Read Online Cat Bearing Gifts by Shirley Rousseau Murphy - Free Book Online Page B

somewhere. Heading across the interceding rooftops, he slipped silently down to the Greenlaws’ garden and then up again, up the oak tree to Kit’s high, roofed platform, his fur prickling with challenge.
    L IGHTS WERE ON at the Damens’ house, upstairs in the master suite, lights silhouetting hurrying shadows against the shades, the commotion stirred by Kit’s phone call as Ryan and Clyde hastily pulled on jeans, sweatshirts, and jackets, grabbed up backpacks, stuffing in flashlights, cat food and water, and the first-aid kit. Rock, the big silver Weimaraner, was off the love seat and pacing; he knew they were going on a mission and he couldn’t be still.
    The upstairs lights went off again, the stair light came on, then the porch light blazed as the three of them headed out for the king cab, Ryan locking the door behind them. Rock bounded past Clyde into the backseat, lunging from one side window to the other with such enthusiasm he rocked the heavy vehicle like a rowboat, staring out into the night looking hopefully for the first hint of his quarry and then poking his nose in Ryan’s ear or against Clyde’s cheek, urging them to hurry, demanding to be out on the trail tracking the bad guys. The sleek silver dog had no clue that tonight his target would not be an escaped convict armed and dangerous, but one small cat, frightened and alone, a quarry who, if at last he found her, would snuggle up to him purring mightily.
    But even to find one small cat, a tracking dog needs a sample of his mark’s scent, a clear and identifiable smell to follow among the millions of odors he’d encounter along the high cliff. “Pillows,” Ryan said. “Stop by the Greenlaws.”
    â€œPillows?” Clyde looked over at her, frowning.
    â€œKit’s tree house. Her pillows. I brought a clean plastic bag.”
    â€œYou’re going to climb the oak tree?”
    â€œLadder,” she said, glancing up at the cab roof where, above it, her long construction ladder rode securely tethered on the overhead rack. “Just take a minute, we’ll have a nice, fur-matted pillow for Rock to sniff.”
    â€œIf we had Joe, he’d put Rock on the trail. Where the hell—”
    â€œEven with Joe,” she said, “I’d want a scent article, as you’re supposed to have, so as not to spoil Rock’s training.”
    â€œThe one time Joe might be of help,” Clyde said, ignoring her logic, “he’s off hunting. Or off with Pan whispering in that little kid’s ear. Talk about an exercise in futility.”
    â€œIf Pan can help that little girl, we ought to cheer him on. Scared of her mother, bullied by her sister. Besides, Joe might not even be with Pan. He and Dulcie have been hanging around Emmylou Warren’s all week, around that stone building up behind, whatever that’s about.”
    â€œI don’t want to know what that’s about. More trouble, one way or another.”
    Ryan just looked at him.
    â€œName one time Joe went off on some crazy round of surveillance that he didn’t stir a carload of trouble.”
    â€œName one time Joe wasn’t leaps ahead of the cops,” she said. “That he didn’t drop valuable information in Max Harper’s lap, a lead that Max was grateful for, even if he didn’t know where it came from.” She sat scowling at him. “Don’t be so hard on Joe, we’re blessed to know him, and all you do is rag him.”
    Clyde grinned. “He loves it. Rags me right back.”
    â€œYou don’t realize how lucky you are just to share bed and supper with Joe, just to know those five cats. But,” she said, “there is something strange going on at Emmylou’s that Joe doesn’t want to talk about. I guess, in time, he’ll tell us,” she said. “In his own good time.”
    J OE SLIPPED UP the oak tree and onto Kit’s tree house ready to fight