Norton, Andre - Novel 23 by The White Jade Fox (v1.0) Page B

upon
a fox which was struggling wildly to escape from a net, the ends of which were
held by a black youth. While Rufus Parton, his face flushed, his small eyes
shining with a kind of greedy delight, rained blows with a riding crop on the
animal! Its yelps of pain were echoed by laughter on Rufe's part, and, as the
crop rose and fell with a horrible regularity, Saranna could only believe that
he was engaged in a slow and horrible process of beating the animal to death.
                   She did not hesitate to rush forward, and
Rufus did not see her, so intent was he in making sure that the animal could
not evade the crop. Thus her grasp upon his arm was so forceful and determined
that he actually swung part way around, unable for an instant or two of
surprise to break free.
                   Saranna shouted at the black boy. "Let it
go! Let it go— at once!"
                   The fox, seeming to realize her support
instantly, lunged, though still within the net, snarling at the black. With a
cry of fear, he dropped his hold, and jumped back. Out of the meshes which had
held it for that outrageous punishment, the creature won—and was gone, slipping
under the box hedge where no man could possibly crawl to track it.
                   Saranna, herself, stumbled back, Rufe having
flung her away to free himself. He swung up his arm again, the crop ready, as
if she were about to share the beating that the fox had been enduring. Then
that horrible glistening of pleasure faded from his eyes, his mouth twisted in
the smile she had detested from the first time she had seen it.
                   "You got a right hard grip for a little
girl like you. Miss Saranna." He rubbed his arm with his other hand as if
she had indeed been somehow able to bruise both flesh and muscle. "Fiery temper, too. Some men would be mighty put out at
your interfering when they were handlin' such vermin like they ought to be
handled. But me, I'm all soft with a pretty girl—"
                   "You know,” she put as cold a note in her
voice as she could summon, "that foxes are neither mistreated nor hunted
at Tiensin."
                   He still smiled. "That was what the
Captain always said, yes. But the Captain, he's gone. Gone where he can't come
back to give any more orders about pamperin' vermin and such. Mrs. Whaley, now
she understands proper. You can't go coddlin' beasts, you got to keep 'em
down—teach 'em to stay away and act proper—not like they own this here place.
Mrs. Whaley, I guess she's the one to give the orders here now. The Captain's
day—that's all over."
                   Before she thought, Saranna blurted out a
denial of that.
                   "Mrs. Whaley does not own Tiensin—"
she began, and then stopped short.
                   "You mean it all belongs to Missie?"
Rufe laughed. "Maybe the law says so. But no little girl's goin' to have
her say about this here manor—that ain't the law. Them
in charge of her, they do the talkin', seein' as how they know best.
                   "Now then, I don't want to have you mad
with me, Miss Saranna. I told you, me I like red hair, I rightly do. Seems like you kind of have a foxy look your own self. Not
that I mean that in a bad way. You don't find me down-speakin’ a pretty girl
like you. We're goin' to be good friends once you got over your stiff ways. I
can show you a good time—"
                   Saranna swung away and stalked off, fighting
the desire to muffle his voice out of hearing with her own hands over her ears.
But she would not give him any satisfaction of knowing that he made such an
impression on her that she loathed every word he said.
                   If Saranna had shrunk from Rufe before, she
detested him twice as much now for the nasty scene she had interrupted. His
pleasure in the pain he had caused the captive fox was so shocking.