The Raven's Gift by Don Rearden

Author:Don Rearden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780143173335
Publisher: Penguin Group (Canada)
Published: 2011-01-25T10:00:00+00:00

“YOU CAN USE that 20-gauge,” Carl said, pointing to the shotgun leaning against the bow of the skiff. “You ride up front and shoot.”

The tide had dropped the river several feet, leaving the bow high and dry. The two of them pushed the aluminum boat down into the water. He glanced at the baseball cap, light jacket, and jeans his new hunting companion wore and wondered if he wasn’t overdressed with his camouflage Gore-Tex rain pants, rain parka, hat and gloves.

“Your wife said you were going crazy being stuck in the village. She told me you liked to hunt. Surprised me that you never went hunting with me yet,” Carl said.

Carl climbed over the edge of the bow, past the two bench seats, and leaned over the motor. He flipped the latch and the prop dropped into the water. He squeezed the black rubber ball on the hose and primed the fuel line.

John stood by the bow, still not in the boat, waiting for Carl to start the motor. “Didn’t know how hunting worked around here,” he said. “I didn’t want to impose.”

Carl chuckled. “You don’t impose. You just go hunting,” he said.

Carl gave a quick pull and the motor sputtered. He pulled the small choke out, pushed it in, and gave John a nod. John pushed the boat out and jumped in. He grabbed the shotgun and sat on the second bench. He faced the bow and rested the weapon across his legs. The weight of the gun felt good there. Carl eased the boat forward into the current. He tapped John’s shoulder and pointed to a box of shotgun shells lying in a plastic grocery sack behind his seat.

John opened the box and took out a handful of shells. He stuffed them into the oversized pocket of his rain jacket, broke the barrel, and slid one shell into the chamber. The single-shot gun had the look of a relic. The long barrel was rusted, the bluing of the metal long gone, the trigger guard cracked. The sight on the end was simply a small shiny silver bump. He snapped the gun back and rested it again on his lap.

The boat picked up speed, raising the bow up out of the water until they were on step and speeding along the edge of the steep cut of the riverbank.

“See the high bank here?” Carl hollered over the motor. “This is where the deep water is. Shallow over on that side. If you’re ever going to travel here, you’ll have to learn how we navigate the water.”

John nodded and asked, “How can you ever know where you’re going with all these lakes and rivers everywhere?”

“I guess you learn or get lost and die,” he said with a grin as he turned the tiller and cut the boat sharply across to the other side of the river. “There’s a big sandbar right there,” he said. “It goes all the way down there. You have to cross here. If you hit the sand right under the water, you’re stuck, big time.

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