Free Cat Playing Cupid by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

her ears back, her whiskers flattening against her cheeks. “But still he thought Stone Eye was a good leader. He said we needed to be ruled by a strong paw. I never understood that, I never believed it had to bea cruel paw. When I got older, we argued a lot,” Kit said, staring worriedly toward the closed door.
    â€œSage wouldn’t run away from the clowder when I did, when I found Lucinda and Pedric up on Hellhag Hill and knew we were meant to be together. He was afraid to leave the clowder, he said only Stone Eye could protect us. He didn’t trust Lucinda and Pedric, he had no faith in humans. I’m surprised he let you touch him, Charlie.”
    â€œHe had no choice,” Charlie said. “He was too hurt and weak to run. And Willow was right there, telling him to be still.”
    Joe looked at Kit for a long time, wondering. Earlier, when Charlie had first carried her into the surgery, when she’d first seen Sage, she had looked sick with fear for him, had let out a wailing mewl of shock and distress at how broken and weak he was. Even after they’d had their legs shaved and blood drawn for Sage, and Dr. Firetti had carried them in here to his office and to Charlie, Kit had been so filled with pain for Sage, it seemed her little cat heart would break—and yet there was this difference between them, which so deeply bothered Kit, Sage bowing to the tyrant’s oppression while Kit defied such bullying.
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    I T WAS MORE than an hour later when Dr. Firetti came out of the surgery wearing a clean lab coat and smelling of hand soap, and sat down to talk with them. Charlie, having left Joe and Dulcie and Kit in the office for a few minutes, had returned with her aunt Wilma. Dulcie’s housemate, dressed in jeans and a red cashmere sweater, her gray hairtied back with a red cloisonné clip, sat now at the other end of the couch, holding Kit on her lap as Kit licked up a bowl of rich chicken soup. Dulcie lay behind Wilma along the back of the couch, her head on Wilma’s shoulder.
    Knowing the cats would be weak and emotionally wrung out after giving blood, Wilma had brought a thermos of canned soup, quickly warmed in Clyde’s kitchen, and an array of party food from the buffet. Joe, at the other end of the couch, was gulping his share of shrimp canapés and little ham rolls stuffed with an assortment of cheeses, all therapeutic, of course.
    â€œSage did very well,” Dr. Firetti said, “and is resting comfortably.” Charlie smiled at the reassuring words used by most doctors. “The femur was broken in three places, so I’ve put in a metal plate, which is our best chance for sound healing. And I’ve put a pin in the one break in the tibia.”
    Charlie shivered. “Will he use the leg again?”
    â€œI’m hoping he will, that it will heal as strong as it ever was. All we can do now is keep him quiet, care for him. And pray,” Firetti said. “I want to keep him for a few days, to watch him. Then, Wilma, you’re taking him home with you? That’s closest,” he said, “in case you need me at odd hours.”
    Charlie said, “I’ll have to tell the Greenlaws that you know about the cats. And we’ll have to tell Clyde and Ryan.”
    Firetti nodded. “Then Ryan knows, too?”
    â€œShe figured it out for herself,” Charlie said. “It’s a good thing she did.”
    Dr. Firetti laughed. “That would be an impossiblesituation after they’re married, if Joe couldn’t talk in his own house.”
    Joe looked at the doctor with more warmth, assessing this man who had, for all these years, known their secret and never said a word. “No one,” Joe pointed out, “seems worried that I’ll hold my own with those two. Ryan Flannery can be just as stubborn and smart-mouthed as Clyde.”
    Firetti smiled. “I wasn’t worried about you, Joe. I don’t think