"Goody."She smiled, revealing fearsome teeth.
"Wild bees are so aggressive. Don't they hurt you?"Mrs. Murphy thought it best to keep her engaged in subjects interesting to her.
"They can't sting me. And I know how to protect my nose and eyes. Did you know that wild-bee honey is much stronger than that of domesticated bees? Now, I like both, I can tell you, but the wild-bee honey packs a powerful sweet punch."
"How's fishing been?"The intrepid tiger cat remembered how much black bears like to fish.
"Good. Crawfish haven't been bad, either. Sometimes they taste like nuts. I Just love them. I love to eat."
"Me, too."Pewter relaxed a little, but she kept one ear cocked, hoping the storm was diminishing.
"/can see that." The bear laughed.
"Seeor smell anything unusual lately?" Tucker asked, to keep the ball rolling.
"Smelted a human at the peach orchard couple of nights ago. They have such a rancid odor, poor things. So easy to track and bring down. Not that I want to kill and eat humans, mind you; even if I did, think of the chemicals. They eat all that processed food. They're a real health hazard."She wrapped her arm around one of the twins, who'd stopped suckling, falling asleep on her breast. "/don't mind humans. If they leave me alone, I leave them alone. The world is big enough for all."
The rain kept coming down, but the lightning and thunder moved down the ridge.
"Do you have twins every year?"Tucker inquired.
She laughed."No, I only have a litter every other year. I couldn't bear it," she giggled at her own pun,"more often. Being a mother is an awful lot of work."
The rain softened.
"Did you see what the human was doing the other night at the peach orchard?"Tucker asked.
"Burying another human,"the bear simply said. It was no concern of hers. The three domestic animals looked at one another but said nothing.
"Well, we'll be on our way. Thank you for giving us shelter,"Mrs. Murphy politely said.
"Yes,thank you." Pewter and Tucker both remembered their manners.
"My pleasure. I love my babies, but they prattle on. I enjoyed our conversation."
The three scampered out, running the whole way to the stable. Although soaked, once they scurried into the center aisle they were exhilarated.
"We'vegot to go to the peach orchard," Mrs. Murphy said.
"Not in this rain,"Pewter replied.
"She's right, Murphy,"Tucker agreed.
Harry tromped in from the opposite side, water coursing off her trusty old Barbour coat. "Where have you been? I looked all over for you all. I was scared to death."
Tucker ran up, sat down, and looked adoringly at Harry."Mom, we need to go to the peach orchard, if it ever stops raining."
"You all look like drowned rats." Harry took off her coat, hanging it on a tack hook to drip. She picked up a thick barn towel and wiped down Tucker. She tossed it in the Plastic wash bin, fetched another, and cleaned both cats with it. As she was rubbing down Mrs. Murphy, Simon leaned over the hayloft."What a mess."
"Thanks,"Pewter grumbled as she sat on her rear end, stretched out a hind leg straight, flaring her claws."I'll never get the mud out"
18
The next day sparkled as though the thunderstorm's dark gray clouds, like giant S.O.S pads, had scrubbed everything clean. Fields glistened, the late dogwoods bloomed even as the regular dogwoods lost their blossoms. Lilacs opened. Fresh air filled lungs, invigorating everyone.
Up at 4:30 A.M., Harry knocked out her chores by noon, hopped in her 1978 Ford pickup, and cruised over to Alicia's to see how her foal crop was doing.
When she drove along the long, winding driveway where the massive trees lent their authority to the place, she noticed the yearlings racing about in the front pasture. Last year's group of Thoroughbreds showed such promise. Harry was eager to see how the foals of two and three months were doing. She'd been so busy she hadn't much time to visit around, although she did manage to see Burly. How funny to see the long-eared little mule nursing on Keepsake, an elegant Thoroughbred. If Keepsake was embarrassed by her offspring she chose not to show it.
Alicia's colors, green and gold, were painted in a band around the middle of the white gateposts to the stable. Once at the graceful white clapboard stable, the colors, in a small band, encircled the posts, which supported the eight-foot overhang. The stable, built at the turn of the twentieth century, evidenced all the charm of pre-World War I America.
"There's Max."Tucker, on her hind legs, joyfully noted the appearance of Alicia's beloved and impressive Gordon setter.
Max, unlike Irish setters or English setters, actively guarded his human. He happily hunted, too, but at a more conservative pace than his ribald Irish cousin or his stately English cousin.
Mrs. Murphy and Pewter liked Max well enough, but they were more interested in bolting out of the truck to chase the barn swallows swooping in and out of the stable.
Harry noticed both Toby Pittman's and Arch Saunders's trucks parked in the lovely large square at the front of the stable.
"Wonder what's up," she said out loud.
"Yeah, none of those guys want Thoroughbreds. Arch can't ride."Mrs. Murphy eagerly waited for Harry to turn off her motor.
The moment the motor was cut, Harry opened her door. Before she swung her leg out, the cats bounced on her lap then to the cobblestones. They flashed into the stable before even Max knew they were there.
"Ignore them."Tucker waited to be lifted out.
"/do," Max replied as he walked forward to greet Tucker.
Harry, who had called Alicia beforehand, checked around outside, then entered the barn. She walked to the office, where paneled walls were covered with gold-framed photos of Mary Pat Reines: in the hunt field; over fences at Keswick's Horse Show, Deep Run's Show, Devon; photos of her horses winning conformation shows, her steeplechasers in the winner's circle. There was one photo of a twenty-two-year-old Alicia in informal attire at a foxhunt.
Arch Saunders and Toby Pittman sat on the newly covered sofa while Alicia sat opposite them in a club chair, a scarred coffee table between them.
"Alicia, I can come back." Harry realized this was an impromptu gathering, because Alicia said she'd be alone. When Harry had called, Alicia raved about a colt she had by Distinctive Pro, a New York sire, and a filly by More Than Ready, standing at Vinery Stud in Kentucky.
"Come on in."
The men stood as Harry entered, then sat when she sat in the other club chair.
Toby returned to his subject. "He means to destroy me. All of us."
Arch grimaced but kept his mouth shut.
"Have you spoken to Sheriff Shaw?" Alicia calmly inquired.
"He won't listen to me. That's why I came to you. Everybody listens to you and to Big Mim. But Mim's mad at me. You talk to the sheriff. Get him to investigate."
"Why is Mim mad at you?" Alicia asked.
Toby distractedly tapped his knee with his forefinger. "I told her she was making a big mistake in not turning some of her land into vineyards. And I said with her wealth she could be a big player early."
"And?" Alicia knew there had to be more to the story.
"I told her that Patricia and Bill were so powerful they'll be like Nelson Bunker when he tried to corner the silver market. She said Patricia and Bill weren't like that. If they were they wouldn't have driven Professor Forland to visit other vintners."
"That's true, Toby." Alicia wondered why Toby couldn't exercise the minimum of diplomacy.
"Things were going along okay until then. I gave her my theory about Professor Forland's disappearance. She said I should be careful about making false accusations and I called her a rich bitch."