Read Puss 'N Cahoots for Free Online

brothers. Two hit him in the back, one got him in the back of the head. This was September twentieth, 1937.” She pulled over to the curb but left her motor idling. “He crumpled in the doorway of the hotel. Kind of a slimy end for a World War One officer.”
    “Revenge killing?” Harry, being a Virginian, knew the South well.
    “He was accused of killing Verna Garr Taylor. She was a real beauty, according to Dad, who was a teenager at the time. She’d been widowed, and the general—he was about twenty years older—fell wildly in love with her.
    “Dad said she was murdered just inside the Henry County line on November sixth, 1936. Said he and his gang of friends even drove to the spot on Highway Twenty-two. It was really a big thing. Made all the national newspapers.”
    “Did he kill her?”
    “Said he didn’t, but the evidence pointed to him. He went to trial but got off because the jury deadlocked. Verna’s brothers waited close to a year, then avenged their sister.”
    “Sounds pretty dramatic.”
    “People still remember. The brothers went to trial. One, E.S., never made it to the trial because he was put in a sanitarium. Dad said the murder of Verna snapped his mind. He died there within a couple of years, I think.”
    “Other boys get off?”
    “Jack did, because no one could prove he fired a gun. They got off because of self-defense, even though the general was unarmed.”
    “Rough justice.”
    Joan frowned for a moment. “Rough justice is better than none.”
    “I agree there.” Harry nodded as Joan shifted into gear and they drove the three minutes it took to reach the fairgrounds.
    Once at Barn Five, Joan found Jorge grooming a three-gaited gelding owned by a Kalarama boarder.
    He smiled when he saw Joan. “Looking good.” He indicated the mare.
    “She does. Jorge, when Harry came over here this morning, did you hear a truck pull in?”
    “No, señora.”
    She didn’t reply, then smiled and walked the aisle, checking each stall. Harry walked beside her. They didn’t speak until emerging on the south side of the barn.
    “Maybe he’s hard of hearing.” Harry couldn’t imagine any other explanation.
    “He’s not,” Joan replied.

H orse people try to get most chores finished before the heat builds up. Lazy, puffy clouds slowly moved west to east, a shimmer could already be detected, and heat wiggled in the air by nine. It would be a scorcher.
    The long hoof of the Saddlebred, cultivated for the high-stepping, long-strided animal, ensured shoes would be thrown. In each barn, blacksmiths prized for their skill bent over, hoof on their knees. Heat or not, horses needed shoes. Feed dealers talked to owners, pressing free samples and supplements on them. Delores from Le Cheval, an elegant tailoring establishment, arrived with a gorgeous long navy blue coat for Renata. She left it in the changing room, feeling it would be secure since the Kalarama staff was in evidence. Grooms, handlers, vets, trainers filled the barns; the place hummed like the backstretch at the track.
    Harry, Fair, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker sat on an old checkerboard oilcloth under the shade of a hickory. Fair had brought breakfast muffins, jams, and honey, which he spread out on the oilcloth.
    “I’ll chew through your collar if you chew through mine,”
Mrs. Murphy offered Pewter.
    “But the color of mine looks so good against my fur.”
The vain gray cat wore a turquoise collar, the leash matching the color.
    “You’re mental.”
Tucker watched a swarm of no-see-ums swirl upward, then move along.
    Renata DeCarlo drove a new Dodge half-ton, which she parked. Collecting her extra derby and her makeup bag, she walked by the group, stopping to pet Tucker.
    “Delores left your new coat in the changing room,” Harry told her. “Congratulations on pinning third last night.”
    “Thanks.” Renata smiled. “I needed the workout, and Voodoo gave it to me.”
    “You’re so pretty.”
The corgi’s soft brown