me.”
It wasn’t something that required a response, and so CJ offered none. Artie turned quiet, and CJ thought he was done, but a few minutes later, Artie whispered, “And you know what? I love it just as much when I get to sit here all day.”
CJ had been watching the tall grass on the far side of the path, alert for any movement that seemed out of sync with the wind, and while he was a firm believer that the act of hunting was its own reward, he couldn’t wholly agree with Artie’s sentiment.
“I can’t say I love it as much,” CJ whispered back. “No matter how perfect everything might be, there’s that small part of me that’s unfulfilled if I don’t go home with something.”
“That’s because you’re not old and don’t mind dragging it back to camp,” Artie said with a quiet laugh.
Another ten minutes passed before either of them said anything, and this time it was CJ who spoke, going back to Artie’s earlier words.
“Aren’t you frustrated when you sit here all day, knowing there’s nothing out there—no chance of something stepping out?”
When Artie didn’t answer right away, CJ looked over and saw the man watching the grass, his eyes sharp. Finally, he said, “The only time it’s frustrating is when I know they are there and they won’t step out.”
Thor sensed it before either of them saw it, and it was then that Thor proved he was a natural hunting dog because instead of snapping his head up, the dog raised it slowly so as not to frighten the prey.
“Two o’clock, ten yards in the grass,” Artie said, not moving a muscle.
The only parts of his body CJ moved were his eyes. It took him almost a full fifteen seconds to spot it, and he only did so when the entirety of the brown grass went one way with the wind except for a small section that went in the other direction. CJ almost lost it twice, so closely did its color match the surroundings, but it was getting closer to the shorter grass, to the natural path that would take it to the water.
It didn’t so much as step out of the covering as it just appeared there.
It was a thing of beauty, large and powerfully built. As it lifted its head to survey the land, CJ counted eleven points and couldn’t tell if one had broken off on the other side or if the asymmetry was natural. Even from the distance CJ was at, he thought he could see the flecks of moisture on the snout, hear grunting as the animal tested the air. At one point it shifted until it was looking directly toward the hunting party, but it couldn’t see CJ and Artie against the trees, and Thor, watching the massive buck with just the slightest tremor running down his back, stayed still as a statue. After a time, the buck turned and started toward the river.
CJ let it get a few paces away, let it find its rhythm before he moved. He had the gun in his hand and had pulled away from the tree, positioning himself closer to the bluff’s edge, when he realized what he was doing. With a sheepish smile, he turned to Artie, the man who had brought him, and whose deer this was by virtue of his hospitality. Except that he found that Artie hadn’t moved. The older man sat with his back against the tree, gun across his lap, and he returned CJ’s smile with one of his own, then gestured for CJ to take the shot.
CJ nodded once, hoping the gesture conveyed his gratitude, and then turned back to the deer, which had put some distance between them. CJ rose to his feet slowly, his eyes never leaving the buck; then he set his feet under him and raised the gun to his cheek. Finding the buck in the sights, guesstimating it at seventy yards, leading it just a hair, he took in a slow breath. He released the safety. He let the breath out and squeezed off the shot.
The blast set the trees behind him into motion, birds of all kinds taking flight from the deafening sound. And it was also the thing that set Thor into motion. Leaping to his feet, the dog began barking at the noise, and at the thing below that had taken a single step after the shot before collapsing to the ground.
CJ lowered the gun, smelling powder, his