Outfoxed

by Rita Mae Brown

  He nodded that he did.

  Bobby stepped down with an oomph. His knees hurt from carting around all that weight. “Guess there are no secrets in this club.”

  “You don’t have to answer this, but do you take drugs?”

  “No. I’ll drink sometimes but I can pretty well keep a lid on it.”

  “Thank you for being honest with me.” Betty touched his shoulder.

  On the way home Bobby fumed first about that conversation but then about Fontaine. “He’s going to tear this club apart. He’s going to undo all the good that Sister and Raymond built over the years. He didn’t have to bring that up about Tabor Lungrun. We all know why he brought it up.”

  “The young people don’t remember.”

  “They’ll know now. They’ll ask and the whole thing will be like fresh paint.”

  “It was murky.”

  “Murky. It was business, Princess. Crawford put up the money and Tabor put up the work. They went into the cattle business together twenty years ago. The market crashed. Tabor lost everything. Crawford could take it as a tax write-off. That’s not dishonest.”

  “Buying Tabor’s farm at a bargain basement price is dicey.”

  “Business, Princess, business. The Lungruns never had much anyway. He had to sell the farm to keep the family going.”

  “Well, he loved that farm. He’d worked and scratched and scrimped. You know the Lungruns are made fun of in these parts, poor whites. He pulled himself up and then was brought down. Crawford could have floated him a loan or helped. No. He took advantage of him.”

  “Crawford is from Indiana. He doesn’t think like we do. To him it was a matter of numbers.”

  “That poor man loved every blade of grass on that farm. Luckily he didn’t live to see Crawford sell it eight years later at an enormous profit. No, by that time he’d shot himself, the poor bastard.”

  Bobby softened somewhat. “Terrible thing. Leaving those little kids with no father.”

  “And Libby Lungrun about killed herself working two jobs. She did kill herself. I think cancer can be brought on by worry.”

  “Honey, you read too many books about that stuff.” He exhaled as they turned into their small farm entrance. “She was something to look at, Libby Olson.” He called her by her maiden name.

  Betty cast him a sly glance. “Yes.”

  “When a man stops looking he’s dead.”

  “Just so you don’t punish me for the same thing. That son of hers could have stepped right out of a movie. The old movies when they were all handsome.”

  “Guess he could.”

  As they pulled in front of the small, neat barn Betty said, “Bobby, you ought to reconsider supporting Crawford. It’s not going to work.”

  “Well, it’s not going to work with Fontaine either!” He tried to change the subject. “Walter’s made something of himself. Lost track of him after he graduated from high school.”

  “I’m warning you. This is going to blow up in your face. We have enough trouble as it is with two girls in the hospital and everyone in the county buying laser printers. Let’s tend to our own business. Jane will do what’s right.”

  “Sister Jane doesn’t have many choices.”

  “Crawford isn’t one of them!” Betty slammed the truck door hard and stomped to the back of the trailer. She let the ramp down with a thud, narrowly missing her foot.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sister Jane and Douglas stood up, groaning. Without thinking about it they mirrored each other, putting their hands in the small of their backs.

  She laughed when she saw him. “You’re too young to ache.”

  “Bending over like that really gets me.”

  They’d examined each hound that hunted that morning. When hounds came off the party wagon they walked back into the draw run and then each hound was pulled out, paws inspected, everything checked, and then sent back to their various kennel runs. The only way to properly do this was to bend over or kneel down. If you knelt down, your knees hurt. If you bent over, your back hurt. They alternated pains.

  Shaker slipped on arriving back at the kennel, going down hard. He must have clenched his jaw with special force because he cracked a back tooth and part of the filling fell out. He would have finished his kennel chores despite his discomfort but Sister forced him to get right back in the farm truck and hurry to the dentist. She believed the farther away a pain was from your head the less it hurt.

  “We deserve a reward. Come on. I’ll make you a fried-egg sandwich.”

  Doug happily trailed after her. They walked into the kitchen, where Golly had tossed bell peppers on the floor.

  “Now why would she want to do that?”

  “Meanness,” Raleigh answered.

  Douglas bent over, handing one to Sister. “She’s bitten holes in this one.”

  “I wonder if I could get a video of that? You know that TV show, home videos or pet videos. Whatever. Golly can just start earning her keep here.”

  From the next room a strong meow was heard. “I do earn my keep.”

  Smiling, Sister Jane tiptoed to the swinging door between the kitchen and the pantry, which then opened onto a huge dining room with a fireplace so gigantic a person could stand up straight in it. On the middle shelf of the pantry, nestled in the dish towels, reposed the calico.

  “Aha.”

  “Got bored.”

  “Imagine what would have happened if I’d done that,” Raleigh, still in the kitchen, complained.

  “What would have happened is you would have drooled over everything and then stepped on a pepper and squashed it. I merely sank my fangs in. A simple test for freshness.”

  Golly’s jabber amused Sister, who reached down into a square basket, retrieving fresh eggs. “I’m making fried-egg sandwiches. If you care to join us, I’ll fry you an egg.”

  “I’ll come if you fry bacon.” Golly rolled over to show her tum-tum.

  Sister walked back in. “She’s talking a whole row.”

  “Cats are funny.”

  As she greased the skillet, Sister chatted and then asked, “Did you know about Cody’s drug problems?”

  A silence followed. Then Doug said, “I did.”

  “Don’t worry. You aren’t betraying a confidence. Betty called me yesterday and told me both girls are at rehab or in rehab. I wonder what’s correct? Anyway . . . Bobby’s not much help. He’s pretending it’s like a broken leg.”

  “Mrs. Franklin told me this morning.”

  “But you knew about the drugs, I mean?”

  “Well, I did, sort of. Cody goes on and off. I wasn’t sure about Jennifer. I don’t see her except when we’re hunting and usually she’s fine then.”

  “Yes. I had no idea. I wonder what else I miss.” She buttered the whole wheat bread as the bacon sizzled.

  Golly graced them with her presence, entering with a flourish as the bacon was flipped out of the pan.

  “Don’t even think about stealing my bacon.” Raleigh frowned.

  “I’ll do as I please and if you value your eyes, you’ll do as I please.” She cackled.

  Sister tore up a strip of bacon in small pieces, putting it on the counter for Golly. She gave Raleigh a whole strip when he sat. Then she put plates on the table.

  “Drugs are all around.” Doug opened his sandwich to put pickles on the egg.

  “I guess they are”—she sat opposite him—“if you know where to look.”

  They both looked at the door because they heard a car drive into the driveway.

  “Let’s hope it’s UPS so we can eat in peace.”

  It wasn’t. It was Crawford Howard in his big-ass Mercedes, the V-12, the top of the top.

  He knocked on the back door, then charged on through the mudroom into the kitchen. Most old friends walked in on Sister Jane, although she’d never considered Crawford an old friend.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll come back.”

  “Would you like a fried-egg sandwich?”

 
“No. I’ve already had my lunch. Thank you.”

  “Sit down. A Coke?”

  “I’ll get it.” He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a Coke, got a glass of ice, and sat down.

  Sister winked at Doug when Crawford’s back was turned. “Doug, stay a few minutes after feeding tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  Crawford sat heavily in the chair. He’d had a face-lift, a good one. He’d gotten some fat sucked off his middle, too. While it improved his appearance it didn’t much improve his personality. “Doug, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll pay you twenty dollars a ride if you’ll work with my horse. I’ll board him here. Sister, what’s full board?”

  “Four hundred. Field board is two-fifty for hunt members.”

  “The Haslips get five hundred.”

  “I know, but we do try to limit ourselves to members, giving them a discount.”

  “Can’t think like that, Sister. Business means whatever the market will bear. You’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Sister remained noncommittal.

  “I’d be happy to work with Czapaka. He’s a talented horse.” Doug wiped his mouth with a napkin, rose, and carried his plate and glass to the sink. He washed them off, putting them in the drying rack. Sister hated dishwashers. Pretty much she hated most appliances. “Well, I’ll be working the greenies if you need me.”

  Sister, wishing she could go with him to ride the young horses, waved as he left by the back door.

  Crawford hunched over the table. “I’ll get to the point.” Being a Yankee, Crawford felt this was the superior approach, the waste-no-time approach. He never gave a thought to the fact that spending time with someone shouldn’t be wasting time. “I have money. I have contacts. I have vision. I want to help the club. If you appoint me joint-master I will expect to contribute fifty thousand a year plus whatever overruns we have. You are the senior master. I can’t hope to know what you know about hunting and hounds but I can learn.”

  This was a generous offer from an ungenerous man, in most respects. She placed both hands around her cool glass. “I appreciate your financial acumen. Just keeping the territory open costs us roughly twenty thousand a year, as you know. And you do have vision. I have a lot to think about, Crawford, and I’d like to make a decision before the season is over.”

  “I thought you wanted to make a decision by opening hunt?”

  “That’s two weeks away and I’m on the horns of a dilemma. I do truly appreciate your special skills but there is strong support in the club for Fontaine Buruss.”

  “Yes, I know.” Crawford’s jaw clenched.

  “He’s a foxhunting man.” Which was to say he was better qualified in many ways than Crawford, although Sister would never be so crude.

  “He’s also an irresponsible person. His sexual peccadilloes alone will—well, you know. His latest is Cody Franklin and I’m not so certain he doesn’t give her drugs. Supply her.”

  This startled Sister. She wondered if Douglas knew. “That’s a disturbing accusation.”

  “I’ve hired detectives.”

  “You what?”

  He nodded, grinning. “Oh, yes. I take the reputation of this club seriously. There’s a century of history in Jefferson Hunt. We must protect that.”

  “Can you prove this about Fontaine?”

  “I think I can. I also know he’s been in meetings with Gordon Smith, the developer around Dulles airport. Now, I ask myself what would someone of Smith’s stature want with Fontaine? To develop.”

  “Does he?”

  “I called him and he said the talks were merely preliminary. Smith said he was interested in developing along the Route Twenty-nine corridor. He’s not interested in gobbling up hunting fixtures. He was plain about that but then he’s a hunting man, too. I think Fontaine is doing this to make himself look good. He doesn’t really have much to offer Mr. Smith.”

  “He has contacts. He knows everyone.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Can you prove this about the drugs?”

  “By opening hunt, Sister, I think I can prove a lot of things.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. I truly hope you’re wrong.”

  Crawford dimly realized he’d upset Sister. He thought the news would be disturbing and put him in a good light. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “We can’t have someone like that as a joint-master.”

  “No, we can’t, Crawford, but you can’t hang a man without evidence. I beseech you not to discuss this—”

  He jumped in. “Of course I won’t. Fontaine would get wind of it; then I can’t nail him.”

  “Do you intend to turn this over to the sheriff?”

  “Yes. I do. Absolutely.”

  “I see.”

  CHAPTER 20

  A light wind kicked up at twilight and by seven o’clock had some bite to it. Sister, walking to the stable, turned back and grabbed the blue barn coat with the blanket lining. With Raleigh at her heels, she caught up with Doug on his way back to his cottage.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get back to you until now. It’s been pandemonium. The caterer lost the menu. Had to go over the entire thing. Marty Howard called to ask if she could come by tomorrow regarding her ex. Betty Franklin called to say she disavows herself from Bobby’s support of Crawford. My sister called to say she thought she should have Mother’s china for the next year. I’d had it long enough and would I ship it to Sutton Place. I swear, Manhattan isn’t far enough away. I think I’ll suggest that Kay spend the next year in Paris. God, what a pain in the ass she is. Oh and the load of pearock we ordered for the walkways was delivered to the Haslips instead and they think they’ll keep it. Fortunately, they paid the bill.” She suddenly smiled brightly. “And how was your day?”

  “Pretty good. Aztec jumped a whole course today. I think you should hunt her Saturday. The jumps have settled in at Rumble Bars.” He mentioned Saturday’s fixture. “She’ll do fine.”

  “Why not? Lafayette can stay home and loll about. Sorry to dump my worries on you. It’s been that kind of day.”

  “I still don’t see why you hire a caterer for opening hunt. The members can feed everyone. You do enough.”

  “No. The members host breakfasts throughout the season. It’s fitting that I should host the first one.”

  “I guess.” Douglas was always thinking of ways to save Sister money. As far as he was concerned people could bring their own drinks and sandwiches.

  “What’d you think of Crawford?”

  “Barreling up the driveway?” His green eyes noticed a cobweb on the stall bars. He attacked it immediately. “Spider intelligence.”

  “Huh?”

  “They come where the flies are.”

  “Fortunately, there aren’t many of them.” She loved fall and winter for that reason as well as others. “Crawford.”

  “If you need the money that badly, okay. If there’s any other way to steer this ship into the future—do it. I’m sure that Attila the Hun was more offensive but you know, Attila’s dead.”

  “M-m-m.” She walked with him to the end of the aisle.

  They rolled back the tall double doors, stepped outside, rolled them back.

  He shivered. “That came up fast.” Looked at the treetops. “Out of the northwest, too. No point standing out here. Come on.”

  Once inside his two-story cottage, Sister sat by the fireside. Doug quickly built a fire, throwing on a walnut log, which released a warm aroma. He took good care of the cottage. The heart-pine floors shone. The old Persian carpet Sister had given him fit perfectly in the living room, as did an old leather sofa facing two wing chairs with a simple coffee table between, a square one.

  A flintlock with a powder horn hung over the fireplace. A cow horn, a true Virginia hunting horn, hung on a peg next to a nineteenth-century hand-colored hunting print. A white buffalo-plaid blanket was folded over the back of the leather sofa.

  Spare, clean, yet inviting, Doug
had a way of pulling things together that Sister Jane envied. She’d had to pay Colfax-Fowler to decorate her house back in the sixties and she’d updated it about every seven years since then. Sister never pretended to be aesthetically attuned but she had sense enough to follow those who were. Raymond evinced more interest in these things than she did.

  Doug had absorbed a lot from Raymond not only in the way he arranged his cottage but in how he dressed. With an uncanny sense of color, he could pick the exact right tie, the correct fold of pocket handkerchief, the right break of the trousers over the shoe.

  When Ray died Sister gave Douglas his clothing, generously paying to have everything altered for Doug, who was Ray’s height but thinner. Ray’s clothes were so classic that they looked as good today as the day he’d bought them. As Shaker was a short man, none of Ray’s clothes would fit him so she gave the huntsman Ray’s beautiful gold watch and his saddle.

  “Coffee?”

  “No. Too late for me.”

  “Where’s Raleigh?”

  “Asleep in the hall. He didn’t hear me go out. I won’t take up much of your time. You work all day. You don’t need your nights—”

  “I like having you here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure you don’t want anything?”

  “No. Before Crawford barged in I wanted to ask you if you’re still in love with her. It’s none of my business and yet it is. If I can help you in any way, you know I will.”

  “I know that.” He sat opposite her in the big wing chair. “Summer, well—let me start again. When she ended the relationship in May, it hurt. But I learned a lot about myself. I can’t blame her. Then last weekend she ran into me on purpose and well, we’re talking again.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I don’t know where I am.”

  “But you know where she is.”

  “Physically, yes.”

  Sister drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa. “These are hard habits to break. Usually the person is broken instead. I hope she makes it. But you can’t get yourself in a relationship where you’re worrying about her all the time.”

  “I know. I’m glad she went in voluntarily.”