As hounds searched for fresh scent, Sister looked behind again, noting that Gray was in the middle of the field, Ben back with Bobby. She was glad Ben had asked her not to tell Gray. He was right; Gray would have inched forward, sticking too close to Sister.
Athena and Bitsy peered down from a leafless sycamore, its distinctive multicolored patchy bark noticeable in a palette of white, gray, beige, and black.
“They’ll pick up Earl’s scent soon enough if they keep going in this direction,” Bitsy fretted.
“M-m-m.” Athena noticed Diddy tossing snow with her nose, then leaping up for it.
“This isn’t playtime,” Asa reprimanded the happy girl.
“Sorry.” Diddy reapplied herself to the task.
The treetops waved slightly as they dropped down a steep path to walk along the creek bed, flat and wide, the rushing water drowning other sounds.
“If we fly with the hounds, we won’t signal Earl’s position.” Athena was more worried than she cared to admit. “The crows will stay put. If Earl does need direction, we can move up to supply it.”
“Yes, yes.” Bitsy agreed, then lifted off to slowly fly along. No need for speed at this point.
A quarter mile down the creek bed they reached the otter slides.
“Gray, dog fox.” Dasher inhaled.
The otters, peeking out from under the big roots in the bank, listened as the hounds chimed in after Dasher.
They watched the whole pack go down their slide and hit the water, swimming across the frothy creek in one body.
“Bet they’ve made the slide bigger and slicker.” Bruce couldn’t wait to return to his game.
Darby, at the rear of the pack, heard Bruce’s voice and turned to see the otters looking at him. “You’re funny-looking,” the young hound blurted out.
“Not as funny as you are,” Lisa smartly replied as Shaker on Gunpowder jumped off the bank six feet away from the slide, where the grade was better for a horse.
The pack in full cry flew through the flatland on the other side of the creek and climbed up the gentle rise to higher ground to run southwards, wind at their rear, scent blowing away from them.
Earl knew enough to use the wind, but scent was strong and hounds were closing.
He kept on straight through the woods, but the pine needles, under snow, couldn’t help dissipate his scent. Hounds moved faster than he thought they could.
Nothing looked promising, so he picked up the pace, his brush now carried straight out. A rotted log ahead provided a break in his scent. He ran inside, straight through to the other end. He kept going.
A pocket meadow needed to be crossed quickly before he could escape into denser woods on the far side. He knew a few dens in there that could be used. If someone was in them, too bad. They’d be crowded for a time.
Snow lay eight inches in parts on the pocket meadow. He didn’t relish going across. At the last minute Earl skirted back into the woods, heading northeast, at a right angle to his former line of scent.
Old deer bones protruded from the snow. He ran into the middle of them, then sped away, turning again toward the meadow.
Hounds checked briefly at the bones.
Sister picked her spot and her moment.
“Jason, come up here beside me for a minute.”
He rode next to her, then stopped. “This corpse helped our fox, the reverse of Iffy’s corpse, which points her finger at you.”
Jason shrugged, laughing. “Sister, you have a good imagination.”
Hounds sped away. Sister followed. Jason fell in behind. Had she gotten it wrong?
This time Earl did go into the meadow, and it was his bad luck to founder in a deep spot that lay deceptively flat on the meadow. Struggling to extricate himself, he heard hounds draw closer, much too close. He could see them bursting into the meadow, clouds of snow churning up in front of their forelegs.
He finally clawed out of the hole, but the going was deep.
Athena and Bitsy flew over him now.
Athena saw the boar, all four hundred and forty pounds of him, yellow tusks long and sharp, arrive in the little meadow at a trot in the opposite direction.
“Go right!” Athena called down.
Earl, running for his life, pounded through the snow as the huge boar trotted straight at him.
“Duck around him. He’ll swing his head in that direction. Make a wide circle, then run like hell, Earl!” Athena commanded.
Shaker, up behind his hounds, saw the danger and blew three long notes to call hounds back, but not before half the pack was face-to-face with one ugly brute.
The boar lowered his head. He stopped. He paid no attention to Earl, who circled him, reaching the woods and freedom.
“Go back!” Ardent boomed, barely managing to pull back the pack.
Shaker, blowing his hounds to him, galloped away from the boar, pulling hounds back into the woods from whence they had come but far to the right of the field, who did not know what lay ahead. The field did, however, pull up at woods’ edge.
Jason rode up to Sister, already in the meadow, before she could turn to follow Shaker. He wedged his knee under hers, throwing her over the saddle. Aztec trembled in front of the boar, then turned, racing back through the field. He was only six, but even a seasoned horse would be scared once it got a whiff. Horses were blowing up behind Aztec.
Jason then bellowed, “Reverse.”
The field, not able to see over the meadow’s rise, obediently turned in the woods.
The only person who had a clear view of what had happened was Betty, on the right at the edge of the woods.
Aztec stopped at the rear of first flight. Walter reached over and grabbed his reins.
Tedi and Edward turned, but Edward stopped turning back.
“Jason passed us—but where’s Sister?”
They waited a moment, their horses becoming more restive.
Betty bolted out of the woods toward Sister.
Luckily, Sister had fallen on her right side. Her .38 rested in a holster on her left side under her jacket.
Slipping in the snow, she tore open her coat, black horn buttons popping off, to reach for the gun as the boar charged. No time.
“Roll, then run!” Athena directed, hoping the human might understand.
Betty, hurtling toward the boar, said to Magellan, “We might get hurt, but we have to do this.”
“I will,” the thoroughbred replied, all heart.
The boar turned his big head for a moment upon hearing Magellan.
Sister had rolled. Then she ran as fast as she could. The snow slowed her.
She turned while Betty occupied the brute by circling him. Betty’d drawn her gun. Sister at last drew hers.
Betty, cool, didn’t fire. “Get to the woods, Janie. I’ll pick you up there,” she hollered.
“No. What if you fall?”
“Dammit!” Betty rode in the opposite direction of Sister, the boar charging after her. Then she wheeled and spurred Magellan. The horse flew past the beast, who though large had quick reflexes. Betty reached Sister, who stuck her gun back in the holster.
Slowing Magellan, Betty leaned down, her left arm straight.
Sister grabbed Betty’s arm, ran alongside Magellan for two steps, gained speed, and swung up.
Thank God, Betty was strong. She held Sister’s weight as the older woman flung her right leg over Magellan’s hindquarters. Mounted, the two galloped into the woods. Tedi and Edward followed on seeing them.