Out of Hounds by Rita Mae Brown

Author:Rita Mae Brown [Brown, Rita Mae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2021-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

February 22, 2020 Saturday

Crackenthorp, not yet under construction save for the farm road, rested above the church at Chapel Cross on the northeast side. The fox headed north although he didn’t show himself. Scent held, for it was a raw day, maybe thirty-six degrees, if that, and fog refused to lift. Fortunately the staff at Jefferson Hunt knew the territory well, but even with that, a shape could loom ahead, spook you more than your horse, so one rated one’s mount and slowed.

Hounds did not slow but they negotiated frozen footing in some places and the beginnings of slick in others. Fortunately, the pack, in peak condition, leapt over, crawled under, or circumvented any obstacle in their path.

Sister Jane rode her old Thoroughbred, Lafayette, tried and true. A dedicated but small field rode behind her, perhaps twenty people, small for Jefferson Hunt on a Saturday, but conditions kept people home. In the old days members rode through anything but in those days one didn’t need a van, you hacked to the meet. Parking when the fields were muddy and deep was a sure way to upset a landowner, unless it was an area he or she didn’t fret over.

As the people who bought the land for Crackenthorp still lived out of state, leaving few good pastures to rip up, Sister rode straight as she could, bits of mud and some snow flying off her gray’s hooves.

Hounds turned left, crossing North Chapel Cross Road, now heading west.

The paved road, scraped, mostly thin ice, meant slow down. Rating Lafayette, Sister walked along the road listening intently, for sound bounced around. This northern expanse, above Old Paradise and the old Gulf gas station, tested one’s balance, for the ridges quickly dipped into low fields or narrow valleys, only to rise again. The lower ridges stood at two hundred feet above sea level and then the next set doubled that, and so on until you had the choice to climb one of the true Blue Ridge Mountains or not. This was if heading straight west. Given there were so many dens, outbuildings, good places to duck in, few foxes took the direct mountain route.

Hounds again turned due north; she could hear them well enough to take the coop ahead, which put her into Close Shave, a newer fixture and a good one. Then nothing, nor did the fog lift.

She held up, waiting again. A toodle told her that Weevil and hopefully the pack had run to a collapsing shed that the owners had not yet time to remove. Given that they were restoring much of this old place, that would come. Giving Lafayette a little squeeze, she walked toward the horn notes.

Finally the outline of the shed, part of the roof sagging down, appeared, as did Weevil, the pack, and Betty and Tootie.

Yvonne, Aunt Daniella, and Kathleen weren’t following in the car this morning because they wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

“Master, what do you suggest?” Weevil asked.

“We turn back.

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