Whiskers in the Dark: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery by Rita Mae Brown

Author:Rita Mae Brown [Brown, Rita Mae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2019-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

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Back at the cabin, Harry and Susan took off their clothing. Harry snuggled into her comforter, Susan into her sleeping bag.

“Make room for me,” Pewter demanded.

Harry patted a place for Pewter and one for Mrs. Murphy. The dogs stretched out in front of the fire, which Harry had fed.

Ruffy slept with them.

22

October 1, 1787

Monday

Summer’s last kiss brushed Catherine’s and Bettina’s cheeks as they sat outside in the late afternoon, the garden and Isabelle’s tomb drenched in gold.

Charles West designed and had a bench built so his wife and sister-in-law and whomever could quietly view the mountains and Isabelle’s lovely monument. Apart from Charles’s excellent education, the Baron had sent his sons on a Continental tour, considered vital for a young man of means. And so it was for Charles, who absorbed everything, most particularly loving Italy. Dutifully, he went into the Army, but he was an artist. No wonder he loved this new nation, for he could be what he was born to be.

Feet outstretched, eyes half closed, the two women felt the warmth. A clip-clop popped their eyes open. Tulli, with JohnJohn in front of him, rode Sweet Potato up to the women.

“Momma, Momma, I can ride.”

Catherine, trying not to resent her repose being disturbed, smiled. “And so you do.” She then smiled at Tulli. “I think we need another matching pony so the two of you can be a team.”

“Yes, Miss Catherine.” Tulli bobbed his head in agreement, knowing JohnJohn wouldn’t be riding on his own for maybe another year.

Catherine’s son, two, was big like his father. He was well coordinated like his mother, so age three, riding on his own with Tulli next to him, might be possible. At any rate, it fed the child’s ambition.

Bettina, hands folded over her ample bosom, shook her head. “You two are growing too fast. Why, Tulli, I think you’ve grown an inch since yesterday.”

As Tulli, age eleven, was slight, or what horsemen called “weedy,” a thin, small fellow, this sounded wonderful. “I have. I can feel it.” He sat up straighter and Sweet Potato turned his head to look.

Ah, yes, humans, but then Sweet Potato had long ago learned to humor them.

“I want you to turn around and trot halfway to the barn. And I’m watching. You do it correctly, Tulli.”

“Yes, Miss Catherine.” He carefully turned Sweet Potato toward the barn, visible in the distance, a lure for the pony.

A little cluck and squeeze and off the two boys went, JohnJohn screaming with delight.

Catherine looked at Bettina. “I will never be the woman my mother was. Both you and Mother loved mothering. Strict. But still.”

Bettina reached for Catherine’s hand, squeezing it. “There will never be anyone like your mother. I loved her. We all loved her. She understood life.”

“She did. But Bettina, you liked being a mother.”

“Most times. I never thought to outlive my children. Well, the little one, so frail. We all lose the little ones. My momma used to say, ‘If I can get you to seven, I can get you to seventy.

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