Cat Coming Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

skills or lack thereof, the couple was going to make a bright new home of this tired little cabin—and they should make a nice profit, too. Houses along any greenbelt were at a premium; many folk treasured a home where wild land touched the tamed world, where they could watch from their windows an Eden yet untouched by human meddling. For some humans, this strip of wild land would be as close as they ever got to the basics of raw nature, to the tooth-and-claw life familiar to any outdoor feline.
    A cat, perhaps more than any other beast, could live most equitably with a paw in each of the two worlds. Cushions and soft comforters by night, a warm fire and adish of liver or fillet. And in the daytime, when his adversaries were more likely to be asleep—but not always—a spine-tingling foray among the larger predators, a hunt to stalk and kill his own victims, an adrenaline rush that, if a cat was quick and clever, would send him home unscathed, with a belly full of something wild and filling. Joe was watching the greenbelt with an eye for the occasional silent shadow, for, most likely, a silent and marauding coyote, when a harsh scrabble of claws directly above him made him leap aside.

5

    A SOFT THUD HIT the shingles as Joe’s tabby lady dropped down to the roof beside him from the branches above, her green eyes laughing at his sudden alarm. She flashed him a good-morning smile and snuggled up, her dark, striped fur cold, and as damp as his own, in the chill morning. She smelled of pine where she’d brushed among bushy branches crossing the roofs of the village, leaving her own snug cottage. Her tail twitched against him as they watched Ryan and her two helpers laboring below. Down the street, Scott Flannery’s green pickup appeared, heading for Maudie’s house to get to work, his red hair and red beard as bright as new rust in the morning light.
    Easing on past Maudie’s house and past Maudie’s black Lincoln that stood on the street, he parked beyond the drive, leaving it empty for deliveries of lumber and materials. A light burned in the kitchen, and the cats could smell fresh coffee brewing. Ever since Ryan started her constructionfirm, her uncle Scotty had been her foreman; it was Scotty who had taught her the skills of a good carpenter, long before she’d ever studied design. When Maudie had approached her about building the studio, she’d been pleased that the two small jobs were located so close together, shortening their work time and adding to the efficiency of both jobs. Maudie seemed quite content to live among the carpenters’ clutter and noise, and she always had coffee for the workers. She even welcomed the cats; Joe and Dulcie and Kit had been in and out of the house ever since Ryan began work, prowling as they pleased. While Joe Grey was curious about Maudie herself, Dulcie and Kit were fascinated with the new studio as it began to take shape. What would a quilter’s studio be like? How exactly did Maudie put her lovely quilts together? Ryan had shown them a whole magazine article that listed Maudie’s many exhibits, with pictures of Maudie’s quilts so bright and intricate that Dulcie had had to stroke them with a soft paw. The studio was dried in now, and Scotty was building cupboards and shelves and drawers, leaving one wall bare for Maudie’s big quilting table, with hanging quilts behind it; the two lady cats were fascinated with it all. The problem was, every time they became absorbed in what Scotty was building, they would feel Maudie watching them.
    No cat likes to be intently watched, even if it is a friendly gaze. Dulcie grew so irritated that she said maybe Maudie needed a pet of her own. “Then she should go to the pound,” Joe snapped. “Get herself a house cat or one of those dinky designer dogs.” The tomcat smiled. “A little puff dog that would make one bite for a respectable cat.”
    Below, Scotty stepped out of his truck and reached in the back for his toolbox. He was a