Both Cash and Jace stopped talking. It was twenty minutes before Cash saw a movement at the beginning of the clearing from a red fox and her little kits entering it.
Tate edged closer to the opening, placing the barrel of his gun through the blind opening while Greer positioned his own rifle.
“I’ll take the mama. Greer, you take the first two little kits, and Cash, you’re such a good shot, you take the last three kits.”
His eyes went to the small family sniffing the air for intruders. He nodded.
Moving forward, his foot jarred the side of the blind, making a loud rustling noise. The family darted from the clearing as if their lives depended on it, which they did.
The men stared at him in anger. Even Jace looked disappointed in him.
“What the fuck?” Tate snarled.
“Sorry, I tripped,” Cash explained without remorse.
“You have been hunting before, right?” Jace looked at him pathetically.
“Yes, Jace, I’ve been hunting before.”
“Often?”
“Shut up!” Tate’s frustrated voice had them both snapping their mouths closed.
It was an hour before another animal came into the clearing. I can’t catch a fucking break today, Cash thought as a small fawn came farther into the clearing with its mother walking not far behind.
Cash could just hear Rachel’s reaction if he let Bambi die. Thinking quickly, Cash had a sneezing fit that had the deer fleeing.
“Motherfucker, did you bring us out here just to bug the piss out of us?” Dustin’s harsh voice had Cash shrugging apologetically.
“I can’t help it if I’m allergic to Jace’s cologne.”
Jace glared at him but took the brunt of the brothers’ anger. The boy wanted the promised motorcycle enough to become the patsy.
“You wore cologne?” Dustin sniffed toward his cousin.
“I didn’t want to shower,” Jace mumbled.
“How about we just go on to the cabin and fix some breakfast. We can get an early start on fishing.” Cash stood as best he could in the small confines of the blind, going outside the small structure.
“I guess we haven’t got a choice with Jace polluting the air,” Greer grumbled as all the men came out.
They hiked the two miles to his cabin. When he opened the door, the Porters from oldest to youngest whistled.
“Now this is what I call a cabin,” Jace said admiringly.
“Put your backpacks up. I’ll fix breakfast.” It didn’t take long for him to fry bacon and eggs and make a strong pot of coffee. The men all dug in, eating as soon as he put the food on the table.
They spent the rest of the day outside fishing, getting along because they remained quiet. Jace had quieted down, too, throwing him hurt looks every so often. Cash felt like he had stepped on a rambunctious puppy’s tail.
However, everyone’s mood improved as soon as the fish started to be caught. The size of them had them all trying to outdo the others to catch the biggest one.
As Cash’s line pulled taut, he drew the pole back, and he could tell by the strength of the tugging it was a big fish. Unobtrusively, he released the line, letting the fish go.
Reeling in his line, they taunted him for losing the fish.
“You don’t fish any better than you can shoot,” Greer taunted.
Cash remained quiet.
After another hour, he stood and stretched. “How about I go back to the cabin and clean a few for dinner?”
“Sounds good. It’s not like you’re catching anything anyway.” Dustin laughed. “You might as well play bitch and cook.” Dustin laughed again, throwing his line back in the water.
“You sure you don’t want to stay and let us give you a few pointers?” Greer added, throwing the fish he had just caught into the cooler.
“We’ll save that for another day,” Cash replied, picking up the cooler and leaving Jace to pack Cash’s pole back when he returned with his cousins.
It took Cash a good hour to walk off his anger when he got back to the cabin. If he hadn’t wanted their approval for Rachel, he would have thrown them into the water and driven back to town alone.
After his walk, he burned off any anger he had left by gutting the fish and getting them ready to fry. The gas stove was old but had cooked many good meals. He remembered several of the ones he and his father had shared in the cabin that had been built by his grandfather and dad. There used to be an old, dirt road that led from his grandparents’ cabin to this one, but it had long ago grown over.
His father had passed away when he was in the service, and by the time he had returned to Treepoint, Mag had moved and he had liked the remoteness of the cabin. Only he, The Last Riders, and the Porters even knew the cabin was back this far in the woods. It was off the grid with two generators as back-up, well water, and propane for the stove and water heater. It had two bedrooms and a loft that held several bunk beds.
Cash was flipping the fish over when the Porters returned. After everyone washed up, they ate. The night dragged on while they played game after game of poker, which he lost.