Excerpt

    Suddenly, I woke with a start. The parade of dogs -- collies, weimeraners, fox terriers, cocker spaniels, basset hounds -- was scattered as I struggled to focus on whatever had awakened me. I had been more deeply asleep than I thought and the dogs confused me, especially as I could hear one barking. At first I thought it was part of the dream, then I realized it was nearby, outside. After a couple of moments, I identified Duchess, the Worleys' cocker spaniel. I blinked rapidly, trying to see through the darkness. The windows were still gray rectangles. I had a feeling of urgency that I couldn't account for. It was a feeling of something left undone that was important for me to do. Oh, of course! My purse. I'd left it in Phil's pickup. It would be perfectly safe there until morning but it had my grandmother's diamond ring in it. It was of no very great monetary value but it figured largely in the family chronicles and I would hate to lose it. I didn't ordinarily carry it around in my purse but I hadn't wanted to leave it at home with the house under attack. I knew I wouldn't get back to sleep until I retrieved it and had it safely in the room with me.

          I looked at the clock and saw that it wasn't all that late, only a few minutes past eleven. I swung my legs around and sat up. I didn't want to go outside in the dark alone. I thought about waking Phil up to ask him to go with me. That idea died a-borning. I knew he would do it but there was not a chance that I would give Phil such an opportunity to tease me. Besides, I had my pride. I would not be such a coward that I couldn't go to a pickup parked practically right outside the door. I put my robe and slippers on and padded out to the front door. I knew the house well and didn't need to light the way to the front door.

          I closed the door softly behind me. The scattered clouds allowed just enough moonlight to see the shape of Phil's pickup outside the fence. I don't know when Duchess stopped barking but I remember the silence of the night as I went down the walk. Just as I put my hand on the door handle, I heard a soft sound behind me and to my left. I whirled around and all hell broke loose. There was a swishing sound and I saw a dark person-sized mass loom up beside me. I had time for one yell before I felt a cord being passed around my neck. I clawed at the arms holding the cord and, gasping and choking, I kept trying to scream. The hands relaxed their hold and I tried to break away but something hit me on the side of the head. It didn't knock me out but it confused me still further. Adding to my befuddlement, my Grandma Straversky came momentarily to mind. I fell to my knees and as I fought to get away, more blows fell on my shoulders and back.

          Uncle Miles called out but I couldn't understand what he said. All I could understand was that if I didn't get help, I was going to be killed right then and there. I could hear my assailant's breath, ragged and heavy. As suddenly as the attack had started, it ended and I was alone on the ground beside Phil's pickup. The porch light came on and I heard Uncle Miles and Phil coming down the walk. I dragged myself to a sitting position and put my hand to the back of my head.

          Phil, wearing only a pair of briefs, got to me first by a short head. Aunt Genevieve, in her nightgown, came right behind Uncle Miles, who was wearing pajama bottoms but no top. There were a lot of horrified exclamations and questions, none of which I could answer. My head was bleeding and my shoulders and back hurt.

          "Stay with Marge, Dad," Phil said.

          He ran back to the house and I heard the sound of a motor starting up nearby. The sound seemed to excite Uncle Miles and I was about to ask him why when I realized it must be my assailant making a getaway. That made me mad.

          "Go help Phil, I'm all right," I said.

          At least that's what I intended to say, but from the look on Uncle Miles' face, I didn't enunciate it very clearly. He and Aunt Genevieve helped me to my feet and inside. They sat me down at the kitchen table and Aunt Genevieve brought towels, covered my shoulders with one and made a pad for my head with the other. She put my hand up to hold it in place and told me to keep it there. I caught a glimpse of Phil, fully dressed and buckling on his holster with the pearl-handled revolver he'd bought to complete his cowboy image. He ran out the front door and I heard it slam and his pickup start up and race up the hill to the main road.

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