“Let’s give him a minute. You’re probably right, but it’s better if he comes to us.”
Susan, on all fours now, was almost at eye level with the basset, who decided this was okay and bounded up to her. She grabbed his collar.
Hoisting him up, for she didn’t have a leash, she grunted. “My God, these hounds are heavy.”
“Hold on a minute.” Arlene unbuckled her belt, handing it to Susan, who slipped it under the hound’s collar.
“Good.”
The three women slowly walked the hounds to the wagon just as Nattie, Jake, and Caitlin came into view.
“I’m sorry to have put you out.” Nattie apologized to Arlene.
“We’ve all been in this situation. Don’t worry about it.”
The two whippers-in, leashes around their waists, put those on the bassets, handing back the belt and leash to Arlene and Clare. They walked, crestfallen, back toward the Institute.
The rain, steady, made dampness seep into bones.
“Give me a minute to see if Madam would like a drink when we get back,” Harry said.
They passed spectators, umbrellas up now. Everyone wore mud boots, so that was a plus. No wet feet.
However, every now and then a raindrop would slide down the back of Harry’s boot or down her collar. Being a country girl, she ignored it.
The day, rain notwithstanding, proved exciting. At the end, Mary Reed’s Ashland Bassets won, with Rachel coming in a close second. A hairsbreadth separated them, but the reason Ashland won is that there wasn’t one check, not one.
The dinner couldn’t have been better. Harry talked to everyone, being especially fascinated by the women wounded veterans. But the men, military service being part of manhood for centuries, truly were impressive. What touched her was that no one complained. No one.
Once back at the cabin, fire going, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker having had a potty break and now in front of the fire with Ruffy, whom the humans couldn’t see, the two women replayed the day.
“Supposed to rain tomorrow for the beagles, too.” Susan put her feet on a little stool, hoping to warm them.
“As long as it isn’t heavy, it helps scent and really, this place is full of rabbits. I think they’ll have a booming day.”
“Hope so.” Susan leaned her head on the chair’s back, looking up. “I forgot that Arlene has one of those space-age legs.”
“She can run better than we can.” Harry nodded.
“Yes, she can, but I think about that moment when the device blew up. I can’t imagine that, and here she is. Thank God for our medical corps.”
“And technology. I can’t imagine it either, Susan. All these people here, each of them with a story of service. We’re pretty spoiled, you and I.”
“That we are,” Susan agreed.
“We’ll be in the canary cart again. I would think Madam would be embarrassed.”
“If she isn’t, I am.” Susan laughed.
Harry inhaled the lovely odor of the hardwood fire, thinking again that Jason’s killer had an intimate sense of the territory, which could be difficult.
“I’m beginning to think Jason was a good actor. You don’t just get killed for being a nice guy.”
“She’s got that right,” Ruffy said, ears sharp.
“Let’s not dwell on it,” Susan advised.
“I won’t. Let’s remember to find pillows for tomorrow.” Harry smiled, closing her eyes, bone weary but happy to be useful.
32
April 29, 2018
Sunday
Now Sunday was day two for the beaglers, as there were so many of them, and they were undeterred even though the light rain had returned. Clare drew a ten o’clock slot. Harry and Susan whipped-in to her. Arlene, binoculars at the ready, really needed to watch over everything, so Nattie Riddle drove Madam, Jake Deloria aboard. Although basset people, a hound man is a hound man, and both wanted to observe hound work. Sitting in the canary wagon gave an excellent vantage point.
Clare walked her four Chesapeake Beagles up over the hill, for the day’s territory had to be different from the last two days’. Rabbits shouldn’t be overhunted and since the Institute covered 512 acres, the game could be fairly protected. One would be hunting fresh rabbit.
Well, Clare certainly hit a fresh rabbit, and the bugger shot straight uphill, a fairly steep rise above a small but swift creek. Harry, on the right, had the presence of mind to vault the creek to begin the climb. Susan hung back slightly should the game turn, because if the rabbit did pull a one-eighty—and they had a bag of tricks—she’d be able to turn with it, keep up with the pack. But this rabbit harbored Mount Everest dreams, going ever upward. Harry, cool though it was, sweated. Susan knew she couldn’t catch up to be on the hounds’ left shoulders, so she sensibly climbed but conserved her energy.
The rabbit hit the crest, the four beagles perhaps five or six minutes behind. They poured over, followed by Harry, determined to keep up. No human can keep up with canines at full tilt. She hung in there as she heard Clare reach the crest, whooping encouragement to hounds who needed none of it. A beagle possessed is in his or her own world.
The high ground, wet, slowed Harry down, but not the light animals. She kept them in sight, only realizing as she reached the middle of the high meadow that it was where the cavalrymen had thundered on, to their regret. The rabbit did not stop to say a brief grace but zoomed over that meadow, the cottontail bobbling, eyes determined. Farmwork makes one strong but doesn’t necessarily give one great wind, and Harry’s lungs burned. Still, she kept up, as did Susan, closing slightly. Both women, in shape, decent runners, realized this run was very, very good. The rabbit hit the tree line of a northeastern woods, cut into it, and then swerved west. Hounds roared in, full cry, then silence.
Harry could drop it down to a trot, for she saw the Chesapeake hounds casting about. They tried everything, but to no avail. Clare blew her horn, calling them back. She then walked along the wood’s edge, pushing them into the woods. She might have done better sticking to the edge, for rabbits are edge feeders. Then again, one never knew. After fifteen minutes she turned to recross the meadow and hunt downhill, but the timer watch on Nattie’s wrist went off and Arlene blew the horn.
Madam flicked her ears. She wasn’t a big horn fan.
Clare told her hounds how good they were and began walking back to the kennels at the Institute. Harry and Susan walked on either side of the proud beagles, tails upright.
Arlene had Nattie drive her back to the top of the hill for the next hunt, which was Waldingfield Beagles.
“I should have kept on the edge.” Clare kicked herself.
“They put in a super run. And who knows where scent might be? You did a good job.” Harry praised her.
“Clare, you’ve been hunting these hounds less than a month.” Susan put things in perspective.
She brightened. “I think Jason would be proud.”
“No doubt. I personally would like to have a word with that bunny. Nearly straight up. Hateful climb.”
“Was.” Both Susan and Clare agreed.
Reaching the kennels, Clare checked the hounds’ paws and refreshed their buckets of water, putting them in their tidy kennel. She also mixed up a kibble mash into which she threw what she swore were secret ingredients.