The loneliness filled her. If she could have, she would have embraced every life and cherished it. As it was, she was struggling on with her own.
Harry began to fear the coming years. Formerly, time was her ally. Now she wasn’t so sure. If death could snatch you in an instant, then life had better be lived to the fullest. The worst thing would be to go down in the grave without having lived.
The bite of the night’s air made her fingertips tingle and her toes hurt. She whistled to Tucker and Mrs. Murphy and started back for the house.
Harry was not by nature an introspective person. She liked to work. She liked to see the results of her work. Deeper thoughts and philosophic worries were for other people. But after today’s jolt Harry turned inward, if only for a brief moment, and was suffused with life’s sadness and harmony.
36
A terrible rumpus outside awoke Mrs. Murphy and Tucker. Mrs. Murphy ran to the window.
“It’s Simon and the raccoons.”
Tucker barked to wake up Harry, because now that it was cold Harry made sure to shut the back door tight, and they couldn’t get out to the screened-in porch. That door was easy to open, so if Harry would just open the back door they could get outside.
“Go away, Tucker,” Harry groaned.
“Wake up, Mom. Come on.”
“Goddammit.” Harry’s feet hit the cold floor. She thought the dog was barking at an animal or had to go to the bathroom. She tramped downstairs and opened the back door and both creatures zoomed out. “Go on out and freeze your asses. I’m not letting you back in.”
The cat and dog didn’t have time to reply. They streaked toward Simon, backed up against the barn by two masked raccoons.
“Beat it!” Tucker barked.
Mrs. Murphy, fur puffed up to the max, ears flat back, spit and howled,“I’ll rip your eyes out!”
The raccoons decided they didn’t want to fight, so they waddled off.
“Thanks,” Simon puffed, his flanks heaving.
“What was all that about?” Mrs. Murphy asked.
“Marshmallows. Blair put out marshmallows and I love them. Unfortunately, so do those creeps. They chased me all the way back here.” A trickle of blood oozed from Simon’s pink nose. His left ear was also bleeding.
“You got the worst of the fight. Why don’t we go up to the loft?” Mrs. Murphy suggested.
“I’m still hungry. Did Harry put out leftovers?”
“No. She had a bad day,” Tucker answered.“The humans found another body today.”
“In pieces?” Simon was curious.
“No, except that the vultures got at it.” Mrs. Murphy quivered as the wind kicked up. It felt like zero degrees.
“I’ve always wondered why birds like the eyes. First thing they’ll go for: the eyes and the head.” Simon rubbed his ear, which had begun to sting.
“Let’s go inside. Come on. It’s vile out here.”
They wiggled under the big barn doors. Simon paused to pick up bits of grain that Tomahawk and Gin Fizz had dropped. As the horses were sloppy eaters, Simon could enjoy the gleanings.
“That ought to hold me until tomorrow.” The gray possum sat down and wrapped his pink tail around him.“If you come upstairs it’s warm in the hay.”
“I can’t climb the ladder,” Tucker whimpered.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Simon rubbed his nose.
“Let’s go into the tack room. That old, heavy horse blanket is in there, the one Gin Fizz ripped up. The lining is fleecy and we could curl up in that.”
“It’s hanging over the saddle rack,” Tucker called.
“So? I’ll push it down.” Mrs. Murphy was already hooking her claws under the door bottom. The door, old and warped, wavered a little and she wedged her paw behind it while Tucker stuck her nose down to see if she could help. In a minute the door squeaked open.
The cat leapt onto the saddle rack, dug her claws in the blanket, and leaned over with it. She came down with the blanket. The three snuggled next to one another in the fleece.
When Harry hurried into the barn the next morning she felt guilty for leaving her pets outside. She knew she’d find them in the barn but she was quite surprised to find them curled up with a possum in the tack room. Simon was surprised, too, so surprised that he pretended to be dead.
Tucker licked Harry’s gloved hands while Mrs. Murphy rubbed against her legs.
“This little guy’s been in the ring.” Harry noticed Simon’s torn ear and scratched nose.
“Simon, wake up. We know you’re not dead.” Mrs. Murphy patted his rump.
Harry reached for a tube of ointment and while Simon squeezed his eyes more tightly shut she rubbed salve on his wounds. He couldn’t stand it. He opened one eye.
Mrs. Murphy patted his rump again.“See, she’s not so bad. She’s a good human.”
Simon, who didn’t trust humans, kept silent, but Tucker piped up,“Look grateful, Simon, and maybe she’ll give you some food. Let her pick you up. She’ll love that.”
Harry petted Simon’s funny little head. “You’ll be all right, fella. You stay here if you want and I’ll do my chores.”
She left the animals and climbed into the hayloft.
Simon panicked for a moment.“She won’t steal my treasures, will she? I think I’d better see.” Simon walked out of the tack room and grabbed the lowest ladder rung. He moved quickly. Mrs. Murphy followed. Tucker stayed where she was and looked up. She could hear the hay moving around as Harry prepared to toss it through the holes in the loft floor over the stalls.
Harry turned around to see Simon and Mrs. Murphy hurrying toward the back. She put down her bale and followed them.
“You two certainly are chummy.”
The T-shirt made Harry laugh. Simon’s nest was much improved since Mrs. Murphy had last visited.
“Shut up, down there,” the owl called out.
“Shut up, yourself, flatface,” Mrs. Murphy snarled.
Harry knelt down as Simon darted into his half-cave. He’d brought up some excess yarn Harry had used to braid Tomahawk for opening hunt. He also had shredded the sweet feed bag and brought it up in strips. Simon’s nest was now very cozy and the T-shirt had been lovingly placed over his homemade insulation. One ballpoint pen, two pennies, and the tassled end of an old longe line were artfully arranged in one corner.
“This is quite a house.” Harry admired the possum’s work.
A shiny glint caught Mrs. Murphy’s sharp eye.“What’s that?”
“Found it over at Foxden.”
“I didn’t think possums were pack rats.” Harry smiled at the display.
“I operate on the principle that it is better to have something and not need it than need it and not have it. I am not a pack rat,” Simon stated with dignity.
“Where at Foxden did you find this?” Mrs. Murphy reached out and grabbed the shiny object. As she drew it toward her she saw that it was a misshapen earring.
“I like pretty things.” Simon watched with apprehension as Harry took the earring from her cat.“I found it on the old logging road in the woods—out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Gold.” Harry placed the earring in her palm. It seemed to her that she had seen this earring before. It was clearly expensive. She couldn’t make out the goldstamp, as it appeared the earring had been run over or stepped on. She was able to make out the T-I-F of TIFFANY. She turned the earring over and over.
“She’s going to give it back to me, isn’t she?” Simon nervously asked.“I mean, she isn’t a thief, is she?”
“No, she’s not a thief, but if you found it over at Foxden she ought to take it. It might be a clue.”
“Who cares? Humans kill one another all the time. You catch one, and somebody else starts killing.”
“It’s not as bad as that.”
The owl called out again,“Keep it down!”
Harry loved the sound of an owl hooting but she detected the crabby note. She placed the earring back in Simon’s nest. “Well, kiddo, it looks like you’re part of the family. I’ll set out the scraps.”
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