Tread Softly (14 page)

When they were
finally able to push their way through the people, and Cady had signed numerous
programs and Rafe had done the same, they entered the limousine that would take
them to the airport.

"That
was a good touch, Cady," Bruno offered dryly. "Always inject a little
tearjerker. Gets 'em every time." He smirked at a pale-faced Cady from his
place on the jump seat in the limousine.

Rafe glowered at
him. "Bruno, I think it would be better for you to work with my father
from now on. Don't bother coming on the campaign. I won't need you."

"Hey,
Rafe, Emmett won't like that," Bruno blustered, his fingers snapping in
half the cigar he was about to light.

"Tough,"
Rafe responded, his voice flat. "Make sure you're on the flight back to
Washington tonight. I'm putting out the word that you won't be on the campaign
any longer. If you don't take the flight tonight, you can walk." Rafe
leaned across Cady and asked her father if he would like a drink before pushing
the switch that opened the built-in bar.

Rafe
was laughing at the professor's look of amazement and didn't see the nasty
glance Bruno gave him. Cady saw it and shivered.  When Bruno turned that
same gaze on her, it took all her courage to face him rather than turn way.
Bruno Trabold was Rafe's enemy. Cady had never been more sure of anything in
her life.

She was glad
when Bruno left them as soon as they arrived at the county airport. She assured
her father that she and Rafe would be back at their home in Tompkins County in
upstate New York in a day or so. "Rafe has another rally to attend in the
area, then we'll be going to New York City for a couple of days, but we'll come
home first."

"That
was a fine speech, Cady," her father told her, his voice mild.
"You're a fighter, daughter, just like your mother was." He looked
past her at Rafe, who was talking with some of his aides and waiting patiently
for Cady to make her good-byes to her father. "I saw a side of Rafe I've
never seen before today, Cady. I realized that he is and always has been a
lonely person, man and boy. I watched the way he looked at you when you
discussed him during your speech. His eyes had the hungry, deprived look of
the very lonely."

Cady would have
scoffed, laughed even, at the preposterous notion that Rafe of the large
family, the huge circle of friends, could be lonely. She looked at her father's
serious, almost grim look and did neither. "Father, you're wrong, I'm sure
of it. Rafe is one of the most gregarious men I've ever known. People are
naturally drawn to him."

"I
suppose you're right. You should know your own husband," Professor Nesbitt
declared woodenly, lifting his grip and heading toward the small private plane
that would take him to the airport at Ithaca. A car would be waiting there to
take him to his home.

Cady
couldn't get her father's words out of her head on the return car trip to the
hotel where they would stay overnight. Rafe was busy talking to an aide now and
then, but she felt his intent stare.

What had Trock said to her while they were walking in the
rose garden at the Highlands? That so often Rafe was alone, that his family was
very offhand in coming to see him, that there were long hours when he was by
himself. Before Cady could consider any more of the questions plaguing her,
they were drawing up in front of the hotel and a coterie of media people was lining
the sidewalk.

On entering the
hotel lobby they were again besieged by well-wishers and autograph seekers.
Cady watched, smiling, as her husband fielded questions and signed numerous
pieces of paper or copies of the article that he had written for Day Magazine.

Cady
didn't feel the tug on her arm at first. When she turned around, she looked
straight into the eyes of a woman who was a little taller than herself, but
older and more careworn. The stranger's brown hair was streaked with gray, the
eyes tired but with an innate warmth. Cady smiled and inclined her head,
thinking the woman wanted an autograph.

"Mrs.
Densmore, I know you're a busy woman, but I just have to talk to you. I read
the writeup of your opinion of dog fighting. Did you mean it? Are you against
the destruction of the bull terrier through illegal fighting?"

Cady
frowned at the intense woman, noting how she twisted her hands together.
"Yes, I'm very much against pit fighting."

The
woman looked nervously at the crowd of people around her. "I don't like
talking here, but I have to speak with you."

Cady
looked at Rafe, who was conversing in an absorbed way with a man who looked
like a student. Then she turned to an aide, touching his arm. "Would you
tell the senator that I've gone upstairs, please?"

The
man nodded and smiled, throwing a quick glance at the harried woman at Cady's
side.

Cady led the
woman to the elevator and pushed the button for their floor. Neither one spoke until
the elevator stopped and they had traversed the hall leading to the suite. Cady
ushered the woman inside and pointed to a sofa in the all-white window-walled
room. Cady rang for coffee, then joined the woman on the couch. "Now,
Mrs...."

"My
name is Proctor, Ruth Proctor, and I'm a widow." The woman crossed, then
uncrossed her legs, her gaze sliding away from Cady's. "My husband was a
wonderful man, Mrs. Densmore, but when he was killed in an industrial accident,
I found myself in the position of having to get a job after years of being a
housewife. Luckily I found a job with our local police department and can even
walk to work. I have one son who has been no trouble to me, but I have a
brother-in-law who was nothing but trouble to both my husband and myself.

"I
told him to stay away from my son and me, and he did until about two months
ago. Then he came to the house apologizing for being a hindrance to us, and by
way of making it up he said he wanted to present our son with a dog, a genuine
pit terrier with papers and everything. At first I thought a dog would be too
much work, but Max—that's the dog's name—turned out to be a wonderful companion
for my son and a good watchdog. He's very smart and clean. Both Jerry, my son,
and I love Max.

"About a
month ago my brother-in-law, Ted, came to the house and said he wanted to take
Max overnight because he was keeping some valuables in the house. I didn't want
the dog to go, but I didn't feel that I could refuse because Ted had given us
the dog. When Max was returned to us on Sunday, he was badly marked with some
really deep slashes. Ted said that someone had tried to break into his house. I
didn't believe him because Ted always lies, but I didn't say anything. Twice
more he borrowed the dog. This past time he didn't return him." Ruth
Proctor sobbed. "I think Max is dead. Jerry wants me to tell the police,
but I don't want to get my brother-in-law in trouble if he isn't breaking the
law. He has a record, you see. I just don't know what to do." She wiped
her eyes with a crumpled tissue. "Mrs. Densmore, my son is in
misery."

"Where does
your brother-in-law live, Ruth? I'll go with you tomorrow and we'll ask him
where the dog is." Cady knew she was sticking her neck way out and that
Rafe would be angry with her, but at the moment all she could see was a young
boy's face, hurt and miserable without his dog.

She
made up her mind that she would tell Rafe before she accompanied Mrs. Proctor,
and she arranged to meet the woman the next day. But somehow there never seemed
to be an opportune moment to talk with him.

That
evening she and Rafe attended a formal fund raiser. They were both so tired
when they returned home that they fell into bed. The next morning Cady found a
note from Rafe telling her that he had let her sleep while he went to a meeting
at campaign headquarters. Cady left a note telling Rafe where she was going and
why. Then she called down to the desk and ordered a rented car. As an added
precaution she left the address where she and Ruth Proctor hoped to find the
dog.

When
she picked up Ruth Proctor, the woman was nervous, but Cady felt confident that
she was doing something that would not shame her husband and at the same time
would help a young boy.

 
CHAPTER SIX

"My
brother-in-law is a bully, Mrs. Densmore, but he doesn't want trouble with the
law. He went to prison a few years back and it almost killed him." Ruth
Proctor spoke in a rather shaken voice as she and Cady sat in the parked car on
a seedy residential street. "That house used to belong to my
mother-in-law, and when she owned it this street was beautifully kept up. Her
house looked the best of them." She shrugged. "Streets change. Sometimes
the people that move in don't care about the property. That's what happened to
this street. My husband was sure that Ted would change if we let him have his
mother's house. He didn't." Ruth Proctor stopped speaking in the nervous
way she had when a car came down the street and several men alighted from the
vehicle. They went around the garage of the house toward the back.
"There's an old barn out in back," Ruth whispered. "The property
stretches all the way to the next street. Mrs. Densmore, I've changed my mind.
I don't think it would be a good idea to go in there. We should call the
police. Even if we go in the back way..." Her voice trailed off.

Cady nodded.
"Right, but we can't leave to call them. Let's take a look at the barn and
see if they have pit dogs there. If they do, we'll go into your
brother-in-law's house and call the police."

Ruth
Proctor looked horrified. "What if someone sees us?"

"Didn't
you say that you knew a way onto the property that wasn't used very
often?" Cady asked the skeptical woman. "If we use that, no one will
see us."

"Yes,
through old Mr. Schuler's orchard. Gerald, my husband, and I used to go there
when we wanted to be alone. There's a hole in the fence, then a path that will
take us right to the back door of the barn. But that was years ago..."

"We'll
try that. Maybe we'll find Max in the barn."

Ruth
pressed her lips together and nodded.

They
turned the car around and went down another street that had a cement and coal
company on it and a large empty lot. Ruth Proctor pointed to a narrow dirt
drive that led through the vacant lot. Cady drove until she came to a high mesh
fence.

It
took a few minutes to find the break in the fence. Cady blessed the jeans she
was wearing as the torn wire, then the brambles and burrs along the path, pulled
at her. The orchard was overgrown with weeds, but there were some nice-size
apples on the trees. The women looked at each other, then ran the short
distance from the orchard to the barn.

Cady
tried the door. It stuck, then opened partially. She decided not to try to
force a larger opening in case it would make a sound. She listened for a
moment, with Ruth Proctor pressed at her back. She could hear the sounds of men
laughing, followed by a brief silence. One man spoke. Then there was an awful
din of growling, snarling, tearing, pain-filled shrieks. Cady could feel her
stomach rise into her throat as she imagined the agony of the yowling animals.
She turned to face Ruth and whispered close to her ear, "Go to the house.
Call the police. Those dogs are being killed. Hurry!" Ruth Proctor gave a
quick nod and scurried away.

Cady squeezed
through the narrow opening, snagging her long-sleeved pullover on the
splintered wood. Her nostrils distended, assaulted by the smells of blood and
excrement. She stood still in the murky area, adjusting her eyes to the
dimness. She saw three dogs in pens, all of them scarred, one lying on its
side, bleeding from several gashes, its breathing harsh. At first none of them
moved when they saw her. Then the dog nearest to her— the biggest one—rose to
his feet and leaned against the mesh, his short tail waving slowly back and
forth, a low sound emanating from his throat.

"Easy,
boy. I'm not going to hurt you," Cady said softly. She looked into those
sad eyes again, the proud white snout marred by a jagged scar not yet healed.
"In fact," she whispered, feeling anger rise in her, "I'm going
to free you."

The
cage wasn't locked, but she tried to be careful lest she make a noise. She
released the three dogs, but only the big one followed her as she made her way
toward the front of the barn where the shouting of the men and the snarling and
growling of the dogs was becoming more frenzied. She pushed back a tattered
curtain and saw the men and the pit terriers. All seemed to be foaming from the
mouth. Blood was everywhere.

One
of the dogs was flagging and the men were yelling, "Kill, Blanco,
kill!"

Horror
held Cady for tense moments; then she looked around for some way to stop the
fight. She saw a large hose of the type used by firefighters coiled on the
floor just in front of her. The hose was attached to a huge spigot, which Cady
surmised acted as the shutoff valve. Next to the spigot a key dangled from a
nail on the wall— doubtless the key to the spigot. Without a second thought
Cady reached for the key and inserted it, turning it easily. She felt the rush
of water at her feet and strained to aim and hold the nozzle of the hose. A few
of the spectators were turning her way, but it seemed to Cady they were looking
in slow motion as the water erupted from the nozzle. She felt as though she
were on the back of a wild steer. She aimed the hose into the crowd, but it had
a life of its own and sprayed everywhere. She closed her eyes and hung on to
the exploding snake in her hand, knowing she couldn't hold it long because the
power was too much for her. She felt the dog at the back of her legs, but she
could hear nothing except the roars of the men and the pulsating bellow of the
water.