The Hen of the Baskervilles(25)

“And I aim to go home with all the mules and donkeys I came with,” Betsy said. “You hear me, Randall?”

“Betsy,” Randall began. “We’re just as sick as anyone about the chicken thefts, and we’re tightening up security considerably now. I know you’re worried that someone will steal your stock, but we’re doing our best to guard the animals—”

“No, I’m not that worried about theft,” Betsy said. “My mules and donkeys pretty much guard themselves. Heaven help the poor rustler who goes after them. No, I’m talking about that blond hussy who keeps coming ’round trying to bludgeon me with her checkbook.”

“Genette Sedgewick?” I asked.

“That’s her. She’s been trying to tell me she’s a big supporter of the American Mammoth when she can’t even tell a mule from a donkey,” Betsy went on. “For that matter, she can’t tell a jack from a jenny.”

“I’m afraid I don’t even know what a jack or a jenny is,” Rob said.

“Same as stallion and mare in horses,” Randall put in.

“Okay, I think I could figure that out, now that I know the terminology,” Rob said.

“You’re allowed not to know the terminology.” Betsy’s gruff tone softened a little. “You’re not pretending to be an experienced mule and donkey owner.” She turned back to Randall. “If that woman comes around here again, I might throw her in the pen with Henry, my orneriest mule, and see which one comes out alive.”

Randall glanced over at me.

“You think we could come up with a rule about harassing exhibitors?” he asked.

“I assume by ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’” I said. “I’ll work on it. Do you mean for this year or next year?”

“Next year won’t help me if she drives me crazy this year,” Betsy said.

“It’s our fair,” Randall said. “I don’t see why we can’t put out a rule to cover an unforeseen problem. Not the first complaint we’ve had about her.”

I was already scribbling in my notebook.

“I’ll draft something,” I said. “But frankly, I’m not sure Genette will pay much attention to a rule. Might be a good idea if someone had a talk with her.”

“Great idea,” Randall said. “You can probably get through to her much better in person.”

With that he gave Jim-Bob a parting pat and strode off.

“You walked right into that one,” Rob said.

Betsy snickered.

“Much as I would enjoy reading Genette the riot act, I’m afraid she’s a hard case,” I said. “I’m going to call in expert assistance.”

Rob and Betsy looked puzzled.

“After all,” I said. “Mother is in charge of the wine pavilion.”

“Awesome,” Rob said. “Can I watch?”

“Ask Mother.”

“By the way,” Betsy said. “We haven’t seen your grandfather this year. He’s been such a supporter of the mule rescue and heritage animals in general. Is he okay?”

She sounded worried—as well she might. Grandfather was well into his nineties, although he was still active as a roving zoologist and gadfly environmentalist, and kept up a travel schedule that would have killed me.

“He’s fine,” I said. “He’ll probably be here by Saturday. He and Caroline Willner from the Wildlife Sanctuary went to Australia with a film crew to do a special on endangered species.”

“Lovely!” she said. “So we’ll be seeing him on Animal Planet again sometime soon?”

“Along with any number of Bulmer’s fruit bats, northern hairy-nosed wombats, and bridled nail-tail wallabies,” I said. “And don’t ask me what any of those creatures look like—I’m waiting to see the footage.”

“Fabulous!” she said. “Give him my best, and tell him we’d love to have him stop by. We’ve just started a Web site for the Mule Project and I’d love to have a picture of him and Jim-Bob on it.”

“I’ll definitely tell him.” The notion of seeing a photo of my stubborn grandfather appearing on the Mule Project Web site had a curious appeal. “I’ll catch you later.”

I gave Jim-Bob a friendly pat on the head and then headed for the wine pavilion. Behind me, I could hear that Rob was still intrigued by the mules and donkeys.

“So is it true that they’re really stubborn?” he asked.

“They can be,” Betsy said. “But mainly because they’re better at sticking up for themselves. A horse will let you ride him to exhaustion or into a dangerous situation, but not a mule or a donkey…”