The Hunters by Clark Howard

Author:Clark Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2020-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The four hunters prepared to leave the cabin on the morning of their third day in the Butte Mountains. They had stayed an extra night in the cabin after all; when they returned there following their meeting under the poncho shelter, the rain was coming down in such torrential violence that to have attempted to drive down-mountain would have been foolhardy.

“My station wagon’s not moving until this rain lets up,” Milt announced to Lamar as the two of them, literally drenched, reached the front porch of the cabin. “I’m not taking the chance of going off a mountain road in this flood.”

“What about Leo?” Lamar asked. “What if he’s really sick?”

“All he probably needs is a little rest,” Milt said, “I think the main thing that’s wrong with him is thin blood anyway.”

Wes walked up in time to catch the last few words. “You talking about me again?” he snapped, wiping rain from his face.

“He was talking about Leo,” Lamar said quickly. “Where is he anyway?”

“He’s coming,” Wes said. “He just fell back a ways.”

In a few moments, Leo Fritz came dragging out of the forest onto the clearing. His eyes were downcast, his expression sullen. The word’s dirty bastards kept running through his mind, and he applied the term equally to all of his hunting partners. There was no reason for them to terminate the trip as they had done. There was nothing wrong with him and they knew it. They just wanted to make him the laughingstock of all the wives when they got back home: poor sickly Leo.

Leo looked up and saw the three of them waiting for him on the porch, lined up in a single row. Like targets in a shooting gallery, he had thought. For just an instant they reminded him of the three-man police advisory board. As he looked at them through the rain, their faces kept changing from his hunting companions to the advisory board, then back to his hunting companions. Once again a murderous thought crossed his mind; three shots, just three quick shots.

But who would he be killing? he wondered. His partners? Or the advisory board?

Both, he decided. And at that moment he wished fervently that it could be done. The weight of the rifle was a heavy temptation in his hands. But he did not yield to it.

After the four soaked men got into the cabin, changed into dry clothes, and relaxed in front of a roaring fire with drinks, all thoughts of leaving that afternoon gradually dissipated. There was an occasional demonstration of concern about Leo’s well-being, and a few elaborate displays at making him comfortable; fixing him a drink, offering him the chair nearest the fire, asking if there was anything special he would like to eat, all of which patronage Leo promptly and rudely rejected, then sulked angrily off to bed.

The others spent the afernoon lazing about, alternately drinking, dozing, and reminiscing about past hunting trips when their luck had been better, the weather had been better, and of course they had not been handicapped by a sick companion.

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