Live and Let Growl Read Online Free PDF Page A

Stone,” I said. “Do you expect to be dissatisfied with the arrangements he made?”
    Aunt Peg glanced at me across the front of the van. “That’s the problem. I’m such a neophyte at this whole business that I have no idea what to expect. I hate that feeling.”
    Under normal circumstances, Aunt Peg was the one telling everyone else what to do. It occurred to me that this was the first time in our long association that I’d ever seen her confronted by something she knew little about and forced to operate outside her comfort zone.
    Welcome to my world, I thought.
    We came to a small intersection and passed by several more farms before abruptly entering a quaint residential neighborhood. “This must be Midway,” Aunt Peg said. “We’re only a mile or two from Miss Ellie’s house now.”
    â€œI thought you said she lived on a farm.”
    â€œNo, I told you that she grew up on a farm. One that her family has owned for many years. But Miss Ellie lives in town now.”
    Even with Aunt Peg slowing the minivan to the speed limit, it didn’t take more than a minute or two to drive through the entire area of downtown Midway. There were train tracks through the center street and only a single stop light. Commerce appeared to consist mainly of restaurants and antique shops, but I also saw a leather store, a shop filled with Irish goods, and a drugstore advertising a real soda fountain.
    â€œMidway is halfway between Lexington and the state capitol of Frankfort,” Aunt Peg told me as she turned off onto a side street. “That’s how the town got its name.”
    â€œHow is it that you know so much about the state of Kentucky and yet still maintain that your knowledge of horses is lacking?” I asked.
    â€œGeography is easy.” Aunt Peg sniffed. “That can be learned from a book. Horses are living, breathing, creatures. I’ve devoted most of my life to the study of dogs and I still find that I’m learning new things all the time. I would have to be very foolish indeed to think that I might be able to understand all the details and nuances of broodmare ownership simply by reading about it.”
    And yet . . . she’d given me a book to read. I just thought I’d mention that.
    Ellie Gates Wanamaker lived in a Victorian-style house on an acre of land just west of downtown Midway. The backyard of the home was stoutly fenced with both boards and wire and as soon as Miss Ellie opened her front door, I saw the reason why. A loud, lively pack of Jack Russell Terriers came flying through the doorway and streaming down the front steps.
    I counted four at a quick glance. There might have been more. It sounded like more. Terriers have a lot to say.
    I was standing beside Aunt Peg’s minivan about to open the sliding door to release Faith when the racing, scrambling, shin-high horde reached me. The Jack Russells swirled around my legs, jostling and bumping each other, as each one vied for access to the best new smells I had to offer.
    Two of the small, sturdy dogs were smooth, and two were rough coated. All were white with tan or black markings. All were keen, nimble, and muscular. And loud. Did I mention loud?
    Cautiously I slid the van door open a sliver and pressed my lips to the crack. “I think you’d better wait here,” I said to Faith.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Miss Ellie called down from the porch. She was a wiry woman with sharply defined features and a pugnacious expression on her face. Her spiky gray hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days. “Do you have a dog in there?”
    â€œWe do,” Aunt Peg replied as I slid the door shut.
    â€œIt must be a Standard Poodle.” She looked to Aunt Peg for confirmation.
    Peg nodded.
    â€œDoes she get along with other dogs?”
    Aunt Peg nodded again. If not for the JRTs who’d apparently decided that I was their new best friend, my presence