Uh-oh, it looks like your Internet Explorer is out of date.

For a better shopping experience, please upgrade now.

Outfoxed (Sister Jane Foxhunting Series #1)

Outfoxed (Sister Jane Foxhunting Series #1)

4.3 23
by Rita Mae Brown

See All Formats & Editions

As Master of a prestigious hunt club, Jane Arnold, known as Sister, is the most revered citizen in the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountain town where a rigid code of social conduct and deep-seated tradition carries more weight than money. Nearing seventy, Sister now must select a joint master to ensure the club's future. It is an honor of the highest order--and one that any


As Master of a prestigious hunt club, Jane Arnold, known as Sister, is the most revered citizen in the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountain town where a rigid code of social conduct and deep-seated tradition carries more weight than money. Nearing seventy, Sister now must select a joint master to ensure the club's future. It is an honor of the highest order--and one that any serious social climber would covet like the Holy Grail.

When the competition flares up between two determined candidates, Southern gentility flies out the window. Soon the entire town is pulled into a rivalry that is spiraling dangerously out of control. Even the animals have strong opinions. But when opening hunt day ends in murder, Sister is stunned. Now, with the help of a few clever foxes and hounds, she must lay the trap to catch the killer.

Editorial Reviews

The Hunt for a Killer Fox

In her latest, Rita Mae Brown takes us into a realm few of us can imagine, that of the deeply embedded traditions and rigid rules of conduct that thrive in the prestigious Jefferson Hunt Club. Jane "Sister" Arnold, an expert hunter who understands animals as well as she understands people, has been master of the hunt club for decades and has earned the respect and loyalty of the small Virginia community.Now in her 70s, she knows she must plan for the hunt club's future and nominate a joint-master -- a position of the highest honor in hunting society. One some would kill for.

Sister, along with a few other humans and animals, has caught a glimpse of what appears to be the grim reaper lurking about the fields, and whether the sighting was a hallucination or a sign that he's coming for someone -- maybe her -- she knows she has to decide on a joint-master soon. Her two top choices are as different as night and day. Fontaine Buruss comes from a strong Virginia bloodline and was raised in the tradition of foxhunting, but his reputation for keeping mistresses -- while not keeping an eye on his finances -- could jeopardize the image of the club. Crawford Howard, a successful Yankee businessman more interested in what the club's prestige could do for his career and societal standing than in foxhunting itself, offers another element any successful club needs -- a whole lot of money.

The anxiously awaited decision has ignited a conflict throughout the membership, unearthing old grudges, family ties, betrayals, and the dark underside of the history -- as well as the recent past -- that haunts the seemingly pristine club. And while the decision ultimately rests with Sister's good judgment, the opinions on the future leadership of the club run deep. Nobody knew just how deep until the opening day of the hunt season leaves one member dead, with another unknown member the killer. Still, no one is more sly than Sister, who, with the help of the foxes and a pack of hounds, is determined to expose the murderer and set things right at Jefferson Hunt Club.

More than just a top-notch murder mystery, Outfoxed is a fascinating jaunt through a society rich with tradition, a world where honor and social position are not determined solely by money but also by adherence to a code of conduct and family loyalty. The complex structure of this realm is something few writers could describe with any authority, much less make the backbone of a gripping mystery novel. But if anyone could do it, it's Rita Mae Brown, herself a world-class foxhunter who rides with a prestigious Virginia hunt near her home in Charlottesville. With painstaking detail, Brown has crafted a mesmerizing world that is centuries old in its traditions but brought face to face with the modern world of drugs, money, sex, and power.

Although in Outfoxed Rita Mae Brown takes a break from the Mrs. Murphy mysteries she coauthors with her tiger cat, Sneaky Pie, we can guarantee feline fans that you'll like it. As always, her glimpses of the world through the eyes of animal characters make her tale even more compelling -- and this book has so many animals to choose from, you can't lose! Brown enthralls the reader with her ability to show how the ins and outs of hunting society are understood by the hunters and animals alike -- all the way down to the crow who tips off the hounds on where to find the fox. But more important, her animals give us humans a second look at ourselves, revealing Rita Mae Brown's keen understanding of human nature. Clearly, that understanding is what makes her novels so unforgettable, and Outfoxed is no exception.

—Elise Vogel

Toby Bromberg
Rita Mae Brown, an experienced fox hunter, paints an entrancing, informative picture of the Virginia sporting life in Outfoxed. As with her Mrs. Murphy stories, there are many animals in this one, and hounds, foxes, and horses all take a hand at crime solving. The book does have a flaw in that it takes more than half the story to get to the crime and this may cause readers to put the book down without finding out what went wrong with the hunt.
Romantic Times
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Set in Virginia's foxhunting country, Brown's latest, anthropomorphic mystery will appeal mainly to devoted fans of her animal-centric Sneaky Pie novels (Cat on the Scent, etc.). Jane Arnold, septuagenarian master of the venerable Jefferson Hunt, is preoccupied, Lear-like, with the question of succession. Whom should she train as joint-master of the foxhunting club: the philandering lightweight Fontaine Buruss, or the philistine Yankee millionaire Crawford Howard, who promises to save the club from financial ruin? While the two unworthy candidates vie shamelessly for the post, Jane (known locally as Sister, despite her matriarchal stature) must also cope with the personal travails of other club members, especially the Franklins, whose two beautiful daughters have become "coke whores." Then, in the middle of the season's opening hunt, Fontaine is found murdered, a fate that rattles Sister not half so much as the simultaneous discovery of a murdered red fox. As the foxes note appreciatively in their subterranean parallel universe, "Sister is one of us"; they also pontificate on human nature, the environment and other species ("Groundhogs have no sense of aesthetics"). Horses, foxhounds and Sister's pet cat Golliwog also hold forth for chapters at a time (Golliwog on why she reads Sister's books: "It's the best way to enjoy an uninterrupted conversation with the best human minds from any century"). Brown, herself a dedicated Virginia foxhunter, clearly knows her fascinating terrain, as well as her steely, charismatic protagonist. But few grown-up readers will buy her depiction of the animal kingdom as a benign world in which furry critters chatter philosophically, while bumbling humans commit savage acts. Author tour. (Jan.) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Best-selling author Brown (Rubyfruit Jungle; Venus Envy) places her newest intrigue in the middle of Virginia fox-hunting country. When 70-year-old Jane Arnold, master of the prestigious Jefferson Hunt Club, sees the grim reaper crossing a field, she knows that it's time to choose a joint-master to secure the future of the club. The two rivals for the position are Crawford Howard, a crude Yankee outsider with money greatly needed by the club, and Fontaine Buruss, a popular local with good Southern manners and a taste for women and cocaine. On opening day, one of these candidates is murdered, and Jane realizes that the culprit is a club member. Though the plot moves somewhat slowly, anyone interested in fox hunting will be pleased with the clarifications of hunting terms and the descriptions of the hunters themselves, who range from nature lovers to social climbers. Brown fans and animal lovers will also enjoy. For all public libraries. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/1/99.]--Patsy E. Gray, Huntsville P.L., AL Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
From the Publisher

"A rich, atmospheric murder mystery steeped in the world of Virginia foxhunting . . . Rife with love, scandal, anger, transgression, redemption, greed and nobility, all of which make good reading."
—San Jose Mercury News

—The Baltimore Sun

Product Details

Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:
Sister Jane Foxhunting Series , #1
Edition description:
Product dimensions:
4.22(w) x 6.87(h) x 0.93(d)

Read an Excerpt

On October twelfth, silhouetted against a bloodred sunset, a cloaked figure carrying a scythe was seen by three people. A gray fox also observed the reaper.

A stiff breeze kicked up from the west, sending a sudden swirl of fallen, golden leaves spiraling upward. When they fell to earth the figure was gone.

"Did you see that?" Jane Arnold, known as "Sister Jane," asked.

"See what?" the rugged man next to her replied.

"On Hangman's Ridge, I swear I saw the Grim Reaper." She pointed to her left, the deep green ridge rising softly from the meadows, a lone, massive tree commanding the middle of it.

"Sister"--Shaker Crown put his hands on his hips, shaking his head--"dipping into the flask again."

"Balls." She smiled at him.

It was an alluring smile and one that still carried a sensual message to men that even her seventy years couldn't erase.

"No, ma'am, I didn't see anything. Tell you what I do see. Fontaine Buruss hasn't kept his word."

"Damn him." Jane briskly walked along the grassy farm path to a three-board fence up ahead.

A coop, a jump resembling a chicken coop, was smashed to pieces.

"Lucky no cows are out." Shaker took off his lad's cap, running his fingers through his auburn curls. "Fontaine." He shrugged. No other words were necessary.

"There are days when I think I'm a candidate for sainthood," she said, laughing.

Shaker put his arm around her small waist. "You know, boss, I say that to myself every day."

"Devil." She hugged him in return. "Well, let's stop the gap. Come back tomorrow morning and fix it right." She glanced toward the west. "Much as I love fall, I mourn the fading light."

"Yes ma'am." He vaulted over the splintered wood, heading for a dense forest at the edge of the pasture.

Within minutes Shaker returned, dragging a tree branch with a diameter the size of a strong man's forearm.

Jane put her hand on the fence post and swung over the  destroyed jump, both feet up in the air at once. She'd broken  a few bones over the years, felt the arthritis, but a life of  hard physical labor kept her young. If she'd wanted to  vault the coop like Shaker, a man thirty years her junior, she could have.

"Bullhead." She chided him because he didn't ask for help and the tree branch, blown down in yesterday's storm, was still heavy with sap.

The two kicked out the broken boards in the coop, placed them in the middle, then maneuvered the tree branch over the top of the coop.

"That will hold them tonight. Glad it's your fence line." He rubbed the sap off his hands.

"Me, too. Otherwise we'd be out here until midnight. Feels like a storm coming up, too."

"Yesterday's was bad enough."

"It's been strange weather."

"You say that every year."

"No, I don't," she contradicted him as they turned for home.

They'd parked the farm truck at the edge of Hangman's Ridge. With the wind in their faces picking up, the truck seemed far away. Once inside the old GMC, Sister shivered.

"Someone walked over my grave."

Shaker gave her a sharp look. "Don't say that."

"It's an expression."

"I don't like it."

She burrowed down in her seat as he drove. She wanted to say more about whatever she'd seen on the top of Hangman's Ridge but thought she'd better shut up. They pulled into the kennel just as a weary Doug Kinser walked in, a gorgeous hound trailing behind him.

"Archie!" Sister's voice carried reproach as she stepped out of the truck.

"That's not like Arch." Shaker stared hard at Archie, who stared sweetly back.

"Good work, Doug," Sister complimented the young man, a man so incredibly beautiful that Zeus would have made him a cupbearer on Mount Olympus.

As Douglas led Archie, the hound, to the male side of the kennel, he said, "Sitting in front of a fox den. He wouldn't budge. He was pretty funny. He knows to come when he's called, but it's hard to fault a hound who hunts and dens his fox."

Sister walked over to Archie, one of her favorites. "Arch, did you try to dig that fox out?"

"No. I was waiting him out," a determined Archie  answered.

"Softhearted women ruin good packs of hounds," Sha- ker said.

"So do hard-hearted men. Especially bullheaded ones. Good night."

"Night, boss." Shaker tipped his cap to her as she set off on the half-mile walk to her house. He knew better than to offer her a ride. He walked into the central section of the foxhound kennel, the feeding room. The housing for the hounds was built around this square and neatly divided in half by a concrete wall. Males to the left. Bitches to the right. Outbuildings off this core kennel housed sick hounds, segregated for their own good. Another building was the nursery, a place for bitches or gyps, as they were known, to birth and raise their puppies.

"Where was he this time?"

"Sitting down on the other side of Hangman's Ridge. Just sitting there looking up at the hanging tree."

"On the ridge or at the bottom?"

"At the bottom."

"See any tracks?"


"See anything on the ridge?"

"Uh"--Doug lowered his eyes, a brief flash of embarrassment--"yeah. Someone up there with an old scythe over their shoulder. Couldn't see their face. Had on a cloak, kind of, with a hood."

"Like Death?"

"Well--like the drawings, I guess. I called Archie to me and bent down to check him over and when I stood up, whoever it was was gone."

Shaker opened the heavy metal gate, turning Archie into the sleeping area where the other dog hounds, burrowed in straw, raised their heads then lowered them. They'd hunted hard that day and were curled up for the night. "Sister said she saw him, too."

An audible sigh of relief escaped Doug's lips.

"Thought you were hallucinating?" Shaker laughed.

"Was pretty weird."

"Certainly sounds like it. I didn't see a thing. Now I wished I'd seen him or whoever."

"Gave me the creeps."

Shaker glanced around the kennel. Everything was in order. "Let's clean the tack. I hate getting up in the morning to dirty tack."

About a quarter of a mile on the north side of Hangman's Ridge, running parallel to it, was Soldier Road, so named because during the Revolutionary War, the recruits hurried down the road to gather at the town square.

Along that road, at sunset, Fontaine Buruss was driving his sleek Jaguar back into town. He'd conveniently forgotten that he'd promised to repair the coop he'd banged up during the morning's hunt. His mind was focused on meeting a lady for mutual pleasure. If he timed it exactly right, he'd be home in time for dinner.

A cloaked figure, scythe on his shoulder, beckoned to him as he drove along the ridge. With his right hand he waved Fontaine toward him.

Fontaine slowed, then sped up.

When he reached his affairette of the month, the beautiful and much younger Cody Jean Franklin, the first thing he said to her was, "That goddamned Crawford Howard tried to scare me today. First he ran me into a coop on Sister Jane's land"--he paused, remembering he'd not fixed it--"and then the silly ass, dressed as the angel of death, waved me to him from Hangman's Ridge."

"How do you know it was Crawford Howard?"

"Who else would do that? He hates me. What did he think he'd do? Scare me to death?"

"Did you see his face?" Cody sensibly asked.

"No, the hood was over the face but it was Crawford all right. I'd bet my life on it." He started to fume and was ready to say he'd get even with that Yankee son of a bitch but then he noticed the time, considered his purpose in being there. "I brought you a present." He reached into his tweed coat pocket, retrieving two small packages.

She opened the larger package. A Navy SEAL watch with a rubber wristband and a yellow face was inside. "Thank you, Fontaine. I can sure use this." The other package, a tiny glass vial of cocaine, she put on the coffee table.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She kissed him back. He knew he'd make dinner right on time.

Carrying a bobwhite in his mouth, Butch, the patriarch of the gray fox clan, crawled into his burrow, dropping the freshly killed ground bird.

He, too, had been by Hangman's Ridge, right along the fence line but in the woods. He'd watched Sister Jane and Shaker. He thought Archie was on the other side of the ridge. He'd observed the usually reliable hound get fixated at the red fox den that morning. In fact, he'd had an enjoyable morning watching the Jefferson Hunt get turned around backward while chasing three different red foxes. Better the reds than himself. He had hunting to do and he'd been out too late that night anyway. He should have been in his den by the time he heard the huntsman's horn. Still, the sight of all those humans bouncing around, falling off puce-faced, was too good to pass up. He sat on a moss-covered boulder by the creek and watched. He saw Fontaine, headed off by Crawford Howard, crash into the jump. Fontaine shook his fist at Crawford, who rode off as though nothing had happened. Then he had the delightful prospect of watching Fontaine, who had no sense of direction, ride around in circles in the forest. He only found the others because the hunt doubled back.

His mate and two half-grown children tore into the bobwhite. He'd eaten so much corn while hunting that he couldn't stomach another bite.

Inky, his black daughter, a wing under her paw, smiled. She was a most unusual creature and not just because of her color. She was smarter than the rest of the family and there were times when that intelligence was unsettling.

"The reds were out in full force today. I suppose they felt  it their duty to humiliate the Jefferson Hunt," Butch said, laughing.

"They usually do," his mate, Mary Vey, replied.

"Three hit the ground today. Not a bad day at all. And I saw Death on the way home."

"Someone killed hunting?" Comet, his strong son, asked.

"No, it's been years since that's happened. On Hangman's Ridge, the Reaper stood in the sunset, right by the hanging tree where I suppose he's claimed plenty of men in the past. He wasn't looking my way, so I think I'm safe."

"Anyone else see him?" Comet wondered.

"Sister Jane did. I saw her look straight at him and I expect that tenacious hound, sounded like Archie, on the other side of the ridge saw him, too. Don't know who else if anyone."

"I wonder if she really saw him?" Mary Vey, hearing a  rustle at the main entrance, sniffed. The badger from over in the hollow was passing by.

"Oh, she saw him. The question is, did it register? Humans discount anything that doesn't fit into their version of reality," he said. "But Sister, well, I expect Sister really saw him and knows she saw him."

"I wonder if her time has come."

That night as Sister Jane drew the down comforter around her--her cat, Golliwog, on her left side; her Doberman, Raleigh, on her right--she wondered the same thing.

Meet the Author

Rita Mae Brown is the bestselling author of Rubyfruit Jungle, In Her Day, Six of One, Southern Discomfort, Sudden Death, High Hearts, Bingo, Starting from Scratch: A Different Kind of Writer's Manual, Venus Envy, Dolley: A Novel of Dolley Madison in Love and War, Riding Shotgun, Loose Lips, and a memoir, Rita Will. With her tiger cat, Sneaky Pie, she also collaborates on the popular Mrs. Murphy mystery series, including Murder on the Prowl. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, she lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Post to your social network


Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews

Outfoxed (Foxhunting Series #1) 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 17 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is the first in a series of mysteries that take place in modern day Virginia fox hunting country. The lead character, Sister Jane Arnold is master of foxhounds for the Jefferson Hunt and a wonderful, strong older lady. The picture of the traditional, formal hunting world is wonderful, and the added fantasy of the hounds and foxes conversing with each other adds to the charm. They mysteries are good, well plotted and peopled too. Highly recommended just for the fun of it, but if you are at all horsey, you will adore the whole series.
Guest More than 1 year ago
A truly great read for mystery, animal, and equestrian-sports lovers. The animals' point of view adds a wonderful depth and dimension to the story, and the mystery is unguessable right until the murderer is revealed. One of those rare novels that can be read over and over for the sheer enjoyment of it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Takes shadowkit and hawkkit to hah res one
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Lays Orionkit and Stormkit in a nest then pads off to find mischivous Dreamkit and Cloudkit.|•|~Wish~|•|
Guest More than 1 year ago
A truly intriguing relation of fox hunting in Virginia with a murder to add to the mix. This book is quite relevatory on fox hunting's history and traditions as well as the continued enmeshing of humans in the idea that we're superior beings when we seem to fall subject to behavior not tolerated by the foxes and hounds to whom Ms. Brown so eloquently gives speech. A quick and delightful enjoyment, this book gave me several hours of great pleasure.