by Abigail Keam
39
I awoke with a start. You know that kind of waking as if you had been drowning – that slow struggle through thick water, then gasping as you finally shoot beyond the confines of the water into the open air.
Glancing at the illuminated clock next to the bed, I could see it was just after three.
Switching on the light proved that Baby was not in his bed. Perhaps he was sleeping with Asa, but there were no signs of the cats. Even if the majority were with Asa, one or two would have been curled up with me.
Concerned, I climbed out of bed and went into the hallway.
There were quite a few lights in the house left on, not the usual button-down that one does when going to bed.
The Butterfly didn’t feel right.
A tingling traveled up my spine.
Asa’s bedroom door was open.
I stood at the doorway feeling for the light switch.
She wasn’t in bed.
Nor was there any sign of Baby. By now, Baby would have heard me and have been by my side, seeing what I was up to and wondering if it involved food.
“Baby! Asa!” Hope against hope, I would have been thrilled to find them both on the couch in the living room, having drifted off to sleep. But no one returned my call.
“Dear Lord,” I muttered. Hurrying throughout the house, I checked every room but no sign of Asa, the dog or the cats.
My heart was racing now.
Going to the small room by the front door, I started turning on all the screens for the cameras that monitored the Butterfly and the farm. With a press of a few buttons, I could turn lights on all over the farm and use a joystick to move the cameras stationed at strategic points.
Outside it was snowing, making visibility difficult. Some of the camera’s screens were dusted white.
I jostled the joystick so I could see the ground near the front door. There were human and dog footprints leaving the house but not returning. I followed those tracks all the way to the tobacco barn, which had been turned into a stable.
Asa had gone to gather the cats but never returned.
I shot a look behind me as I heard whimpering. I realized it was me making those sounds.
Frantically, I checked the bee yard. The snow did not looked disturbed and the hives were blanketed in snow.
I checked the front entrance to the farm. There were tire tracks but they could be from Matt’s car. Checking all the other camera sites, I didn’t find any more footprints nor signs of my daughter.
Pushing the buttons for every light on the farm, I lit the joint up like the Fourth of July.
My hands were shaking so I could barely push Matt’s numbers on the phone.
“Hello? This better be good,” responded a groggy voice.
“Matt. Matt. Get up. Something’s wrong. Asa and Baby are not in the house. There’re footprints going into the old tobacco barn. Help me.”
“What?”
“Matt, wake up. I think there’s trouble. Meet me at the stable.”
Matt was suddenly alert. “You stay there. I’ll go check.”
“No, don’t go alone. I’m calling Charles. Wait for me to pick you up.” I put down the phone.
Throwing on an overcoat along with some boots, thick gloves and an old hat, I knew I looked a sight but didn’t care.
Suddenly remembering I hadn’t called Charles, I anxiously dialed the number at his house on Lady Elsmere’s farm.
He picked up on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
I quickly told him that Asa and Baby were not in the house.
“I’ll meet you at the stable.” Then a click and the dial tone.
Grabbing the car keys and the sycamore cane that Moshe Goren had carved for me, I flung open the door and hurried to the Prius.
It didn’t take me very long to get to Matt’s little house.
He was waiting outside. “Let me drive,” he suggested.
I changed seats.
The snow was coming down more heavily.
Matt switched on the windshield wipers.
It took us only a few moments to get to the converted tobacco barn, but it seemed like hours. As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out.
Charles, with several of his grandsons, were already standing in front of the barn studying the footprints at the entrance. The front double doors were slightly pulled apart.
“Asa,” I called. “Asa!”
Barking.
“That’s Baby,” I cried to the others. “Baby. Baby!” I rushed into the darkness.
Charles followed me with a flashlight while Matt felt for the light switch.
Immediately the barn was flooded with light. I started opening all the stalls.
The retired racehorses were calmly chewing on hay, as were several little goats. In another stall, the peacocks, angry at being disturbed, hissed when I opened their little cubicle. A lama reached over through the slats and nipped my shoulder.
“Josiah, over here,” called Charles.
Matt and I rushed over to Charles. In an empty stall lay Asa with Baby guarding. Upon seeing us he growled, baring his teeth.
While mastiffs rarely bite, they will if they feel threatened. An English Mastiff’s bite is 550-660 lbs per square inch, while a lion’s bite is 680 lbs PSI. See what I’m talking about.
They were bred in Britain two thousand years ago to hunt and protect. Julius Caesar is said to have brought this ancient breed from Britain to Rome to fight in the arena games.
Behind me I heard Charles on his walkie-talkie telling one of his daughters to bring the dart gun and the Hummer with the emergency kit.
“The gun won’t be necessary,” I said.
“That dog’s an English Mastiff. He has had centuries of breeding to make him instinctively guard his master. You know that they had to be put down to get to their wounded or dead masters during the Crusades. He’s no different. It’s in their blood to defend until death.” Charles swirled me around to face him. “I’m just gonna tranquilize him.”
“But Asa’s not Baby’s master. I am.” I pulled away from Charles and stepped into the cubicle.
Baby bared his teeth and snapped at the air, giving me a warning.
“Baby. Baby. It’s me. It’s Mommy,” I cooed.
One of the grandsons moved.
Baby lunged forward and would have bitten my hand if I hadn’t moved quickly enough.
“You all move back. You’re making him nervous. Step back where Baby can’t see you,” I demanded.
Baby stood quivering in front of Asa’s prone body.
I decide another tact. “BABY! Lie down. Lie down. I need to see to Asa.” I gave the hand signal to Baby to lie down, making sure his good eye saw it. “It’s me. Josiah. Baby, do as I tell you. LIE DOWN!” I held out my hand so Baby could smell me.
Baby stretched his neck to sniff. He gave a little yelp of recognition, moving toward me. As always, he leaned his two hundred-plus pounds against my bad leg.
I scratched behind his ears. “Good Baby. Good Baby. I tied a rope through his collar, while continuing to praise him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Charles’ daughter, Amelia, had joined us and handed me a bloody piece of meat through one of the stall slats. “It’s been doctored with a tranquilizer. It will make him relax.”
I looked at the meat without enthusiasm.
“Don’t worry, Josiah. It won’t hurt him. Just makes him sleepy. I’ve already called the vet. I’ll stay with Baby until he comes.”
Reluctantly I took the meat and held it out to Baby. “Here, Baby. Eat this.”
Baby sniffed it, while looking at me for guidance. “It’s okay, Baby. You can eat it. You’ve done your job. Treat. Treat.”
At the suggestion of a treat, Baby snatched the meat from my hand and consumed it in several gulps.
I was lucky that I still had my fingers intact.
“Everyone go to the other side of the barn,” I requested.
Quietly they retreated as I
slowly pulled on the rope, leading Baby into an empty stall. As I closed the door to the stall, Baby looked at me in confusion. “You did good, Baby. Good dog. Good dog.”
Baby’s eyelids were starting to droop. The medication was already working.
Behind me, I heard Charles and Matt rush to Asa.
“She’s alive,” called out Matt. After checking for broken bones, Matt swooped up Asa and carried her to the Hummer, which was waiting to take her to the hospital.
Charles’ other daughter, Bess, was already inside the car putting blankets on Asa while Charles took the wheel.
I hopped inside.
Within minutes, we were flying down the road to the nearest emergency room while Matt and the grandsons waited for the police.
“That barn must be cursed,” I muttered to no one in particular. “This is the second blood-letting in it.”
“What’s that?” asked Bess.
“Just thinking out loud,” I replied while holding Asa’s hand. “Asa, wake up. Talk to me.” I gave her a little shake. “Asa!”
Asa slowly opened her eyes. “I could be dead but I would still hear that irritating “Mother voice” coming from beyond the vale.”
Grinning, I replied, “You can’t be that dead if you are using phrases like ‘beyond the vale.’”
Asa gave a little smile, more like a smirk. “I heard everything that went on with Baby. It took you long enough to find me.” She paused. “Everything is spinning. I’m going to sleep now.”
“No you’re not,” commanded Bess. “You’re going to stay awake.” She gave Asa a vicious pinch.
“Ouch! That hurt,” mumbled Asa.
“Good. Now keep talking.”
“What happened?” I questioned.
“Went to check on the cats. Someone jumped me from behind.” She snorted. “Speaking of behinds, I think Baby got a piece of their behind.”
“No pun intended.”
Asa softly chuckled.
Suddenly the Hummer stopped and the car doors were flung open. A doctor and several nurses put Asa on a gurney and rushed her into the emergency room.
Bess had an orderly bring a wheelchair. I really was in no shape to walk at this point. Between the pain and adrenaline, I was trembling so that I could barely negotiate my way out of the Hummer, even with help.
She wheeled me into the waiting room where I started my vigil of waiting for the doctor.
It seemed like forever.
40
O’nan unwrapped the bandage from his hand. It looked pretty nasty. Tenderly, he examined his hand. He was sure it was broken. That damn dog. It came out of nowhere.
He was going to need antibiotics and have his hand set. Maybe even surgery. What was he going to do?
Going to a hospital would be admitting his guilt. The D.A. would subpoena his medical file and that would be that. He would go to jail for assault and battery. The charge might even be attempted murder if Neff testified.
A wave of pain shot through O’nan. He vomited into the bathroom sink.
Wiping his face, he thought of the doctor at the Ephraim McDowell hospital in Danville whom he had caught with an underage girl when he was still a cop.
O’nan had let him go, as the girl stated that she had lied about her age, but still . . . a rumor like that could ruin a doctor’s promising career.
And O’nan still had the guy’s phone number.
41
Kelly stuck his head in the door. “Hey there,” he said, looking concerned at Asa. “How’s it going?”
“How did you know?” asked Asa, struggling to sit up in her hospital bed.
Kelly grimaced. “I’m a cop. Whaddya mean – how do I know?”
I started to get up to leave.
Kelly waved for me to sit back down. “Can’t stay long. The kids are waiting in the hall. We were doing some late Christmas shopping when I heard the chatter over the scanner. Just wanted to see how you were.”
I could see that Asa was disappointed. “Doing fine. They had me overnight for observation. I think as soon as the doctor comes for her rounds, she might let me go.”
Kelly glanced at me. “I’m sure you’re relieved.”
“Very. Thank goodness Baby was with her.”
“What happened? Do you know who the perp is?”
Asa shook her head. “He came from behind. Must have hit me with a shovel. I was in and out. I heard Baby rush him and then some screaming. After that I blacked out entirely until Mom found me.”
“We know who did this,” I blurted out. “Why don’t you guys pick him up?”
“Can’t find O’nan. Supposedly he’s in Florida spending Christmas with some relatives.”
“Unbelievable,” I seethed.
“The Florida boys are going to check on him for us. The judge gave him permission to go.”
“Unbelievable,” I said again.
A little boy popped his head into the room. “DAD! We gotta go. The stores are gonna close soon.”
“Be right there, son. Go wait out in the hallway.” Kelly looked apologetically at us.
There was an uneasy silence among the three of us for a moment.
“I best be going,” Kelly finally said.
Asa nodded.
“Let me know how you’re doing?”
“Sure thing.”
Kelly started to leave and then swung around. “Merry Christmas, Asa.”
“Same to you, Kelly.”
He gave Asa a look of longing and regret before walking out.
After peeking at Asa’s crestfallen face, I knew the affair was over.
It was for the best, but that fact didn’t make it any less painful.
My daughter had caught on fire.
42
I was determined this Christmas was not going to be a gloomy affair. It was solemn enough last year with me drinking soup through a straw because my jaws were wired shut.
Going though a dusty box in my office, I found some old paraphernalia from a dinner party I gave years ago. Taking some paper towels, I dusted off my treasures and put them on everyone’s plate.
Then I called Franklin and told him to come early to set up the video camera for me. I wanted a record of our happy event.
For obvious reasons, we had skipped Matt’s Christmas Eve party.
Asa just hadn’t felt up to it.
Franklin told me with glee that it had been a total bore with a lot of anal lawyers attending. Even Matt thought the conversation was tedious.
“Without my presence,” Franklin stated, “it would have been a total disaster.” According to Franklin, he had been the life of the party.
I called Eunice, who was with Shaneika and Linc in Florida for the holidays. Also Shaneika’s Thoroughbred, Comanche, was with them in training. According to Eunice, his time was faster and Shaneika had entered him in some races. If he did well, she would bring him home to race at Keeneland. The goal was to get him ready for the Kentucky Derby.
Eunice stated that she would be back sometime in the middle of January.
I wished her a Merry Christmas and hung up. I didn’t tell her about Asa. There was no need to cast a shadow over her happiness.
Looking at the clock, I saw that it was already ten. Guests were to arrive very soon and I still had to dress.
The doorbell rang. I hurried to the front door, pushing a cat off the dining room table on the way. I made a mental note to replace a plate, as the cat was sitting with his furry fanny squarely on my good china.
“Baby, get your friends together or out they go,” I threatened as I opened the door.
Franklin pushed his way in with his arms full of presents. “Merry Christmas, good lady,” he yelled. “Merry Christmas, Baby! God bless us everyone!”
“Welcome Tiny Tim. Where’s Bob Cratchit?” I asked, looking out the door.
Baby responded to Franklin’s greeting by sticking his snout in Franklin’s crouch.
“That’s a little too friendly there, doggy pal of
mine,” giggled Franklin. “Here, help me with these.”
He dumped some packages into my arms.
I placed them under the tree. “I’ve got to get dressed. Can you make sure the cats don’t get on the table?”
“Why don’t we put them out?”
“Uhmmm, Baby would have a fit.”
“Oh, I see. Baby is running this house.” He petted Baby, who had followed him into the great room. “So you’re really the one to suck up to.”
“Franklin!”
“Yes, I’ll watch the cats,” he sighed as he began rearranging the ornaments on my Christmas tree.
I hurried to change into a simple but gorgeous silk lounging gown. Of course, Franklin had picked it out for me. It took me much longer to do my makeup. My right hand was shaking. I kept smearing lipstick on my upper lip. Once presentable, I made a grand entrance.
Most everyone was present.
Asa was wearing her usual black.
I patted her on the shoulder and said, “Thanks for dressing up. You look so cheerful. Are you going to sing a dirge for us later on?”
Asa sniffed and tossed her dark hair. She hated me commenting on her clothes, which usually resembled Batgirl’s, but that didn’t stop her from always commenting on mine.
“And who are you?” I asked a young man also dressed in black and standing by Asa’s side.
“My name is Boris. I work for Asa,” he stated in a thick Eastern European accent. “Thank you for having me.”
“My pleasure. I hope you enjoy our simple fare.”
Franklin bounced to my side with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. “I see Natasha and Boris are attending.” (For those too young to remember or just don’t know cool pop culture icons, Natasha and Boris were cartoon criminals/spies on the Rocky and Bullwinkle show 1961-1964.) “None for me. Thanks,” murmured Asa.
Boris shook his head.
Franklin gave me a look, muttering “killjoys” and buzzed away to the front door as the doorbell rang. In marched Lady Elsmere and Matt, both accepting glasses of champagne from Franklin.
Lady Elsmere glimmered with all the diamonds she wore.
And Matt shimmered like a god with his dark good looks.
He never failed to take my breath away.