He even built a smaller wood house for the fruitwoods alone: apple, pear, cherry, peach.
Tonight, as they sat propped up against pillows, each reading a book and enjoying the view out the windows of an inky-black sky with silver dots of stars, they appreciated just why they swung those axes until they felt as if they weighed fifty pounds.
Pewter had made a nest on Fairs long legs. Mrs. Murphy preferred curling up in Harrys lap. Tucker sprawled in front of the fire, opening one eye when the wood occasionally hissed.
Pewter started to giggle, which sounded like a fluffy cough.
You all right, kitty? Fair stroked her.
Im fine.
She giggled a bit more.
You look funny in those reading glasses.
If you had to wear glasses, theyd be bifocals,
Mrs. Murphy taunted her.
You say,
Pewter sniffed indignantly.
Girls. Harry didnt know what they were saying, but the tone of the kitty conversation was not lost on her.
Neither cat replied. Mrs. Murphy pointedly made another circle on Harrys lap and dropped down again.
Cant find a soft place?
Pewter raised up one long, long whisker.
Its soft.
Then why did you get up and circle again?
Pewter sounded so innocent.
Felt like it,
Mrs. Murphy said.
Ha, you did it because youre getting old bones. Next thing you know, your fur will fall out in patches.
Pewter giggled louder.
Then youll be bald. Ha.
Mrs. Murphy rose, stepped off Harrys lap, reached over, and gave the fat gray cat a swat.
Violent, shes violent. She needs anger-management counseling.
Pewter pupils enlarged, and her giggling was really loud.
Hateful!
Mrs. Murphy raised her not inconsiderable voice.
Fair folded Lord Kinrosss magisterial
The Ottoman Centuries
on his chest. All right now.
She started it,
Mrs. Murphy grumbled, returning to Harrys lap.
Harry, reading Rowan Jacobsens
Fruitless Fall,
looked up, folded the book, and gently patted Mrs. Murphy with it. I can do this a lot harder if you dont settle down.
The tiger cat narrowed her eyes.
Why are you reading that book? All it does is upset you. Its not bedtime reading, and furthermore, Fatso is the problem, not me.
Ha.
Pewter turned her back on Mrs. Murphy.
The two humans looked at each other and laughed.
Fair picked up his book, then laid it down again. Ive been thinking about Terri dropping the expensive jar.
Harry had told him of the days events, that being the strangest.
Yes.
Maybe thats why shes what would you say, tightly wound?
Meaning shes a cokehead?
Yeah. Then again, it could just be sand. But she is jumpy and a trifle erratic.
Thats a lot of people, Harry ruefully replied.
Got that right. But I think there have always been a lot of nervous people or gloomy onesnot that shes particularly gloomy. You know me, Ive loved history since I was in grade school. Cant read enough, and what impresses me is how the same basic personalities occur over and over again. Including nervous types.
I never thought about it. Harry was intrigued.
Well, go back to your bee book. He laughed.
To bee or not to bee.
He rolled his eyes. Too easy.
Then why didnt you think of it? She reached over and put her palm on his cheek.
Inez, also in bed with a fire roaring, wasnt a bit sleepy. Instead of a book, she had her laptop. She liked being able to tap in to the latest veterinary advances. She always checked her email. Her great reputation meant that many equine vets asked her questions. Some of them were not about cases or injuries but about horses of the past. One equine vet in Kentucky asked who had the best mechanical motion, Man o War or Citation.
Neither, she replied. It was John Henry.
Such questions were like asking a ballet choreographer who was the better athlete: Pavlova or Fonteyn.
Those questions always sparked debate, but Inez thoroughly enjoyed that because it meant people were passionate. What better to be passionate about than horses?
She hummed as she opened her mail, then stopped abruptly.
A message from Mariah DAngelo read, Catch me if you can.
Y
ou dont know from one minute to the next, Aunt Tally, arm linked through Inezs, remarked.
The two old ladies walked slowly to the stone stable not more than a quarter mile from the house. Tallys comment was about the weather. On Tuesday, April 7, the sun shone brightly and huge cumulus clouds, creamy white, filled a robins-egg-blue sky. The forty-five-degree temperature, while nippy, was an improvement over the last few days.
Erno, Doodles, and Tucker tagged along. No little bunnies or fox cubs appeared, as it was too early in the season. Tucker thought the extended cold and snow might have delayed breeding. She had no desire to chase bunnies, but she did wish to herd them. If it had four legs, Tucker knew her job. When she was a puppy shed tried to herd the two-legged creatures but learned how stubborn they were. Occasionally shed be successful in getting Harry to the door, but that was it.
Aha. Aunt Tally pointed the tip of her cane at a crocus not yet open. Theres hope.
Blossom, theres always hope.
I try to remember, but lately Ive seen the shadow of the Grim Reaper fall across my path. Im not ready to go.
Are you sick? Youd better not be. Inezs voice thickened.
Im in rude good health. Tally shook her head. Sometimes the
swiftness of death shocks me, though. Flo at her desk. Or I pick up the paper and read about a young person killed crossing the street.
I know what you mean. Inez inhaled the crisp air. Funny, no one ever thinks it will happen to them.
If people focused on it, theyd probably never get out of bed.
Inez sidestepped a puddle, dragging Tally with her. Look at all the businesses going under. People killing themselves over money. Money! Inez watched Erno and Doodles romping. If only we could be more like them.
Aint that the truth. Aunt Tally used aint for effect, as her English was usually quite correct. You havent said anything about Mariahs latest message since you called me last night.
Catch me if you can, Inez repeated Mariahs message on her computer. Whats to say? Shes clearly enjoying herself. But Im sure Liz isnt. She called me. Inez looked at Aunt Tally. Liz certainly gets the vicious ones. Last nights read: I hope you die slowly of strangulation. Thats a bit much, but then, murder is a bit much. Inez sidestepped some remaining ice on the path.
We still dont know if Mariah is Flos murderer. The messages havent confessed to it, Aunt Tally remarked.
Well, no, but there seems little doubt, Inez responded.
They stopped in front of the elegant stone stable that Little Mim and Blair had rehabilitated at no small expense.
The mid-morning sun gave the stone a rosy, inviting warm glow. Each stall had both an outdoor and indoor Dutch door; the top halves remained closed as it was still nippy. The horses had come in to feed. Little Mim, like her mother, Big Mim, and Harry, had grown up caring for horses. She took excellent care of the four in the stable.