Hunter's moon: a novel by Don Hoesel

Author:Don Hoesel [Don Hoesel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9781410428127
Published: 2010-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

Artie was up first, shaking CJ awake. He was already dressed, and as CJ rolled to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he smelled coffee and saw a stack of pancakes in the center of the table. He couldn’t believe he’d slept soundly enough to have not heard or smelled Artie’s breakfast preparations.

“What time is it?”

“Five,” Artie called over his shoulder, having returned to the stove and a sizzling pan of eggs. “If you’re quick, we can be out of here at five thirty like we wanted.”

CJ wasn’t sure what he wanted. It had been a long time since he’d hunted and the hour seemed ungodly. As he sat up on the bed, willing his legs to move, he was amazed at how youthful Artie appeared. In his jeans and flannel shirt, hunting boots, and a bowie knife affixed to his belt, he looked at least ten years younger. He reminded himself, though, that Artie was almost thirty years older than he, and that did much to force him out of bed.

Artie set a cup of coffee in front of CJ as he took a seat at the table.

“Thanks,” CJ said.

Artie returned to the stove and brought the skillet of eggs back to the table, setting it on a potholder, and then lowered himself into the other chair.

“Did you know that you snore?” he asked as he piled eggs onto CJ’s plate.

After a sip of coffee CJ said, “I’ve been told.”

The two men ate the rest of the meal in silence, and then as Artie cleaned up the dishes, CJ finished getting dressed. When he’d left Tennessee he hadn’t packed the necessary things to spend a day hunting, so they’d stopped at a sporting goods store on the drive in so CJ could at least pick up some thermal underwear and a decent pair of boots. Because they weren’t broken in yet, the boots felt a little tight as he slipped them on. He knew he’d have a few blisters by the time the day was over, but they would be happy blisters if he took a buck.

By the time he was ready, Artie had finished the dishes and had retrieved the two guns he’d brought along. Artie sat on a stool and unzipped the cases, leaning first one gun, then the other, against the wall. This was the first CJ had seen of them out of their cases, and he released a low whistle.

“Those are beauties,” he said.

That seemed to amuse Artie. He gave CJ a wink and then picked one of the guns up, offering it to his hunting companion.

It looked like a Remington hybrid—something custom, and it was obvious that it had been used more than a time or two. CJ turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of it, the balance. As he studied it, his eyes caught something on the butt, and he turned it so he could take a closer look. And when it finally occurred to him what he was seeing, he looked up and grinned at Artie.

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