Sister slowed. She didn’t want to run into the fence, plus she knew Aztec, bursting with talent, would just lift off and clear the fence. She thought it unwise to ask some of the riders behind her to follow suit. The coop, once she found it, would be more prudent.
Off in the distance she heard Diana’s voice, and Cora’s bel canto.“Fly! Fly! Fly!”The other hounds in chorus,“Yes.”
“Where is that damned coop?” she whispered, eager to be with her hounds.
A blackened shape interrupted the fence line.
“That’s it.”Aztec curved to the right, then swung to the left with long, fluid strides to hit the spot perfectly in front of the coop, the rain-soaked earth squishing underneath his hooves. He gave an extra surge of power because of the footing, clearing the coop with a foot to spare, which made Sister laugh as she hadn’t expected Aztec to jump so big. He was still young, inclined to overjump.
“Good boy.” She patted his neck.
Behind her she heard Tedi land, then Edward, both superbly mounted, as always. She headed left again, following the face of the corn.
Shaker was in the cornfield, behind his hounds. Betty sat now on the farm road, waiting for the hounds to emerge like small ghosts from between the straight-planted rows.
She heard Shaker’s high-pitched “Whoop.” If he was going to turn or call them back, she’d hear the horn, the three or four long, piercing notes of equal length.
Betty hoped Sybil was on the far side of the cornfield. She couldn’t see a thing, contenting herself with the knowledge that no one else could, either.
The bulk of the pack now ran thirty paces behind Dragon. Delia, bringing up the rear, was fifty paces behind.
Charlie scampered over the zigzag fence, ran between Outlaw’s legs for effect.
“Gotcha!”he shouted over his shoulder.
Both Betty and Outlaw, hearts in their mouths, had to settle themselves for a second, then Betty laughed. The gall of that fox.
“Outlaw,” she whispered. “Steady yourself. The whole pack is going to run right through us.”
He twitched his ears forward and back.“Okay.” Within two minutes they did just that, then Betty jumped over the fence on the opposite side of the farm road and was swallowed by the fog. She was heading for the orchard. Had she been able to see she would have spurred on Outlaw the minute Charlie ran between her legs, but she couldn’t. She thought the wiser course was to let the hounds blow through her; she wouldn’t hurt anyone that way and she could ride hard through the orchard, a kind of shortcut.
Sister, face wet from corn leaves, heard the flap, flap, flap behind her as other riders were getting it full in the face. There was no ducking the corn, the silken red tassels loaded with the moisture.
She felt clammy. The dew point was soggy to the max. Then Sister felt the first drops of a drizzle. She blasted out of the corn row, lifted over the zigzag fence, hooves sunk into the farm road, the red clay now viscous. She hooked left.
Shaker, ahead, blew them on.
Before she knew it, she’d jumped over the zigzag fence on the opposite side of the road and headed straight into the apple orchard. The scent of the apples, almost ready to be picked, filled the air.
The voices of the hounds suddenly stopped.
Trident whispered,“What happened?”
Diana said,“We’ve lost the scent.”
Dragon, furious, growled,“I was right behind him!He’s got to be here!”
Shaker rode up to his hounds.“Try on. Eee-lou.”
Dutifully, all hounds put their noses to the ground, but nothing. A youngster wanted to run heel, but Cora put her right.
“But it’s good here,”Rassle whined.
“I know, but you’re heading backwards. Must stay forward.”Diana confirmed Cora’s correction.
The field finally caught up. Betty stayed on the other side of the apple orchard since Shaker didn’t blow her in.
Sybil was at the foot of Hangman’s Ridge; having gotten herself turned around, she finally found her way out by following first the creek bed, then emerging into the north side of the cornfield. She followed a row in the fog and drizzle to the farm road at the base of the ridge.
Sister rode up to Shaker.“You know, we’d better call it a day.”
“Damn, how could he give us the slip like that!”
“I don’t know. He’s got some kind of mojo, but the fog isn’t lifting. If anything, Shaker, it’s thickening and my built-in weather station”—she tapped her collarbone broken in the seventies—“tells me this drizzle will be a downpour soon enough.”
“Okay.” He put his horn to his lips, blowing in his whippers-in.
“Thank God,” Betty thought to herself as she picked her way through the fog back down into the apple orchard.
Betty couldn’t understand how Charlie could turn his scent off. If he’d ducked into a den, they’d know. But he’d vanished. Not a trace.
Sister turned to face the field, huddled together, exhilarated that they’d survived the fog hunt, as it would come to be known. “Folks, well done. This wasn’t an easy task, but it was an exciting one.” She turned to Edward. “Do you mind leading people home? Since I’m here I thought Aztec and I would road hounds back to the kennels. We’ll come back to pick up the hound wagon.”
“I’d be happy to take everyone back.” Edward touched the brim of his cap with his crop.
“Shaker, ready?”
“You read my mind.”
“Sybil,” Sister addressed a bedraggled Sybil, who had just joined them, “Shaker, Betty, and I will put hounds up. You ride back with the others.”
“Thank you.”
After each field member said,“Good night, Master,” and rode off, Sister turned to her hounds.
Edward took the riders back over the zigzag fences and followed the edge of the corn row. Tedi rode up front with him. Folks tried to stay within sight of one another.
The fog, pewter gray now, swirled droplets of moisture. People waited to jump the last coop into After All Farm, although you could barely see it until one stride in front of it.
Ralph Assumptio, boot to boot with Xavier, passed his old friend his flask.
“You know what? Let’s walk the fence line and find the gate. This is stupid. We have the whole rest of the hunt season in front of us, and I, for one, don’t want to buy real estate during cubbing.”
Xavier savored the marvelous port in Ralph’s flask. “You got that right, buddy.”
“I agree,” Ken called from in front of them, although they couldn’t see him.
“Me too,” Sybil chimed in.
The sound played tricks on them in the fog.
“Ron, you still with us?” Xavier asked.
“To your right.” Ron gently squeezed his horse, who walked forward, the two of them appearing spectral in the swirling mists.
Xavier handed Ron his flask.
“What do you have in yours?” Ralph asked Xavier.
“Schnapps.”
Ralph wrinkled his nose.“You carry that stuff so the rest of us won’t drink it.”
“I like it.”
Ken’s voice floated toward them. “Xavier, admit it.”
“Admit what? I like schnapps. I like sweet stuff. My waistline ought to prove that. Sybil, where the hell are you? Not with your husband, I hope. The entire point of foxhunting is to depart from one’s spouse.” He knocked back some of his schnapps. “Within limits, of course.”
“I’m on your left,” she called out.
Ken laughed.“Xavier, don’t give my wife ideas.”
They heard a rub up ahead at the jump. Someone’s horse’s hind hooves literally rubbed on the jump.
“If I recall, the hand gate is maybe two hundred yards down the line, wrong direction from the house, but we can follow the fence line back once we’re through the gate.”
Rolling his shoulders, Ralph replied,“Well, let’s do it. It’s too damned raw out here.”