The Hounds and the Fury

by Rita Mae Brown

  Tootie finished her term paper, but no one else at Custis Hall could keep up with her. Bunny wasn't going to trailer one student and her horse to a hunt, so Sister had picked Tootie up Monday night. She and Gray laughed at Tootie's stories; she laughed at theirs. Even better, she rose at five-thirty in the morning without being called three times. Tootie readied the horses while Sister made a light breakfast.

  Listening to the horn, appreciating the silence behind her, Sister realized she loved Tootie. She loved being a mother again, even only a part-time mother.

  Tedi and Edward, those stalwarts; Gray; Ben; and Tootie constituted the field. Walter usually worked on Tuesdays.

  The mercury wouldn't budge over thirty degrees.

  "What kind of foxes do you think live here ?" Trinity asked Asa.

  "Lots of rabbits. Lots of everything. Both. Grays and reds, " he answered, his nose down.

  "Hard day, " Delia said.

  She'd put on a little weight, thanks to her extra rations. Sister and Shaker thought she could get back into the game today, as it appeared the pace would be slow.

  Nothing is sure in foxhunting.

  "Look at it this way, if we do find anything in this cold, it will be *ed hot. We'll be on good terms with our fox, " Diana, always pushing for scent, said optimistically.

  Dasher, who had stepped up to the plate, driving very hard now that his brother, Dragon, was laid up in sick bay with his wound, opened his mouth. "Yes."

  Cora ran over to Dasher and inhaled deeply. "Rock and roll."

  Hounds opened. Shaker blew three short notes three times. Given the thick covert, he couldn't see whether all the hounds were on. He didn't blow "Gone away." He fought his way through the brush.

  Matador, a little up now, listened to Sister. She possessed the gift of soft hands, imparting confidence to her horse through light contact with the horse's mouth. Nor did she clamp down her legs in a vise. She had an educated leg. Matador appreciated that, too.

  Both Betty and Sybil battled the rough territory.

  They emerged onto an untended field, sumac sticking up out of the snow, spikes of broomsage visible. That was easier going, and the little group ran as hard as they could.

  Surprised by hounds, the fox would learn in time what all this meant. Today all he wanted to do was reach his den. As he headed for it he leaped logs but otherwise kept a straight course.

  As the small red plunged down into a steep ravine, a fine place against harsh winds, Darby lifted his head. "What's that?"

  Even Cora didn't know what the sweet odor was. She slowed, waiting for Asa to come alongside. As the senior dog hound he might know, she thought.

  "Don't know, " he said as he kept running.

  Delia, the oldest hound there, ran at the rear of the pack. "Hold up."

  Her wisdom went unheeded as the second-year entry shot past even Cora, who paused for the senior hound. Cora then stretched out to catch the pack.

  By now Sister had caught the deep sweet odor. "Shit," she thought to herself.

  Gray recognized it. Tootie did not. Tedi and Edward, swept along with the run, glanced nervously at each other.

  Five seconds passed. Then a terrible crash rising out of the deepest part of the ravine told the tale.

  Shaker blew three long notes. "Come to me. Come to me," he called.

  A shotgun blast shattered the air. Matador leaped straight up.

  Sister, with her years of training, didn't even think about it. She sat deep, leaned forward, and pulled one rein down to bring Matador back down. She kept a tighter rein on him so he wouldn't put his head down and buck after standing up.

  "They 're going to kill us." Matador sweated.

  Nonni, Ben Sidell's been-there-done-that trooper, calmly said, "Steady, young feller. Hounds will get shot before we do. "

  Keepsake leaped straight forward but settled right down as Tootie remained calm.

  Sister slowed Matador. "Ben, you'd better come up here with me."

  Gray rode on one side of Sister, Ben on the other.

  Tootie, Tedi, and Edward rode behind.

  Clouds of condensation billowed from mouths and nostrils. Sister passed a jutting ledge to behold a large still, broken glass and bottles everywhere.

  Alfred DuCharme, shotgun pointing at Shaker, cussed a blue streak.

  Tedi uncharacteristically blurted out, "Guess Alfred's not such a lazy sod."

  "Get the hell out of here!" Alfred bellowed.

  The hounds—unhurt, thank God—bundled around Gunpowder and Shaker.

  Ben Sidell calmly rode forward. "Alfred, put that shotgun down."

  "Goddammit!" Alfred recognized the young sheriff. "Goddammit to hell!" He lowered the shotgun.

  "Break it open, Alfred."

  Alfred did break open his shotgun.

  The smell of fermenting corn nearly knocked Tootie off her saddle.

  "Anyone have cut pads?" Sister rode up to Shaker as Betty and Sybil rode in, quite shocked at the scene.

  "No." His face was pale.

  "Alfred, you're operating an illegal still, and you're trespassing on . . ." Ben turned to Sister.

  "Franklin Foster."

  ". . . Foster's land."

  Dejection overcame Alfred. "Will this be in the papers?"

  Canny, Ben dismounted. Tootie rode up to take Nonni's reins. Ben removed the shotgun from Alfred. "Now, Alfred, things don't look good for you. If you help me, I'll help you."

  A fleeting look of hope crossed Alfred's craggy features. "What can I do?"

  "The first thing you can do is destroy this still. Remove all traces of it. You wouldn't want Mr. Foster to find out and nail you to the cross, now would you?"

  "No."

  "The second thing you can do is promise me you will not do this again."

  "I do." Alfred almost sounded believable.

  "There's more. Are you listening?" Ben kept his voice low.

  "I am."

  "Did you sell to Iphigenia Demetrios?"

  He cleared his throat. "I did."

  "Did she come out here to you two Saturdays ago, January 7?"

  'Yes."

  "Was she a regular customer?"

  'Yes. She'd pour my stuff in other bottles. She drank bourbon, too, mind you, but when she needed a real pick-me-up, she came to me."

  "I see. Did you kill her?"

  "No!" He stepped back, frightened.

  "It's not so far-fetched, Alfred. She could have threatened to expose you, and from the looks of this, you've profited greatly from illegal liquor."

  "I would never kill anyone. Even for that. Because I break one law doesn't mean I'd break all laws." Alfred's wits were returning.

  "I believe you. Thousands wouldn't," Ben joked. "Any idea why she was so upset that Saturday?"

  "Work. Said work wasn't going right. Said she had no love life. Said she felt betrayed."

  "By whom?"

  "She didn't say."

  "Does a cell phone work down here in this hollow?"

  Alfred nodded. "If you climb up there on that rock ledge, it does."

  "All right, here is what we are going to do. I'm going to call the fire department. Tattenhall Station is the closest volunteer station. I'm going to tell them that I'm performing a controlled burn here. I won't give the circumstances. But this way, if they get calls from anyone, they won't respond. I won't arrest you, and I will swear these people to secrecy." Ben nodded toward the field. "Are you with me?"

  'Yes." Alfred sighed deeply.

  Not only was Ben saving his face, he was saving him lawyer's fees, possible jail time, and significant damages to the state.

  Ben walked over to Sister. "Sister, you are to never speak of this. Shaker, Betty, Sybil."

  They agreed.

  He walked over to Tootie, Tedi, and Edward.

  "Edward, do you have room on your trailer to take Nonni back with you? I don't know how long it will be before I can pick her up."

  "Be glad to do it," Edward replied.
>
  "Tedi, Edward, Tootie, you must promise not to reveal what has happened here." He stopped a moment and hoped Tootie, despite her youth, could resist telling the story. "This may have a bearing on Iffy's murder. I need full cooperation."

  Each pledged not to tell.

  He spoke louder. "Alfred, when next you see any of these people, do you swear not to speak of this or treat them rudely?"

  "Of course." Alfred might hate Binky, but he treated other people with respect.

  'You're going to drive me to After All once we finish business here," said Ben to Alfred.

  As the little group left, the fox, den up on the ledge within hearing distance of the clear creek below, thought this day memorable.

  The hounds passed right under his nose.

  "He's up there, "Asa said.

  "We must go in, " said Delia, now up front, as they were walking.

  "How'd you know?" Dasher asked Delia, his mother.

  "Long before you were born there was a still hidden in a stone springhouse not far from Tattenhall Station. Fox ran into it and so did we. Once you get a whiff, you don't forget. The humans use different grains, so it can smell different, but it's always sweet and thick. "

  Trident, finding the smell gross, asked, "How can they drink that stuff?"

  "If they eat spinach, I reckon they can eat or drink just about anything, "Asa laughed.

  As the happy group of hounds walked up and out of the ravine, Matador asked Keepsake, "Is it always like this?"

  The gelding replied, "No, you just had a special initiation. "

  "Whew. "The gorgeous flea-bitten gray exhaled, which made Sister laugh.

  Ben and Alfred smashed up what was left of the equipment with axes. Once Ben felt the horses were far enough away not to become frightened by the smell, he lit a match, and the place blew up like a tinderbox.

  Alfred sighed deeply. "Best damn country waters in the state of Virginia, if I do say so myself."

  "Do it legally, then, Alfred."

  "Ah shit, Sheriff, I'd choke in laws like kudzu."

  Ben didn't reply, but he sure did think life had become overregulated. He couldn't enforce much of the law; he'd need an officer for every five people.

  Enlisting Alfred in his search for the killer was one reason why Ben had let him off the hook. The other reason was that he wanted Alfred's tacit blessing as he courted the old man's niece.

  Margaret didn't know it yet, but Ben meant to win her. For him it had been love at first sight.

  Once back at Roughneck Farm, Tootie took Sister's Matador. As she and Gray cleaned the horses, Sister and Shaker checked each hound.

  "Let's give them a treat," Sister said as she walked into the feed room to put down the troughs. She noticed Iffy's ashes all over the feed room, the box chewed to bits. "Great day, Shaker." She used the old Southern exclamation.

  He walked in, the hounds were in the draw pen. "Jesus."

  "I expect she's with him now if forgiveness comes as advertised." Sister burst out laughing. "What a sight. Iffy all over the kennel floor. Who did this?"

  "Oh, that's not hard to figure." Shaker walked through the swinging doors to the special medical runs, as they called the sequestered housing and runs for an injured hound.

  Dragon, bored, had lifted the latch on his gate with his nose. He knew well enough where the feed room was, so he pushed through the doors. Couldn't find any extra feed, since it was all in tightly closed zinc-lined bins. But the toasted bones were a treat. He's chewed up the box, chewed up some of Iffy, and then sauntered back to his special quarters.

  Shaker, in a fog this morning, had forgotten to put the pin through the latch that prevented it from being lifted up.

  He apologized to Sister as she swept up what was left of Iffy.

  "Look at it this way," Sister said. "It may be one of the few times Iffy provided genuine pleasure."

  Dragon, hearing this on the other side of the swinging doors, said, "Bones were a little too dry."

  CHAPTER 26

  What remained of Iffy lifted into the air under the huge oak tree at Hangman's Ridge. Gray dust and bits of bone that Dragon had passed over rose upward, then scattered as a great gust from the north sent ashes flying.

  "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Sister pulled the collar of her coat up.

  Shaker watched the dispersal of Iffy's remains. "Sorry little life."

  "So it would appear."

  "Should we say a prayer, anyway?" Shaker, a good Catholic boy, folded his gloved hands together.

  'You do it."

  "Heavenly father, into thy hands we commend this spirit. She didn't do much in this life. Iphigenia Demetrios was a thief.

  But since Christ pardoned a thief suffering with him on the cross, perhaps you will pardon Iffy. Amen."

  As they climbed into the Chevy 454, both shivered.

  "Iffy's made contact with the other criminals," Sister joked as Shaker slid behind the wheel.

  He turned on the motor, heater cranking up again. "They're here." He lightly touched his toe to the accelerator and headed toward the farm road on the southeast side of the wide flat ridge.

  "Feast day for St. Prisca, a Roman lady from the first days of Christianity. She's attended by the two lions who declined to eat her or even take a swipe. Ah yes, those Romans thrilled to entertainments that make the NFL and the NHL look like Tupper-ware parties."

  He laughed as he carefully descended the side of the ridge. The farm road, frozen, demanded attention.

  "Where's the real January thaw? The big one?"

  "Damned if I know." She looked up at a light blue sky. "Too bad Gray couldn't be with us for Iffy's decanting. Electrician's coming to his place, so he's there."

  "Sam's making a good recovery."

  'Yes, he is. He's invaluable, too, telling us when and where Crawford will hunt. Sam has said he's seen an abundance of fox at Beasley Hall. I feel sorry for the hounds even if there are a lot of foxes. Hounds need a good huntsman. They need to trust the person with the horn. That's why we have such a good hunt. You."

  He smiled. 'You, too." He slowed even more as a big ice slick glittered on the farm road. "Think he'll tire of it? Disperse the pack?"

  "Not any time soon." She reached for the Jesus strap when the hind end skidded. "Some pumpkins yesterday."

  Shaker laughed out loud. "Alfred's face crumpled. Did you ever see anything like it?"

  "No." She laughed, too. "What a rogue."

  "Shrewd, not putting the still on his property."

  "He'd risk Paradise if he did that."

  Sister felt her toes warming. "I expect he shipped most of it out of the county."

  "Could Iffy have organized that for him? Shipping?" Shaker asked.

  "She probably could have. Iffy was smart, organized."

  Shaker breathed out once they reached the bottom of the ridge. "Whew." Then he said, "Think Garvey is in on this somehow?"

  "Moonshine?"

  "No," Shaker replied. "In on whatever Iffy was doing. She'd fake purchases, say, and they'd divvy up the money."

  "I've thought of that, too. Be a good scam."

  Shaker drove slightly faster. "Garvey doesn't seem like the type to loot his own business, but I guess you never know."

  "Ben said there wasn't one incriminating article in Iffy's house, old barn, car. No hidden account books. Even her computer was innocent. Ben said it was so old he thought it was slowly dying of fatigue. Now, on the other hand, Garvey has been on a buying spree these last years, snapping up smaller companies. Still. . ." Her voice trailed off.

  "Reminds me, you said you were going to buy a new computer for the kennels."

  'Yes, once Christmas was over. Know what you want?"

  "Same as yours. The iMac G5."

  "By now they're probably better than mine. Take the farm credit card and buy what you want."

  "Great." He smiled as they passed the apple orchard, the kennels coming into view. "We've got a drop-in."

  "Damn
. That's one I'd like to drop-kick." Sister recognized Jason's mighty Range Rover.

  They pulled beside the white SUV. Jason kept the motor running as he talked on his phone. The Rover was wired for a phone, so he spoke up toward his rearview mirror, where a tiny microphone was located. He signed off as Sister stepped out of the Chevy.