Dig Ten Graves Read Free Page B

not sure I can do it. I mean, even assuming we SEE a deer out here, I just don’t know if…”
         They have guns, Buck and Doe. Me, no gun. I use bow. Bow takes real skill, real hunter-skill. I frown down at them, but they don’t look up and they don’t see me. I don’t wear orange vest, see.
         They settle down right under me, Doe sitting down at the trunk of the tree, and Buck on his haunches, like. My bow is in my hand, but I don’t move. If I move now, they would hear me. I am perfectly still, just like Daddy taught, I am part of the tree, I am the tree, I am invisible.
         Buck says, “That’s only natural, to feel that way. My first time, I was scared too, I really was. Did I ever tell you about it?”
         Doe shakes her head.
         Buck says, “Well, it was… it was kind of a mess, really.” He laughs. “It was me and my pop. We were trekking through the woods, early fall, you know, dead leaves everywhere made it hard to stay quiet. We must have wandered around for hours, just looking for a sign of deer anywhere, and me getting more and more nervous. I was, what, sixteen or so? Finally, after what seemed like hours, we came into this clearing and lo-and-behold, on the other side was this beautiful buck, five feet at the shoulders if he was an inch, with antlers out to here.”
         Doe looks interested in the story. She’s watching Buck, smiling. Slow-like, careful-like, I reach into the quiver on my back and pull out an arrow. My arrows are good. I make them myself.
         Buck says, “We were downwind, by the grace of God. My pop goes real quiet, touches my shoulder. I looked up at him and he nodded at me, kinda half-smiling. And suddenly all my fear was gone. I raised my gun, took careful aim… and shot.”
         Doe says, “A good clean shot?”
         Buck grins. “No, I’m afraid not. It was pretty poor, actually. I got him in the lower left flank. Not a kill shot at all. That deer jumped like a Mexican jumping bean and took off like a bolt into the woods.”
         Doe says, “Aww. Poor you. So it got away?”
         Silent, silent, I notch the arrow.
         “Well, not exactly. I mean, I shot him, he was going to die. It was just a matter of when and where. I thought it was a lost cause, but my pop told me not to worry and you know what he did? He followed that deer’s trail, that’s what he did. He followed the blood, me lagging just behind him, and within an hour we’d found him.”
         I pull back the bow-string, slow, so Buck and Doe can’t hear the strain of polished wood bending. I pull all the way back, deciding in my head which one goes first. If I do this right, I can bag two for one. Never did that before.
         Buck says, “We followed him into this field of tall grass, up to my torso. And just as we were approaching it, we heard the buck fall. I was getting set to run in there when Pop grabs my arm and says wait. Wait for it, son. So… we sat there at the edge of the tall grass and waited for, geez, must’ve been two hours. And finally Pop says okay, so we go in and there’s my buck, dead.”
         “Wow,” says Doe.
         “Yeah. That bastard just bled out, right there in the tall grass. And I had my very first buck.” He laughs. “Pop still has those antlers on the wall, in
     his study.”
         I settle on Doe, right beneath me. She’s just standing up, pushing herself up-like, so I am looking straight down at her back, her exposed neck, and I know that this is the right time, no other like it, and I release.
         Arrow makes that beautiful thwip sound and finds target, goes right through Doe’s neck and out the other side and blood is minimal but she’s dead right away. She drops. Good, clean kill.
         Buck is stunned, looking at Doe face down under the tree. I have only seconds. I notch the second arrow as quick-like as I can, swing bow around as I pull back bow-string, and