Dragon, butt full of ratshot, bolted toward the den. The others followed and Keepsake, green, spooked. He tore up the ravine.
Cody, hands shaking, whip draped around her neck, knew she couldn’t get him back. Then she heard Lafayette whinny.
“Come stand with me!” the gray called from his hiding place.
Keepsake, scared at the hounds bolting, scared that he would really be in trouble for leaving, picked his way up to Lafayette. By the time he reached the seasoned master’s horse he was lathered.
So was Cody as she read the letter. “I know who you are. Give yourself up and make it easy on everybody, yourself included.”
She slipped the letter into her frock coat pocket, looked around. She didn’t see Sister but she caught sight of Keepsake. She began climbing the ravine to reach her horse.
The hounds dug outside Netty’s hiding place but she was safe in the back with lots of ways out. She laughed at them.
Inky stayed put in the tree. St. Just, bruised, repaired to the top of a walnut. Athena sat opposite him just in case. She watched Cody finally reach Keepsake, where she saw Lafayette. Defeated, she waited for Sister.
Sister reached the rim of the ravine, picking her way around to the horses. Cody led out Lafayette, handing him to a woman she had been trained to obey since childhood.
“Why?”
Tears rolling down her face, Cody simply answered, “Jennifer. Even after rehab he’d give her drugs.”
“Oh, Cody, there had to be another way.”
“I hated him.”
Knowing that hate, like love, can’t be explained neatly away, that passion defies all logic, she put her hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Come on.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Sister swung up in the saddle.
“I’m not sorry I killed him. I’m sorry I dragged everyone into it.” A flash of panic hit. “Is there no way out?”
“No.” Sister turned to her as they reached the farm road in the woods. “Crawford shouldn’t pay for your sin.”
“He’s so rich he’ll get off.”
“That’s not the point. You have to turn yourself in.” Sister inhaled. “In a way I can understand why you killed Fontaine. You believed Jennifer wasn’t strong enough to resist him. You were wrong but I understand. But to kill a healthy red fox and to use the hunt for your revenge . . . Cody, that was beneath contempt.”
Although Cody could have fired ratshot straight into Sister’s face the thought didn’t occur to her. She’d acted impulsively once, fueled by love for her sister and hate for Fontaine. Her mind worked clearly enough now, even if her moral sense remained tilted. She hung her head, saying nothing.
Sister cupped her hands. “Come to me.” She yelled for her hounds, who, tricked by Aunt Netty, ran up out of the ravine. Knowing they’d been bad, once in sight of Sister, they crawled on their bellies. “I’m ashamed of you. Now come on.” She reprimanded them, which was worse than any ratshot from a whip, for the hounds loved Sister.
Each woman rode back with a heavy heart: Sister, distressed that a young life was wasted as well as a man’s life taken away, no matter his irresponsible behavior. Cody, burdened with shame and fear, fought her tears.
In front of them they heard the hounds heading toward the kennel. Well, Cody would give herself up but they might as well hunt their way back.
They flew over the jumps, galloped across the upper meadow and then through the woods into the creek meadows, around Hangman’s Ridge, reaching the chicken coop in about fifteen minutes of hard riding, the three couple of hounds behind them.
Shaker, on the ground, stood outside the chicken coop. The entire field, mounted, watched with amusement. Doug and Betty had come in from their posts as Shaker blew them in.
“Sister!” Shaker called out. “You okay?”
“Yes. Are you hunting chickens now, Shaker Crown?”
“Look here.” He pointed and Comet stuck his head out from the chicken coop.
“Well, I’ll be.”
Golly, in a tree, bragged, “He’s afraid of me!”
Raleigh ignored this. “I promised he’d be safe.”
“This is a first.” She smiled, dismounting. “Well, folks, you’ll long remember this day. Shaker, take the hounds back to the kennel. And let’s lock up Rooster in the tack room. Folks, we’ve put foxes to ground today but we’ve never put one to a chicken coop, so I think we’ll call it a day. Thank you for hunting with us.”
People raised their caps, others reached down, touching Sister’s shoulder. Betty noticed the greenish-white cast to her older daughter’s face.
Sister smiled up at Cody. “Ride on back to the trailers with your family. I expect you to call Ben Sidell.”
Cody nodded yes.
As everyone left and Sister, Doug, and Shaker got the hounds in, praising them lavishly, they marveled over the day’s hunt.
“If we ignore the chicken coop, he’ll climb out and leave,” Sister advised.
“Funny he hasn’t killed any chickens,” Doug remarked.
“Guess he’s full,” she replied, not revealing that she’d put out enough corn to feed a regiment of foxes. “But to be sure I’ll put out corn.” She left Doug to care for the horses. She opened the door to the chicken coop, warily eyeing Comet. “Here. Go when you’re ready.” She admired him, for he was a handsome gray. “You know, fellow, anyone who says grays aren’t fun to chase doesn’t know foxes.”
“Thank you.”
“Get that fox outta here,” the chickens complained bitterly from under the chicken coop.
“Actually, why don’t I hold open the door.” She did and Comet scooted right out.
“You’re a good dog,” he called to Raleigh in passing.
Golly backed down the tree and Rooster howled from the tack room, deep distressed howls.
Taking a deep breath, Sister returned to the stable, where Doug was putting sweat sheets on the horses. “I’ll go pick up the trailer later. Did Cody say when she would bring back Keepsake?”
“Tomorrow. I told her to take him home for tonight. Easier.”
“Good.” He whistled.
“Doug. Cody killed Fontaine.” He stopped whistling as she continued. “She admitted it and she will turn herself in to Sheriff Sidell this evening. She’s telling her parents and Jennifer now.”
He rested his head on his hand, which was on Lafayette’s neck; then he looked up. “I did it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did. I hated that she slept with him.”
“Nice try.”
“She confessed because she knew a black man wouldn’t stand a chance. As a woman she can throw herself on the mercy of the court.” He breathed hard.
She put her arms around him. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
“I did it!”
“You’re too smart to kill like that, Doug. I’m sorry she did it. I’m sorry for you, too. I don’t know what will happen. With a good lawyer—” She released him. “Go to her. I’ll finish the horses.”
“Thanks,” he whispered.
As he left, Sister checked the sweat sheets. She finally let Rooster out of the tack room.
Shaker came in from the kennel to discuss the hunt. She told him. “She could have lied and made it worse. But she didn’t.”
He shook his head. “Crazy. People do crazy things.” He sat on a tack trunk. “Maybe it’s better not to feel much.”
“I don’t know, Shaker. I just don’t know. I liked Fontaine. I’m horrified he sold drugs and used drugs to seduce these girls. My God, it’s sordid.”
“Had a leak in his soul.” He crossed his leg over his knee. “How’d you know?”
“Process of elimination. Had to be one of my whips or you, and I could see you all the time. But you are the only people who ride well enough to have pulled it off. That narrowed it down to Betty, Cody, and Doug. When Dean Offendahl started talking, then I figured it was probably Cody.”
“Her mother?
”
“Too stable.”
“Jennifer.”
“I don’t think Jennifer could have executed the plan. She’s a beautiful girl but she’s a thirty-watt bulb in a hundred-watt socket.”
“There is that. Doug?”
“Well, he had reason but in the end, character tells. He might have gotten into a fight with Fontaine once he knew the story but I don’t think he knew the whole story until Dean spilled his guts. What a smarmy kid. He’ll grow up to be just like his father. But Doug, he wouldn’t kill a man for that even if he wanted to do it.”
“Bobby?”
“Can’t ride well enough to lay the drag, then fire through that ravine. Although Bobby could kill.”
“I expect any of us could if we had to.” Shaker sighed. “It’s been quite a day.”
“Yes. Thank you for a good hunt. Hounds did well.”
“Not so well. Dragon took a few with him.”
“My fault. I’ve been putting out corn for days. I needed to get Cody back into the ravine. I didn’t know if it would work. Anyway, there were so many foxes out today it’s a wonder the pack didn’t split before then. I even saw a black fox up in a tree when I was in the ravine.”
“I see her now and again. You could have told me about the corn.”
“No. I had to do this alone. I’m sorry for her even if she did kill Fontaine. It will take me longer to forgive her for killing the fox—I know that sounds awful but it’s truly how I feel. It’s a Greek tragedy without the gods.” She paused. “But then I suppose they are always with us.”
“Oh, don’t go into these weighty matters, Sister. Zeus. God. Allah. All the same to me.”
“You’re right. Well, how about fresh coffee? Come on up to the house.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
The two old friends walked across the leaves, crunching underfoot. Raleigh, Rooster, and Golly raced around them. The chickens settled down again in their house.
As she made coffee she glanced at the photograph of Raymond, Ray Junior, and herself, in full regalia at the start of a hunt, years ago. It was the last year of Ray Junior’s life. She thought to herself that she didn’t know if the gods were always with us or not. She hoped they were or that something kind was out there but she felt, often, that the people she had loved in this life, her mother and father, her husband and son, and now Peter Wheeler, were with her. Love never dies, she told herself and a pain, deep and sharp, caught her breath. If only she could pass on what she had learned to young people. If only she could have stepped in and turned Cody away from the drugs, the downward slide. What love had been given her she wished to give to others. Most times they didn’t much want it but hounds, horses, cats, and dogs did and they were a gift from the gods, too.
Back in Target’s den, Target, Charlene, Patsy, Aunt Netty, and Uncle Yancy felt a satisfaction that Reynard’s killer would pay the price.
After full discussion, including the help of the grays, especially Inky, the foxes dispersed to their separate dens.
When they were alone Charlene said, “Sister thought like a fox.”
“I suppose.” He sighed. “But you know, I’m about as amused by humans as I care to be.”
SOME USEFUL TERMS
AWAY—A fox has “gone away” when he has left the covert. Hounds are “away” when they have left the covert on the line of the fox.
BRUSH—The fox’s tail.
BURNING SCENT—Scent so strong or hot that hounds pursue the line without hesitation.
BYE DAY—A day not regularly on the fixture card.
CAP—The fee nonmembers pay to a hunt for that day’s sport.
CARRY A GOOD HEAD—When hounds run well together to a good scent, a scent spread wide enough for the whole pack to feel it.
CARRY A LINE—When hounds follow the scent. This is also called “working a line.”
CAST—Hounds spread out in search of scent. They may cast themselves or be cast by the huntsman.
CHARLIE—A term for a fox. A fox may also be called Reynard.
CHECK—When hounds lose the scent and stop. The field must wait quietly while the hounds search for scent.
COLORS—A distinguishing color—usually worn on the collar but sometimes on the facings of a coat—that identifies a hunt. Colors can be awarded only by the master and can be won only in the field.
CUB HUNTING—The informal hunting of young foxes in the late summer and early fall, before formal hunting. The main purpose is to enter young hounds into the pack. Until recently only the most knowledgeable members were invited to cub hunt since they would not interfere with young hounds.
COVERT—A patch of woods or bushes where a fox might hide. Pronounced cover.
CRY—How one hound tells another what is happening. The sound will differ according to the various stages of the chase. It’s also called “giving tongue” and should occur when a hound is working a line.
DOG FOX—The male fox.
DOG HOUND—The male hound.
DOUBLE—A series of short, sharp notes blown on the horn to alert all that a fox is afoot. The “gone away” series of notes are a form of doubling the horn.
DRAFT—To acquire hounds from another hunt is to draft them.
DRAW—The plan by which a fox is hunted or searched for in a certain area, like a covert.
DRIVE—The desire to push the fox, to get up with the line. It’s a very desirable trait in hounds, so long as they remain obedient.
DWELL—To hunt without getting foward. A hound that dwells is a bit of a putterer.
ENTER—Hounds are entered into the pack when they first hunt, usually during cubbing season.
FIELD—The group of people riding to hounds, exclusive of the master and hunt staff.
FIELD MASTER—The person appointed by the master to control the field. Often it is the master him- or herself.
FIXTURE—A card sent to all dues-paying members, stating when and where the hounds will meet. A fixture card properly received is an invitation to hunt. This means the card would be mailed or handed to you by the master.
GONE AWAY—The call on the horn when the fox leaves the covert.
GONE TO GROUND—A fox who has ducked into his den or some other refuge has gone to ground.
GOOD NIGHT—The traditional farewell to the master after the hunt, regardless of the time of day.
HILLTOPPER—A rider who follows the hunt but who does not jump. Hilltoppers are also called the “second field.” The jumpers are called the “first flight.”
HOICK—The huntsman’s cheer to the hounds. It is derived from the Latin hic haec hoc which means “here.”
HOLD HARD—To stop immediately.
HUNTSMAN—The person in charge of the hounds in the field and in the kennel.
KENNELMAN—A hunt staff member who feeds the hounds and cleans the kennels. In wealthy hunts there may be a number of kennelmen. In hunts with a modest budget, the huntsman or even the master cleans the kennels and feeds hounds.
LARK—To jump fences unnecessarily when hounds aren’t running. Masters frown on this since it is often an invitation to an accident.
LIFT—To take the hounds from a lost scent in the hopes of finding a better scent farther on.
LINE—The scent trail of the fox.
LIVERY—The uniform worn by the professional members of the hunt staff. Usually it is scarlet, but blue, yellow, brown, or gray are also used. The recent dominance of scarlet has to do with people buying coats off the rack as opposed to having tailors cut them. (When anything is mass-produced the choices usually dwindle and such is the case with livery.)
MASK—The fox’s head.
MEET—The site where the day’s hunting begins.
MFH—The master of foxhounds; the individual in charge of the hunt: hiring, firing, landowner relations, opening territory (in large hunts this is the job of the hunt secretary), developing the pack of hounds, determining the first cast of each meet. As in any leadership position, the maste
r is also the lightning rod for criticism. The master may hunt the hounds, although this is usually done by a professional huntsman, who is also responsible for the hounds in the field, at the kennels. A long relationship between a master and a huntsman allows the hunt to develop and grow.
NOSE—The scenting ability of a hound.
OVERRIDE—To press hounds too closely.
OVERRUN—When hounds shoot past the line of scent. Often the scent has been diverted or foiled by a clever fox.
RATCATCHER—The informal dress worn during cubbing season and bye days.
STERN—A hound’s tail.
STIFF-NECKED FOX—One that runs in a straight line.
STRIKE HOUNDS—Those hounds who through keenness, nose, and often higher intelligence find the scent first and who press it.
TAIL HOUNDS—Those hounds running at the rear of the pack. This is not necessarily because they aren’t keen; they may be older hounds.
TALLYHO—The cheer when the fox is viewed. Derived from the Norman ty a hillaut, thus coming into our language in 1066.
TONGUE—To vocally pursue the fox.
VIEW HALLOO (HALLOA)—The cry given by a staff member who views a fox. Staff may also say tallyho or tally back should the fox turn back. One reason a different cry may be used by staff, especially in territory where the huntsman can’t see the staff, is that the field in their enthusiasm may cheer something other than a fox.
VIXEN—The female fox.
WALK—Puppies are “walked out” in the summer and fall of their first year. It’s part of their education and a delight for puppies and staff.
WHIPPERS-IN—Also called whips, these are the staff members who assist the huntsman, who make sure the hounds “do right.”
Read on for a preview of
HUNT BALL
by Rita Mae Brown
Coming in September 2005
from Ballantine Books
CHAPTER 1
A shining silver shroud covered the lowlands along
Broad Creek, deep and swift-running. The notes of the huntsman’s horn, muffled, made his direction difficult to determine. Three young women, students at prestigious Custis Hall, followed the creek bed that bordered a cut hayfield. A gnarled tree, bending toward the clear water as if to bathe its branches, startled them.
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