Moving only her eyeballs, she glanced back and forth between the strutting tom and Ian, who timed his movements to those of the turkey, sliding the bow from his shoulder, freezing, bringing an arrow to hand, freezing, and finally nocking the arrow as the bird made its final turn.
Or what should have been its final turn. Ian bent his bow and, in the same movement, released his arrow and uttered a startled, all-too-human yelp as a large, dark object dropped from the tree above him. He jerked back and the turkey barely missed landing on his head. She could see it now, a hen, feathers fluffed in fright, running with neck outstretched across the open ground toward the equally startled tom, who had deflated in shock.
By reflex, she seized her shotgun, brought it to bear, and fired. She missed, and both turkeys disappeared into a patch of ferns, making noises that sounded like a small hammer striking a wood block.
The echoes died away and the leaves of the trees settled back into their murmur. She looked at her cousin, who glanced at his bow, then across the open ground to where his arrow was sticking absurdly out from between two rocks. He looked at her, and they both burst into laughter.
Aye, well, he said philosophically. Thats what we get for leavin Uncle Jamie to pick roses by himself.
BRIANNA SWABBED THE barrel and rammed a wad of tow on a fresh round of buckshot. Hard, to stop her hand shaking.
Sorry I missed, she said.
Why? Ian looked at her, surprised. When yere hunting, yere lucky to get one shot in ten. Ye ken that fine. Besides, I missed, too.
Only because a turkey fell on your head, she said, but laughed. Is your arrow ruined?
Aye, he said, showing her the broken shaft hed retrieved from the rocks. The headll do, though. He stripped the sharp iron head and put it in his sporran, tossed the shaft away, then stood up. Well no get another shot at that lot, butwhats amiss, lass?
Shed tried to shove her ramrod into its pipe, but missed and sent it flying.
What do they call it when youre too excited to hit a deerbuck fever? she said, making light of it as she went to fetch the rod. Turkey fever, I suppose.
Oh, aye, he said, and smiled, but his eyes were intent on her hands. How long since yeve fired a gun, cousin?
Not that long, she said tersely. She hadnt expected it to come back. Maybe six, seven months.
What were ye hunting then? he asked, head on one side.
She glanced at him, made the decision, and, pushing the ramrod carefully home, turned to face him.
A gang of men who were hiding in my house, waiting to kill me and take my kids, she said. The words, bald as they were, sounded ridiculous, melodramatic.
Both his feathery brows went up.
Did ye get them? His tone was so interested that she laughed, in spite of the memories. He might have been asking if shed caught a large fish.
No, alas. I shot out the tire on their truck, and one of the windows in my own house. I didnt get them. But then, she added, with affected casualness, they didnt get me or the kids, either.
Her knees felt suddenly weak, and she sat down carefully on a fallen log.
He nodded, accepting what shed said with a matter-of-factness that would have astonished herhad it been any other man.
That would be why yere here, aye? He glanced around, quite unconsciously, as though scanning the forest for possible enemies, and she wondered suddenly what it would be like to live with Ian, never knowing whether you were talking to the Scot or the Mohawkand now she was really curious about Rachel.
Mostly, yes, she answered. He picked up her tone and glanced sharply at her but nodded again.
Will ye go back, then, to kill them? This was said seriously, and it was with an effort that she tamped down the rage that seared through her when she thought of Rob Cameron and his bloody accomplices. It wasnt fear or flashback that had made her hands shake now; it was the memory of the overwhelming urge to kill that had possessed her when she touched the trigger.
I wish, she said shortly. We cant. Physically, I mean. She flapped a hand, pushing it all away. Ill tell it to you later; we havent even talked to Da and Mama about it yet. We only came last night. As though reminded of the long, hard push upward through the mountain passes, she yawned suddenly, hugely.
Ian laughed, and she shook her head, blinking.
Do I remember Da saying you have a baby? she asked, firmly changing the subject.
The huge grin came back.
I have, he said, his face shining with such joy that she smiled, too. Ive got a wee son. He hasna got his real name yet, but we call him Oggy. For Oglethorpe, he explained, seeing her smile widen at the name. We were in Savannah when he started to show. I canna wait for ye to see him!
Neither can I, she said, though the connection between Savannah and the name Oglethorpe escaped her. Should we
A distant noise cut her short, and Ian was on his feet instantly, looking.
Was that Da? she asked.
I think so. Ian gave her a hand and hauled her to her feet, snatching up his bow almost in the same motion. Come!