Tail Gait is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by American Artists, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Michael Gellatly
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brown, Rita Mae, author.
Tail Gait : a Mrs. Murphy Mystery / Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown ; illustrated by Michael Gellatly.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-553-39236-4
eBook ISBN 978-0-553-39237-1
1. Murphy, Mrs. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Haristeen, Harry (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Women detectives—Virginia—Fiction. 4. Women cat owners—Fiction. 5. Cats—Fiction. 6. Mystery fiction. I. Brown, Sneaky Pie-author. II. Gellatly, Michael, illustrator. III. Title.
PS3552.R698T33 2015
813’.54—dc23
2014049098
eBook ISBN 9780553392371
www.bantamdell.com
Cover design: Beverly Leung
Cover illustrations: Beverly Leung,
© Shutterstock/Nebojsa S (cat)
v4.0
ep
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Cast of Characters
The Really Important Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Author's Note
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Books by Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown
About the Authors
Cast of Characters
Mary Minor Haristeen—“Harry,” just forty-one, is a Smith graduate who wound up being Crozet, Virginia’s postmistress for sixteen years. Now she’s trying to make money farming. Having survived breast cancer, Harry prefers not to think about it. She more or less lives on the surface of life until curiosity pulls her deeper…as it inevitably does.
Pharamond Haristeen, D.V.M.—“Fair” specializes in equine reproduction. After graduating from Auburn he married his childhood sweetheart, Harry. A year older than his wife, he reads people’s emotions much better than she does.
Susan Tucker—Outgoing, adept at any and all social exchange, she’s Harry’s best friend since cradle days. She loves Harry but worries about how Harry just blunders into things.
The Very Reverend Herbert Jones—A Vietnam veteran, Army, he is pastor at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church, which is well over two hundred years old. A man of deep conviction and feeling, he’s known Harry since her childhood.
Deputy Cynthia Cooper—Tall, lean, and Harry’s next-door neighbor, renting the adjoining farm. Cooper loves law enforcement. From time to time, Harry meddles in Cooper’s business, but in her defense the Smith graduate has an uncanny knack of uncovering crucial information.
Sheriff Rick Shaw—The sheriff of Albemarle County, he is overburdened, underfunded, and overworked. Despite that, he likes his job and has learned to trust Cooper. (Originally, he wasn’t thrilled with having a woman in the department.)
Dr. Nelson Yarbrough—Quarterback of the 1959 University of Virginia football team, his pro ball career was ended by an injury. He and his wife, Sandra, practice dentistry and good works in Charlottesville.
Marshall Reese—This defensive lineman on the 1959 UVA team has become a successful developer by building carefully detailed houses, conscientiously following history as much as possible.
Paul Huber—On the 1959 team, Huber was UVA’s right halfback. Now he runs a landscaping company founded by his father and works closely with Marshall. He specializes in eighteenth-century plantings and gardens.
Willis Fugate, fullback, 1959; Rudolph Putnam, fullback, 1960; Lionel Gardner, offensive lineman, 1961; Tim Jardine, linebacker, 1970—These charming old boys are all former UVA football players.
Frank Cresey—He was a UVA halfback, and in 1975 was All-American, which keeps his old friends loyal to him. Supremely gifted athletically, Frank was at one time popular with the ladies and a good student. That was before he destroyed himself with drink.
Professor Greg “Ginger” McConnell, History Emeritus, University of Virginia—His writings on the lives of the common man and women in Revolutionary and post-Revolutionary America made him a world authority on same. Overflowing with enthusiasm for his subject, Ginger remains delightfully young and is universally loved—or perhaps not.
Trudy McConnell—Wife to Ginger and mother to Olivia and Renata “Rennie,” the two daughters are now middle-aged. Like the wives of many prominent men, Trudy is Ginger’s anchor.
Olivia Gaston—After a disastrous romance with Frank Cresey when she was in her late teens, she’s made a good life for herself with a wonderful husband in New Orleans.
Snoop—Possibly middle-aged, it’s hard to tell, he’s an alcoholic who “lives” on the Downtown Mall. The well-mannered African American doesn’t talk about his past. Most of the Mall Rats, as they are known, don’t.
Cast of Characters
1777–1782
Captain John Schuyler—Captain Schuyler is twenty years old, powerfully built, and a good man. After fighting in the Battle of Saratoga, the American soldier takes a British lieutenant prisoner; from that moment on, their fates are forever linked.
Lieutenant Charles West—At nineteen, in the British Army, he’s the second son of an impoverished aristocrat. Artistic and quick-thinking, he’s captured by Captain Schuyler, along with several of his men.
Ewing Garth—Highly intelligent, a successful businessman with holdings in Virginia and North Carolina, he is an American patriot.
Catherine Garth—Bold, strong of body and mind, she admires her father. She is also beyond beautiful, and at eighteen coming into full bloom.
Rachel Garth—Two years younger than Catherine, she, too, is a beautiful girl. She’s not as bold as Catherine but she’s observant and no fool.
Jeddie Rice—A young slave with a gift for training and riding horses. He and Catherine have a natural affinity.
Roger—The butler, and therefore a powerful slave.
Weymouth—Roger’s son, who will one day inherit this most coveted position.
Corporal Karl Ix—A captured Hessian soldier who endures an eight hundred mile march alongside Lieutenant West. Over time, the two become friends. Ix is an engineer in
his late twenties.
Thomas Parsons, Edward Thimble, Samuel MacLeish—Captured along with their commanding officer, Lieutenant West. Their resourcefulness and toughness keep them alive in The Barracks, the prisoner-of-war camp just outside Charlottesville, Virginia.
Captain Graves—Of the Royal Irish Artillery, he’s also captured at Saratoga. In time, he’s the first to understand what this new land has to offer.
The Really Important Characters
Mrs. Murphy—She’s a tiger cat who is usually cool, calm, and collected. She loves her humans, Tucker the dog, and even Pewter, the other cat, who can be a pill.
Pewter—She’s self-centered and rotund—even intelligent when she wants to be. Selfish as this cat is, she often comes through at the last minute to help and then wants all the credit.
Tee Tucker—This corgi could take your college boards. Deeply devoted to Harry, Fair, and Mrs. Murphy, she is less devoted to Pewter.
Simon—He’s an opossum who lives in the hayloft of the Haristeens’ barn.
Matilda—This large blacksnake has a large sense of humor. She also lives in the hayloft.
Flatface—A great horned owl who lives in the barn cupola, she forever irritates Pewter, even as the snooty cat realizes the bird could easily pick her up and carry her off.
Shortro—This young Saddlebred in Harry’s barn is being trained as a foxhunter. He’s very smart and good-natured.
Tomahawk—Harry’s older Thoroughbred. He and Shortro have been friends a long time.
Piglet—This Welsh corgi goes through war and imprisonment with Lieutenant Charles West. As far as he is concerned, an American canine is as good as a canine who is a subject of George III. Still, he keeps this to himself.
The Lutheran Cats
Elocution—She’s the oldest of the St. Luke’s cats and cares a lot about the “Rev,” as his friends sometimes call the Very Reverend Herbert Jones.
Cazenovia—This cat watches everybody and everything.
Lucy Fur—The youngest of the kitties: While ever playful, she obeys her elders.
October 7, 1777
Bemis Heights, near Saratoga, New York
Lieutenant Charles West slipped through the heavy woods with a handful of his men, all selected marksmen, part of Captain Alexander Fraser’s 34th Regiment. Below, other soldiers of Fraser’s 34th Regiment could be heard firing at the Continental forces. Any hope of the brave British lieutenant’s piercing the American rebels’ line was fading. The barrage was intense. Wearing green coats helped to conceal West’s Rangers, but the enemy knew the territory and had learned a great deal about fighting in such terrain from the Mohawks. The Continentals also carried rifles made in Kentucky or Pennsylvania, far more accurate than the British-issued musket, Brown Bess.
Senses razor-sharp, the nineteen-year-old lieutenant hoped to push forward, verify the flank of the rebel army, and report back to Captain Fraser. With only twenty men and his dog, Piglet, he searched for the back of that enemy flank. If only he could find it, then surely some of them would survive and return to their commander with that vital information.
Lieutenant Charles West, intrepid, and his men stealthily moved forward. At the young man’s heels trod his alert herding dog, a tough little fellow favored by the Welsh. While not Welsh, West hailed from the borderland with Scotland, had played as a child on Hadrian’s Wall. He’d learned to prize the ability of corgis.
Piglet was named for the king. With senses far superior to his master’s, he was accustomed to rifle fire and the boom of cannons. Stopping for a moment, he lifted his head and inhaled. A low growl and raised hackles alerted the dog’s beloved master. Charles halted. Looking down at Piglet bristling, he held up his hand for a halt. The twenty men under West’s command did as ordered but for Angus MacKenzie, twenty yards ahead.
A shot rang out directly in front of Angus, then a second to his left. The sturdy Scot dropped.
“If you want to live, stop,” a deep voice called from the woods while Angus struggled for breath. “Throw down your muskets.”
West looked around. A shot was fired over his head, then another and another. He put down his musket and hurried to Angus’s side. The men in West’s far rear carefully withdrew and were soon out of sight. Four other British soldiers remained with the lieutenant.
“MacKenzie, hang on, man.” Charles knelt to lift the older man’s grizzled head so gently the wounded man smiled.
Piglet came over to lick Angus’s face.
“Piglet, no,” Charles softly said as nearby a rebel rifleman rose from the brush and moved toward him and his men.
“I’ll carry you to wherever they take us,” West assured poor Angus.
Angus tried to smile through clenched teeth as he finally was able to mutter, “No time.”
Lieutenant West laid Angus gently down as Piglet whined a bit. Angus was gone. The officer in charge of the rebels, a young man close to Charles West in age, took note of the care his counterpart evidenced toward a simple soldier.
“Lieutenant,” the dark fellow said. “You and your men are my prisoners.”
“Charles West.” He inclined his head slightly.
The handsome young fellow prayed no one would be foolish. The four men close to Lieutenant West laid down their arms. The marksmen had done all that was asked of them.
With a flick of his hand, Captain John Schuyler sent some of his men to search for the other fleeing Brits. Six stayed behind with the captain.
Captain Schuyler strode up to Charles. Glancing down at the handsome flintlock pistol shoved into the lieutenant’s breeches, Schuyler plucked it out.
“A beauty.” Tall like Charles, Schuyler looked him right in the eye.
“A parting gift from my father.”
Stuffing the captured sidearm behind his belt, Captain Schuyler smiled broadly. “The fortunes of war.”
Oddly enough, the two strapping fellows were mirror images of each other, even as Schuyler’s black hair and brown eyes were in contrast to West’s blue eyes and blonde hair.
Knowing he could not possibly keep a sidearm as a prisoner, West was stung by the loss of his one prized paternal gift. However, West had more important worries.
“I shall assume,” Charles said, “that there is no time to bury MacKenzie?”
“I’m afraid not,” Captain Schuyler replied. He heard intensified gunfire below, as well as a bugle call abruptly silenced. “But you may retrieve from the body any such keepsake to send to his family.”
“Thank you, Sir. Most kind.” Charles again knelt down. Removing a letter from the inside of the dead man’s green coat, he also took a worn wedding band off Angus’s left hand. Feeling through his pockets, West pulled out a few coins, which he handed to Captain Schuyler.
The darker officer gave them back. “No, no, send what you can to his wife,” he said, for he noticed the wedding ring. “From the prison camp, you’ll be able to send letters, receive same and funds.” Observing West’s quizzical expression, Schuyler said, “We aren’t savages, man.”
West stood up, Piglet intently studying his master’s face. “What you are, Captain, are damned good soldiers.”
Grins appeared on the rebel faces. These cocky Brits thought they’d roll right over them, or, even worse, they thought most colonists would stick with the Crown. Hearing the battle raging below, the Americans liked the acknowledgment.
Captain Schuyler and his men surrounded his small harvest of captives. “Jacob, each one of you men take a musket.” Jacob and the others did as ordered.
The long march to an uncertain future began.
As an officer, Captain Schuyler walked with his British counterpart. He was intent on showing these people the rebellious colonists were civilized and understood the rules of war. Looking down at the corgi, he asked. “What is his rank?”
Despite himself, West smiled. “Private Piglet, Captain, eager to do my bidding.”
Voice low, slightly conspiratorial, Captain Schuyler replied, �
��Ah, now there’s a good soldier.”
Piglet, pleased, trotted along. Cannon fire could be heard at a distance, mostly from the rebels’ side. The British struggled to haul their big guns over the uneven ground. The little fellow was not afraid. He had liked Angus, would remember him in his fashion, for the older man would occasionally share a biscuit with him, speak to him in his accent, a soothing sound.
Piglet knew war as well as any canine, and he would protect Charles to the death. Through searing heat, driving rain, biting sleet, and heavy snows, Piglet didn’t care, as long as he was with his young man, a battle-hardened young man with a heart of gold. Even this terrible war couldn’t kill that, and Piglet knew it. But then dogs know the things about humans that humans work to conceal from other humans.
On that day, October 7, 1777, Fate tossed together three lives. Lieutenant Charles West, Captain John Schuyler, and Piglet, three lives that would be entwined until their own deaths years later. What the American Captain Schuyler knew that neither Lieutenant West nor Piglet could imagine was that an old order was dying and a new country was being born.
April 10, 2015
Long, low, pale golden rays washed the western side of the stone wall around St. Luke’s graveyard. Many of the souls therein had been sleeping since shortly after the Revolutionary War. The church itself—of hand-laid stone, much of it pulled from the fields—matched the deceased in age. The architect of this peaceful symmetry had fallen in love with central Virginia and a young Virginia beauty while in a Revolutionary War camp a few miles away. Three arched walkways connected the church at one end and the rectory office at the other. St. Luke’s inner quad was bounded on the north by the main arcade. At each corner the two shorter arcades created a quiet rectangle; a longer arcade duplicated the front arcade. The proportions of this old rectangular plan were graceful, simple, timeless. The shorter arcades were anchored by one-story stone buildings with the handblown glass wavy in their paned windows. Originally used as classrooms, one lower school and one upper, the space was now used by different church groups. The men’s building reposed on the north. The women’s sat on the south, each a duplicate of the other, as with the arcades. The men’s building was so clean one could eat off the random-width heart-pine floor, a cleanliness that had each wife wondering why this was not the case in her home.
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