up for that anyway, and his pockets were like sieves.
When Mrs. Golonko called out from her store, he pretended not to hear her and darted back toward his home, making the motorcycle roar as it left behind a cloud of dust and fumes. This day had already started on a bad note, and he could always listen to her insults some other time.
He drove past the tiny wooden building that used to house an elementary school before the advent of school busses, the notice board, homes of neighbors who knew all about his failures yet rarely did anything to help him out, and sped out of the main body of the village, so that nobody could see the twist on his face.
He could only breathe normally again once he dashed between two fields, nearing the crossroads between the church and his own home.
Maybe the stallion could find another owner, but he wasn’t the picture-pretty horse most people wanted for entertainment or sports, and the thought of Jinx ending up at a slaughterhouse somewhere in Italy or France made everything inside him ache. And who was he even kidding? He might be telling himself it was just a horse, but he’d promised Granddad he’d never get rid of it, that he’d always keep Jinx close, and he couldn’t break that promise, no matter how badly he yearned to leave Dybukowo behind.
But the worst thing was that he didn’t even know if he truly wanted to move to a big city anyway. Accustomed to having nature on his doorstep and plenty of space he didn’t have to pay in blood for, he might never get used to the noise and pace of life in a place like Cracow.
So maybe he was dirt-poor, lonely, and his future didn’t hold any promise, but at least he could go skinny-dipping in the nearby lake, or take long horse rides in the dense forests that smelled of moss, pine, and rain. Because when he was on his own or with people who treated him well, he didn’t feel stuck at all. The sun greeted him each morning and kissed his cheek goodnight, and when grass tickled him between the toes, he knew that his soul was bound to these mountains, and he would never find happiness anywhere else.
Without Radek to keep him occupied, Emil’s thoughts drifted to the handsome tourist Jinx had scared last night, and he glanced toward the church. He could inquire about Adam—just a bit of small-town courtesy extended to a lost stranger, but his mood was still grim, and he chose the safety of his home, with its thatch, small windows framed with blue paint, and his animals.
But all hopes for a quiet morning of moping dispersed when he spotted a dark green pickup truck parked in the narrow passage between his backyard and the woods.
He left the bike by the dirt road and pushed the low wooden gate open with his foot, entering the property. His chickens walked about undisturbed, but the moment he approached the coop, the door of his meat shed opened, and Filip Koterski emerged in his green forest ranger outfit.
“Hey. You looking for something?” Emil asked, but his blood was running cold already.
“I didn’t know you had a smokehouse,” Filip said, stuffing his hands down his pockets. He was handsome, in an average kind of way, with thick black hair, and a tan he’d gotten from constantly being outdoors. The triangular birthmark on his left cheek was the size of a small coin and an asset rather than a flaw, since it made him stand out from other averagely-handsome men around.
And despite the unease creeping under Emil’s skin, he couldn’t help but notice the things that had attracted him to Filip in the first place. “I would have showed it to you if you asked,” he said, unhappy about someone—even a hook-up—snooping around his homestead. He could have sworn he’d locked the smokehouse with a padlock. Had he forgotten?
“Would you though? Where’d you get the boar?”
Emil frowned. “Oh, come on, you know where I got the boar,” he said, gesturing at the forest
Filip clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Poaching is illegal.”
Were they seriously having this conversation? On the day of Radek’s departure from Emil’s life? “You know I stick to the rules. I never let animals suffer, never endanger the young or hunt out of season.”
Filip gave a theatrical sigh. “Still, no licence. You aren’t a member of the Hunters’ Association.”
“I can’t afford it right