Jake knew what it was even before the words(Lud Candleton Rilea The Falls of the Hounds Dasherville Topeka)appeared, glowing smoke-bright. She didn’t know about that, but she knew it had contained one seriously dead harrier, too old even to stink. Not a nip, mind you, but a good healthy chomp. Susan opened the door and went outside to get the wood.
The implication was unspoken but unmistakable. Two of these fawns had been not just viable but normal—threaded stock, Aunt Talitha of River Crossing would have called them. “No silly questions and no silly games. Most amusing of all was what hung around the mule’s neck like some peculiar reap-charm: two sombreros and a drover’s hat strung on a length of rope.
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