Rest In Pieces by Rita Mae Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

Harry’s eyes traveled in the direction of Mrs. Hogendobber’s pointing finger.
    A large sign swung on a new post. The background was hunter-green, the sign itself was edged in gold, and the lettering was gold. A fox peered out from its den. Above this realistic painting it read FOXDEN .
    “ That must have cost a pretty penny.” Mrs. Hogendobber sounded disapproving.
    “Wasn’t there this morning.”
    “This Bainbridge fellow must have money to burn if he can put up a sign like that. Next thing you know he’ll put up stone fences, and the cheapest, I mean the cheapest, you can get for that work is thirty dollars a cubic foot.”
    “Don’t spend his money for him yet. A pretty sign doesn’t mean he’s going to go crazy and put all his goods in the front window, so to speak.”
    As they pulled into the long driveway leading to Harry’s clapboard house, she asked Miranda Hogendobber in for a cup of tea. Mrs. Hogendobber refused. She had a church club meeting to attend and furthermore she knew Harry had chores. Given the continuing drop in the temperature and the pitch clouds sliding down the mountain as though on an inky toboggan ride, Harry was grateful. Mrs. H. peeled down the driveway and Harry hurried into the barn, Mrs. Murphy and Tucker way in front of her.
    Her heavy barn jacket hung on a tack hook. Harry threw it on, tugged off her sneakers and slipped on duck boots, and slapped her Giants cap on her head. Grabbing the halters and lead shanks, she walked out into the west pasture just in time to get hit in the face with slashing rain. Mrs. Murphy stayed in the barn but Tucker went along.
    Tomahawk and Gin Fizz, glad to see their mother, trotted over. Soon the little family was back in the barn. Picking up the tempo, the rain pelted the tin roof. A stiff wind knifed down from the northeast.
    As Harry mixed bran with hot water and measured out sweet feed, Mrs. Murphy prowled the hayloft. Since everyone had made so much noise getting into the barn, the mice were forewarned. The big old barn owl perched in the rafters. Mrs. Murphy disliked the owl and this was mutual, since they competed for the mice. However, harsh words were rarely spoken. They had adopted a live-and-let-live policy.
    A little pink nose, whiskers bristling, stuck out from behind a bale of timothy. “Mrs. Murphy.”
    “Simon, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Murphy’s tail went to the vertical.
    “Storm came up fast. You know, I’ve been thinking, this would be a good place to spend the winter. I don’t think your human would mind, do you?”
    “As long as you stay out of the grain I doubt she’ll care. Watch out for the blacksnake.”
    “She’s already hibernating . . . or she’s playing possum.” Simon’s whiskers twitched devilishly.
    “Where?”
    Simon indicated that the formidable four-foot-long blacksnake was curled up under the hay on the south side of the loft, the warmest place.
    “God, I hope Harry doesn’t pick up the bale and see her. Give her heart failure.” Mrs. Murphy walked over. She could see the tip of a tail—that was it.
    She came back and sat beside Simon.
    “The owl really hates the blacksnake,” Simon observed.
    “Oh, she’s cranky about everything.”
    “Who?”
    “You,” Mrs. Murphy called up.
    “I am not cranky but you’re always climbing up here and shooting off your big mouth. Scares the mice.”
    “It’s too early for you to hunt.”
    “Doesn’t change the fact that you have a big mouth.” The owl ruffed her feathers, then simply turned her head away. She could swivel her gorgeous head around nearly 360 degrees, and that fascinated the other animals. Four-legged creatures had a narrow point of view as far as the owl was concerned.
    Mrs. Murphy and Simon giggled and then the cat climbed back down the ladder.
    By the time Harry was finished, Mrs. Murphy and Tucker eagerly scampered to the house.
    Next door, Blair, cold and soaked to the skin, also ran into his house. He’d been caught