“Sister, what the hell is he doing trapping foxes?” Shaker sat upright.
“Crawford,” she replied, one eyebrow shooting upwards.
“But he’s supposed to keep an eye out on dens for us!” Betty found this almost as scandalizing as Jason’s crimes.
“After I profusely thanked him, after Ben took a statement, I walked him away from the group and asked him. He said Crawford was paying one hundred dollars a fox.”
“Highway robbery.” Shaker’s voice rose.
“So what, now we buy back our own foxes? The ones originally in our coverts?” Betty’s face was flushed.
“Had a little talk with Donny. I said I’d give him a monthly stipend, find more work for him, but he absolutely must never remove one of our foxes.”
“Where will we get the money?” Betty knew the inner workings of the club.
“I have no idea, but I’ll find it somewhere,” Sister said with resignation.
“Dammit, he has a job at Sanifirm,” Shaker cursed.
“Which Crawford is trying to buy,” Sister replied.
“Oh, that’s great, just great.” Shaker rolled his eyes.
“But Donny likes us. If we give him regular part-time work, I think all will be well.”
“How regular?” Betty stared at her teacup.
“Reading the leaves,” Sister laughed.
“I’d have to tear open the bag.”
“One thousand dollars a month,” Sister announced.
“Christ.” Shaker, although not bearing the weight of financial need, since he was a club employee, nevertheless cared for Jefferson Hunt and identified with it in every respect.
“Like I said, I’ll find it somewhere. And it won’t be this minute. The other thing”—she smiled—“he wants to go to court to change his name.”
“He wants to be called Jude,” Betty giggled.
“Brad,” Shaker laconically added with a twinkle in his eye.
“No. He wants to drop the junior. He said he hated being called Junior as a kid. I said I’d help.”
“Funny what affects people,” Betty mused. Then she changed the subject. “Forgot to ask you. I remember, then it slips out of my mind.”
“Old age.” Shaker lifted one eyebrow.
“Balls. We’re the same age. Too much going on,” Betty fired back. “How many spoons?”
“Sixty-one,” Sister immediately answered.
“What are you two jabbering about?” Shaker raised his eyebrows as Betty handed Sister another cup of tea.
“Every New Year’s I count all the spoons in the house. Mother used to do it. Now I do.”
“Aren’t you supposed to have an even number of spoons?” Betty pretended this was serious.
“Yes, you nitwit. Haven’t you ever lost a spoon?”
“Never,” Betty lied, face angelic.
“Spare me.” Sister laughed.
“It’s someone’s time. Sometimes I believe that and sometimes I don’t.” Betty looked from her master to her huntsman, returning to the deeper subject.
“Somerset Maugham wrote this in one of his books. I like Maugham,” Sister smiled. She was an avid reader. “A master and his servant were riding toward Mecca, and they met Death with a surprised expression on his face. The master turned his horse away from Death and raced to Samarra. The servant said to Death, ‘Why were you so startled to see my master?’ Death said, ‘I was surprised to see him here, as I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.’”
Both Shaker and Betty thought about this.
Shaker finally said, “You can’t outrun Fate.”
“Or old age,” Sister remarked. “’Course, you can slow old age down, throw marbles under his feet.”
Another set of headlights shone on the wall. The sun now cast long beautiful shadows over the snow. The stable and farm buildings glowed.
Dragon stood up.
Two doors slammed, although the second one took longer than the first.
A knock on the door soon followed.
“Come in,” Sister beckoned.
Tootie, Val, and Felicity trooped in.
Betty naturally assumed they were still upset over yesterday’s events.
“Sister, can we talk to you?” Val asked, ever the leader.
“You can, and you can talk in front of Shaker and Betty. Whatever you say stays here. We’re full of secrets.” She smiled.
Tootie looked at Shaker, then Betty, then Sister. “We need your advice.”
“We have a problem,” Val jumped in.
“No, we don’t.” Felicity showed a new, rebellious streak.
“Felicity, I can’t believe you’re saying that.” Val was ready for an argument.
“It’s not exactly a problem, it’s”—Tootie struggled—“new information.”
“It’s a goddamned problem,” Val blurted out, forgetting she was in the presence of adults, then quickly realizing it. “Sorry.”
“You owe me one dollar.” Felicity’s jaw set as she held out her hand.
“I can’t believe you.” Val pulled money out of her pocket, peeled off a dollar, and slapped it in Felicity’s hand, hard.
“Girls, it’s first light. This must be important.” Sister gently pushed them along.
“Felicity has lied to us.” Val seemed stricken.
“I didn’t lie. I didn’t know until I went to the doctor.” Felicity defended herself.
“Sure. You said you were allergic to flour!” Val’s face turned crimson.
“Val, put yourself in her shoes,” Tootie counseled.
“I’d rather not.” Val crossed her arms across her chest, then noticed that Dragon was observing every move.
Felicity finally said, in a calm voice, “I’m pregnant.”
Shaker stood up and offered Felicity his chair. That surprised her, for she hadn’t thought through all the consequences of her condition.
Betty, motherly, put her arm around Felicity’s shoulders.
Sister also stood, put her arm around Tootie, and pulled Val to her for a hug. Then she gave Felicity a big hug. “Everything will be fine.”
Sister burst into tears not because of Felicity’s news, not because of yesterday’s drama, but because deception, truth, death, and life were happening all at the same time. It was exactly as it should be.
SOME USEFUL TERMS
Away—A fox has “gone away” when he has left the covert. Hounds are “away” when they have left the covert on the line of the fox.
Brush—The fox’s tail.
Burning scent—Scent so strong or hot that hounds pursue the line without hesitation.
Bye day—A day not regularly on the fixture card.
Cap—The fee nonmembers pay to a hunt for that day’s sport.
Carry a good head—When hounds run well together to a good scent, a scent spread wide enough for the whole pack to feel it.
Carry a line—When hounds follow the scent. This is also called “working a line.”
Cast—Hounds spread out in search of scent. They may cast themselves or be cast by the huntsman.
Charlie—A term for a fox. A fox may also be called Reynard.
Check—When hounds lose the scent and stop. The field must wait quietly while the hounds search for the scent.
Colors—A distinguishing color—usually worn on the collar but sometimes on the facings of a coat—that identifies a hunt. Colors can be awarded only by the master and can be won only in the field.
Couple straps—Two-strap hound collars connected by a swivel link. Some members of staff will carry these on the right rear of the saddle. Since the days of the pharoahs in ancient Egypt hounds have been brought to the meets coupled. Hounds are always spoken of and counted in couples. Today hounds walk or are driven to the meets. Rarely, if ever, are they coupled, but a whipper-in still carries couple straps should a hound need assistance.