Holding open the kennel door, Shaker watched Weevil, Tootie, and Betty bring in hounds who had run halfway back to After All on that terrific fox. Skiff walked into the kennel to close the draw pen doors to the inside. This way hounds would first be in the large area where they originally awaited being loaded up. Huntsmen and whippers-in liked to check each hound before opening the door to either the girls’ run or the boys’.
The temperature, falling, only made the brace on his neck more uncomfortable.
Shaker and Skiff, at the bottom of the ridge, couldn’t drive up the farm road because both flights crowded it and didn’t move. That was Shaker’s first clue that something had happened. He assumed someone fell off, got kicked, which could happen when mounted and often resulted in a broken leg. Then they both saw riders coming toward them, sliding by the fields, horses’ noses pointing up because there was nowhere to really back into to allow anyone to come down in proper fashion.
As soon as Alida saw the two huntsmen, she rode to the truck and asked them to help round up and put the hounds in the kennels. They could all hear the pack roaring to their east as well as Weevil blowing his horn for them to come back.
“What’s going on?” Shaker asked.
“No one is exactly sure.” Alida glossed over the gruesome discovery.
“Alida, I have hunted with and for that woman for over twenty years, whipping-in before that. Something is wrong and whatever it is, it’s major. Did someone break something, is a horse injured, God forbid, is someone dead?”
Taking a deep breath, Alida grimaced slightly, then looked from Skiff to Shaker. “Dead.”
“Who? Look, if she needs me, I’m going up there. It’s just two vertebrae. I’m fine. It’s not Sister. Tell me Sister’s fine.”
“She is and I’m sure the sight of you would bring her comfort, but Shaker, there’s nothing you can do. The remains of Gregory Luckham are swinging from the hanging tree.”
“What!” Skiff raised her voice.
“Alida, did you see this? It’s hard to believe.”
“Shaker, unfortunately, I did see him. No hands. Boots off his feet.” Then it hit her, too. “And, well, I didn’t think of it at the time, I was too horrified, but he looks, what do I say, fresh. No eyes. Forgot that. No eyes. But he’s not deteriorated as one would think. He’s gray, that’s all, but one loses color in death.”
“I can’t believe this.” Shaker shook his head.
“Honey, don’t shake your head,” Skiff gently reminded him.
“Damn this thing!”
Hounds bounded up to the kennels and to Shaker. Weevil gracefully dismounted, nodded to Shaker, and led hounds into the draw pen as each one touched their former huntsman’s hand. He was near to tears. However, hounds first, so when the last stern waggled into the draw pen Shaker closed the door, listening to the happy sounds inside, the praise, each name being called. He knew as that hound was checked out, Betty would be opening the appropriate door and Diana or Cora or young Audrey would be given an anticipated cookie. Then through the door the hound would bound, a good day’s hunting ended.
Tootie was filling any water troughs that needed it inside; each had water heaters in the specially built trough. The outside runs did not yet have those automatic waterers. That would come in time.
Within twenty minutes everyone was curled up on their bed or walked outside just to see why the people were still there.
The field, now led by Dewey, who Sister sent back to get them off the farm road, were walking to their trailers. Dewey asked them to stay after their horses were tended to and reminded them there was a breakfast, go on in, and when Sister came back she would give a report. He rode back, checked the road up to the ridge to make sure there were no stragglers, then rejoined people at the trailers.
Betty, now out of the kennel, spoke briefly to Shaker and Skiff. Then she hurried up to the house to set out the food. Gray, already there, had made coffee and tea. The two friends couldn’t believe what Betty had seen. Gray, farther down on the farm road, did not see Gregory.
The forensic squad, led back up by Sam, who Dewey asked to stay, were as prepared as they could be. The photographer snapped away.
Carson Blanton, Jude Hevener, and Jackie Fugate rushed to the scene as well. Ben wanted their eyes and he wanted them to become accustomed to the unimaginable. If they were going to be law enforcement officers, they needed to toughen up.
Sister and Walter quietly waited to the side as the team first examined the scene. Ben soon came over.
“I looked for tire tracks or footprints.” Sister watched as one of the forensics men got down on his hands and knees directly under the corpse. “Nothing. Of course the ground is hard now.”
“Yes,” Ben, almost distracted, replied. “Why don’t you go back down? I know you have a breakfast. There really isn’t anything you can do. Well, there is something. Obviously, we don’t want hysteria. Solves nothing. If you could get the names of those people who saw the corpse, then I could get one of my boys or girl”—he nodded toward Jackie—“to take a statement. Not at the breakfast.”
“Of course.” She turned Lafayette, who was mesmerized by all this, then stopped. “Ben, think about the hanging tree. This is where justice was carried out. Perhaps this is a message that the killer believes Gregory was a criminal and justice has been done.”
Ben looked up at her. “An interesting thought.” He turned to Walter. “Why don’t you dismount, let her take Clemson, and you stay with me for a bit. I could use a doctor’s expertise.”
“Right.” Walter dismounted, handed the reins to Sister as she walked away.
By the time she reached her stable, Tootie and Weevil were waiting for her. She knew Betty would be helping Gray host things.
“Oh, how good it is to see you.” Sister thankfully dismounted. “All of this has been a hideous shock.”
Tootie began to untack Lafayette on one side while Weevil flipped up and unhooked the girth on the other.
“Weevil, you stayed with those hounds on full throttle. How did you pick them up?”
He slipped off the saddle while Tootie started on the bridle. “Halfway into the wildflower field where we started they circled, as they did at the beginning. Tootie got in front of them, told them to hold up, and they did. All I had to do was blow the three blasts. Tootie really did all the work.”
“They’re a good pack.” Tootie had the reins on her shoulders, the bridle in her hand.
She needed to wash the bit and she planned to clean the tack.
“You both impressed me. Not everyone could have kept cool under the circumstances.”
“Hounds first, madam.” Weevil smiled a little.
“Thank God for them.” Sister called out to Tootie on her way to the wash stall. “Don’t bother to clean the tack. We can do that tomorrow. Let’s tidy ourselves up, go to the breakfast, and well, maybe we’d better plan on what to say and what to do.”
“What did the sheriff think?” Weevil asked.
“He didn’t say, but he also didn’t say for us not to report what we saw. The best thing would be for me to make a brief announcement, tell everyone that Ben, the forensics team, and his individual crew are there. Tell them there’s nothing they can do and ask who actually saw the hanging tree. Best to put it that way and inform them that Ben will be taking statements today or tomorrow. At any rate, the important thing is to blunt panic. Kasmir and Alida will be a great help with that. Sam and Gray, as well. They are all sensible people, as are you.”
“Do you think we’re in danger?” Tootie asked.
“I wish I could answer that. I don’t know.”
“Maybe not danger, but we’d better be alert. Two hands were found in the hunt territory and now this.” Weevil placed the saddle on a rack, unfastened the nice thick saddle pad. “Tootie, you shouldn’t be alone. No one knows anything. So either you come stay with me at After All or I come stay with you.”
“There are people around. Shaker’s in his place and Sister and Gray are in the big house. I’m okay.”
“He’s right, Tootie. We don’t know what we’re up against. Tell you what. If you all don’t wish to be in either one’s house, then you can stay in mine. It’s big enough. If you don’t get along I can stick each of you at opposite ends.” She smiled.
“Well.” Tootie halted, thought. “Weevil, come here. We have to work hounds and horses anyway. It’s more efficient. Sister’s given us a way out if we fight.”
“Is it true, you don’t cook?” His blond eyebrows shot up while Sister observed all this, grateful to have her mind off the hanging tree.
“Kind of.”
“Then I’ll make bangers and mash.” He smiled.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll have to find out.”
“I love bangers and mash.” Sister did, too.
“Then I’ll make some for you, too.” He picked up the saddle, opened the tack room door, and placed it on a saddle rack as Tootie hung the bridle from the big wrought-iron bridle hook that looked like a grappling iron.
Sister, in the aisle, prayed something good would come from all this. Perhaps Tootie would learn to open her heart, to love. She thought of all the rules, rules about age, race, class, the debris of conformity, that people spout about love or even careers. Love knows no age, no color, no anything, really. It just is.
As they walked up to the house, lights shining over the winter landscape, she remembered falling in love with Big Ray. One supposed friend told her Ray was beneath the salt. Granted, he was from a lower class, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass. And the delicious part was Ray studied, worked hard, became an investment broker, and made a lot of money. Trixie Biglow, the so-called friend, married very well and he turned out to be a worthless drunk.
Smiling to herself, she also steeled herself for the little speech she must give. She glanced again at these two impossibly beautiful young people, realizing she loved them. She was worried and grateful that Weevil was forceful about protecting Tootie although he did this in a gentlemanly way.
Thank God for real men, she thought, and then she also thought, Love just happens. No rules. And then it occurred to her that that could also apply to murder.