Read Online Full Cry by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online

that so many of you have turned out, looking as though you’ve stepped out of a Snaffles’ drawing, on this cold day. The footing will be dicey, but you’ve ridden through worse.
    â€œTedi and Edward invite us all to breakfast at the main house after the hunt. Do remember to thank them for continuing the wonderful tradition of New Year’s Hunt here at After All Farm.
    â€œLet’s see what the fox has in store for us.” She looked to Shaker, cap in hand. “Hounds, please.”
    He clapped his cap on his head, tails down (for he was staff). Whistling to the pack, he turned along Snake Creek, which flowed under the covered bridge.
    Huntsman and hounds rode up the rise, passed the gravesite of Nola Bancroft, Tedi and Edward’s daughter, who had perished in her twenties. She was buried alongside her favorite mount, Peppermint, who, by contrast, lived to thirty-four. This peaceful setting, bound by a stonewall, seemed especially poignant covered in the snow.
    Betty, first whipper-in, rode on the left at ten o’clock. Sybil, second whipper-in, rode at two o’clock. The side on which they rode did not reflect their status so much as it reflected where Shaker wanted them on that particular day at the particular fixture. He usually put Betty on the left though.
    Sam Lorillard and Gray also rode out today. How exciting to have Gray back in the field. Crawford had requested Sam to ride as a groom, and Sister had given permission.
    The edges of Snake Creek were encrusted with ice, offering scant scent unless a fox had just trotted over. Shaker moved along the low ridge parallel to the creek. An eastern meadow about a quarter of a mile down the bridle path held promise of scent. The sun, despite being hidden behind the clouds, might have warmed the eastern meadows and slopes.
    Once into the meadow, a large expanse of white beckoned.
    Delia advised her friends,
“Take care, especially on the
meadow’s edge. Our best chance is there because the rabbits will have come out on the edge of the wood and meadows. All foxes like rabbits. Our other chance for scent
today is if we get into a cutover cornfield. Fox will come in
for the gleanings.”
    Asa, also wise in his years, agreed.
“Indeed, and foxes
will be hungry. I think we’ll have a pretty good day.”
    Trudy, in the middle of the pack and still learning the ropes in her second year, inquired,
“But Shaker’s been
complaining about the temperature and the snow. He says
snow doesn’t hold scent.”
    â€œShaker is a human, honey. His nose is only good to
perch spectacles on. If there’s even a whiff of fox, we’ll find
it.”
Asa’s voice resonated with such confidence that Trudy put her nose down and went to work.
    The hounds diligently worked the meadow for twenty minutes, moving forward, ever forward, but to no avail.
    Trudy’s, Trident’s, Tinsel’s, and Trinity’s brows all furrowed.
    Delia encouraged them.
“Nobody said it would be easy
today, but be patient. I promise you: the foxes have been
out and about.”
She said “out and about” with the Tidewater region’s long “o.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,”
the T’s responded.
    Cora, as strike hound, moved ten yards ahead. Her mind raced. She’d picked up an old trail, but discarded it. No point yapping about a fading line. Her knowledge and nose were so good Cora could tell when a line would pay off, when it would heat up. She never opened unless she had a good line. Some hounds blabbed if they even
imagined
fox scent. Those hounds were not found in the Jefferson Hunt pack. Cora couldn’t abide a hound that boo-hooed every time it caught a little scent.
    â€œMmm.”
She wagged her stern.
    Dragon noticed. He hurried right over, but dared not push Cora. She’d lay him out right there in front of everybody, and then she’d get him again on the way home in the party wagon. He