“That’s all right.”
“I hope I will be able to help in some small way. I know the coroner and I will get the report but more importantly, if you’ll take me to the place where you found Fontaine I might be able to, well—help.”
“Thank you, Walter.”
“The earlier the better. Might I meet you at six-thirty in the morning?”
“Of course.”
CHAPTER 37
Uncle Yancy, Grace, and Patsy had been the first foxes to the hog’s back. Yancy waited until Shaker blew in all the hounds. With a split pack he wisely didn’t show his face but as he heard the one hound group swing around, he popped out of the hidden entrance under the big walnut. His nieces followed.
They crept toward the hog’s back, not even stopping to hide themselves as the remainder of the field rode on the farm road.
As a few humans stood on the meadow, the hog’s back between them and the foxes, Yancy remained in the woods. Although Shaker was there, he didn’t trust Dragon, the hound that broke off from Cora and the main pack, taking young entry with him. By then, one o’clock, the scent had risen so that a mounted human could smell it but scent was safely over hounds’ heads. Still, why take a chance.
The three reds waited. The ambulance roared down the rutted path. Then came the squad car. They strained to catch part of the conversation. It wasn’t until Reynard was hoisted up by the sheriff that they realized their brother, Yancy’s nephew, had been murdered.
Yancy raised his head as St. Just circled the meadow. The crow didn’t see the foxes. But Yancy knew St. Just was in some way responsible for this dolorous occasion.
Finally the humans, hounds, and horses left. The sheriff put Reynard in a plastic bag, placing him in the back of the squad car.
Patsy ran to find Target and Charlene. She was surprised to discover Butch and his family loping over the meadows to help. The outright killing of a fox outraged all foxes.
Throughout the night under the noctilucent clouds, the foxes moved in circles. Inky, down a ravine about a mile and a half from the hog’s back, found a rope—not just any rope but a special rope for bringing down steers at full tilt. The strands, braided, were impregnated with wax.
By the time she returned at sunrise, everyone had gathered again at the jump. The foxes didn’t need to see the sun to know it was up despite low Prussian blue clouds.
“I found a rope in the rock ravine. Hoofprints, too.”
Buster, who had climbed one of the trees to the side of the hog’s-back jump, said, “Did the humans find the marks on the tree? High. High enough to catch Gunpowder.”
“Yes,” Yancy replied. “The sheriff and his people found the marks on the bark, slight but perceptible. They performed the basics but they missed a lot. They missed the hoofprints along the fence line on the woods side.”
“Could have been one of the whips coming in to fetch hounds.” Target, sorrowful at the loss of his handsome son, could still think clearly.
“Yes, but it could have been his murderer, too,” Charlene, eyes filling with tears, added.
“What a pity we were stuck at the walnut tree!” Yancy yipped. “If nothing else, we could have smelled which horse it was or even caught sight of the killer. That split pack cost us dearly.”
“Clever. One doesn’t expect a human to be that clever. Almost foxlike,” Butch murmured. “And you’re sure the last time you saw Reynard was day before yesterday?” he asked Target again.
They’d gone over it again, everything they’d initially said to one another when they gathered at the jump yesterday. Everyone was tired, footsore, and depressed.
The only thing new was the rope.
“I have an idea,” Inky said in a low, respectful voice. Her elders turned to her. “If someone will come with me to the kennel tonight maybe we can talk to some of the hounds and tell them what we’ve found. Next hunt we can agree to go there.”
“Dumb,” was all Grace said.
“You underestimate hounds, Gracie. You’ll pay for that someday,” Yancy corrected her.
“I’ll go with Inky,” Aunt Netty volunteered. “Cora has sense. I can talk to her. I think Archie will listen, too.”
“What if Raleigh’s out?” Comet wondered.
“Raleigh’s main concern is Sister Jane. It’s the damn cat I worry about.” Target grimaced.
“She’s too spoiled and fat to chase us.” Patsy sniffed.
“She’s not too fat to scream at the top of her lungs and get the kennel in an uproar,” Comet said.
Aunt Netty’s tail waved to and fro slightly. “Well, I’m willing to chance it. Reynard must be avenged. Only a coward shoots a fox and only a cad would use the carcass as a drag.”
“Hear, hear,” the others agreed.
“That Raleigh is fast,” Charlene warned, “if he has a mind to chase you.”
“The only animal faster than myself is a cheetah,” Netty boasted.
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of you exactly. I was thinking of Inky. No offense, Inky, but I don’t know how fast you are.”
“Not as fast as Aunt Netty.” She called the red “Aunt,” which was what all the young animals called her. “But I can climb a tree if I have to.”
A low flutter hushed them. Athena glided down, tail used as a brake, to sit on the top railroad tie of the hog’s back. “I’m very sorry,” she said swiveling her head to the reds. “St. Just is behind this. Whoever killed Reynard, he led them straight to him.”
“Leave St. Just to me.” Target crouched low, baring his fangs.
The others agreed that they would.
“When will the hunt meet at this fixture again?” Comet asked. His gray fur, soft as the clouds, lightened a bit.
“Not for another two weeks,” Yancy said. “The only way the hounds can get to the rope is if someone bolts during hound walk.”
“That’s a big risk for them. Ratshot in the rear if they keep going.” Charlene frowned. “What are we to do?”
Patsy and Grace said at the same time, “Bring the rope here.”
“No,” Aunt Netty sharply replied. “The humans need to find the rope where it was dropped or thrown. That will tell them where the human killer was. They must be led to the rope. As it is, by the time we get them there the tracks could be gone, especially if it rains.”
“We need Raleigh.”
“Sister, Shaker, and Doug may not follow Raleigh,” Grace said to Comet, who’d proposed the idea.
“If he goes on hound walk, which he often does, he can help convince the humans. If a hound bolts, even a hound as respected as Cora or Archie, the humans will crack the whip and then finally use ratshot. That’s their job. They’ll think the pack is going to hell. If Raleigh makes a commotion and the hounds honor him, I think the humans will follow. We have to try it, as it’s our only hope.” Yancy listened. “Is it settled then?”
“Yes. We’ll go tonight.”
The foxes and Athena silently melted into the forest about an hour before Sister, Shaker, Walter, and Doug emerged on the other side of the meadow. They reached the jump in a few minutes, peering into the woods as a twig crackled.