Bob led Doug out to the lumberyard’s storage area and the fox selected what materials he needed.  The lynx started up the bandsaw and as the wood was being cut to fit he used the ear-flattening sound of the machine to cover his voice as he asked, “So, you’re the fox – any ideas?”
        He was rewarded with a sour look.  It was an old story that all foxes were smart, and it wasn’t always true.  A counter-adage ran, ‘Not all bums are lazy and not all foxes are clever.’  “Well, you know we can’t break cover prematurely,” Doug replied as the lynx smiled, a bit pleased that he’d successfully teased his partner.  “It’d look suspicious, and you know it.  We’ll get back together at the Workingmen’s Hall, have some supper, and then sit down and figure out what to do.”
        Bob nodded.  “Fair enough,” he said, brushing some fine sawdust from his headfur and the thin ‘horns’ on his ears.  “Need any help carrying that stuff?” he asked, waving toward the stack of planks.
        “No, I’ll manage,” the fox replied as the sound of the bandsaw wound down.  “If I need anything else, I’ll let you know,” he added in a slightly louder voice as he shouldered the wood and walked to the foreman’s office to have the materials totaled up.
        The bear grunted at the total, but scribbled a note and gave it to the fox.  “Tell the Doc it comes to two dollars,” he said.  “He can pay me at the end of the month.”
        “Okay,” Doug said, and left the lumberyard.
        He felt quite hot as he put his burden down by the section of broken fence, then got his tools and set to work.  The old fence would have to be taken apart and the new pieces of lumber fitted in, and after a few minutes of work with a small crowbar he picked up his saw.
        As he worked, he occasionally stole glances at the window where he had spotted Sarkozy.  Their quarry was still there, having his bandage changed – so, he was the fellow the police had caught and tried to commit suicide – and he didn’t look as if he would be going anywhere. 
        “How’s the work coming?” and he turned as the red squirrel who had hired him came around the corner of the house, carrying a pitcher and a glass.  Ice caused little beads of moisture to run alluringly down the sides of the pitcher of water, and the fox swallowed against a dry mouth as the squirrel said, “I think you need a bit of a break, so I thought that something cool would help.”
        “Thanks a lot,” Doug said as he set aside his saw and dusted off his paws.  Accepting a full glass of water he drank thirstily before saying, “The guy at the lumber yard told me that the wood cost two dollars.”
        Travers nodded.  “I’ll settle up the account at the end of the month.”  He looked at the work and smiled.  “You do good work, Doug.  Almost finished, I see.”
        “Well, it’s not that big of a job,” Doug said, waving at it with a paw.  “Just a few more palings to put up and it’ll be done.  Where do you want me to dump the old wood?”
        “The neighborhood’s rubbish tip is just up the road,” and the red squirrel pointed in the right direction.  “Just leave it there and the dustmen will take it away.”
        Doug nodded, then after another drink he set the water glass aside and picked up his tools again.
        The clock in the front hall of the house chimed four o’clock as the fox rapped on the door again, and when Travers came to the door he said, “All done, sir.”
        “Well!  Excellent, my young lad.”  The red squirrel took his wallet from his back pocket and counted out five red and black Rain Island dollar bills.  “Five dollars, I think, is a fair days’ wage for working out in the heat,” he said as he offered the money to the fox.
        Doug’s ears went up in surprise as he took the money.  “Thanks a lot, sir.  If there’s anything else you need, I’ll be at the Workingmen’s Hall tonight.”  The squirrel nodded, and Doug gathered up his tools and headed down the street.


1645:

        Luke and Jack both looked up as the door to the sergeant’s office swung open and Circling Eagle waved them inside.  Once the door was closed the bobcat said, “I just got off the phone with Doc Thomas.”
        “What’d he say, Pete?” Jack asked.
        “He agreed to help us,” Pete said, “and he wants Luke to walk with him.”
        “Me?  What for?” the otter asked.
        “Because you’re the one who started this, Kelso,” Pete said.  He glanced at the clock and said, “Tom said that the time’ll be right about noon tomorrow, so we’ll meet up at Doc Travers’ place.  In the meantime, the two of you are almost done with your shift, so get along home.”  He sat down at his desk as the fox and the otter walked out.
        Jack studied his friend’s expression as they walked up the road from the police station.  Luke seemed preoccupied, and his ears were flat against his skull.  “Care to talk about it?” he offered.
        “I – I can’t help having the feeling that I’m being pushed in a direction I don’t want to go, Jack,” Luke said.  “I keep wondering why the Bear would start singling me out for this.”
        Jack shrugged.  “Don’t look at me,” he said flatly.  “I want nothing to do with that sort of trouble.”
        “I know,” and the otter rested a paw on his friend’s shoulder as they paused at an intersection.  “See you tomorrow, then.”
        “See you.”  They parted company then, Jack down one road to reach the boarding house where he lived, and Luke up the hill toward his own home.

        After supper, Luke found himself reading over an old book from his school days as he relaxed in his favorite chair.  The book (more of a large pamphlet, really) was a keepsake from the classes he had attended with Mother Hanakan, and as he read the marginal notes he could almost hear the old shaman as she explained some obscure point or other. 
        His ears perked and he sat up as he heard a soft cry from the bathroom.  “Linda?” he asked, laying the booklet aside and standing up.
        Another soft cry, and he ran for the small bathroom, almost colliding with his wife, who stood by the bathtub clutching her belly.  There was an odd smell of musk in the air and her dress was wet.  “Get – get Mother Jezebel,” she panted, her face contorting in pain.  “Hurry!”
        He grabbed her by the arm and assisted her to the bed as she tried a few faltering steps.  Once she was lying down he stopped at the doorway, reluctant to leave her as she cried out in pain.
        “Dammit, Luke, move your tail!” she screamed, and that spurred him out of the room.
        He ran down the road to the midwife’s house and hammered on the door with his paw.  When the elderly badger opened it he gasped out, “Mother Jezebel!  Linda – she’s having – “
        The badger smacked him across the nose with a paw as she gathered up her walking stick.  “Calm down,” she said sternly.  “Gettin’ all flighty won’t help your wife, Luke.  Now, come on,” and she shouldered past him as he stood there rubbing his muzzle.  He followed after her as she made her way with surprising speed to the house.
        Once they were inside the home, Mother Jezebel went immediately to the bedroom, yelling over her shoulder, “Luke, get a bowl of clean water and some towels.”  In a milder, soothing tone she could be heard reassuring Linda while Luke filled a porcelain-lined pot with water and yanked a double pawful of towels from the pantry.
        He hesitated at the doorway as his wife screamed and he almost dropped what he had in his paws.  The midwife motioned for him to come in, then gestured for a towel.  He passed one to her and set the water down on the bedside table as Mother Jezebel said, “Now, you get off to the other room now, Luke.  Don’t stay here or I’ll have to blow pepper up your nose to wake you up.”  Her laugh followed him out the door.
        He tried to read, but couldn’t.
        He tried walking around but his frustration just seemed to grow.
        He even sat on the porch and tried counting stars, but his ears stayed cocked toward the bedroom. 
        The clock in the living room seemed almost maddeningly loud.  His tail twitched, betraying his nervousness, and after several hours he was nearly reduced to gnawing on his claws when his ears suddenly perked.  His wife’s shout, and the high-pitched squall of an infant.
        Luke ran into the bedroom and paused just inside the door as Mother Jezebel said softly, “You can come on in now, Luke.  You and Linda have a healthy baby girl.”  She nodded toward the bed as she washed her paws.
        She looked up as she dried off and started to chuckle.  Linda, her baby at her breast, started to laugh wearily as her husband finally succumbed to his stress.  Luke stared at his daughter, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor, passed out cold. 
        The badger finished drying her paws and winked at Linda.  “Now – where do you keep the pepper, my dear?”  Chuckling and muttering under her breath, Jezebel walked off to the kitchen to find the spice rack.


2150:

        The Kyuquot Workingmen’s Hall was a large, barracks-like affair that usually housed single men or transients passing through from one job to another.  It had room enough for twenty people and a broad porch running completely around it.  Doug sat in a chair on the porch, nursing a bottle of beer.
        “So?”  At the question he turned and looked at Bob, who was taking a drink from his own bottle. 
        “Well, I’ve been thinking a bit, ever since dinner,” the fox said.  “And I think I’ve come up with an idea.”  He fished a pack of Maple Leaf cigarettes and a small box of matches from a pocket and offered them to Bob. 
        The lynx held up a demurring paw.  “No thanks.”
        “Okay,” and the fox shook one out of the pack, stuck it in his muzzle and struck a match against his boot.  He took a few puffs after it was lit and said, “Tomorrow night, around nine, I think.”
        “Why then?”
        He pointed at the sky with the lit cigarette.  “No moon, for starters.  And since it’ll be a Wednesday the ferry will run till after midnight.”
        Bob nodded to himself.  “So.  How do we get him?”
        “Well – “ Doug stopped as Bob raised a paw, and the two sat while a trio of furs walked past, chatting amiably.  After they passed Doug outlined his plan to Bob.  When he was finished, he lit his second cigarette as Bob nodded.
        “Sounds like a good plan,” he said.  “So all we have to do now is wait.”
        “Yeah.”  He chuckled as Bob’s ears twitched and he waved a paw at a mosquito.  “See, that’s why I smoke out here – keeps the skeeters off.”
        “You talked me into it.  Give me one.”
        “Hey now, you just said you didn’t want one,” Doug teased.
        “Give me a smoke, you hoser,” Bob said, and finally the fox relented and shook one from his pack.  The lynx lit it, coughed on the first drag and started blowing smoke at the gathering mosquitoes.


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