CHAPTER 22
Snowflakes fluttered down, illuminated by the four large curved lights bending over the long white sign reading “Roger's Corner.” This convenience store supplied everything from beer to ratshot to Swiss chocolate. Its prime product, however, was gossip.
Located at the intersection of Soldier Road, which ran east to west, and White Cat Road, which ran north to south, the store had run in the black from the year it was founded, 1913. White Cat Road was the last decent north-to-south road before one crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains. Other roads running in that direction were potted or dirt or both.
Roger, a contemporary of Ronnie and Xavier, studied the business under his father. He was the fourth generation to own this store, and was named for its founder. He liked being at the county nerve center.
This Saturday evening, the Prussian blue of the clouds, the falling snow, the gas pumps wearing snowcaps, the light from the sign washing over Roger's Cornerâall combined to resemble an Edward Hopper painting.
Inside Shaker, Sister, Xavier, Tedi, Lorraine, and Sari had each purchased what they needed. They lingered at the counter.
Affable Roger provided hot coffee. “So, good hunt this morning?”
“Ask the boss.” Shaker nodded at Sister, then looked out the window at the snow-covered windshield of the old but strong 1974 Chevy truck with the 454 engine, a real beast.
“Pretty good, thank you for asking, Roger. We hunted at Dueling Grounds, on the flat by the river. Had a large field this Thursday and an even bigger one today: sixty people. By the time we finished, we were blue, but hey, the foxes ran, the hounds did well, and, when we returned to the trailers, we thought we'd done something.”
Tedi, sneaking a cigarette because Edward hated for her to smoke, puffed. “Oh, tell Roger about the lady from where was it?” She paused a moment, a plume of blue smoke curling upwards. “Ah, she was visiting from Wabash Hounds outside of Omaha, Nebraska. Well, she couldn't have been nicer or better turned out, but they don't have the kind of thick woods we do. Takes their trees longer to grow, I guess. Our first blast through tight quarters, she feared for her kneecaps. She was a good sport. Took her fences in style, too.”
“When people from the Midwest or the West hunt Virginia, they're often surprised at how thick the cover is here even in winter. Some of those places are pretty flat, too,” Shaker added to the conversation. “Boss and I drove out one year for the Western Challenge. The terrain ranged from low desert to high desert to plains. Mostly coyote.”
“What's the Western Challenge?” Lorraine asked.
“All these hunts in the West get together for two weeks. Each day, unless it's a travel day, you hunt with them and watch their hounds work in their territory. At the end, the best pack gets a cup,” Sister explained.
“You can drive nine hours before you get to another hunt,” Xavier said. “The spaces are incredible. Course the Bureau of Land Management owns most of it, which is to say the federal government.”
“Is that good or bad?” Young Sari felt comfortable enough to speak with the adults. Since she had proven herself in the hunt field, the adults no longer thought of her as a teenager, but simply a young foxhunter.
“Depends. In some places the BLM preserves and protects the land. In other states, it's a struggle. If you get a warden on a power trip, he can make life miserable for everyone out there,” Xavier told her. “Now I've never attended the Western Challenge, which I really want to do, but Dee and I go out to Wyoming and Montana for two weeks in August. I love it out there.” He paused. “Ronnie and I are going to try and do the challenge this year.”
“God, you and Ronnie in the trailer for two weeks.” Tedi rolled her eyes. “Strains credulity.”
“Strain more than that.” Shaker laughed.
“I know.” Xavier laughed. “We're the odd couple. He is so fastidious and I'm, well, I'm not as sloppy as Ronnie says, but let's just say I'm not anal.” He winced. “Wrong choice of words.”
Everyone laughed except Sari, who didn't get it.
“Can't wait to tell Ronnie you said that.” Roger leaned on the counter with one elbow.
“You will, too.” Xavier feigned mock horror.
Roger put his other elbow on the counter. “When we played football in high school, Ronnie was fast and tough. Always had the girls around him. Dressed better than the rest of us.” Roger shrugged. “Guess you just are what you are, but Ronnie has made me ask a lot of questions. Funny, I'm grateful to him.”
Shaker simply said, “I don't get it.”
“You wouldn't.” Sister raised an eyebrow.
He raised the palm of one hand. “I'm not looking to pick a fight. I just don't get it. How can any man not go crazy for a woman? Look, Xavier, I like the heck out of you, but I don't want to kiss you.”
Xavier laughed. “Dee says I'm a good kisser.”
“Braggart.” Sister now laughed.
Tedi stubbed out her cigarette, feeling mellow from that delightful hit of nicotine.
“Gentlemen, I'm old enough to be your mother. By virtue of that, I can say what I think. What I conclude from my long and eventful life is that our knowledge is constricted by ideology and religion. We don't know why anyone is heterosexual, much less homosexual. But I know this: to deny love is to deny life.”
Everyone looked at her.
“You're right.” Lorraine smiled at her.
“Tedi, I've never heard you speak like that.” Xavier put his arm around the lovely lady.
“Well, for one thing, Edward isn't hereânot that he reins me in, but let's just say he guides me away from controversy. Oh, when we first married, and he was running the company, we'd have to entertain, and, well, I was raised a Prescott. Prescotts speak their minds. Poor Edward. He'd say after one of those affairs, âHoney, I don't think they're ready for you.' ” She grinned. “I just smoked a cigarette and now I feel glorious. Glorious!”
They laughed.
“Shorten your life.” Roger winked.
“Aren't you sick of it?” Xavier smacked his hand against the counter. “Everyone tells you what to do and how to do it! Bad enough the government robs us at every turn, but now we have the health Nazis.”
Lorraine, a more serious type and not a foxhunter, demurred. “But Xavier, it has been proven that cigarette smoking can cause lung cancer.”
“And caffeine will put you over the edge,” Xavier replied.
“Sugar rots your teeth. I could go on. Given Sari's young years, I'll leave out all the sexual fears and propaganda. I mean, bad enough we got off on Ronnie.”
“What was that?” Roger cocked his eyebrow. “Got off?”
“You are twisted.” Xavier punched him.
Roger shied away from the second punch. “Hey, who's twisted? But I'm with you, X. People gotta do what they do. If smoking eases the nerves, hey, smoke. If bourbon at six takes the edge off a rough day, sip with pleasure. We all need a little help.”
“Foxhunting,” Sister firmly spoke.
“That's her answer to everything.” Shaker laughed.
“But it's true.” Color flushed her cheeks. “When are you most alive? Hunting.”
“That's true,” Tedi agreed.
“For us,” Xavier amended the sentiment.
“Everyone needs something that pushes them physically and mentally. Safety numbs people.” Shaker, having seen a fair amount of danger in his work, believed this.
“That's why you see people in their eighties and even nineties in the hunt field. Not only did they stay healthy from the sport, they get up in the morning and can't wait to get out there. Unless the good Lord jerks my chain, I intend to go to my nineties.” Xavier patted his girth. “Better lose a little weight first. Dee keeps reminding me. She works out. I intend to, but, well, those donuts look so good. You know the rest.” Xavier laughed.
The phone rang. “Roger's Corner.” His head came up; he looked at the gathering. “Thanks.” Roger hung up the phone. “Clay Berry's warehouse is on fire. That was Bobby Franklin.”
“Jeez,” Xavier's mouth dropped. “The water will turn to ice. Oh, Jesus. Guys, I've got to get down there.”
“Is he insured with you?” Shaker asked.
“Yes. Maybe we can help get stuff out of the warehouse.”
Shaker turned to Lorraine. He had planned to make supper for her and Sari, just to prove he could. “Lorraine, I'd better go.” Then he asked Sister, “Will you take Lorraine and Sari home?”
“Of course. Then I'll come down.”
“No.” Shaker's voice deepened. “I mean it, boss. We need you in one piece. I'll call you.”
Tedi called Edward on her cell, then she, too, left.
Driving down the snowy road, Lorraine asked, “Sister, would you mind taking me back to the farm? Alice is home, so she'll be able to feed her cats and chickens. Shaker will be exhausted when he gets back. I'll fix supper.”
“I don't mind a bit. It's a wonderful idea.” She was grateful Clay had brought her her silver fox fur coat. In the great scheme of life, that coat was a paltry thing, but she loved it. It's funny how one becomes attached to objects. Big Ray bought her that coat for her fiftieth birthday.
“I hope they can stop the fire. There's so much in those warehouses,” Lorraine fretted.
“Let's hope it's in one of the small satellite buildings. Poor Clay.” Sister felt a creeping dread, but she attributed it to the fact that she'd just driven past Hangman's Ridge. In this tempestuous weather, she thought she heard a howling from atop the ridge. The wind plays tricks on you like that sometimes.
CHAPTER 23
Flames shot into the night sky, an eerie sight with snow falling. The heat was so intense that Shaker and Xavier couldn't get within fifty yards of the small brick building.
As the firemen worked in both bitter cold and searing heat, Shaker found Sheriff Ben Sidell. “Sheriff, anything I can do?”
“No. They've contained it. Thanks to George's quick thinking, they saved the big warehouse,” Ben said, referring to Fire Chief George Murtagh.
“Bad night for it.”
Ben pulled the collar of his coat up higher around his neck. “Don't guess there's ever a good one. They keep coating the big warehouse with water on this side; ices right up and then melts again. Weird.”
“Any idea?”
“No, George said he won't know much of anything until he can get the fire out. The building passed inspection, but the wiring is old. All it takes is one mouse to bite the wrong set of wires.” Ben stared at the men holding the hose. “You know, it's warmer nights I dread the most. There are more fights, stabbings, and murders in summer when it's so bloody hot out. I know if I get a call on a bitterly cold night, someone's kerosene stove blew up or someone hit a patch of black ice.” He sighed. “Either way, usually someone's dead.”
“You can smell the furniture burning.” Shaker wrinkled his nose.
“This one closest to the railroad tracks has furniture being shipped out. Clay said it was loaded. Next shipment was Tuesday.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
Ben's eyebrows rose for a moment. “No. Thanks for asking.”
Shaker walked over to Clay and Xavier.
“Sorry, Clay.”
“Shaker.” Clay's eyes welled up. “Thank you for coming on down.”
“X and I kind of hoped we could pull stuff out.”
Clay shook his head. “Wooden crates, wooden furniture, upholstery,
pffft.
” He threw up his gloved hands. The furniture and valuables had been packed in wooden crates.
“Sister wanted to come down, but I told her to go home.”
This made Clay's eyes tear up again. “God bless her.” “Is there anything I can do?” Shaker asked.
“No.” Clay shook his head. “This stuff will smolder for days.”
“Izzy okay?” X asked.
“Crying her eyes out. I told her we'd be fine.”
X's deep voice deepened more. “There will be a lot of upset people, but we'll do all we can. As soon as I can, I will cut a check to replace the building. I don't anticipate problems with the carrier. They'll send someone down, but that's protocol these days.”
“You know, I'm not there yet.” Clay bit his lip. “I'm glad you are, but I can't think that far ahead.”
“Don't worry.” X meant it. He was a successful man because he backed up his word. He really did care about the people who insured through him.
As Shaker walked back to the truck, the wind shifted slightly in his direction. Tiny red and gold sparks flew upwards as white flakes fell down. He inhaled smoke carrying the unmistakable odor of flesh. He'd smelled that once before as a young man. An old house had burned down, its owner having fallen asleep in bed with a lit cigarette.
He returned to Ben.
“Ben, there's meat in that building.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Come with me.” Shaker led Ben to where he had picked up the scent; the wind was still blowing in that direction. “Take a deep breath and you'll cough. Smoke burns the hell out of your throat.”
Ben inhaled, coughed, but he smelled it. “Wonder if Clay had any kind of refrigeration unit in there.”
“Talk to George first. I mean, that's what I'd do.”
Ben nodded. “You're right.”
Ben headed toward the busy fire chief as Shaker climbed into the old Chevy, turned over the motor and sat to let the engine run a minute. If anyone was in there, he or she was burned to a crisp. Who would be in the storage house? He hoped it was a raccoon. A big one might give off a powerful odor if killed or burned.
Shaker headed out of town. He called Sister on his phone, installed in the truck.
Sister asked, “You okay?”
“Nothing for me to do. Clay's holding up. X's real calm. That helps him, I guess. Ben sent me home.” Shaker listened to the crackle on the phone as he drove through a patch of bad reception.
“Strange. When I drove by Hangman's Ridge, Iâ” She stopped herself. “Well, that place sometimes presages bad tidings.”
“See another ghost?” This was not said in jest, for once she had seen a ghost there. A year later, he had, too, even though he hated to admit it.
The souls who had been hanged on the huge oak on top of the ridge, sent to justice since the early eighteenth century, were unquiet. Many had seen or heard them; even Inky skirted the place if she could. Being a fox, her senses were far keener than a human's. She had seen more than one ghostâall menânecks unnaturally stretched.
“I just heard howling, but it's windy. Picking up.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, uh, forgot what I was going to say.” She hadn't actually, merely changed her mind.
“Alzheimer's?”
“Halfzimers,” she fired back as she hung up.
She had been going to ask him if he wanted her to bring Sari up to the main house so he could be alone with Lorraine. Then she realized the supper was a surprise, and, also, Sari looked up to Shaker. Removing her from the picture wouldn't be fair. If romance was going to blossom, there was time for that. Sister didn't have to put a log on the fire. She repented of that image the moment she thought it.