Free Full Cry by Rita Mae Brown

praised his hounds for their excellent work, then mounted back up and called them along. He beamed.
    The pack, in high gear, cavorted as they turned back east.
    â€œI’ll find another fox!”
Dragon bragged.
    â€œYou are so full of it,”
Ardent, Asa’s brother, growled.
“You aren’t the only hound with a nose, and furthermore,
I suspect we’re going back.”
    â€œDoesn’t mean we can’t run another fox if we find one,”
Dragon sassed.
    â€œTrue.”
Cora would have liked another hard run.
“But
we’ve been out an hour and a half, the footing is deep—
slippery in spots—and some of the horses are tiring. Sister’s
smart. She’ll end the day on a high note, and we’ll be back
at the trailers in twenty minutes. Plus, it’s snowing again.”
    â€œEver notice how more people get hurt at the end of a
hunt than at the beginning?”
young Trudy wondered out loud.
    â€œThey’re tired, horses and riders, and sometimes they get
so excited they don’t realize it. It’s those last stiff jumps
that will get them if it’s going to happen. It’s New Year,
we’ve got until mid-March to hunt. This is a wise decision.”
Asa spoke to Trudy.
    â€œYancy is a cheat.”
Dragon switched subjects.
    â€œNo, he’s not.”
Cora laughed.
“If another fox ducks
into his den for cover, Yancy can hide him. But I’m surprised that Uncle Yancy is at those stone barn ruins. He
lives closer in.”
    â€œOh, Uncle Yancy moves about.”
Ardent knew the fox, same age as himself.
“Changes his hunting territory and
gets away from Aunt Netty.”
    Aunt Netty, Yancy’s mate, harbored strong opinions and was not averse to expressing them. Yancy, a dreamy sort, liked to watch Shaker through the cottage windows or simply curl up under the persimmon tree. After the first frost when the persimmon fruit sweetened, Yancy would nibble on the small orange globes.
    When the hounds returned to the covered bridge, cars, trucks, and SUVs lined the drive for a half-mile up to the house. Some cautious few parked nose out in case they couldn’t get enough traction. This way they could be pulled with one of Edward’s heavy tractors.
    New Year’s breakfast attracted nonriders, too. Upon the riders’ return, After All was already filled with people. The event was hosted by social director Sorrel Buruss, who merrily bubbled with laughter and talk. Having Sorrel run the breakfast meant both Tedi and Edward could hunt.
    â€œWell done.” Shaker patted each hound’s head as the animal hopped into the party wagon. Inside this trailer at the rear, a two-tiered wooden platform had been built. A second platform on a level with the lower one on the rear ran alongside the sidewall. This way hounds would climb up or snuggle under a platform and relax. Like humans, they preferred one hound’s company to another’s, so there were cliques. This platform arrangement allowed them to indulge their friendships. No one wanted to be next to someone who bored him or her silly.
    Cora hung back. She liked to go in last, partly because she always wanted to keep hunting and partly because she liked seeing the humans back at their trailers. Some would dismount and be so exhausted their legs shook. Others would nimbly slide off, flip the reins over their horse’s head, and loosen the girth a hole or two. They’d remove the bridle, put on a nice leather halter, and then tie the horse to the side of the trailer, careful not to allow the rope to be over long. That caused mischief. The horse would step over the rope or pull back and pop it. Wool blankets, in stable colors, would be put on the horses. The different colors looked pretty against the snow.
    Cora liked horses, although, as they were not predators, she sometimes had to think carefully to appreciate what was on a horse’s mind. She was always grateful