The morning’s hunt pleased Sister and Shaker. They took out more young entry than usual. In the beginning of cubbing they’d put two couple of youngsters in with the pack. Keeping the number of young entry small allowed them to study them. By now, January 5, Thursday, enough of the youngsters had settled in that they could take more than two couple. However, it usually took a season, sometimes two, before a young hound fully came into her or his own.
Often an older hound would be retired or pass away and a young hound would step into that hound’s position, a bit like a first baseman retiring and a rookie taking over. But even if the young ones were learning quickly, a large number of them in the pack in their first year often meant excessive excitement, overrunning the line.
This Thursday they’d taken three couple, six young entry from the “A” litter.” Perhaps next Tuesday they’d take four couple. Since the field was usually large on Saturdays, Sister avoided a large number of first-year hounds. She didn’t want to overwhelm youngsters with too many people.
The snow had sunk down to the consistency of hard vanilla sauce. The footing gave everyone flutters. Horses slipped, although it didn’t bother the horses as much as it bothered the people. Most people instructed their blacksmith to put borium on the shoes. A few people used screw-in caulks, a bit like small spikes on baseball shoes. While they could be tremendously useful on a day like today, they could also be dangerous. If a horse overreached or inadvertently clipped himself, he’d tear into flesh. Worse, if an owner forgot to unscrew the caulks, the ride home could turn into disaster for the horse. And unscrewing the ice-cold caulks, when hands were frozen was not a congenial task.
Sister stuck to borium, a powder applied to spots on the shoe rim. Slightly raised and rough, it helped the animal get purchase. Besides which, borium created much less damage if her horse stepped on himself. She’d rather slip and slide than risk injury to her horse.
Despite the skating, they ran two foxes. The saucy creatures were fully aware that the footing gave them a great advantage. The hounds fared better, thanks to their claws, but they couldn’t keep up with the lighter foxes on a day like today.
Uncle Yancy, a venerable fox with peculiar habits, one of which was watching TV while sitting in Shaker’s window, sauntered in full view. As it was, he was all the way over on the Lorillard place. This surprised Sister, Shaker, Betty, and Sybil because Uncle Yancy usually kept within a small radius of Roughneck Farm, occasionally taking over a den at After All Farm.
Uncle Yancy was experiencing domestic problems with Aunt Netty. She said old age was making him dotty and querulous. He said she was an old harridan and her brush looked like a rat’s tail.
So Uncle Yancy was sleeping on the sofa, as it were. He explored the Lorillard place and was impressed with the brothers’ accomplishments. But it was too far east for him.
When hounds caught his scent, their third fox of the morning, Uncle Yancy headed west to Tedi and Edward’s After All Farm, which was where hounds had met for the first cast. He skated a few times, but it was fun. Uncle Yancy liked the cold air in his nostrils.
He hastened all the way to the pattypan forge, five miles as the crow flies, which St. Just was doing. The crow tracked Yancy the entire way, but both animals knew nothing would come of it. Still, it afforded St. Just a thrill to see the old red fox loping along. He hurled down insults.
When Uncle Yancy dropped into the pattypan den he kicked himself. He had discounted it as a homesite because he’d be within two miles of Aunt Netty. Once inside he changed his mind. He’d avoid her as best he could, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to live in this exotic labyrinth.
Hounds marked the spot.
Dragon sailed through the window. Cora, Diane, and Asa followed.
“You won’t blast Uncle Yancy out of here any more than you did Target,” Cora complained.
“I know. I’m looking for an arm or a leg. Or old bones. Remember the blood last time?” Dragon answered.
“Shaker will think you’re dawdling.” Asa turned to jump back out the window.
“If I show up with a human leg he’ll think otherwise. And a bone is a bone. Doesn’t matter what animal it comes from.” Dragon lifted the fur on his shoulders.
“Ass.” Asa jumped out.
“Take that, too,” Dragon called after him.
Cora didn’t feel like wasting time on Dragon, so she, too, jumped out.
Dragon looked at his sister. “A quick check.”
She turned to leave, but her curiosity got the better of her. She put her nose down. Seconds later at the actual forge she came up on another large glop of congealed blood, the cold giving it an odd glisten.
“Here.”
Outside Shaker called them.
Dragon hurried over. He trotted along the side of the old bellows. “This is weird.”
Diana joined him. Another frozen gelatinous lump, palm sized, had been dropped on the other side of the forge. Diana was baffled by this. Given the cold, not much scent came off this substance, either.
“Come on, Diana. Come on, Dragon.”
Dragon ran back to the blood, inhaled deeply. What little scent he could pick up with his long nasal passage made him sneeze. “Human blood, but something’s wrong with it.”
Both hounds then jumped out of the window in tandem. If they could return on a non-hunting day, maybe they could find more. But they left the kennels only for hunting or for hound walk. It was a sorry hound that ran off during hound walk. He’d lose his privileges or be coupled to another hound, berated by that hound for being a damned fool and being out of step besides.
Later, as Sister and Betty cleaned tack they heard the sound of a six-cylinder Wrangler. A lime-green Jeep pulled into the stable lot. Three young women crawled out, swinging their legs over the high bottom lip of the doorway.
“Sister!” Tootie, Val, and Felicity ran inside the stable.
After hugs and kisses, Sister and Betty listened to their stories of Christmas vacation, dreary dates, even more dreary family reunions, and how cold the dorms were when they arrived back at Custis Hall. How tough Bunny Taliaferro, the riding instuctor, was. Christmas vacation made her meaner.
“How cold?” Sister enjoyed the hyperbole.
“My toothbrush froze.” Val tossed her blonde ponytail.
“In her mouth,” Tootie added with a sly smile.
“My,” Betty simply commented.
“I’m surprised it’s still not stuck to your mouth, Val. Your Wrangler can’t be that warm,” Sister teased.
“But it is. Daddy bought me the hardtop. We can lift it off, but we have to disengage the wires to the windshield wiper on the back. Isn’t it cool? Isn’t it the coolest car you have ever seen?”
“It is. Looks like fun.” Sister loved being around these kids.
“You need one. Red.” Felicity imagined the master tooling around the back roads.
“Black,” Tootie said.
“I knew you’d say that.” Val laughed.
“Really, black with a blue and gold pinstripe. How cool is that?” Tootie folded her arms over her chest.
“Pretty cool.” Sister imagined the sight.
“You’re ahead of Jennifer. She still doesn’t have a car,” Betty said. “Wants a Pontiac Solstice.”
“Me, too. Howie wants one in that titanium color.” Felicity found a way to drag her boyfriend into the conversation.
“Howie will have a long wait,” Val replied.
Felicity ignored Val’s remark.
“How many great hunts did we miss? Tootie e-mailed us your reports. I wish we’d been here.” And before Sister could open her mouth, Val bubbled over. “But we can hunt Saturday. Bunny said so. I can’t wait! It’s horrible not being around horses. I love Mom and Dad, but my horse is here. I can’t live without Moneybags.”