to San Anton. Good. A red-tail hawk screamed and circled on the wind looking for a meal. A smile crossed Chet’s face as he dropped downhill.
The roan hitched behind the outhouse in the cedars, Chet eased his way to the back door. When he knocked, he heard her hurrying across the floor. She cracked the door, and a pleased look crossed her face as she opened it wide. “Well, you did come.”
“I shot a fat deer coming here. We better gut and skin it. I guess he got gone, all right?”
“For five days.” She threw open her arms and hugged him.
I figured you could always use the meat.”
“Sure, thanks. I’ll get a pan for the liver and things and some knives. We can hang him in the shed and do it there.”
“Won’t cause you any problems, will it?”
“I shoot deer when they get in my garden. What will be the difference?”
“I mean,” he said, leading roan over there, “will he ask a lot of questions like how and why?”
“I’ll shoot that old single-shot rifle off when we get to the house. He can smell the barrel when he gets home, and he knows I’m capable.”
For the next thirty minutes, they worked shoulder to shoulder to eviscerate the strung-up deer. The air was filled with the copper smell of blood and guts as she worked right beside him. The blood dried on his fingers and stiffened them. They separated the heart, liver, and kidneys into her pan, along with the lacy fat. Then, working as a team, they pealed off the hide, and soon the deer was dressed and its red muscles shone in the light.
“He’s fat enough.”
“Been eating my oats.”
She laughed as Chet tossed the heavy hide on a bench. “It’s fine right there. I’ll tan it later after I scrape the fat off the inside. Get an ax. I want his brains for that job.”
This was the first time he’d ever worked beside her doing anything like this. Her efficiency and skill impressed him. When the deer was pulled up high enough and tied up so a varmint couldn’t reach it, she nodded her approval. “Thanks, some fresh meat won’t hurt me. Let’s go wash up.”
She brought hot water out on the back porch and poured some in the basin. They went to work side by side, washing their hands and forearms with lye soap. With a big grin, she bumped his hip with hers.
“You ain’t half bad help. Jake Porter would have squatted on his boot heels and let me do it all.” After they rinsed, she flung out the water and handed him the flour-sack towel.
“Let’s go inside. When you get out of that sun and you ain’t working, it ain’t real warm.”
“I been thinking—” He came inside behind her and closed the door.
She looked up and blinked her eyes at him. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you get a divorce and marry me?”
“Your conscience bothering you?’
He shook his head. “No, but I’d like to stop having to sneak around to see the woman in my life.”
“You know there’s a lot more attached to being the woman who divorced her husband than for a man who divorces his wife.”
“You talking about them shunning you?”
“That and the rest.”
She moved up against him, untying his kerchief and fussing about him. “I say we get in bed and then we can talk about it there.”
He looked at the kitchen ceiling for help. He gathered her in his arms and shook his head. Their conversation was going nowhere. She wasn’t going to leave Porter. No way on earth to ever convince her.
It was sundown when he rode off for home, taking a wide circuit. He rode in when twilight shut down, and Reg met him at the corral. “I led ole Bugger over to the water tank and feed him two measures of oats and tied him back up.”
“Thanks. That’s all he needs.” Chet dropped heavily out of the saddle.
“He’s a handful, isn’t he?”
“I’d call him a double one. He strike at you?”
“Yeah, he did bringing him home, too.”
“We’ll get that out of him.”
Reg made a face. “What in the hell was that old woman doing with him anyhow?”
Chet laughed. “She’s broke tougher ones than him before.”
“She must be wiry.”
“She is. Good gal. Just don’t get her mad.”
“We’ve got two strange horses in the north end. They took up with the mares. Two saddle horses. One’s got a blotched brand and the other a YT on his shoulder. They don’t belong around here.”
“Cut them out and we’ll corral them. We can cut a notice and tell the brand inspector. Thirty days we can claim them.”
“I just wondered why they showed up.”
“We ain’t missing any horses, are we?’
“Why’s that?”
“Someone on the run may have traded us them for fresh ones of ours.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way. All those mares were at one time broke to ride, but they ain’t been rode since then. Wow, I bet they bucked.”
They both laughed and washed up on the back porch. Susie had two heaping plates ready for them and placed the food on the table. “You two are getting around slow tonight.”
Chet stopped astraddle his chair. “I’ve been checking oats and Reg’s been checking mares.”
“Sounds busy. Reg, we’re going to Mason tomorrow to get some material. The boss says you and J.D. need to attend our trip.”
Reg poised his fork and looked over at Chet. “How come?”
“We need to be prepared,” Chet said.
With a shrug, Reg gave her a grin. “Sure. J.D. and I can watch you girls and watch the ladies over there as well.”
Susie shook her head. “You men.”
“On second thought—” Then Chet laughed at his sister’s disapproval.
“You two want some pie?”
“Do we look like we want some pie?”
“Can I tell her about the apple crisp we made?” Reg asked.
“You two made?”
“We
