, who wanted to change clothes and head for the office.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Good God, he must still be out there.” Tedi blanched.

“Bobby brought up the rear,” Betty said. “We might reach him in the truck.” She walked into the kitchen to use the phone. Tedi followed. “Oh, Bobby, glad I got you. I’m still at the Bancrofts’. We can’t find Ralph.”

“What?”

“His trailer is here but he’s not, and no one remembers seeing him at breakfast.” Betty’s eyes met Tedi’s.

“The last time I saw Ralph was at the coop between the cornfields and the woods. A couple of guys were back there,” Bobby recalled.

“Let me talk to him.” Ken took the phone from Betty. “Hey, Bobby. Ronnie, Xavier, Ralph, and I had a drink while everyone was negotiating the coop. Sybil was back there with us, too. That’s the last time I saw him. You’re sure he didn’t come in and go home with someone else? Maybe put his horse on their trailer?”

“No.” Bobby felt terrible. His job was to bring up the rear.

Edward felt responsible, too.

“Ralph wouldn’t leave his trailer here without asking,” Tedi said, truly worried now.

As Ken talked to Bobby, the other line rang. Ken put Bobby on hold and heard Sister’s voice.

“Is Ralph there?” she inquired.

“No. We just noticed. I’m on the other line with Bobby.”

“We need to look for him. I’m sending Sybil to where Snake Creek feeds into Broad. She’ll follow the creek back to your covered bridge. Ralph’s smart enough to use the creek. Put Betty on.”

“Let me say good-bye to Bobby.”

“Tell him to stay at work. We have enough people to find Ralph. Okay?”

Ken relayed her message to Bobby, pressed the flashing button, and handed the phone to Betty.

“Boss?” Betty’s voice rose.

“Take Edward. Go to the Bleeding Rock. Retrace our steps that way. You’ll come out at the coop. Maybe he came a cropper at the coop.”

“Okay.”

“Ask Ken and Tedi to drive along Soldier Road. He might be walking on the road.”

“Where are you going?”

“Cornfield and all around the base of Hangman’s Ridge. If we don’t find him in an hour I’m calling Ben Sidell. In fact, tell the others to take their cell phones. If no one finds Ralph, call me on my cell in one hour.”

“Roger.”

“Oh. Jennifer and Sari want to help. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll put them in the orchard and tell them to follow hound tracks backward to the cornfield in case Ralph tracked hounds.” She hoped the tracks hadn’t completely washed away.

“Okay.”

“One hour.”

“Right.” Betty hung up and gave the others Sister’s orders.

They threw on Barbour coats or Gore-Tex jackets and hurried out of the house.

Sister scribbled her cell phone number on a pad and handed it to Jennifer. “Call us. We’ll be in the cornfields and then around the bottom of Hangman’s Ridge. If you don’t find anything when you finally reach the cornfield, come straight back to the barn. Don’t leave the barn until you hear from me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jennifer said.

With that, Sister and Shaker hopped into the truck. They parked and combed the cornfields, rain pouring down, fog as dense as ever, but found nothing unusual.

Then they climbed back into the truck, mud caked on their boots, every new step seemingly heavier than the last, and they checked the base of the ridge. The rain had washed away any tracks.

“We might as well go to the top of the ridge. At least we can drive up,” Sister said, water running off her coat and onto the floor.

“Why would he go up there? Even in the fog he’d know Hangman’s Ridge. He’d have to have climbed up,” Shaker sensibly said.

“That’s true, but maybe he rode up to get his bearings and try to find the farm road. We don’t know where he parted company with Trooper. He could have covered a lot of ground and he could have suffered a concussion and been disoriented.”

“We’ve tried everything else,” Shaker agreed. He kept the headlights on low since high beams would only reflect back off the fog, making vision even worse. “Can’t see a bloody thing!”

“Drive along the flat part. At least to the tree.”

“Christ, in this stuff we’ll probably run into it.” He crept ahead.

The great gnarled shape hove into view, silvery fog sliding over branches.

Not until they were almost right up to the tree did they see Ralph flat on his back.

Shaker braked. Both he and Sister bolted out of the truck.

“Oh no.” Sister covered her face for a second. Ralph had been shot right between the eyes.

Shaker knelt down to feel for a pulse. Sister knelt on the other side of Ralph’s body. She, too, touched his neck.

“Warm. He can’t have been dead long,” she said.

“We heard the shot.”

“Oh, Shaker, if only we knew what he knew.”

“If we knew what he knew, we’d be dead, too.”

Sister, a surge of fury running through her, cried, “Why didn’t he tell us!”

“Because he knew he’d be killed.” Shaker held up his hands in a gesture of defeat.

She stood up. “Goddamn whoever killed him!”