RMBrown - Outfoxed

by Outfoxed (v1. 0) [lit]

  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. Pronouncedcover .

  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 Latinhic 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 master 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 Normanty 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.”

  Outfoxedis a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  2005 Ballantine Books Trade Paperback Edition

  Copyright © 1999 by American Artists, Inc.

  Excerpt fromThe Hunt Ball copyright © 2005 by American Artists, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINEand colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., in 1999.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming edition ofThe Hunt Ball by Rita Mae Brown. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Brown, Rita Mae.

&nbs
p; Outfoxed / Rita Mae Brown.

  p. cm.

  eISBN 0-345-48596-3

  I. Title.

  PS3552.R698097 2000

  813’.54—dc21 99-44243

  CIP

  www.ballantinebooks.com

  v1.0

  FOR

  Dana Lynn Flaherty, Professional Whipper-in

  Read on for a preview of

  HUNT BALL

  byRita 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.

  “Looks like a giant witch,” Valentina Smith blurted out.

  They stopped to listen for hounds and the horn. Smooth gray stones jutted out of the creek, the water swirling and splashing around.

  “Can you hear anything?” Felicity Porter, slender, serious, inquired.

  “If we move away from the creek, we’ll hear better.” Valentina, as senior class president, was accustomed to taking charge.

  Anne “Tootie” Harris, one of the best students at Custis Hall, was just as accustomed to resisting Valentina’s assumed authority. “We’ll get even more lost. Broad Creek runs south. It divides the Prescott land from Sister Jane’s land. If we keep going we’ll eventually reach the big old hog’s back jump in the fence line. If we turn right at that jump we’ll find the farm road back to the kennels.”

  Angry that she hadn’t paid attention at the jump to where the rest of the riders disappeared into the fog, and now angry that she hadn’t paid attention to the flow of Broad Creek, Valentina growled, “Well, shit, Tootie, we could go into menopause before we reach the hog’s back jump!”

  “One dollar, potty mouth.” Felicity held out her hand with grim satisfaction.

  “Felicity, how can you think of the kitty at a time like this? We could be lost for days. Why, we could die of thirst and—”

  “Val, we’re next to Broad Creek,” Tootie deadpanned.

  “You two are ganging up on me.” Val tossed her head; her blonde ponytail, in a snood for riding, swayed slightly.

  “No, we’re not.” Felicity rarely ran off the rails, her focus intense. “The deal when we started hunting with Jefferson Hunt was that each time one of us swore, one dollar to the kitty. I’m the bank.”

  Valentina fished in her tweed jacket. “You’ll probably end up being a banker, F. I can see it now when you make your first million. You’ll count the money, put it in a vault, and not even smile.” She did, however, hand over her dollar.

  Felicity leaned over to reach for the dollar, their horses side by side. She folded it in half, neatly sticking it in her inside jacket pocket. Felicity knew she wasn’t quick-witted. No point in firing back at Valentina.

  With Felicity and Valentina it was the tortoise and the hare. With Tootie and Valentina it was the hawk and the hare, two swift-moving creatures with opposing points of view.

  “Come on, I’ll get us back to the kennels,” Tootie promised.

  In the far distance the hounds sang, voices ranging from soprano to basso profundo, from tenor to darkest alto. The heavy moisture in the air accounted for the variation in clarity. The girls would hear the hounds moving toward them, then it would sound as though the hounds were turning.

  “Coach will tear us a new one.” Valentina did not reply to Tootie’s suggestion, speaking about the coach’s wrath instead.

  “Coach? What about Mrs. Norton?” Felicity thought the headmistress’s disapproval would be more severe than Bunny Taliaferro’s, the riding coach, although Bunny naturally leaned toward censure.

  “Wonder if they know we’re not with the field? I mean, it’s possible they’re still in the fog, too. Sister Jane would get really upset if she thought we were in trouble.” Valentina inhaled deeply. “If they don’t know, let’s swear never to tell.”

  “The Three Musketeers.” Tootie half-smiled.

  “All for one and one for all.” Valentina beamed.

  “But you always manage to be first among equals, Val. It’s not exactly all for one and one for all. It’s all for Valentina and then maybe Val for all,” Tootie said, shooting a barb.

  “Tootie, you can really be the African queen when you’re in a mood. You know?” Valentina raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, right.” Tootie, an exceptionally beautiful green-eyed African American, shrugged it off.

  “Will you two get over yourselves? If we don’t find our way back, we’re in deep doo-doo. If we do find the field, we’re still in deep doo-doo but maybe not as deep.”

  “Felicity, say shit and be done with it.” Val took out some of her discomfort on her sober classmate.

  “One dollar.”

  “I could learn to hate you.” Valentina fetched another crinkled dollar, fuming as Tootie hid a smile behind her gloved hand.

  “Thank you.” This time Felicity snatched the money.

  Hounds sounded as if they were swinging toward them; the notes on the horn played one long note followed by a series of doubled and even tripled notes, one long note and the process was repeated.

  “All on,” Tootie remarked.

  Bunny Taliaferro drummed the basics of foxhunting into those students she selected as proficient enough to ride hard over big fences and uneven ground. The show-ring riders who panicked outside of a flat ring where they counted strides could never join the chosen few. This caused tensions because often the show-ring girls looked much prettier on a horse. Unfortunately, flying down a steep hill usually meant they popped off their horses like toast. The sound of “ooff” and “ohh” punctuated the hoofbeats on those occasions.

  Valentina, Tootie, and Felicity performed well in the show ring—they’d made the school team—but they excelled over terrain, so had earned the privilege to hunt. Each girl could handle sudden situations calling for split-second decisions, and each girl could usually keep a horse between her legs even when the footing was slick as an eel. What Bunny prized most about them was they were bold, keen, go-forward girls.

  “All on and heading our way.” Felicity recognized the horn call, straining to make sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her.

  “Christ, they’ll all see us!” Valentina worried more about saving face than getting chewed out.

  “One dollar.”

  “Christ isn’t swearing.”

  “Christ isn’t swearing. You are.” Felicity in a rare moment of dry humor held out her hand.

  “Not fair.” Valentina bit her lip.

  “Oh, pay up. You’ve got more money than God anyway,” Tootie half-laughed.

  “Sure,” Valentina said sarcastically.

  All of the girls came from wealthy families, but Valentina received the largest allowance and was the envy of the other students. To her credit she was generous.

  She forked over the dollar bill.

  “Look, they really are coming this way. Let’s slip back into the mists. We can bring up the rear right after they cross Broad Creek,” Tootie suggested.

  “Fox could turn.” Felicity considered the gamble.

  “Yes, but if he doesn’t, the crossing is up past the trees. We’ll hear them. If they turn, we’ll keep going until we find the hog’s back and then head toward Sister Jane’s.”

  The kennels were at Sister Jane’s farm, Roughneck Farm. Jane Arnold had been master of the Jefferson Hunt Club for over thirty years. Her late husband had also been a master.

  “Vote.” Felicity thought this would short-circuit Valentina’s protest since Valentina hated agreeing readily with Tootie.

  “You don’t have to vote.” Valentina turned toward Tootie, mist rising a bit, swirling around the beautiful girl. “
It’s a good plan.”

  “I can’t believe you said that,” Tootie giggled. “F., we’d better remember this day.”