I lowered the rifle and looked at the ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.” I felt stupid. We’d eaten venison plenty of times. Where had I thought it came from?
He put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me to face him, then used one big hand to raise my chin to look at him. “It’s okay.” He didn’t sound patronizing, or like he thought it was cute. He sounded sincere. But I still looked up at him doubtfully. He must think I’m so weak.
He jerked his head to the side. “Come look at something.” He led me over to a tree and took a little bag from his pocket. Then he tipped some of the contents of the bag into his palm and held it out. Acorns?!
He went still, and I went still next to him. After a moment, there was movement in the tree as something scampered from branch to branch. Then a little furry head peeked around the trunk. Two quick jumps and a scurry, and it was hanging from a branch just above us, regarding us with shining, suspicious eyes. A squirrel.
Cal stayed completely still. The squirrel looked at him, looked at me, then suddenly leaped, so quickly it seemed to vanish and reappear on Cal’s shoulder. It jumped down his arm and onto his wrist, grabbed an acorn and sat there eating it, the forest so quiet we could hear its little teeth nibbling. I watched, amazed, until it had finished. Then it grabbed a second acorn for later, sprang back to the tree, and was gone.
“People say they’re vermin,” said Cal. “They’re what people learn to shoot when they start out. But I never could bring myself to shoot ‘em.” He turned to me. “You don’t want to shoot animals, don’t shoot animals. C’mon, let’s try the paper target again.”
I was still getting over the insane cuteness of this big, hulking guy feeding squirrels. I blinked and frowned. “What’s the point, if I can’t shoot animals?”
He looked at me, determined and powerfully protective. “Just because,” he said.
And realization hit. This wasn’t about hunting for food, or filling the time until I left. He wanted me to be able to look after myself once he wasn’t there to do it. In case the men from the club caught up with me, on the journey or even when I got to Canada.
If it came to it, he wanted me to be able to shoot them.
34
Cal
THAT EVENING, I sat brooding. Bethany was outside, milking Betsy and Ha—
Milking the cow and the goat, dammit.
I had plenty of stuff to be doing: there was wood to be chopped, grain to be milled, and the hinge on the chicken coop door needing fixing. But I just couldn’t seem to get going.
The day after tomorrow, she’d be gone.
I knew I was making the right decision. It was better for her, better for everyone. That’s what I kept telling myself.
But I knew she was hurting, just like I was hurting. I wanted to do something nice for her. And there’s only so much you can do, in a backwoods cabin. It wasn’t like I could go buy her a box of cupcakes.
Maybe there was something I could do, though. While she was busy in the barn, I hauled it out from behind the cabin and wrestled it through the door. Then I got some big pots of water boiling on the stove and filled buckets from the well. By the time she came back in, it was ready.
“Figured you might want a bath,” I mumbled, looking at the floor. “Sorry: I don’t have any stuff to make bubbles.”
She stared at the big, cowboy-style metal tub. A smile spread across her face and something inside me lifted and tugged so hard I had to look away. So I didn’t get any warning when she ran over and threw her arms around me. “Thank you!” she said, her breath little hot gusts against my pecs. “Thank you!”
I swallowed and grunted. Her breasts were pillowed against my chest and when I breathed in, I could smell the sweet, feminine scent of her. I could feel my cock swelling in my pants and any second, she was going to feel it, too. I nodded and backed away. “I’ll be outside.”
I opened the door...and stopped. Heavy gray rain was just starting to fall. I shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”
“No. Don’t be silly. Stay here,” said Bethany.
I turned around and caught her eye. She looked at the tub, then down at her clothes. The tension in the room rose a little more.
“One second,” said Bethany in a strangled voice. She pulled the sheet off the bed, then got a ball of string, climbed up on a chair and tied it to a rafter. In a few moments, she had the sheet dangling like a curtain from the rafters, forming a screen between me and the tub. “There.”