I turn around, shifting back to my human form to stand up and take a look around. There are a few bodies littering the area, and it looks like we have at least ten sheep to take back.
An excellent hunt.
Suddenly, hammering hooves sound right beside me, and I turn just in time to see a bighorn rocketing towards me. I don’t have time to move, and the big, muscular ram shoulders me off the path as it bolts by. I slide straight over the cliff edge, grabbing a handhold at the last second.
I’m about to pull myself up when Bruce appears above me. He stares down, and I glare right back.
The moment hangs between us, tension rising.
I could easily pull myself up and kick his ass—but I want to see what he does.
Eventually, Bruce leans down and offers me his hand. I grab it and let him help me over the edge.
“Thanks, buddy,” I say. “That buck took me by surprise. It’s lucky you were there to watch my back.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “It was.”
“Are you okay?” Jackson asks, jogging over. “I thought you were a goner.”
“Nah, I got lucky!” I say. “Let’s load up a couple of sheep and head back. You’ve got guys coming to help with pickup, don’t you?”
“Yep, I assigned a few young ones to it earlier this morning. They should be on their way any minute now. Too young to hunt, but definitely old enough for some hard labor.”
“I do like the way you run things,” I say, grabbing the nearest bighorn and slinging it over my shoulders.
“Glad to hear it,” Jackson says, picking up a sheep.
The walk back is almost as much of a macho battle as the hunt itself as we drag back our burdens in the midday heat. I make sure to stumble every now and then and let the others hear my hard breathing.
I want him to be overconfident and fully underestimate me.
When we arrive back in town, there is a gathering in the hall waiting for us. To my relief, Sara is there, looking absolutely beautiful in a dark green dress. I want to run straight to her, but instead, I barely look at her as I accept congratulations from the others for the good kill.
The young ones go out to collect the rest, and a few older men sit down to clean the carcasses and get the meat on the spit. All the men who participated in the hunt go to wash up, and when we return, there are seats waiting for us in the cool shade.
“Here you are, my husband,” Sara says, putting a cold cup into my hand. “I’m sure you are very thirsty.”
“I am,” I say, barely looking at her. I take a gulp of the ice-cold beer, then shake the glass at her for a refill.
She looks up at my face for just a second, and I see a world of hurt in her eyes.
“There you are,” she says after pouring more beer into the cup. “Anything else?”
“No,” I say casually. “Go and take care of the food. Bring me some meat when it’s ready.”
“Of course.”
The party goes on into the night, and even though I try to keep an eye on Jackson, all he does is get extremely drunk and pass out by the fire. His three goons park under a tree and drink themselves to oblivion, so I let myself relax and enjoy the atmosphere.
By the time Sara and I go home, the stars are incredibly high overhead, and a cool breeze is trickling in from the south. Even though I know I’ve got a lot to answer for, I’m tired from the hunt, mellow from the beer, and invigorated by the meat, and I feel like everything will be fine once I explain it to her.
When we reach the house, she hurries ahead of me. I jog to keep up, following her through the front door and catching her arm.
“Sara,” I say, my voice full of expectation. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day—”
“Why?” she snaps. “So you can say more hurtful things to me? Don’t you dare fucking talk to me, Shawn!”
Her words hit me like blows, knocking all the good feelings straight out of me.
