Oh Snowy Night

Chapter One

Conn

“They say there’s gonna be about a foot of snow dropping on us. You might want to get some bread. We’re running low.”

“Henry, Conn makes his own bread.” Henry’s wife nudges the old man aside to grab my milk. She waves it in my face. “Conn, you want this in a bag?”

“I’ll carry it.”

“It looks like you’ve got the fixin’s for a good stew. I don’t see any meat here, though. You going to use venison? Heard you caught a nice buck the other day. A ten-pointer?”

“There ain’t no ten-pointers around here,” mutters Henry. He’s sitting down on a stool behind the register with a piece of jerky stuck in the side of his mouth.

“Just because you don’t have any luck doesn’t mean that Conn hasn’t. You tell him, Conn.” Old Karen peers up through her round framed eyeglasses.

Behind Karen’s back, Henry gives me a sharp warning glance. This is the reason why I don’t come into town much. It’s too easy to step in shit even if you’re watching where you’re going. I ruffle the shorn hair on top of my head and search for an answer that makes them both happy. “Can’t say that I’ve seen any bucks that size around.”

Henry hoots. “I told you so.”

“That doesn’t mean none exist,” I add hurriedly.

“That’s right.” Karen thumps the bag of flour with a little too much force. I wince. “Just because you don’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.”

“If they did exist, I’d have seen ‘em and since I haven’t and neither has Conn, who lives in the freaking woods, they don’t. That’s–what do you call it?”

“It’s not anything,” Karen insists and jams a candy cane toward me. “Here. Put this on one of your pines. I know you aren’t decorating a Christmas tree.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I slide my card into the reader.

“Leave the boy alone. If he don’t want to celebrate Christmas, he shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s because he’s not married,” Karen replies, ripping off the receipt. “You should get married, Conn. Your wife can put up a tree. You’ll like this time more with decorations. They always cheer me up.”

“I don’t like ‘em. You’ve got too much damned stuff, Karen. We don’t need indoor and outdoor shit.”

I grab my two sacks, heft a bag of dog food onto my shoulder and run out of there like my tail’s on fire. Bear greets me with a rough bark when I step out of the store. I jerk my head. “Let’s go.”

The husky lumbers to his feet and races to the truck. I toss the food in the back and then open the front door for him to climb in. “Remind me when I get low again so I don’t have to come into town,” I tell my boy. His tongue hangs out and he nods excitedly. I give him a rough scratch around his ears before climbing into the driver’s seat.

When I moved here to Pine Hollow five years ago, I thought I’d enjoy the small town atmosphere, but just a little exposure made me realize that small town people were missing as many acorns on the tree as the big city people. All I need in life is a computer, a mailbox, my dog, and a stove. Contact with other people is unnecessary.

The wind starts to pick up as I drive toward my lodge located thirty minutes north of Pine Hollow. There isn’t anything up by me but a few cabins that stand empty during the winter and three hundred acres of trees and trails. I cut some of those trails myself and some nature provided.

It’s a sanctuary and one I don’t want disturbed, so when I come across another car moving slowly on the road, I scowl and pass it. The roads up here should be empty. Snow starts to fall and daylight is slowly fading away. I press the gas pedal. It’s nice to be home while the sun’s setting over the lake.

I’m going to throw a couple of brats on the grill and pop open a beer. Later, I’ll do some work but the good thing about being self-employed is you do shit when you want and right now, I want to relax on the sun porch with Bear at my side while the sun takes a dip in the water.

“How’s that sound?” I ask my boy.

He barks in agreement. Dogs really are a man’s best friend. You don’t have to say a word, but they’re on your side. A true ride or die. I give Bear another scratch as I make a left turn down my road. The sight that greets me makes me scowl.

“Scoot back, Bear,” I order. He does so immediately. I reach over and grab the handgun out of my glove compartment. The chain that hangs about four feet off the ground across my road is lying on the pea gravel. There are tire tracks that don’t match my truck pressed into the sand and rock. I set the gun in my lap and drive across the chain. The road to my house is swervy. I made it that way so it wouldn’t be easy to get to my place. I’d see people coming and have time to prepare but it also means people ahead of me can hide and prepare an ambush. I keep a finger on the trigger of my gun as I roll down the road.