The Hounds And The Fury. The Tell-Tale Horse

“I wonder if he’s laughing at us.”

“Is it possible he wishes us to be both fearful and amused?”

CHAPTER 25

On Thursday, March 6, Sister and a large contingent who managed to get off work or had already retired drove up to Casanova territory, east of Warrenton. Ashland Bassets were meeting at Eastern View, owned by the Fendleys.

Hunting on foot separated those with wind and those without, which became apparent twenty minutes into the hunt.

Joyce and Bill Fendley ran along, as did Marion, who took off early from Horse Country because Ashland hounds cast at two in the afternoon.

Sister had to laugh because Cabel Harper showed up in brush pants, very intelligent decision, and a true tweed jacket to repel thorns, topped off with a hunter-green Robin Hood hat, a pheasant feather stuck in for allure. Ilona confined herself to a baseball hat, while Betty Franklin, remembering those nasty thorns, also wore brush pants but she tied a wool scarf around her neck, tucking it into her jacket. The last time she hunted with the bassets she had cut her throat, and blood had poured over her shirt and jacket.

Charlotte Norton allowed the Custis Hall girls to hunt so long as they wrote a paper about it for class. Val drove them in her lime-colored Jeep. By the time the kids reached Eastern View, all but Val agreed a Wrangler wasn’t meant for long trips. Their fillings rattled in their teeth.

Al Toews, Master of Bassets, held the horn this March 6 and his joint master, Mary Reed, whipped in to him. Al and Mary had been in the custom of taking turns hunting the hounds but Al declared he would give it up to Mary after season’s end because his wind was shot. No one believed him since he could outrun anyone, but this declaration was made with solemnness. Al’s wife, Kathleen King, also whipped in to him today. The two were psychic when they hunted together. Aggie de la Garza, Miriam Anver, Frank Edrington, Sherrod Johnson, Mary Dobrovir, and Nancy Palmer whipped in as well.

Camilla Moon and Diana Dutton acted as first flight field master and second accordingly, although they didn’t exactly specify it that way, but the field seemed naturally to break into two groups as time ran on and so did the bunnies.

At a check, Tootie whispered to Sister,“Why so many whippers-in?”

“Bassets are harder-headed than foxhounds. Need more control,” Sister whispered back.

Camilla, a true canine student, turned as the Jefferson Hunt people were behind her, the Ashland members gracefully allowing the guests pride of place.“Second-best noses in dogdom.”

Tootie already knew that bloodhounds possessed the best so she rightly figured that foxhounds must come in third.

Naturally, harrier people, coonhound folks, and beagle devotees could argue the point. Even Plott hound lovers who run bear would argue, but foxhunters, like all hound people, prove marvelously resistant to others’ opinions.

Al bounded into a hateful covert of brambles, a thin swift-running blade of water, deep-sided, cutting it in two, a perfect abode for the cottontail.

Before first cast, the tall lanky Vietnam veteran had asked Sister if she would care to hunt hounds with him. Flattered as she was by the prospect of being that close to these aggressive hunters, this would be her only time to be one of the field as opposed to leading. Joyce Fendley enjoyed being in the field for the same reasons. She had no decisions to make. Camilla and Diana had to make them.

Hounds began to feather, then tails whipped like propellers. One lone deep note from Tosca alerted the others, followed by a crescendo of sound, beautiful spine-tingling music for the only pack voices as beautiful as these belonged to Penn-Marydels.

The rabbit, still in the covert, headed along the stream, then shot out over the pasture and ran a tight circle, hounds in hot pursuit and humans pursuing as hotly as their legs would carry them.

This rabbit could run, and the chase lasted fifteen exhausting minutes up and down the pasture—which had a steep roll to it—and then the rabbit disappeared, just popped down a hole. No amount of furious digging could dislodge Peter Cottontail, who lived to run another day.

Rabbit scent is fragile, but the afternoon proved a good one and hounds worked another narrow covert. Mary Reed hollered,“Tally-ho!” Al quickly pushed the bassets up to the line, and off they ran again.

Sister noted at the next check that most of the Jefferson Hunt people hung in with first flight, but huffing and puffing were evident. She was breathing hard too, and all those broken bones of decades past began to speak to her.

After another short burst, light fading and temperature falling, the group walked back to the old silo to enjoy a tailgate.

Betty asked Cabel if she’d heard anything from Clayton.

Gratefully drinking mulled wine, the warmth most welcome, Cabel airily replied,“He can’t call out. It’s lockup.”

“All for the best, I’m sure.”

“I’m lost,” Cabel suddenly blurted out. “He plucked my last nerve. Let’s call a spade a spade; my husband is a philandering drunk but we’ve lived together for twenty-two years and I miss him. If nothing else, he did take out the garbage, drunk or sober. I can’t believe how much I misshim….

“How do those Custis Hall girls get out of school? When I went there you were only let out of class if your mother died.” Cabel nodded toward Val, Tootie, and Pamela, abruptly changing the subject.

“Where’s Felicity?” Ilona asked. “Val, Tootie, and Felicity are the Three Musketeers.”

“Aluminum Manufacturing,” Betty answered. “She’s working three afternoons a week.”

“I thought the Porters had money,” Ilona said.

“They do.” Betty wasn’t about to tell them Felicity was pregnant, as well as the rest of it. “But she wants real-life experience, as she puts it.”

“Good for her.” Cabel nodded. “What else do they have to do at that age except drink, drug, and have sex?”

“Cabel, we didn’t.” Ilona recalled her own Custis Hall days.

“Speak for yourself,” Cabel wryly responded.

Betty held up her hands, palms outward.“I was a bleeding saint.”

“Spare me.” Cabel rolled her eyes, then stared at the girls again. “Theyare beautiful girls. Well, Pamela’s a pudge, though she’s losing some of it. But Val and Tootie are two of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”

“The men notice, and they notice which other men are looking. Bobby tells me everything,” Betty noted. “He said if anyone lays a hand on one of those kids—did I get it right, lay? Well, if anyone does, he and Walter will dismember them. But I don’t think the men in our club are like that.”

“They all are,” Cabel stated flatly. “I’m amazed that Clayton didn’t make a pass at one of them. Too loaded.”

“Never stopped him before,” Ilona said uncharitably.

“Ramsey’s better?” Cabel fired back.

“Ladies, good to talk to you.” Betty backed away.

“Oh, Betty, don’t be so goddamned proper. You’ve seen us fight before. We’re joined at the hip. We’re bound to fuss sometimes. If you want to know who I think has really been dipping his stick throughout the county, let’s discuss High Vajay. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he was sleeping with Faye Spencer. All he had to do was fall out of his own bed to fall into hers.” Cabel warmed to her subject.

“Wouldn’t want to be in his boots right now.” Betty avoided the sex suspicions. “He’s the main suspect for the Lady Godiva murders.”

“Boots? How about pants? I’m surprised he isn’t singing soprano. Mandy must have an iron will and a forgiving patience,” Ilona marveled.

“There are worse things than a husband who cheats.” Betty opened her mouth before thinking.

“Such as?” Cabel and Ilona said in unison, both incredulous. “Wanton cruelty. Loss of honor.”

“You don’t think sex outside of marriage isn’t cruel?” The pheasant feather bobbed on Cabel’s hat.

“I think it hurts, but I don’t think the intent is cruel.” Betty held up her hand to stay the protests. “Would I be devastated if Bobby ran off the reservation?” She used the old phrase. “I would, but I would be far more upset if he was cold, critical, and cruel to animals and people. Or if he proves a coward when Gabriel blows his trumpet. A man with no honor isn’t worth having and neither is a woman. As to sleeping around—well, sex is irrational and in a different category from other human endeavors.”

“You have a point.” Ilona was thoughtful. “But consider the intimate betrayal. I don’t know if I will ever completely trust Ramsey. I love him but I don’t trust him. That’s not good. And have you ever considered that your straying husband might bring home a gift that keeps giving, like AIDS?”

“I know it’s terrible. It must eat you from the inside out.” Betty was compassionate. “But look at Sister. Neither she nor Ray was monogamous, and they had a good strong marriage. Gay men are like that too, or so it seems to me, and their relationships last longer than most heterosexual ones, a fact the sex Nazis can’t concede. I don’t want Bobby fooling around, don’t misunderstand me, but I truly believe there are worse sins. We make a small god of monogamy.”

“I hope you never find out.” Cabel headed back to the food.

“I’m sorry. I’ve upset her,” Betty said to Ilona.

“She’s having a hard time. She’ll get over it.” Ilona smiled. “We all do and if we don’t, we’re pretty stupid, aren’t we? You can’t spend your life massaging old wounds.”

“Plenty do,” Betty said. “Virginians mistake personal injustice for history.”

“Isn’t that the truth! There are a lot of embittered injustice collectors out there.” Ilona started for the food, then turned back to Betty. “I was on my way to becoming one of those people. Finally couldn’t stand myself, and I said, ‘Ilona, you’ve got to do something or you’ll turninto a snitz.’”

Snitz is a dried apple.

“Glad you got hold of yourself,” Betty complimented her.

“Me too.”

Betty then joined Al and Mary, the whippers-in, the Custis Hall girls, and Sister. She slipped her arm around Sister’s waist.

Neither woman thought a thing about that. They loved each other deeply and were not afraid of touching. Touch is healing. Men are denied this except with their wives and their children; they don’t get the same loving reinforcement from their own gender.

“Master.” Tootie addressed Al, who was a natural teacher. “Why did you draw the first covert up one side and then down the other? Shaker doesn’t do that.”

“Because Shaker is hunting a predator. I’m hunting prey. A rabbit will survive more often than not if it is still, if it sticks in its warren. The bassets have to bolt them. When you hunt foxes, you usually pick up their line when they themselves are hunting or returning to their den from a night’s hunt. So I have to make good the ground in a very different way.”

Mary chimed in.“And fox scent is heavier than rabbit scent.”

Sister and Betty were as enthralled with this information as were the young folks. True hunters find no bottom to their enthusiasm, much to the despair of those around them.

Al thought things through in systems, in checklists. He broke down complicated problems into discrete parts, which is natural for a combat pilot. A man has a much better chance of living through a war if he does this, and the equipment Al flew was the most sophisticated for its time. You’d better have a checklist or else. He applied this relentless logic to hunting the bassets, but like all good huntsmen he could be flexible.

Tired but full from all the food, the Jefferson Hunt gang bid their Ashland friends goodbye as they piled into trucks, SUVs, old station wagons still providing service, and Val’s Jeep.

Tootie hesitated for a moment before stepping over the lip into the sturdy vehicle that really could go anywhere.

“Will you stop being a prima donna!”

“Val, you’re not sitting in the back,” Tootie said.

Pamela replied,“Neither am I. Come on, Tootie, I rode back there on the way up.”

“All right, all right.”

Sister walked by.“Be grateful you don’t have old bones.”

“They’ll be old by the time I get to school.” Tootie laughed and climbed in, the door swinging shut behind her.

Sister and Betty drove past Marion, who was starting her car.

Stopping, Betty lowered her window.“Come on down. We’re hunting Mill Ruins Saturday. You’ve never seen Peter Wheeler’s old place. The mill still works.”

“I don’t know if I can take off work, but it’s a wonderful invitation.”

As Sister and Betty rolled down Route 29 they reviewed the hunt, the tailgate, their lengthy discussion with Marion as to the status of the Warrenton murder, and the murder at Foxglove. Then they replayed Al’s wonderful talk on hunting with bassets.

“It’s funny, all the years I’ve whipped in and I never thought about hunting a hunter. All I know is fox. Well, deer occasionally, but hunting with hounds, all I know is fox,” Betty said.

“Since a prey animal is in some respects weaker than a predator, camouflage and stillness are essential.” Sister loved talking about these subjects. “But you know, a cow is prey and a horse is prey, but of course they’re large. They don’t have to remain still and they have hooves to kick the daylights out of a predator.”

“Or me.” Betty laughed. “Remember the time that doe charged Archie?” She named a now-departed beloved hound. “When was that? I remember, 1997. Outlaw was green then, his first season, and after the doe charged Archie she charged us. Scared the hell out of both of us. Outlaw came up with all four feet off the ground.”

“Bet your heart flew up too.” Sister smiled. “Every now and then something happens out there and the rush is incredible. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s bad, but at least you know you’re alive. Hard to believe the season’s almost over. Always gives me the blues. Then I snap outof it. When the puppies start coming and the garden blooms, I pick up again.”

“You’ve got a green thumb.”

“Thanks.” Sister sat upright, making Betty look ahead, wondering if something ran across the road. “Betty, what if our killer is a prey animal?”

“What?”

“What if our killer feels weak? Here we’ve been assuming this is some kind of sex thing, which it may be, or that it’s tied into wireless competition. But what Al said about a prey animal sitting tight, then having to be bolted? Maybe that’s our killer, sitting tight, only coming out to kill when the coast is clear. Aashi and Faye were seen as predators.”

Betty thought hard.“Weak thingscan kill, can fight back. After all, the doe did.”

“One has to provoke them, right? The first defense is to hide. I guess the second is to flee, but if we can bolt the killer, we’ll know him.”

“High Vajay doesn’t strike me as weak,” Betty said.

“Too smart.”

“You don’t think High’s the killer?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it. He has too much to lose by committing that kind of felony.”

“Unless he had more to lose with the two women living.”

“True.” Sister noted a streak of turquoise over the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“I thought weak people poisoned their victims. Guess that’s one of those stereotypes. You know, kill by stealth.” Betty wondered how to flush out the murderer.

“Still a useful way to send someone off planet earth. All the labs in the world can’t point to who put the poison in the cup. They can only identify the poison. But, see, this is what bothers me. If someone used poison, wouldn’t you assume they don’t want to be caught?”

“Sure.” Betty reached up for the Jesus strap as they took a curve. Reaching for the strap was force of habit.

“Part of me thinks our killer, like most murderers, wants to get away with it, and part of me thinks not. The Godiva part is too public.”

“People do get away with public murders. What about all those political murders in places like Ireland, Serbia, Iran, and Iraq? I’m not even counting Africa. I guess it’s a matter of scale. The more people you kill the better your chances of escaping justice.”

“Pinochet proved that.” Sister pointed to the flaming sunset over the Blue Ridge Mountains. “But, on the other hand, we judge everything by the comfort of America. Look at Spain, a hideous civil war. Did that war lay the groundwork for Spain’s resurgence today? Same with Chile. Did all those murders of Allende’s people lay the groundwork for that country’s economic revival? We don’t like to think about things that way. I mean, we don’t like to think that sometimes forests have to be burned for fresh growth.”

“Yeah, it’s repulsive.”

“I guess it is. The Chileans slit the bellies of those they killed, then dropped them from airplanes into the ocean so they’d sink without a trace. I consider that gross.”

“Isn’t that always the problem with a human corpse? How do you destroy the evidence?”

“Right. But here we have a killer who wants everyone toadmire the evidence. I just don’t get it. What I do get is, he’shere.”

“And was at the Casanova Hunt Ball.”

“Right. I’ve gone over the list. It’s half our club.”

“Ben Sidell has it?”

“Of course, he’s questioned everyone methodically as to when they left the ball and what they saw. As far as I can tell, everyone has been cooperative.”

“Too bad Crawford wasn’t there, we could pin it on him.” Betty laughed.

“He’s like a bad penny, he’ll show up when we least want to see him.” Sister sighed. “Maybe I’ll have a brainstorm.”

“I rather hope not,” Betty said firmly. “The last time you thought you could pin a murder on someone he nearly killed you. This person puts the silver bowl in your stable office, drops off a movie, parades a corpse at Cindy Chandler’s. You stay out of it.”

“How can I stay out of it? I’m in the middle and I don’t even know why.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Where you go, I go.” Betty smiled.

CHAPTER 26

True to form, Crawford did show up on Saturday morning. He called first.

Both Crawford and Sister sat on the Board of Governors for Custis Hall. The administration had been searching for a new theater director as well as a head of alumnae relations. Crawford strongly opposed one of the candidates, personally visiting every board member. Sister was first on his list because he wanted to get it over with.

After hearing his objections, Sister replied,“Thank you for doing the homework. I support your nonsupport of Milford Weems.”

Crawford folded his hands together.“Good. I won’t take up more of your time.”

“Before you go, I have a question for you. Do you intend to rent the Demetrios place?”

“I’d like someone who can farm. The house needs some fixing too.”

“Allow me to suggest a young couple, very young but clean-living and hardworking, Felicity Porter and Howard Lindquist. They’ll be married this summer, so I guess I should think of them as the Lindquists. He’ll be working with Matt Robb’s construction company, so he has the skills to repairthe buildings.”

“Felicity’s not going to college?” He was incredulous, worried. “Night school. Piedmont Community College.”

“What a waste. That girl belongs at an Ivy League school.”

“Most people feel that way, and you’re in a position to help them. Obviously, they haven’t a cent, although she is working part-time for Garvey Stokes and that will be full-time when she graduates. He’ll be making some money but they don’t even have a car yet.” She held out her hands asa supplicant. “If they repair the house and paint the interior, would you consider a significant reduction in rent? They’re good kids and”—she smiled—“they’re in love.”

He perceived the situation.“I’ll talk to young Lindquist.” He half smiled too. “Thank you for your suggestion. If I don’t get someone in that place it will slide into ruin.”

“They’ll be good neighbors.”

“Well, I don’t know Howard but I think Felicity is mature for her years, very sensitive.”

This time he stood up; Raleigh and Rooster stood too. Golly, lounging on the back of the den sofa, couldn’t be bothered to see a guest out, even an unwelcome one.

Sister walked Crawford into the wide center hall, built to allow a breeze to cool the house in Virginia’s sweltering summers, and to the front door, with its overhead fan and glass panels on either side.

“Awful thing about Faye Spencer,” Crawford said.

“Yes, it was.”

“Vajay is the man most under suspicion, but Ramsey Merriman had a lot to lose.”

Sister perked up.“Have you told Ben?”

“Yes. I don’t like saying stuff like that, but under the circumstances Ramsey should pay the consequences for his affairs.” He shook his head. “Bragged about it. Said he seduced that Indian girl on one of his trips with High to Washington. Said High never suspected or perhaps never cared, Idon’t know. Then he said he tried to talk the woman into sex with him and Clayton. They’d pay her thousands. She refused and cut him off. What a fool. Anyway, he called and cussed me out and so did Ilona. I did the right thing.”

“Yes, you did.”

As she watched him drive away in his metallic dark-red Mercedes, she felt more confused than ever but she had accomplished two important things: She found a home for the kids because she knew Crawford would respond to them, and she put loyal people around one who was not loyal.

Always keep your enemy in front of you.

CHAPTER 27

Had Sister known her enemy had been in front of her all the time, the day might have been different. Some things are so unthinkable one doesn’t see them, even though they’re as close as the nose on your face. Not only do individuals suffer from these blind spots, entire nations do as well.

The lulling lap and spray of the water off the three-story waterwheel at Mill Ruins was beautiful, spellbinding. Century after century, people in the western world took this sound for granted. Only in the twentieth century did it finally subside, along with the clack of wagon wheels and shod hooves on cobblestone streets, vendors shouting their wares as they toddled down country roads, the constant swish of large overhead fans in the South, the ringing of church bells to signify the hour. A few places preserved these sounds so tourists could imagine themselves in another time.

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Time without end people kill one another. If sounds and sights change, this dolorous fact does not.

It was Saturday, March 8, and twenty couple of hounds waited on the party wagon. The mercury at quarter to nine read 48 degrees, the barometer falling, good sign.

March, a breakheart month, raises the average person’s hopes for spring. Daffodils, early ones, display their yellow heads, and crocuses cover lawns or dot woods tucked back where old foundations remain from prior centuries. Buds swell a tiny bit on the trees, the red glow apparent to those who study nature.

Then a snowstorm or a freezing rain will pound down as Old Man Winter once more reminds all creatures that he is not ready to relinquish his grasp.

Foxhunters liked that, of course. Better to keep that scent on the ground, for the warmth would lift it up over hound noses. But even the most dedicated foxhunter eventually longed for spring, the cascade of white apple blossoms, pale pink cherry blossoms, and deep magenta crab apple blossoms, the fragrance filling entire counties. Redbud bloomed along with peaches and pears, tulips held sway for a while, and the world rejoiced in new life.

Even Sister, who inevitably passed through a period of mourning after the season ended, discovered rejuvenation in her garden at last.

Today the field swelled with the regulars and visitors too. Tedi and Edward brought guests from Marlborough Hunt in Maryland. The Merrimans and Cabel, parked side by side, burst with good spirits. The Custis Hall girls turned out in full force along with Charlotte Norton and Bunny Taliaferro. Charlotte joked that if she was a golf widow in the summer her husband could be a foxhunt widower in winter.

Gray was repenting his promise to ride with his brother on a steeplechaser fresh off the circuit. Even before he mounted up, Gray noticed the nervousness of the rangy bay.

“You’re crazy to ride these horses right off the circuit, Sam.”

“It’s the only way I’m going to know how he’ll go in company. I know how he goes alone and he’s a good horse, Gray. Just a little up.”

As the brothers bickered, Lorraine Rasmussen chatted with Felicity on Parson. Sister had mentioned to Lorraine that Parson was a suitable and kind horse but that Felicity couldn’t afford him once out of school.

Henry Xavier ignored Ronnie Haslip’s taunts that his diet wasn’t working. It was, but slowly.

Donnie Sweigart surprised everyone by showing up on a horse lent him by Ronnie Haslip. Donnie borrowed clothes from Shaker, since they were the same size; he even found a pair of boots that would fit. He looked quite nice.

He’d fallen for Sybil Fawkes and knew the only way he was going to be in her vicinity was if he learned to foxhunt. He could ride some and Bobby Franklin, bearing that in mind, knew he’d have to keep an eye on him. If nothing else, Donnie had guts.

Sybil noticed. She walked over on Bombardier.“Donnie, did you discover the hardest part of foxhunting is tying your stock tie?”

He smiled shyly.“Did. Pricked my fingers too.”

“I wish I could hold out hope that it gets easier but I’m forever fiddling with it, folding the ends over the wide center knot, pressing the stockpin through.” She glanced over to see where Shaker was in his preparation, for she had a job to do. “I’m delighted to see you out here.”

“If nothing else, I’ll provide amusement.”

“There will be plenty of that. Always is.” She reached down and touched his shoulder with her gloved hand. “Takes courage to foxhunt, and we all know you have that. Hope I’ll see you after the hunt.”

“Sure thing.” Donnie was floating on air.

Back at Ronnie’s trailer, a crop snaked out from the open tack room as Ronnie neatly stung Xavier’s bottom. “Could show a movie on that butt.”

“You spend too much time looking at men’s asses,” Xavier growled.

Ronnie feigned a falsetto.“What a big hairy-chested man you are.”

Xavier never could keep a straight face around his boyhood friend.“Hey, at least one of us is.”

“Remember when RayRay sprouted his first chest hair right between his pecs, and we threw him on the ground and yanked it out?” Ronnie laughed.

Xavier smiled as he swung up on Picasso, built to carry weight.“I think of RayRay every day.”

Over at the Harper trailer parked next to the Merriman trailer, Cabel and Ilona watched Vajay and Mandy chatting with Kasmir.

“He’s cool as a cuke.” Ilona noted Vajay’s demeanor. “You’d never know he was under suspicion of murder.”

“If I were Mandy, I’d—” Cabel stopped herself. “Look.”

Ben Sidell, on his trusty Nonni, had ridden up to the three and passed a few pleasantries. Since nothing seemed untoward, the girlfriends sighed in disappointment.

Sister pulled out her grandfather’s pocket watch. It was seven minutes to the first cast. “Seven minutes. I’ll go on over and say a few words, along with Walter. That will hurry up the laggards.”

Betty waited on the ground, holding Outlaw’s reins. Her job would be to open the doors to the party wagon and then swing up on her horse. She and Sybil took turns performing this duty.

Sister on Lafayette rode over to Walter on his wonderful Clemson.

“Good morning, Master.” He tipped his derby.

“Good morning, Master.” She touched her crop to her cap.

“What saint’s day?”

“A mess.” She smiled at the tall blond man whom she had grown to love. “Senan, an Irish abbot who died in 544; Felix of Dunwich, bishop of East Anglia, who died in 647. His task was to Christianize the East Angles, a work still in progress.” She paused, then added, “John of God, who founded the Hospitalers and lived from 1495 to 1550. There’s one more, but I forget.”

“I don’t know how you remember what you do.”

“I have a funny head for dates and numbers. Hey, it’s International Women’s Day.”

“I celebrate women every day,” he joked.

“Well, come on, let’s do the shake-and-howdy. I want to cast these hounds.”

Walter said nothing because she was always eager to get on terms with her fox. So they rode over, called the crowd together, guests were introduced, the field master was pointed out—Sister herself—Bobby was noted as hilltoppers’ master, and without further ado Sister turned to Shaker and called out, “Hounds, please.”

Betty flipped up the long latch, pulled open the aluminum door, and out bounded twenty couple of excited foxhounds.

“I’m ready!” Trinity announced to the world.

Cora disciplined her.“Will you kindly shut up.”

Trinity hung her head for a moment.

Asa simply said,“Youth.”

Diddy, Darby, Dreamboat, Dana, Delight, and Doughboy stood on their hind legs but they didn’t babble. Pookah and Pansy came out today, the excitement doubled in the first-year entry.

Calming, Shaker lowered his voice.“Steady now, relax.”

Showboat, Shaker’s horse, ears pricked forward, exhaled out of his nostrils as two downy woodpeckers flew out of the mill.

What in the devil are woodpeckers doing in there? Sister thought to herself.

Only they knew, but a stream of invective flew between the birds as they battled about something.

Shaker led the pack past the mill, the spray becoming a heavy mist, moistening faces, intensifying scent. A huge door allowed entry into the first floor, a small door with a small outdoor landing was at the second story, and a third wooden door opened over the very top of the waterwheel. If the wheel needed repairs, it was stopped and the workmen could use whichever door was closest.

Foxes had lived at the mill since it was built, but that didn’t mean they’d give you a run. There was no way to bolt them from the lair, but often the pack could get one fox returning home for a bracing go.

At the rear of the first flight, the Custis Hall girls rode through the mist and fog rising from the millrace.

“Fog creeps me out,” Val whispered.

“Because you got lost in it,” Felicity mentioned.

“So did everybody else,” Val whispered, a bit louder.

“Not everyone else, just us,” Tootie corrected her, as they rode over the bridge spanning the millrace.

They emerged from the fog and took a simple coop into the first large pasture off the farm road. Hounds, on hearing,“Lieu in,” the old Norman words in use for over a thousand years, fanned over the pasture, the dew thick and cool.

No fox scent rose up from the earth. They reached the back fence line, took the jump there, and moved into the woods.

For thirty minutes hounds worked, the field walking along: nothing. Then they came into an area called Shootrough, one hundred acres, that used to be really rough but which Walter had cleaned up and planted with millet, winter wheat, switchgrass, and South American maize at the edges. The ground nesters flocked in, as did the foxes.

Dana found the line first.“Red dog fox.”

Other hounds ran over, putting their noses down. Cora opened on the line, and in a flash the entire pack was flying through the wheat and millet, the long stems swishing, the slight westerly breeze bending and raising the thin stalks as well.

A stout timber jump led into true rough ground, covered in brambles, pigweed, and poke. A little path cut through that got them down to the creek, below where Sister thought the fox would jump in to foil scent. But he didn’t. He turned back, running right on the farm road by the north side of Shootrough. The entire field viewed him as they emerged on the road. Having a good head start on the hounds, he hadn’t yet considered evasive action.

As Lafayette thundered down the road, clods of red clay flying up behind him, Sister noticed ice crystals on the north side of the road just catching the sunlight as the sun rose high enough to reach them from the east.

The fox plunged into the woods on the right, a small patch off the farm road at the end of Shootrough, the larger woods being to the left. He ran over moss and through hollowed-out logs and then came back onto the road, where he ran right between Cabel and Ilona, who stopped and stayed put as did everyone else, once Cabel shouted,“Hold hard!”

Within minutes the pack ran through the horses.

Diddy stopped for one second, then ran on. When she came alongside Tinsel, she said,“I caught the scent again.”

“We all caught it,” Tinsel replied, nose to ground, wondering what had happened to Diddy’s wits.

“No, the perfume on Faye Spencer’s leg.”

“Nothing we can do about it now,” Tinsel rightly answered.

This time the big red dog fox did use the creek, running through it and climbing out a hundred yards upstream.

Hounds lost scent where he jumped in, but Cora took some hounds on one side and Asa kept the others on the takeoff side as they worked in both directions until finally Tinsel, again demonstrating her fine nose, hollered“Here.”

That fast they were all on again, threading through the woods as fast as they could, till they finally lost him at an outcropping of huge squared boulders, very strange-looking.

Gingerly, Trudy dropped down on the other side to see if there was a den—but nothing.

Once again the fox proved to all he had magic.Poof! He was gone, his scent with him.

CHAPTER 28

Shaker reined in, cast hounds in a wide net, but that yielded not a jot.

He noticed that the bit of wind died and a stillness muffled sound in the woods. He could hear horses breathing about half a football field from him but no birds flew, no deer appeared.

Not only are there dead spots where wireless phones can’t receive transmission, there are dead spots and dead times, period.

Sometimes this presages the edge of a low pressure system. Other times it’s just a calm moment or calm spot, just as there are spots where little wind devils forever spiral upward.

Shaker turned, casting back toward Shootrough. Given conditions, he thought it better to head toward food sources like the ground nester paradise. Usually he didn’t draw the same covert twice, but this time he thought he’d draw toward the north, then move out of Shootrough where, once through the woods and skirting a ravine, an array of fenced pastures beckoned, little coverts stuck here and there, all rich in game.

Back in the wheat and millet, a bobwhite flew up, then another. Asa moved to the edge of the large area where the switchgrass formed a border. He lifted his head, flared his nostrils, then lowered his head. Patiently, he worked this old line as it grew warmer. A gray fox came for breakfast, feathers everywhere as though the vixen played with them, which she well may have done. Finally, he had enough fresh scent to open in his deep basso profundo, a sound to send shivers up one’s spine.

Hound ran a half circle around the edge of Shootrough, staying in the switchgrass; then, to the field’s delight, the gray vixen burst out, making a straight blast across the fields, tall grass bent down from winter’s snows.

Betty, to the left of the beautiful fox, jumped a deep ditch, new, thanks to runoff. Clods of red clay flew up behind Outlaw’s hooves.

Sybil, on the right, moved into the edge of the woods because the gray swerved, heading for the woods; then she turned again, making a straight shot toward Mill Ruins, two miles away as the crow flies.

Close to their fox, hounds grew more excited, as did the field.

The vixen knew her territory, moving over a large patch of running cedar that baffled scent just long enough for her to put more distance between herself and hounds. She ran another quarter mile, then launched straight up, grabbing on to the rough bark of a mighty walnut tree. By the time hounds reached her, she was grooming herself on a thick limb, tail held in front paw.

“Come down here! Come down here!” Doughboy leapt up and down.

“Cheater! Cheater!” Pookah was beside herself.

The gray looked down and smiled.“When pigs can fly.”

Shaker rode up, Showboat lifting his gorgeous head to behold the fox.

Sister brought the field up close so they could see the vision. Bobby had room to come up too, as no saplings grew around the spread of the walnut’s branches.

Shaker laughed.“Is there a call for Climbed a Tree?”

Sister laughed too.“Well, give Gone to Ground a few doubling notes.”

He did, and the young horse that Sam rode just blew up.

“Brother, I’d better head back,” Sam said quietly. He knew the animal had had enough.

“I’ll go back with you.” Gray wanted to keep hunting but Sam should have company. “I’ll tell Sister we’re heading back.”

Gray rode up and spoke quietly to Sister, who nodded, and the two men turned to pick their way toward the farm road on a well-worn deer trail.

Deeper in the woods than they realized, they kept pushing toward the southwest. Sooner or later they would find the farm road. The steeplechaser calmed down with the leisurely walk and the fact that Gray’s stalwart foxhunter stayed low-key.

The deep ravine to the right helped them get their bearings. Neither Sam nor Gray had the best sense of direction, unlike Sister and Shaker, two human homing pigeons.

Gray sighed.“Whew. Know where we are now.”

“Yeah, I was getting a little worried too.”

“Sister would have put out drinks and a cooler with food. She’d feed us like the foxes, figuring we’d smell out the food,” Gray teased.

“Wouldn’t put it past her. Remember the time Ronnie Haslip sank in the bog? The horse struggled but Ronnie couldn’t move for the mud sucking him in. As everyone tied their stirrup leathers together to throw him a line, she calls out, ‘Don’t worry, Ronnie, if you go under we’ll throw a wreath on the spot.’ Took his mind off his predicament.”

“Funny, isn’t it, how the mind controls the body?”

Sam snorted.“In my case it’s usually the reverse.” He looked toward the ravine. “Damn, sure are a lot of crows over there.”

“Probably a deer carcass left over from deer season.”

“Hate that. Hate it when they wander off and die.” Sam grimaced.

“Well, a good hunter will track his deer when wounded, but sometimes they can get away. Come on.”

They rode to the lip and looked down to see St. Just and his flock merrily feasting on a corpse. St. Just had an eyeball in his yellow beak. The cold weather had preserved the body, and the slight thaw allowed the crows to really dig in to this unexpected treat.

“Jesus Christ!” Sam exclaimed.

Gray discerned the dead was male but the crows so covered the body he couldn’t tell much else. “We’ve got to get Ben Sidell.”

“Try this first. Yell. I’d like to spare this horse if I can. You’ve got a voice that carries.”

“Worth a try,” Gray agreed, cupping his lips with his hands. “Yo! Yo! Yo!”

Country folk know three shouts is a signal of distress. When it comes to yelling there’s no formula, but Gray continued using three repeats.

Sound carried well today and the field three-quarters of a mile away heard him.

Shaker had already cast hounds back toward the mill so they were coming in that direction but on higher ground.

Sister paused a moment.“Edward, take the field.”

“Yes, Master.” Edward Bancroft touched his top hat with his crop.

Sister cantered up to Shaker.“That’s Gray. Either he’s seen a fox or there’s something else.”

Often times, if at a distance with no hounds near, someone will tally-ho. As it is, one shouldn’t tally-ho if hounds noses are down. Then, too, how does a field member, who lacks the view up front that the field master has, know if the fox viewed is the hunted fox?

The protocol of foxhunting is grounded in common sense.

“I can hunt that way.” Shaker took his boots out of the stirrup irons to wiggle his cold toes.

“I rarely ask you to do this, but given today’s conditions, which are pretty darned good, please lift the hounds and cast them forward when we reach Gray. We might get a popping run out of it. If not, I’ll bear the blame.”

“Yes, Master.” He didn’t like it but Shaker as a hunt servant did what his master told him to do.

Then, too, Sister and Shaker had worked together, cheek by jowl, for nearly twenty years; usually she was right. He tormented her mercilessly when she wasn’t but all in good fun.

Within four minutes at a relaxed trot they reached the Lorillard brothers.

The second Sister and Shaker saw their faces they knew a fox had not been viewed.

Seeing the crows fly up, Cabel Harper couldn’t resist walking toward the edge of the ravine to look down.

Shaker held up hounds.

Ilona hissed at her.“Cabel!”

A moment before Cabel reached the precipice, St. Just, possessed of a wicked sense of humor, flew right over her head and everyone else’s with that juicy eyeball.

Cabel screamed bloody murder, looked over the edge, turned her horse and rammed High Vajay so hard she unseated him, and then almost trampled the hounds.

Diddy said loudly,“That’s the lady with the perfume.”

Cabel flew through the woods toward the farm road.

Ilona, ignoring Ramsey, rode up to Sister, astonished at both Cabel and what she had seen deep in the ravine.

“Master, please allow me to go after Cabel. I think she’s quite lost her mind.”

“Go,” Sister simply said.

Ben Sidell, already making his way down on foot, confirmed what Sister and Shaker had suspected, as crows lifted up when Ben drew closer. The crows’ lunch was Clayton Harper.

In the distance, receding, people could hear Cabel screaming.

Ben climbed back up; his cell wouldn’t work in the ravine. He called the department and flipped the phone back, leaving it on.

Kasmir helped Vajay back up. The horse was fine but Vajay had fallen flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Mandy held the horse’s reins, feeling an unspecified sense of dread. She shrugged it off, deciding that Cabel’s screams were unnerving. Then again, St. Just’s display of the eyeball certainly ruined the appetite.

“Sister, take everyone back, will you?” Ben turned to Walter. “When my team comes, will you bring us back here? You know the terrain better than I do.”

“Of course.” Walter nodded.

As the field rode back, everyone talked. Gray stuck with Sam, since in company with hounds, humans, and other horses Sam’s steeplechaser grew restive. Fortunately few saw Clayton since Sister prudently kept them back, but everyone saw the offending king of the crows.

CHAPTER 29

Back at the trailers, Ilona caught up with Cabel.“What have you done?”

“Help me. Help me get out of here.”

“Cabel, what have you done?” Ilona dismounted quickly, tying her horse to the side of the trailer, slipping the halter over the bridle first. “You told me he was in rehab.”

“He figured it out. What else could I do?” Although rattled by Gray and Sam’s discovery of her husband’s body, she evidenced no regret. “He even figured out that I put the silver bowl in Sister’s barn, because I left early for hunting that morning. What could I do?”

“For one thing,” Ilona coolly responded, “you could have dumped him anywhere but a fixture.”

“Didn’t have time. We were driving out this way. Walter was at the hospital, so once Clayton cornered me I had to work fast.”

“Did you shoot him?”

“Hell, yes, I shot him. Do you think I could strangle him? He was so fat I’d never get my hands around his neck.” She snorted. “What a fool he was. Typical male. Thought he had nothing to fear from a woman. When I pulled my twenty-two out of my purse and shot him between the eyes—well, Ilona, that was one of the happiest moments of my life.”

“Where were you?”

“Here. He’d been hectoring me, you know, citing the time I left the Casanova Ball, how I loathed Faye Spencer. I asked him if he’d slept with her and he said that was none of my business. He tried to pin it on Ramsey, who did call on her, but this is one instance where your dear husband bearded for mine. Or for all I know they bearded for each other. They fooled everyone. What shits.” She smiled wryly. “One down, one to go, but I’ll deal with Ramsey later. I need to get out.”

“I’ll deal with Ramsey. How did you ever drag Clayton down that ravine?”

“Easy as pie. I shot him in the bed of the truck. First, I told him to drive down the Mill Ruins farm road because I wanted to help feed foxes at Shootrough, and when we neared the widest part of the ravine—where I remembered it anyway—I told him to stop. Then I climbed into the truck bed andlifted a twenty-five-pound bag of dog food but I pretended I couldn’t quite do it so he clambered up and I shot him. It never occurred to him that it might be odd to carry your purse into the bed of a truck.”

Despite herself, this made Ilona laugh.“No blood?”

“Hardly. I hit him square between the eyes. So he now has the third eye of prophecy. The silly bastard. I should have killed him first, you know, before dispatching that Indian slut to Shiva or whatever those people worship. Then again, waiting made it sweeter, plus he had to pretend he didn’t know anything about her.” She threw a cooler over her horse. “The hard part was getting back in the woods without scraping up the truck. Got as close as I could and then I kept rolling him until I rolled him right over the edge. The snows came as a godsend, I will admit. Covered my tracks. And you know what else? It also never occurred to him to ask me why I was feeding foxes. That’s not my job. Nothing but air between those ears—which, of course, I found out for certain when I shot him. The bullet just sailed right through.”

Ilona’s head snapped up. “Cabel, I can hear the horses.” She put her hands on her friend’s forearm. “Give yourself up. You can’t get away. There’s not even time to unhitch your trailer.”

Cabel realized Ilona was right.“Guess they’d catch me anyway.” Her eyes blazed. “But I’m not going down without a fight. If I have to die, I’ll die on my feet.”

“Cabel, please, there were extenuating circumstances. A good lawyer can spare you the death penalty.”

“Well, you’re an accessory. I killed for you as well as for me; Ramsey slept with Aashi. You didn’t have the guts.” She sighed. “You always were a softie.”

“I know.” Ilona admitted what to Cabel was a flaw. “Yes, I am an accessory. I helped you with both women. But I’ll face the music. We can’t go on. We can’t.”

“Are you sorry?” Cabel did love her best friend.

“Yes and no.” Ilona, tears in her eyes, confessed. “I’m sorry we’re going to get caught but I’m not sorry Aashi and Faye received the deaths they deserved. I’m not sorry I helped you. After all, I owed you one.” She smiled sadly. “Revenge is much sweeter than people want to believe.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Cabel laughed. “That’s the point of Christianity, to remove revenge from our hands. Mine are covered with blood and I’d do it again.”

They heard Shaker’s strong voice. “Good hounds, good hounds.”

Cabel grabbed Ilona, kissed her on the cheek, and sprinted to the old mill, opening the heavy door and closing it behind her.

Ilona stood there, face wet with tears. She turned to take the halter and then the bridle off her horse, slipping the halter back on. She also loosened the girth for Cabel’s horse, removing the bridle.

When Sister rode up she noticed Ilona’s tears. “Where’s Cabel?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t catch up with her but I found Mickey tied to the trailer. She’s so distraught there’s no telling where she is. I’m afraid she might—”

Sister, thinking Ilona meant suicide, looked down from Lafayette’s back and said, very low, “We’ll check the millrace.”

“Oh, God.” Ilona burst into sobs.

Sister hurried to her trailer and handed her horse’s reins to Tootie, who was already on the ground. “Tootie, I need your help. Take care of Lafayette.” She walked over to Shaker, Betty, and Sybil, still mounted. “I’ll get the door.” She opened the party wagon door and the hounds walked in, glad for a fresh drink of water from the big buckets. Sister counted heads as they walked in. “All on.”

Huntsmen and two whippers-in dismounted.

Betty patted Outlaw’s neck. “A day not to be forgotten, for both good and ill.”

“And it’s not over yet.” Sister rapidly repeated what she had assumed was Ilona’s fear.

Shaker exhaled.“I’ll walk the millrace.”

Sister hurried back to her trailer with Betty.“Tootie, when you finish with Lafayette, help Shaker, will you? Staff has an extra chore.” Then, hoping she appeared calm, she walked to the Custis Hall van. “Val, will you tell Walter, he’s in his stable, staff is walking the millrace. I’ll explain to him later.” She checked her pocketwatch. “Be another twenty minutes before Ben’s people reach us. Pamela, make sure everyone gets into the house for the breakfast. Lorraine’s in charge today, but she’ll need you and Felicity. People are at loose ends, obviously. If they’re all together, maybe Lorraine—” She turned as Charlotte Norton rode up. “Charlotte, I’ve given the girls assignments. If I may, I’ll give you one also. Pamela and Felicity will herd everyone into the house. Will you help calm folks? Keep them out of the way of Ben’s people.” She paused. “Just in case something else pops up.” Realizing what she’d just said and thinking Cabel was in the millrace, she shut her eyes for a second.

“Of course.” Charlotte agreed readily. “I’ll wait for you or Ben to give me the all clear.”

“Please excuse me. Staff has a chore to do, and I don’t know when or if we’ll get to the breakfast.”

Gray and Sam were at Sam’s trailer, one of Crawford’s.

“Gray,” Sister called out, “will you help Lorraine? Walter needs to get Ben’s people back to the ravine.”

Gray nodded.“Yes.”

Sister watched Val run to Walter’s stable and then walk back toward to the millrace. The water moved along, which meant if Cabel jumped in near the mill itself, her body would already be hung up in the paddles, slowing the wheel or slipping under. Since the huge wheel turned easily, if Cabel was in the race, her body hadn’t yet drifted down. In her heavy frock coat, she’d be at the bottom. This gruesome thought pushed Sister onward. Drowning must be a painful death; one’s lungs burst. She thought as she walked along the race in its swift course toward the mill that perhaps there were few easy, painless deaths. Best not to dwell upon it.

The millrace itself originated in a deep hard-running stream a mile from the mill. The hands that cut the race back in the late 1790s had turned to dust, but their excellent work bore testimony to their skill, as did the stonework lining the cut waterway. The expense of duplicating such a feat today, if one could even find the artisans, would spiral into a couple of million dollars, to say nothing of interference from local and state agencies.

Shaker soon joined her, as did Sybil and Betty, who moved much farther up toward the stream.

Tootie, finished with Lafayette, headed toward the house just as Val emerged from the barn. The two met on the wide bridge over the millrace, the mist from the spray enveloping them.

Tootie looked up through open patches.“Sky’s changing again, pushing this down.”

“Feels like snow.” Val grinned. “I love it when it snows. The whole world is new.”

“Guess we’d better get to the breakfast. Everyone’s supposed to gather in the house, and I think they have.”

“Mrs. Merriman hasn’t.” Val tilted her head in the direction of Ilona’s trailer. The woman sat on her mounting block, head in hands, sobbing, as Ramsey attempted to comfort her. They had some sort of exchange, and Ramsey reluctantly left her for the house after kissing her on the cheek.

“Better not go there.” Tootie wondered how anyone could find comfort, given that your best friend was coming apart at the seams.

The young women didn’t know why Sister, Shaker, Betty, and Sybil walked the millrace, but they certainly noticed the staff members peering intently into the running water, the mist coming farther down now and skimming the water.

“Tootie, I have a terrible feeling about this.”

It dawned on Tootie that the day’s dreadful events might not yet be over. “Should we help?”

“If Sister wanted us, she’d ask.” Val looked up at the large wheel turning.

The small wooden door near the middle of the wheel suddenly opened, the hinge squeaking. Cabel Harper leaned out, looked around, and closed the door.

Val ran across the bridge, Tootie in her wake. She opened the large door at the base of the mill and entered.

Tootie’s instincts told her not to go in but Val was already through the door, so she cupped her hands to be heard over the turning wheel. “Master, Master!”

Sister looked in her direction as Tootie pointed to the mill and then disappeared through the door.“Shaker, Betty, Sybil, come on!”

The four were running along the slippery millrace when they heard a shot. This spurred them on. Shaker was first through the door.

“Don’t move!” Cabel called. She was standing next to one of the enormous slow-moving gears, each tooth catching the tooth of its mated gear.

Tootie, still as a mouse, was half obscured by a heavy shaft. Cabel could see her but couldn’t get a clear second shot. She held the .22 to Val’s temple, the barrel opening slightly warm from the fired bullet.

When the girls saw her, Cabel had rushed down the wide wooden stairs and grabbed Val as she came through the door. When Tootie lunged, Cabel had fired, but Tootie rolled and the bullet missed.

“Let her go, Cabel.” Shaker kept calm, making no attempt to protect himself, but he didn’t move. Neither did Sister, Betty, or Sybil.

“What do you take me for, a complete idiot? Val’s my passport.” Cabel grinned. “Now, if you all have the silly idea of rushing me, I have five shots left, one for each of you, and I’m not a half bad shot. Even if one or two of you don’t get hit, I have plenty of time to reload.”

“Then I’ll get away,” Val vowed, bold as she was on a horse.

“Oh, my pet, I’ll shoot you first. Look at it this way: It’s my Christian duty; I’m sparing you a life of pain, at the mercy of evil men.”

Sister stepped forward, pushing past Shaker.“Cabel, swap me for Val. I’m old. Let her go.”

“Spare me your nobility. I’m not letting any of you go. I know what you really are, Jane Arnold. You slept with my husband.”

“For God’s sake, Cabel, that was twenty years ago!” Sister exclaimed.

Sister hoped to create a diversion, as Tootie crouched and then crept toward Cabel, who grasped the collar of Val’s coat and hauled her backward, toward the steps and up them.

Cabel ascended to the first landing, giving her better sight lines.“Val, if you don’t struggle, I might let you go.”

“Yes, Mrs. Harper.” Val sounded ever so polite as her mind feverishly sought an escape.

Shrewdly, Betty moved next to Sister.“Cabel, what’s happened? This isn’t like you.”

“Oh, it is. I am walking into my house justified.” Cabel used the old southern expression.

Sister answered with another one.“What you’re doing, Cabel Harper, is coming home by Weeping Cross.”

“Oh, do shut up, you old bitch!” Cabel laughed uproariously. “I’ll give you credit, though. You’ve shown good sport and you can ride. Yes, you can. ’Course, I’m not half bad myself.” She laughed again.

“Cabel, please let her go. I’ll put my hands behind my head and come up the stairs. Please don’t harm that girl.” Sister wanted to scream but kept her voice as modulated as if she were playing bridge.

“No. We’re all going to heaven together, although if Val is a very, very good girl, I might spare her so she can tell everyone else what happened. There should always be one person left to tell the tale after a massacre.” She looked upward at the next level. “I can see the coverage on TV now:Massacre at Mill Ruins. Cabel Harper, upstanding member of the community, lost her shit and killed five people. Guess they wouldn’t saylost her shit would they?”

“And why are you saying it? You never used to be crude.” Sister baited her.

A flash of anger illuminated Cabel’s pretty features. “What does being a lady get you? You do as you’re told. You marry well. You work hard. You participate in volunteer organizations. You vote. What does it get you? Nothing. It’s a fa?ade, a lure, so people like you or me don’t look too closely at how things really work. At who really controls the world. We’re cogs in the wheel just like these cogs in here. Eventually you get ground down.”

“Was that Clayton? Is that why you ran off screaming?” Shaker stuck next to Sister because if Cabel fired he was going to jump in front. He had no more desire to be hurt than the next guy, but he never lacked courage and he would defend someone he loved. His feeling was “Why live if there’sno one you’d die for?”

Sybil picked up the line.“You shot him, didn’t you?”

When Sybil rode in to hold hounds she’d looked down into the ridge and thought she’d recognized Clayton’s maroon windbreaker, although under the circumstances it was difficult to be certain.

One squad car and an ambulance drove across the bridge, no sirens.

“Damn,” Sister whispered.

Tootie kept creeping until now she was under a gear parallel to the floor as she edged closer to the stairs.

“Shot that son of a bitch dead to rights. I should have done it years ago.”

“Judgment is up to God.” Sister’s anger was coming to the fore no matter how hard she tried to keep it in check.

“Bullshit. God is another helpful illusion. If people believe that crap, you don’t need as many cops to keep them in line, do you?” Cabel smiled. “Sheep. We’re all sheep, but I woke up. I was wronged, but I fixed it.”

“You killed Aashi and Faye?” Betty, too, was looking for a place to dive and then crawl toward the stairs.

“Did. It was a bitch, hauling those carcasses up on the horses, but I had help.”

“Why did you clean them up?” Sister was curious.

“I didn’t want anything to distract from their beauty or from the retribution, even though people didn’t know why they were killed. Beauty lured Clayton. He was so weak. Well, you lured him too. You should know.”

“He was weak.” Sister agreed with Cabel, which pleased her.

“High Vajay is innocent?” Sybil asked, to keep Cabel talking.

“No. He didn’t kill anyone, but he’s a faithless pig like every other man.”

“I resent that.” Shaker hoped to draw her ire.

Tootie suddenly crawled as fast as she could, rolling under the stairs. Cabel fired, but too late.

“Now you only have four bullets,” Tootie taunted.

“Tootie, stay where you are.” Val’s voice was strong.

“I’ll kill you first.” Cabel crouched down to fire under the stairs.

Val twisted free; at six foot one she was taller and stronger than Cabel. She grabbed Cabel from behind, struggling to grasp her right wrist. Cabel kicked backward, catching Val on the shin, but not hard enough to dislodge her.

Tootie bolted from under the stairs, vaulting them two at a time.

Sister, Shaker, Betty, and Sybil followed.

Cabel turned as Val held her as though twirling on the dance floor. Desperation increased the middle-aged woman’s strength, and as a foxhunter she’d kept in good shape. She pushed her right hand forward with all her might, slamming the butt of the gun into Val’s forehead and opening a wide gash. Val lost her grip, blood gushing into her left eye. Tootie was still six steps away as Cabel whirled to fire.

“No!” Sister screamed as Cabel took aim, but Tootie kept coming.

Eyes focused on Cabel’s index finger, Tootie saw the squeeze and flung herself down as Val, wiping blood from her eye, bumped Cabel.

The bullet grazed Tootie’s boot at the calf.

The bottom door opened. Ilona, hearing the shots, raced in.

Cabel looked down, then back at the two girls. She hesitated a second.

Ilona, tears running as fast as the millrace, shouted,“Cabel, no. Please, no!”

“Let’s go together.” Cabel, tears now in her eyes, aimed and shot Ilona through the heart. As Tootie rose to jump her, Cabel swung wide. Tootie ducked, as did Val.

Sister, Shaker, Betty, and Sybil closed in behind the two girls.

Cabel kicked Tootie hard with her boot and pushed her into Val, who was struggling to keep the gushing wound from bleeding into both her eyes.

Then she turned, running upward, the thump of her boots on the wooden stairs echoing through the vast interior. Sister passed the girls and charged after her.

“Boss,” Shaker bellowed, “leave her to heaven. Let’s get out of here.” He reached over, took Val’s hand, and led her down to the next level as Betty covered his back, glancing backward and upward in case Cabel would fire again. She had three bullets left.

Sister, fighting her rage and her desire to fight, turned and came down in one leap, the sound as she landed booming through the mill, and grabbed Tootie, who was limping from the vicious kick and bullet graze.“Can you put weight on it?”

Tootie could, but she moved too slowly. Sister swiftly bent over, put one arm through Tootie’s legs, lifted her up with the other, and swung her on her back in a fireman’s carry.

Sybil, turning around, stopped, let Sister pass, then descended behind her like Betty, looking upward and back.

Had Cabel wanted to, she could have halted her ascent and nailed at least one of them, but she waited until she reached the top, right over the waterwheel, where another small half door was closed.

She called down to them as they reached the lower landing, ten feet above the ground floor. Her gaze was fixed on Ilona, knees bent under her like a resting horse, upper body bent back.

“I spared you girls. You love one another. Friendship is the purest love in the world. Trust me, kids, sex is a poison that infects everything. As for you, Jane Arnold”—she took careful aim—“drop Tootie.”

Sister turned around, bent low so Tootie could slide off.“Go ahead. I’ll take my chances.”

“You’ve got brass ovaries.” Cabel looked down the barrel, lining up Sister. “I’ll give you that.”

“Tootie, get down. Go with the others,” Sister commanded.

“No.”

“For Christ’s sake, Tootie. Go! You’re young. If it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“No.”

“Tootie, get out of the way,” Cabel ordered.

Val, stock tie ripped off, pressed it to her head as she turned around to climb back up.

Shaker spun around, snatching the bottom of her coat.“No you don’t.”

“Tootie,” Val pleaded.

Cabel couldn’t get a clear shot. “Goddammit, if only we could have a proper duel.” She pointed the gun upward. “You’ll live a bit longer, you old bitch.” Laughing, she opened the door, crouched, put one leg out, and then turned. Sister and Val had finally reached the floor. “Remember, friendship is the purest love. I’m going to be with Ilona.”

CHAPTER 30

Walter had hopped into one squad car to lead them to the body. Ben jumped in too. Gray and Charlotte acted as hosts for the breakfast but he kept checking the back window. Lorraine, apprised of the situation, kept the food coming. Ramsey Merriman, ordered by Ilona to go to breakfast, also kept looking for her. Gray couldn’t stand it anymore—Charlotte Norton did a better job than he did anyway—so he threw on his coat and walked outside, reaching the bridge just in time to see Cabel Harper crouching in the half door. The wide flat blades of the waterwheel rolled past her. She smiled and leaned forward, holding the edge of the door with her left hand. Simultaneously she stepped forward with her left boot and pushed off with her right. For one precarious moment she was poised on the wide blade of the waterwheel like a small car on a Ferris wheel. She put the gun to her temple and fired.

Her body hit the next blade, and the next, and then soared outward, her cap coming off and her wig with it, plunging into the water below, mists swirling above the surface.

As the small bedraggled party came out of the big mill door they couldn’t see the bubbles rising and popping from the millrace. Gray blinked, then rushed to them.

“Gray, Gray!” Sister called to him as he approached. “Call Walter.”

Gray saw the blood all over Val’s face and her bloodstained shirt, saw Tootie limping, blood on the side of her leg. He reached into his inside pocket and dialed Walter. Then he threw his arms around Sister, holding her tight.

“Honey, honey. I need to breathe. I’ll tell you everything later. Let’s get these girls into Walter’s bathroom.”

“There’s a bathroom in the barn,” Tootie reminded Sister. “We won’t have to deal with people there.”

“Good thinking.”

Betty came up and quietly slipped her hand into Sister’s while Gray held the other one. They walked over the bridge. Val supported Tootie with her free hand, her other hand pressing her stock tie against her forehead.

Sybil moved up to help with Tootie so Val could keep the compression on her head. She fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, handing it to Val.

“Mrs. Fawkes, I can’t use this. It’s embroidered,” Val said, ever sensitive to value.

“It’s hardly as important as your wound.” Sybil shoved the handkerchief at her and took her bloody stock tie.

Shaker had stopped to peer down at the bottom of the millrace. The mists swirled, as clear patches opened up, then closed again. He caught up with the others.“She’s up against the end of the race.”

Sister grimaced.“Let the sheriff’s department fish her out.”

“Who’s going to tell Ramsey?” Gray had told them exactly what he saw as they reached the barn.

“Oh, let it wait a bit. Let it wait.” Betty felt so exhausted she could hardly lift one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll tell him.” Shaker looked down at the center aisle of the barn paved with rubber bricks. “Can’t have him running all over looking for his wife.”

“Shaker, wait until Ben gets back. Ramsey might lift the body. Ben should see Ilona before she’s disturbed,” Gray said sensibly.

Walter arrived within minutes, driven by Ben in his deputy’s squad car. Shaker flagged him down. Ben cut the motor and the two men flew out of the car. As Walter examined the girls, Shaker led Ben to Ilona’s body, also pointing out where Cabel lay, slightly moving under the water as though alive, her body hitting the end of the race and moving away for a foot, then pushed by a paddle to hit the end of the race once more. The opening and closing mist made the sight even more eerie.

“Val, I need to stitch this up. It’s going to hurt. I have procaine, which I’ll rub on, but it’s still going to hurt.”

“Just do it, Master.” Val also felt exhausted as she sat in the chair in the tack room.

“Sybil, my bag’s in the front seat of the truck. Would you mind fetching it?” He turned to Tootie, boot still on. “Luckily the bullet tore your boot more than it tore you. It’s the kick that is raising up the knot on your shin.” He felt her skin under her breeches.

Sybil hurried off as Sister stood in front of Tootie, back to her, and pulled off the damaged boot. Tootie bit her lip as it came off.

“Put ice on that,” Walter ordered. “Might take a week to get your boot back on, but it’s not bad.” He walked over to the refrigerator, took out an ice tray, dumped half of it in a clean work towel, and handed it to the diminutive Tootie. “’Course, you’ll have to repair the boot.” He smiled.

Sybil returned with Walter’s bag. He washed Val’s wound, quickly smearing it with procaine and giving it a few minutes to work while he threaded a needle. Val held a clean rubdown towel on the gash, red seeping through the rough white cloth.

“Did you know that a horse’s skin is thinner than a human’s?” Sister decided conversation might help.

“I did.”

“You are so-o-o smart.” Tootie was feeling better.

Val eyed the threaded needle.“How many stitches, do you think?”

“Five at the most. I make a nice tight stitch. There will be a scar but it won’t be bad. All right, take that bandage away. Let me clean this one more time.” Sister handed him a prepared antibacterial wipe that was in his bag. “Now, if this hurts we need to give the procaine more time.” He carefully wiped the wound, still bleeding but less so. He checked the ragged edges. “Going to be swelling from the blow. You might not get a black eye though, since she hit you high on the forehead.”

“I can feel what you’re doing but it doesn’t hurt much.”

“All right then. If you can hold still, this will take three minutes. I’m fast!” He smiled reassuringly at her.

The small group had watched countless horses stitched up, even doing it themselves sometimes, so watching Val didn’t faze them.

Sister held her hand. Tootie held the towel filled with ice against her shin.

Tears rolled down Val’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“I know you’re not crying.” Walter smiled as he pierced her skin for the third stitch. “Body’s natural reaction. Girl, you took one helluva hit. If she’d smashed your brow, she could have damaged your eye.”

“Luck.” Val tried to smile.

Tootie thought to distract her friend.“Do you believe what Cabel said about sex poisoning a relationship?”

“Why, do you want to sleep with me?” Val returned to form.

“You are so conceited.” Tootie exhaled through her nostrils.

As Walter started the fourth stitch, Sister, knowing the longer one sat the more difficult it became, answered Tootie.“No, sex doesn’t poison a relationship. People poison relationships. Sex is the excuse.”

“Well said.” Gray nodded.

“We’ll never really know what those two did,” Betty said. “I mean, we know Cabel killed Aashi and Faye, but Ilona helped somehow. Cabel had a hold on Ilona ever since college. Can you imagine helping your best friend kill someone? Actually, don’t answer that.” Betty wanted to let her head drop on her bosom; she needed to talk to keep awake.

Sybil piped up.“Their sex lives certainly seemed poisonous. How do people get twisted like that?”

“I don’t know,” Sister replied, as she dabbed Val’s tears with her own handkerchief. “Almost done.”

“I wonder why Cabel spared us when we went down the stairs?” Tootie tried to make sense of it, tried to keep her emotions at bay.

“God’s grace.” Sister smiled as Walter finished the last stitch, snipping the thread.

“Wait one minute.” He smeared on a little more procaine, giving Val two tiny tubes. “Val, this is going to sting and throb. Use this for a day or two and then just endure it.” He covered his work carefully with a gauze pad, taping the ends with white adhesive tape. “Change this at least once a day, because the wound will still seep. Rub a lot of this antibacterial cream on too, because you don’t want the bandage sticking when you pull it off. Okay? Going to hurt when you wash your hair. If you can bend over a sink to wash it, that’s better than getting in the shower.”

“I’ll wash her hair,” Tootie volunteered.

“Thank you, Dr. Lungrun.” Val stood up and just as quickly sat down.

Walter grabbed her when she wobbled a little.“Honey, you’ve suffered a shock. You just sit there. Need a drink or anything?”

A little dazed, Val shook her head.“No.”

“Gray, will you take Tootie and Val back to Custis Hall in the Land Cruiser?” Sister asked him. “I’ll drive the horses back with Betty.” She turned to Sybil. “Tell Shaker we’ve gone on.” Then she spoke to her joint master. “Walter, please take charge here. I need to get these horses back and I’m a little shaky myself. I’m not up to the crowd.”

“I’ll tell Charlotte the girls have gone on,” Walter agreed.

The little group left the barn. Just as they reached the trailers, they saw Shaker emerge from the mill with Ben. Sybil walked toward the men.

Betty said,“I want to get out of here before Ramsey sees her.”

“Yes,” Sister replied.

The girls moved slowly with Gray to his big Land Cruiser.

Val, voice wavering, took Tootie’s hand. “Thank you. I love you, Tootie.”

“I love you too.”

Once in the trailer, Sister hit the window button, calling out to Ben,“I’ll give you the details later, Ben. Trust me?”

“Yes.” He waved, face solemn, as behind him two deputies, already wet from mist, knelt over the millrace to figure out how to haul up Cabel’s body without going in themselves.

The motor cranked on the truck. Sister never tired of that sense of power.

Once out on the road, Betty covered her eyes a moment.“We were pretty close to a ticket out of life.”

“I know.”

“Cabel always hated you. Never stopped. Never could let the past go.” Betty inhaled deeply. “Lot of people like that in the world. All it brings is misery and death.” She paused. “I never saw it coming, did you?”

“No. Funny how the mind ignores evidence. I underestimated jealousy and hate, and I underestimated Cabel. Good actress, though. I kept looking for a male killer, not a female. I was blind, really.”

“She just”—Betty paused, then used the southern explanation for tremendous misdeeds—“snapped.”

“Took Ilona with her.” Sister noticed the flock of crows overhead, St. Just in the lead. “I don’t understand a lot of things in this world. I don’t even try anymore. I accept that I can’t understand and that, if there are answers, I won’t find them. I don’t know if that’s maturityor resignation.”

“Both.” Betty leaned forward to watch the large flock of crows fly overhead. “Not much for crows but someone has to be nature’s garbageman.” She turned back to Sister. “You could have been killed.”

“You too.”

“Were you as calm as you seemed?”

A long pause followed.“Yes.” Then she smiled. “When the Good Lord jerks your chain, you’re going. He doesn’t want me yet. Then again, what if I’m headed downtown, not uptown?”

Betty laughed.“Won’t know until we get there.”

After a few moments, Sister spoke,“Hindsight makes us all smart. It’s obvious now but I didn’t see it there. You know, Cabel’s hair loss, erratic behavior, loss of self-control: She was in the last stages of syphilis. You lose your mind.”

Betty rubbed her temples.“It’s making a big comeback.”

“She hadn’t been to the doctor in about twenty years. He had. But he passed it on to her.” She paused. “They both paid for it.”

“Sometimes I think history should be written from the standpoint of syphilis, malaria, black plague, tuberculosis, AIDS.”

“You’re right.” Sister sighed heavily.

“It will take years for this to really hit those girls,” Betty added.

“Us too. But you know, it’s the duty of the old to protect the young. The only person in that mill who should have hidden herself and wouldn’t have been shamed for it was Sybil. Her sons aren’t grown. For the rest of us—well, we did what we had to do.”

“Not everyone thinks like that.”

“We’re not everyone.” Sister suddenly felt a burst of emotion. “Not by a long shot. I don’t give a damn what’s popular, and I don’t give a damn about fashions, including moral fashions. The old must protect the young.”

“I know.” Betty felt Sister’s energy lifting her own. “But we’re country people. We live close to nature.”

“Makes no matter.” As Sister saw her Roughneck Farm sign, a flood of gratitude welled up in her. “City people are as obligated as we are to take care of the young.”

“They don’t obey the laws of nature. They no longer know them.” Betty worried about urbanization and the destruction of the environment by people who often thought they were protecting it.

“Well, you know what, sugar pie? Nature will one day reach into those steel towers and shake them loose. Hers is the ultimate power.”

As they coasted to the stable, Inky and Georgia shot out from the barn, where they had been enjoying leftover sweet feed and a bowl of sour balls.

Sister and Betty led one set of horses off the trailer and then a second. They cleaned them, tossed fresh blankets over them, put each in a stall with fresh warm water and delicious flakes of hay, and added a couple of handfuls of sweet feed to their food buckets.

The routine of chores helped each woman calm down.

A cat door, cut into the stable office and well used by Golly, had also been used by Inky and Georgia. They left behind their signature scent, a fox calling card.

Chores done, Sister and Betty walked into the heated office for a moment to warm their hands, and both noticed the bowl of sour balls, wrappers all over the floor.

“How do they do that? How did Inky get the cellophane off?” Sister put her hands on her hips.

“Foxes work magic.” Betty laughed, then looked at her silver-haired friend. “Jane, I love you. I could have lost you.” She hugged Sister.

“I love you too.” Sister hugged Betty back. “But by God, Betty, we would have died game.”