“Not physically. As you know, my longest posting was in Ankara, Turkey. I speak fluent Turkish, know the culture, and have a smattering of some languages of countries near Turkey. Enough to be able to read, say, a Russian headline. But Turkey’s geographic position guarantees it will forever be a trade and political crossroads. Any violence in surrounding countries, such as Greece—remember they’ve had riots—could spill over into Turkey.”
“Greece would invade Turkey?” Harry was incredulous.
“Not today.” Jason smiled. “But riots in Greece or in the Crimea, for instance, might set off the disaffected in Turkey. Every nation has a pool of disaffected people who can take to the streets with or without much provocation. This includes us.”
“Unfortunately, it does. Which is why Hounds for Heroes is important.” Arlene put her feet up on a hassock. “Those men and women, many of them, have seen service in miserable spots. But if you’ve worn our country’s uniform, you deserve some recognition. I’m thrilled we can provide sport.”
Harry knew that Arlene had lost a leg in the Middle East. She had a good false limb masked by well-tailored slacks and socks. She’d served in the Army before being recruited, not a word that Arlene used, for the CIA. Her analytical skills and her IQ made her particularly valuable. Not that she wasn’t valuable in the Army, but while she was recuperating in a Veterans Hospital she was wooed. Turned out to be a wonderful job for her. She liked the Army but she loved the Agency. Then again, she was in no danger of losing her other leg in Washington.
“I predict Ashland Bassets will win the basset day. Beagles, maybe Sandanona or Ben Venue.” Jason sounded authoritative.
“Why aren’t we going to win?” His wife raised her eyebrows.
“What do you think?” Jason asked Arlene.
“Since I’m the director of the event for this year, I plead neutral. I’m hoping for good weather, whoever wins.”
“Ashland Bassets, Waldingfield Beagles.” Harry gave her favorites.
“Can’t do that, Harry. We know those hunts. Of course, we want them to win, but who knows?” Susan looked at her watch. “You know what, I’m turning in. We should be up and out at first light tomorrow, especially since we don’t know how much damage there is. We have five hundred and twelve acres to canvas.”
“Glad as I am that the founders of the National Beagle Club had the foresight to buy all this, it is a lot to maintain,” Clare posited.
“Is, but there’s no place like it.” Harry stood up with Susan. “Cold though, isn’t it?”
“Going to be a late spring.” Arlene knew she should rouse herself, but she was ready to fall asleep where she was.
Harry and Susan left the building, hurrying to their cabin, smoke curling out of the chimney since Harry had built a solid fire before they joined the others. As the humans opened the door, the dogs awakened, hurried up, tails wagging.
“Oh, I missed you.” Tucker, the corgi, licked Harry’s hand.
“Me, too,” the growing giant, Pirate, agreed.
One eye now open, fat, gray Pewter, grumbled, “Suck-ups.”
Mrs. Murphy, sprawled on the comforter on the narrow bed with Pewter, flicked the tip of her tail. “We can at least purr.”
Harry carefully placed two more logs on the fire, adjusting the grate cover. “That should see us through the night.”
“You build good fires. I kind of think there’s going to be a lot to do.”
“Yeah.” Harry agreed with Susan. “Wasn’t Clare in the Navy?”
“She speaks fluent Russian. She was, according to her, mostly on a giant ship out in the Gulf of Finland, listening to the Russians, not far away.”
“I wouldn’t have the patience for that. Would you?”
“I suppose I could do it, but I wouldn’t like it. Well, I wouldn’t mind being on a ship for months at a time.” Susan took off her shoes and socks, stripped off her clothes, quickly jumped into bed. “I’d think of it as a long respite from housework.”
The room was warm but the bed would be warmer.
“I am not moving,” Pewter announced as Harry also stripped down, turned back a corner of the covers.
“Pewter, I need to get into bed.”
“I was here first.”
“Come on, move over.” Harry pushed the large cat a bit away from where the covers were turned back.
“Abused. I am being abused!”
“Shut up,” Tucker, in front of the fire, called out.
“Lickspittle!” Pewter replied.
“Come on, you two. I need to sleep,” Mrs. Murphy suggested.
“Here we are in this cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing ever happens here. I feel boredom already. I am a saint to come along. Really,” Pewter whined.
“I would hardly call being in Loudoun County the middle of nowhere.” Mrs. Murphy felt a pair of feet slide under her.
“Isn’t it the most populous county in Virginia?” Tucker questioned.
“If it isn’t, it soon will be,” Mrs. Murphy replied. She listened to everything Fair, Harry’s husband, read aloud from the Richmond Times-Dispatch.
“Night, Harry.”
“Night, Susan. Night babies.”
“Night,” came the chorus.
2
April 6, 2018
Friday
“We have a few warmish days and then bam, cold again.” Susan cleared a tree limb from a footpath far from the Institute building.
The earth, hard underneath, wore out one’s legs after a time, made one’s feet hurt. The two had been at their labors all day. Their bodies were beginning to talk back to them.
“Jeez, that’s a big one.” Harry exhaled.
Susan stood and looked over the massive uprooted tree from which the limb had been torn. “I thought we suffered horrible windstorms. Had to be worse up here.”
“Northern Virginia’s weather is different from ours. What are we, an hour and a half away, and yet it really is different. Well, girl, let’s start at the thinnest end and do this in small sections. That way, we can pull them to the side of the path as we go.”
“Okay.”
They worked six feet from each other, fired up their chain saws, wisely placing them under the tree limb, cutting up at an angle, stopping as they neared the top. Then each woman slipped the chain saw down and cut from the top, thereby lessening the chances of it slicing through the limb faster than they anticipated and cutting a thigh. Happened all the time to people not accustomed to operating chain saws. As these were two country girls, they handled equipment—chain saws, posthole diggers, tractors—with ease.
These old friends had been in the cradle together, and primary and high school, then Harry went to Smith and Susan went to William and Mary. For vacations they’d team up together, sometimes traveling to other countries. They adored each other’s husbands, shared friends and some passions, especially gardening. Susan was the better gardener, Harry the better farmer.
Cutting off their chain saws, they each moved a hunk of tree limb to the side.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“Well, beagles and bassets can pass. People, too, if they look where they’re going.” Harry studied the opening they were cutting through the trees. “You know, the competitions are only two weeks away. There will be dozens more people here than on a regular trials weekend. Basset trials on Friday, beagle trials on Saturday, cocktail parties both nights, and a dance party and pig roast. It’ll be quite a party, but no one anticipated so much damage could happen in the month since the Triple Challenge. The trails will be ready, but it will take many hands. It’s so important.” Harry hastened to add, “We all want the event to go well.”