Crazy Like a Fox by Rita Mae Brown

Author:Rita Mae Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

“Rabbit. Rabbit.” Sister filed the treasurer’s reports from the 1950s that she had given to Sara, who returned them. She figured Sister could always use the extra copies.

“You always say that the first day of any month.” Shaker, at his desk, smiled at her.

“Yes. If you say it then it will be a good month. It’s like eating black-eyed peas the minute the clock strikes the twelfth bell New Year’s Eve. Good luck.”

“Well, what about bad luck? The number thirteen? A black cat walking in front of you? You walking under a ladder?” His rust-colored eyebrows rose slightly in amusement.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Pfiffle.”

“You surely believe in bad luck or you wouldn’t be ensuring good luck.”

“Shaker, don’t be logical. I forbid it.”

They both laughed.

He folded his hands together on top of his desk. “I’ve been thinking—”

“I’m already scared.” She smiled at him, so happy in his company. “Go on. I’ve girded my loins.”

“How about if we have a joint hound walk once a week with Skiff? She only has Sam to help her, and he’s primarily working in the barn. The pack is much improved, but could use a little tightening up. With us, she’d have Betty and Tootie.”

“If Crawford agrees to it, fine. As a courtesy we should take hounds there every other week; she hauls hers to us on the odd week. Say she comes here the first and third day, like Wednesday. We go there the second and fourth in the month. Remember, we’re dealing with Crawford. If everything is mapped out, explained, quantified, he’ll rest easy.”

“Right. Hey, Sara gave you back the old treasurer’s reports. Anything?”

“No. We have no bills or receipts from 1947 to 1954, but Sara’s husband, Dale, said everything looked in order. He even checked back through other hunt club records and prices were in line. He’s a whiz at the computer.”

“Glad somebody is.”

“You do the bloodline research on the computer. I still use the old studbooks. I can find information faster the old way than the new way. Why throw out decades of what works, for me, anyway?” She leaned back in her chair. “Yesterday’s hunt was one of the best I’ve ever been on. You did a fantastic job and so did Skiff. You both kept those hounds together—and Diana, what a show. I know I’ve blabbed all this before.”

“Was something.”

“And Freddie Thomas missed it. You know half the club has called her to tell her.” Sister smiled.

“Any hunt you miss is always a barn burner.” Shaker smiled back.

She asked, “What do you make of it, the cowhorn echo—if it is an echo?”

“I don’t know. If someone wanted to screw up the hunt, they’d blow while hounds worked. They’d try to get them off a line or onto a new one. It does sound like an echo, but deep, clear. Why would anyone blow the horn? Why would Tom say he saw a ghost?”

“I don’t know,” Sister said. She’d told him about Tom’s encounter once back at the kennels after yesterday’s hunt.

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