Cat on the Scent

by Rita Mae Brown

  Mrs. Murphy peeled off the haywagon, covering eight feet in the launch without even pushing hard. Tucker scrambled out.

  Pewter noticed the two racing across the fields toward Blair’s house. Torn, she grumbled, then slowly extricated herself from her perfect hiding place.

  “Fatso!” The blue jay, who’d been perched on the weathervane on top of the barn, screamed as he swooped over Pewter’s head.

  She leapt up, twisting in the air, but missed. “You’re toast,” she threatened but hurried after Mrs. Murphy and Tucker. The jay dive-bombed her part of the way, shrieking with delight.

  Mrs. Murphy didn’t turn to look for Pewter or wait.

  Pewter switched on the afterburners, her ears swept back, her whiskers flat against her face, her tail level to the ground. She veered right toward the creek, then dropped down onto the bank, ran alongside, found a shallow place, and ran through the water. No time to fool around and find another path. She reached Mrs. Murphy and Tucker as they crossed over by the old graveyard on the hill. The three animals flew down to Blair’s house.

  “Too late,” Mrs. Murphy said.

  Blair sat in his car, the door open. Blood ran down his forehead, marring the leather seat. He was slumped over to the right, his long torso behind the gearshift, his head on the passenger seat. The motor was running. He appeared to have been shot.

  Tucker licked his hand but Blair didn’t move.

  Sarah Vane-Tempest’s car was parked in front of the barn. Archie Ingram’s car was gone.

  Mrs. Murphy jumped into his lap. Pewter followed by gingerly stepping onto the floor on the driver’s side. The car was in neutral. Blair’s left foot was on the clutch, his right had turned up sideways.

  “Where’s he hit?” Tucker stood on her hind legs.

  “I don’t know.”

  “His legs are okay.” Pewter sniffed for blood. “What about his head?”

  Mrs. Murphy put her nose to Blair’s nose. She sniffed his lips, put a paw on his lower lip, and pulled it down. “Gums are white.”

  “But is he hit in the head?”

  “There’s a lot of blood, but I can only see the left side of his face.”

  “Put your nose to the seat. See if you smell blood or powder,” Tucker advised.

  Murphy carefully laid the side of her face on the seat, her eye level with Blair’s closed one. “Blood’s oozing on the seat. Must be the right side of his head,” she said, cool in a crisis. “Pewter, sit in his lap and lean on the horn. I’ll keep licking him.”

  Pewter, both paws on the horn, put her weight into it. The horn sounded.

  “Who’s going to hear it?” Tucker sat down. “Archie’s not here. Mom’s on her tractor.”

  “He’s in a bad way.” Murphy kept licking Blair’s face. “We’ve got to do something fast.”

  “Let’s think.” Pewter, over with Murphy now, put her paw on Blair’s wrist. His pulse was erratic.

  “We could run back to Harry,” Pewter said.

  “She’s on the tractor. Can’t hear us. She might not notice us. We’ve got to convince her to come over here.” Murphy checked the gearshift on the floor. “Tucker, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “It’s his only chance,” the dog solemnly said.

  “I wish somebody would tell me!” an upset gray kitty exploded.

  “We’re going to drive this sucker,” Murphy resolutely stated.

  “You’re out of your mind!”

  “Pewter, go home then,” Murphy sharply told her. “Tucker, give him a shove.”

  Tucker nudged Blair with her front paws and her head. He slowly slumped over just a bit more.

  “Pewter, are you in or out of this car?”

  “I’m in. What do you want me to do?”

  “We’ve got to get the car in first gear.”

  “His foot is on the clutch,” Pewter said.

  “Okay, Tucker, can you fit in down there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sit on his foot while Pewter and I push the gearshift into first. Then slowly move his foot off the clutch and we’ll steer.”

  “Won’t work. We’ll stall out,” Tucker panted. “The trick is, I have to get his foot off the clutch and mine on the gas pedal. Luckily his foot isn’t on the gas pedal.”

  “We have to get this right on the first try.” Murphy crawled over into Blair’s lap while Pewter sat in the passenger seat, patting his face with her paw.

  The idea was for Murphy to push the shift stick from the top while Pewter pulled from the bottom.

  “Ready?” Murphy tersely asked.

  “Yes,” the other two replied.

  The cats moved the gearshift into first. That part was easy. The next part was hard because if they stalled out they’d have to turn the key and feed gas at the same time. They didn’t think they could do that.

  “Tucker, it’s better if we shoot ahead than stall out,” Murphy advised.

  Pewter had joined her in the driver’s seat. She stood on her hind legs, staring out the window. Murphy sat in Blair’s lap, her paws on the bottom of the steering wheel.

  “God, I hope this car is as responsive as all those ads say it is.” Murphy sent up a little prayer to the Great Cat in the sky for Blair. “Let’s go.”

  Tucker pushed off Blair’s foot as she pushed down on the gas pedal with her right paw. The car lurched forward and sputtered.

  “More gas.”

  Tucker, both feet free now, pressed on the accelerator.

  The car smoothly accelerated at amazing speed.

  “Keep on the road! Not so much gas!”

  “Help me,” Murphy called out.

  Pewter, claws unleashed, sank them into the leather steering wheel. She struggled to keep the car on the gravel driveway. Even a small motion turned the wheels. “Tucker, let up a little,” Pewter screamed.

  “I’m trying.” Tucker took her full weight off the flat pedal. “We’ve got it now. We got it.”

  “What are we going to do when we get to the paved road?” Pewter shivered with fear.

  “Pray that no car is coming our way because if we stop we won’t get started again.”

  Pewter, eyes huge, chin quivering, steered for all she was worth. By God, she might be afraid but she wasn’t a coward.

  They reached the end of Blair’s long driveway. A truck was past them on the right. With all their might the two cats turned the wheel to the left. The car door still hung wide open.

  “Not too much! Not too much!” Pewter directed.

  “More?” Tucker couldn’t see a thing. This was truly an act of blind faith.

  “No, keep it right like it is, Tucker. You’re doing great. Okay, okay, here’s our driveway. Another left. Not too much, it’s curvy.” Murphy kept her voice calm.

  “Slow, slow. Oh no—there’s another car!” Pewter’s fur stood on end.

  “He sees us. He’s not going to hit us without messing himself up.”

  The car swerved around them, horn honking.

  “Asshole!” Murphy spat. “Yeah, okay, now keep your eyes on the road, Pewts. We’ll make it.” The car dropped down a bit on the dirt road; the stones had moved to the sides, as they always do. It’s a waste of money putting stone on a driveway, but who can afford macadam?

  “I see Mom!” Pewter almost wept with relief.

  “Tucker, keep it steady. We have to roll past her line of vision. Okay, okay, she sees us. Pewter, hit the horn.”

  Pewter laid on that horn for all she was worth.

  “Off?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tucker lifted her weight off the gas pedal. The car shuddered to a stop. Harry stopped the tractor and hit the ground running. She tore over her newly seeded field.

  “Oh my God,” was all she could say when she reached the stalled-out Turbo. She put it in neutral, started it, then picked up the activated car phone and dialed 911.

  “Crozet Emergency—” Diana Robb didn’t get to finish her sentence.

  “
Diana. Harry. Blair’s in my driveway. He’s been shot. There’s blood everywhere. For God’s sake, hurry!”

  She dropped the phone. She was shaking so hard that Tucker, now on the ground, licked her hands. Then she remembered to turn off the motor. She no longer needed the power for the telephone. Harry felt Blair’s pulse, which was surprisingly strong. Fearful of moving him, she ran around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. The two cats got out of the car and looked up at her blankly.

  Within minutes they heard the siren. The rescue squad halted behind the Porsche. Diana reached Blair first.

  “Call the E.R. Let’s get him out of here.”

  “Is he going to make it?”

  “I don’t know.” Diana held his head. “Help me lift him upright from the passenger side. We’ll slide him out on the driver’s side.” She turned to Harry. “How did he ever make it over here?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  The animals watched, tears in their eyes, their ears drooping.

  As Harry and Diana lifted out the injured man, Joe Farham, Diana’s assistant, rolled out the gurney from the back of the ambulance.

  The three humans gently placed Blair on the gurney.

  Joe took Blair’s pulse as Diana, still stabilizing his head, examined the wound.

  “I can’t find an entry point.” She stared at the bloody right side of Blair’s head.

  Blair moaned.

  “Dear God, what can I do to help him!” Harry, in tears, cried.

  “Take a couple of deep breaths. We’ll get him to the E.R. as fast as we can. You wait for Rick to get here. I’ll call for him on my way to the hospital. Oh, Harry, don’t touch the car. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Harry wiped her eyes.

  Joe had shut the ambulance doors and hopped into the driver’s seat as Diana jumped in next to Blair, closing the doors behind her. They hit the siren and flew down the gravel road as Harry tried to collect herself.

  “Please let Blair live,” Tucker whimpered.

  “I don’t believe what I saw.” Harry cried anew, reaching down to stroke her animals. “You guys are heroes.”

  “We couldn’t let him die. He has a fighting chance,” Murphy solemnly said.

  Harry sat down on the grass to wait for Sheriff Shaw.

  * * *

  53

  A crowd of people kept vigil in the hospital hallway: Harry, Miranda, Big Mim, Little Mim, Herb Jones, BoomBoom, Susan and Ned, Market Shiflett, Jim Sanburne, and Dr. Larry Johnson. Finally, Larry’s young partner, Hayden McIntire, emerged from the operating room.

  Everyone stood up.

  “He’ll live.”

  A collective sigh of relief passed through the group and tears withheld from fear suddenly flowed in gratitude.

  “Dr. Chan’s closing him up now, but he’ll definitely make it.”

  Larry rushed down immediately once he heard the news. Hayden took him to look at the X rays.

  “There’s swelling in the area of damage. The brain is fine. Luckily the bullet didn’t shatter his skull. It made a deep crease.” Hayden pointed to the X ray. “Right here is where the bullet grazed. Like a crease in a piece of paper that tears just a bit.”

  “Thank God.” Larry closed his eyes for a second.

  “It’s very hard to say what his prognosis is until the swelling goes down. He should be fine. He’s young, strong, healthy, but this is the last place you want swelling. Time and rehab will tell.”

  Later Larry walked with Hayden to see Blair in post-op.

  “Any ideas about what happened?” he asked.

  “Yes. Given the position of the wound, I think he’d turned away from his attacker.”

  “He didn’t anticipate being shot?” Larry rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.

  “No. He turned his back.”

  “Any other signs of struggle on the body?” Larry gazed at the tall man, seemingly asleep except for all the tubes running into him.

  “No. Not a mark.”

  * * *

  54

  When Blair regained consciousness Rick and Cynthia were there waiting for him.

  Hayden gave them five minutes only, because Blair’s condition was still critical.

  “Did you see who shot you?” Rick quietly leaned over Blair’s bed.

  Blair didn’t answer because he could barely focus. He had the world’s worst headache.

  “Archie?” Rick whispered to the wounded man.

  “No.” Blair whispered, then lost consciousness again.

  * * *

  55

  The high sun shone over central Virginia. Each leaf, a bride in spring green, smiled at the radiant afternoon light. The trumpet vines opened their orange flowers. Bumblebees appeared in squadrons. Honeybees, decimated by a fatal mite, buzzed but in reduced numbers.

  Harry, dazed that her friend had been shot, worked hard but her mind kept returning to yesterday’s sight of the cats driving the car with Tucker down in the well. She knew that any animal recognizes injury and pain in any other animal. What was remarkable was that they brought the bleeding man to her. They drove him right in front of her.

  Each time she envisioned Murphy and Pewter, both with their paws on the steering wheel, she’d get the shakes.

  Living close to nature, Harry was better connected to reality than many people. Now she had to face the depth of her ignorance. She had credited her animal friends with human traits. She’d insulted them. By masking their true natures with human characteristics, she missed what was unique about each species. It was entirely possible that Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, along with Tucker, operated at another level of intelligence than she did. It was also possible that theirs was higher but not measurable by human standards.

  Harry was being humbled by life in its myriad forms.

  * * *

  56

  In the west an inferno illuminated the sky, the spring sun setting in a scarlet blaze. The sky, as though put to the torch, exploded in scarlet and gold.

  Cynthia noticed the drama of it as she checked her service revolver. Rick, his mouth a straight line, carefully coasted down the road toward Tally Urquhart’s haybarn, where Tommy Van Allen’s plane was stowed.

  He’d stopped at Miss Tally’s to inquire if she’d seen Archie. She said he was renting a room in her house while he fixed up an old farmworker’s stone house down the farm road.

  When Cynthia inquired as to how they’d get along, Tally curtly replied, “I need somebody to fight with.”

  Rick ordered her to stay in her house. She said she had seen Archie’s white Land Rover go back there a while ago. She’d heard another car not ten minutes ago but she didn’t get to the window in time to see it. However, she was sure it was another car going in, not one coming out.

  Rick was no sooner out her front door than Tally phoned Mim.

  “Boss, should we wait for backup?”

  “No time. God, I hate these kinds of things.” Like all police officers, Rick knew domestic violence to be the most irrational of situations. Armed robbery was easy compared to this.

  After speeding down the old farm road toward the haybarn, Rick cut the motor at a curve out of sight from the barn door. Both cops got out, drew their guns, and slowly walked toward the old barn, which they could not yet see. Before they rounded the curve they heard a curse, two shots, and a scream. They ran but with practiced caution.

  As the two officers approached the barn doors they saw Sir H. Vane-Tempest bent over Archie Ingram. Sarah was clinging to her husband.

  “Freeze!” Rick commanded.

  Vane-Tempest spun around, a .357 in his right hand.

  “Drop your weapon,” Rick ordered, and Vane-Tempest threw the gun on the ground.

  Rick kept his gun on the Englishman while Cynthia ran over to Archie. She pressed her index finger into his neck.

  “Gone.”

  “He tried to kill me after abducting my wife,” Vane-Tempest said calmly.

>   Sarah, sobbing, stood between her husband and her lover.