“We’ll post up just past here,” he said, pulling her gun from her shoulder. He nodded his head toward the ladder. “Climb.”
Donna looked from him to the tree. She was having an inner debate about whether or not to climb. On one hand, the only thing she liked about nature was the view. She didn’t need to be smack dab in the middle of it. On the other hand, she did have an adventurous side that was screaming, “Go for it!”
Her adventurous side won. She walked over to the tree and climbed the ladder. When she got to the top, she stepped onto the wooden planks that served as a floor. Lincoln climbed up after and handed her the rifles and a small cooler before joining her on the deck.
“What’s in the cooler?”
“Beer, of course,” he chortled.
Donna exhaled. “Drinking and shooting, great combination,” she mumbled under her breath.
“It’s for after,” he said with a boyish grin. “To celebrate your first kill.”
She didn’t know how she felt about his excitement for her to kill.
He walked around the tree and came back, rolling two chairs. He rolled one over to her and sat on the other.
“Now what?”
“Now, we wait. Hunting is all about waiting. We can talk, but must do it quietly.”
When Donna sat in the chair, he handed her the rifle.
“You ever fired one of these?”
“Nope.”
“Ever fired any kind of rifle?”
“Nope.”
“Well, you’re gonna love this. Hand it here, I’ll give you a crash course.”
For thirty minutes, they spoke softly. She learned so much about Lincoln, his upbringing, his college life, his military career, and his love for his family. She’d had time to share her reasons for becoming a cop, going undercover, her Native American heritage. She’d even tried to explain the extraordinary bond between her and Bella. They started discussing past relationships when they heard the sound of snapping twigs. He held his hand up to silence the conversation. He grabbed the rifle Donna placed on the floor next to her foot, handed it to her, and gestured for her to point.
Donna stood quietly and placed the butt of the weapon in the crook of her shoulder. She waited quietly until a deer appeared in the small clearing. After lining her sights, she placed her index finger on the trigger. The deer was still, seemingly surveying its surroundings.
Donna held the rifle steady. She had a perfect shot. She began to gently squeeze the trigger. Then she suddenly pictured the innocent animal's flesh exploding.
She eased off the trigger and lowered the weapon. “I can’t do it, Lincoln. I can’t kill this animal for no reason,” she whispered through a breath.
“What do mean for no reason?” he asked with wrinkled brows. “We’re gonna eat that deer.”
Donna closed her eyes and shook her head. She placed the riffle on the wooden floor.
“I can’t do it,” she huffed. Then she opened her eyes and glared at him. “You’re not gonna do it either.”
Lincoln smiled and pulled her into his arms. She relaxed her head against his chest, relieved that she hadn’t shot the defenseless deer.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I understand.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled a cleansing breath and hugged his waist.
“I gotta better idea. And we’re already dressed for it.”
Donna raised her head and looked at him suspiciously. “Dressed for what?”
“Paintballing!” he exclaimed with excitement.
