The Hunting Trip Part Three

The Hunting Trip Part Three

Ready, Aim, …Deer!

Diana Walker and Reagan Kavanagh

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended. Copyright Diana Walker & Reagan Kavanagh 2007.

Authors Note: Bill Woodson, Diana and Terry's neighbor who owns the deer lease, makes another appearance. We haven't translated his speech this time; we believe you have become accustomed to it.

JUNIOR
That wasn’t good. Jack, Diana’s beloved competition horse, had dropped his head evading the bit when they came down to a walk from a trot. For the first time since I’d worked for her, he was giving her attitude.

She barely noticed me as I approached the covered arena where she was working with Jack. I’d answered Diana’s cell phone in the barn and was taking it to her. She and Jack were almost finished, and I thought she’d like to take the call. My big face was almost obscured by my smile; Terry was humming walking music for my trek from the barn to Diana.

“Diana, it’s Terry.” I held the phone out to her expecting Jack and her to stop to take the phone from my hand. Jack trotted right past me.

“Tell him I can’t talk to him right now and explain why if you saw it.”

I returned the cell to my ear to continue my conversation with Terry. “Could you hear that?”

“Quite well. Who’s she having problems with?”

“Jack, if you can believe it. He’s in for it now.”

Terry laughed as though he’d been in Jack’s shoes once or twice. “Do you think she’ll be long?”

“I can’t say. I doubt it will be an all day affair since Jack has always been so willing, but I wouldn’t have expected him to evade contact either. I might be wrong about how long this will take.”

“I’ll stay on the line for a bit. Why don’t you give me a running commentary whilst we wait?”

“She’s doing a serpentine down the arena. Now that’s nice. She halted him in the middle where he’s thinking about the next bend; his mind was occupied with the next thing he was likely to do so he didn’t drop his head this time.”

“Poor bugger.”

“Interesting. She backed him up to get his hindquarters underneath him. The next time she crossed the centreline, she did a figure eight without halting him. That will also get his hindquarters to step up without boring him senseless. Is any of this making sense to you?”

Terry laughed again. “Of course not. He dropped his head so she worked on his rear? I gather the head drop has something to do with impulsion. Mate, when I ride Buck, he goes where I intend and stops when I want. That’s a well trained horse to me.”

Terry made light of his riding skills, but I’ve seen him ride. What he may lack in technical knowledge, he makes up for in balls.

Diana had made Jack work hard for an intense ten minutes at what should have been the end of their exercise session. He’d now done eight trot/walk/halt transitions in perfect form. He’ll like a liniment bath and a massage when he gets back to the barn. Though he had his teeth floated last year, while I’m bathing him, I’ll give his teeth a quick check and make sure he doesn’t have any points interfering with his bit.

“Terry, here she is.” She’d worked as hard as Jack had. She leaned down to take the phone from me, stretching her back muscles. Once she had the phone in hand and thanked me, Diana and Jack wandered out into the paddock on a long rein, Jack finally able to stretch his neck down. He looked relieved and chastened. Diana’s shirt was soaked in sweat.

DIANA
“What a good boy!” I leaned back and petted Jack’s rump behind the saddle. I wanted to keep the lesson we’d worked on about engaging his hindquarters fresh in his mind.

I heard Terry’s giggle on what I thought was an unconnected cell phone. I’d planned to call him once I’d gotten my breath back. “And what did I do so well to encourage that ringing endorsement?”

“Sorry. Didn’t know you were still there. That patronizing tone was meant for Jack, not you. You do almost everything well, particularly loving me.”

There are times to prick a man’s ego and times to add to his self worth. I take the piss with Terry far too often to pass up a tailor made opportunity to sweet talk him. A sudden question struck me as his silence continued. Even when I try to compliment him, I can screw it up.

"Terry, tell me you didn't have me on speaker phone, and I didn't just say that incredibly sappy thing to a room full of clients."

He giggled again. “No, Lady. You aren’t blaring my love for you all over creation. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. Work’s slow, and I wanted to know what you were doing this afternoon?”

“Nothing that I can’t rearrange if it means I can spend time with you.” I grunted as I pulled Jack’s head up from the lovely clump of grass he’d found during our cooling out session.

“I’m taking the afternoon off. Need to purchase my deer license.”

“That won’t take all afternoon unless we have to go down to Centerville to do it. The gun shop in Plano has them, I’m sure. If they don’t, they’ll know who does.”

“I thought we’d run over to the new outdoor superstore on the lake. Blow the carbon out of the Porsche.”

Terry and I haven’t done that much shopping together. He rarely accompanied me grocery shopping; we’d learned early on that my stops and starts and his rarely coordinated. After he’d run over my heels with the cart one too many times, I’d learned to walk beside him at the back. Clothes shopping? That had been limited to our trip to London for his suits; that was more like a fabric club vacation with a few client meetings thrown in. I almost forgot about our trip to get my Kevlar. We really haven’t “shopped” together at all in the traditional sense; I’ve plopped on his lap at the PC and perused on-line catalogues with him. In keeping with our relationship not resembling any other on the planet, it seems logical our first traditional shopping trip would either be to an armament or tack shop.

“If you want to take the Poor-shit, the yuppie camping store is a good choice …it won’t look out of place in the parking lot. Whitey is big and bad enough to go to a small gun shop but doesn’t have enough dents to fit in with the other trucks at a rural place. Anywhere you want to go is fine with me as long as I’m with you.”

Jack and I were both cooled down enough to head to the barn. Terry’s silence was problematic; with the rebuilt cell tower, I knew my cell hadn’t shifted.

“You still there, Boomer?”

“I love you, Lady. I’ll be home in about an hour.” His words sounded choked.

TERRY
Diana’s light words about going anywhere as long as she was with me struck me so I couldn’t speak. I’d need to come to a decision soon about how to make our relationship work with her lingering resistance. She’d been joking when we spoke earlier yet her words were heartfelt. Diana is one of the few people in the world who consistently affects me with a casual phrase. Dino does it as well; he’s masquing a deep affection with a shouted epithet.

Diana met me at the door, dressed in her winter uniform – Levis and a long sleeved, white T-shirt. She was worried. My full bodied hug and greeting kiss were more impassioned than usual. “Are you all right? You hung up before I could tell you I love you.”

“You already had. During the worst external situations we’ve experienced, I’ve always thought that if you and I were together, I’d be fine. It was the first time I’d heard you say it.”

She put her hand over my heart. “Always, Boomer. Always.”

“It looks like a fucking department store for the outdoors!”

Diana was correct. The opening circulars had said the building is over 100,000 square feet – 100,000 square feet of rough-hewn log cabin. The interior carried the same rustic feel with brown and green tones everywhere.

“Over there!” She’d dragged her eyes away from the glass wall overlooking the lake and pointed to the HUNTING sign on the far wall. We passed aisles of clothing for both men and women; the men’s was far more functional – woodland camo pants and shirts – than the women’s skimpy muscle shirts with the shop’s name in glitter across the chest.

Diana skirted those, showing an obvious distaste for the pink and pale blue shirts. The “cabin” feel disappeared when we entered the hunting department, and the mood became more of a butcher or baker shop with the electronic sign showing which number was being served. Diana snapped off the paper tag even though we were the only ones in the area.

We took advantage of our isolation to wander the aisles hand in hand. Diana was most interested in the gun safes; they look like 1870 Old West bank vaults.

“If you store any more weapons at the house, we’ll need one of these.”

“We have your father’s antique shotgun, the Walther for your protection, and my Colt in my gear bag. One more weapon in the house will not tilt the scales sufficiently to require a gun safe.”

“You’re right. My weapon,” she said with some pride, “does me more good in the closet so I could actually get to it in case of an intruder.”

We were now in the ammo aisle. It looked like the canned veggie selection in the food shops. So many manufacturers, so many selections. Diana was in awe as she walked in front of me, my hands on her shoulders guiding her towards the Federal section. She stopped in front of me with no warning as she is wont to do. I ran into her; at least I wasn’t pushing a trolley this time.

Diana had picked up a Remington box and held it up for me to read. “What’s Managed Recoil?” I took the box from her and read quickly. It was the correct calibre with only 15 grains of gunpowder fewer than a full load. There was no way could it have 50% less recoil.

She’d been reading along with me. “It might save your shoulder some pounding.”

“Can I help you folks with somethin’?” His name badge said he was Roy; he’s a smaller version of Bill even down to the accent. Thank Christ, Diana won’t have to translate Roy’s meaning for me.

“G’day, Mate. I’m headed to the neighbour’s deer lease in a fortnight, and I need to purchase my license. Can you assist me with that?” Diana’s right; my language and accent become thicker when faced with a competing, Piney Woods dialect.

“Not from around here, are you? England?” Roy smiled helpfully; he was making polite conversation.

Diana stifled a broader smile at his question and looked up at me in all innocence as she began wandering to the counter where completing the paperwork would be easier. Perhaps I should break into a chorus of Waltzing Matilda for the bloke. Settle down, Thornie. It was a bonzer day; I had a beautiful sheila by my side; I chucked a sickie. Nothing could spoil it. After all, Roy was trying to connect with his customer. How many times had I done that?

“

Australia

, Mate.” I was starting to sound like I was fresh in from Coober Peedy to my own ear.

Roy unlocked the gate and let himself behind the counter to find the license application. Diana stepped aside to give me full access to write. Her eyes were wide with the hundreds of rifles neatly stacked on the wall. I spotted a 270 calibre Browning I’d researched online; my palms were itching to hold it.

Roy noticed. “Would you like to take a look at a new deer rifle? Mitch,” he addressed the spotty-faced young man who had joined him, “will you get the license book?”   Roy slid the ammo box off the counter and placed it underneath the glass case, out of reach of a possible Ned Kelly.

Roy followed my gaze and unlocked the stand holding the Browning. He first reached for the Remington next to it. “What do you shoot now?”

I couldn’t very well tell the man my weapon of choice is an AK-47 or M-16, the former being my preference as it’s less inclined to jam. “This will be my first time deer hunting.” Poor Roy’s face fell. He relocked the first display, walked to the next stand, unlocked it, and started to pick up a starter rifle.

Diana saved me. I was still imagining how my favourite scope would fit on the Browning’s barrel. “Terry’s been in the Army. He knows his weapons. He was Training and Range Safety Officer for his ….” She looked to me to fill in the blank.

“Squadron.” I wanted the A-bolt rifle in my hands. With every word Diana had spoken, Roy had become more hopeful. “Sixty-four men. I believe we’re organised differently than your regular Army.” He relocked the beginners’ stock and returned to my beauty.

The 23-inch barrel had a low lustre, blued finish so sunlight wouldn’t reflect off it. When he put it in my hands, the walnut stock was warm to my touch. Must be from the overhead lighting shining down. I checked where everyone was behind the counter one last time. Didn’t want Mitch to return and spoil the feel of it on my shoulder for the first time. Diana took a step back from the counter and partially behind me as her direction was the only clear range. Roy nodded twice indicating he would be sure his mates would stay out of my line. I opened the breech, made sure the chamber was empty, and swung the rifle to my shoulder. It nestled into my shoulder as nicely as Diana. The cheek piece was made for me; the recoil pad had a nice spring to it. My forearm felt naked without a strap to wrap round it.

Roy was blathering on about the non-rotating bolt sleeve that could be engraved; he was looking at Diana when he said that. Once I’d set the rifle back down on the counter, he pointed out how to adjust the trigger. I smiled and nodded at him. Diana had stepped round me again and was running her fingertips over the smoky-brown, grained wood.

I knew Diana wouldn’t swing it to her shoulder as I had, but I could see she wanted to hold it. “Lady, put your hands here and here. Keep the barrel pointing the same way it is now.”

She followed my directions perfectly. “It’s lighter than I thought.” I showed her how a scope would mount and where the sling would attach.

Roy slid the licensing forms I needed to complete to me and reluctantly replaced the Browning in its fixture. “I’ll give y’all some peace to write and talk.”

Diana let me finish the basic identifying information before she interrupted my concentration. She bent over the forms with me and whispered, “It’s beautiful. You should get it.” She continued studying the forms.

“I don’t believe a single hunting trip warrants a new toy,” I said to the forms. “It does handle nicely, but Bill has a rifle I’ve already taken to the range. It’s sighted in and ready to go.”

“We live in Texas now. You need a rifle; for all I know, it may be in the Texas Constitution that all men over the age of 16 must own a rifle. You are a man …my man.” She cut her eyes to mine. “This is one of those things I can’t give you, but I can encourage you to buy it. The Browning suits you. You held it like you hold me.”

She laughed softly and pushed away from the counter. “I’ll go get another box of bullets for you. Federal for the full load?”

I put down the pen, straightened and pulled her into my arms, and nodded into her vanilla hair. “I love you.” We stood that way until Roy reappeared with a plastic shopping basket and more forms for my background check. Roy must be a married man; he knew when Diana made the decision to buy the rifle. Diana pulled back from me with the shopping basket over her arm and slowly smiled at me.

I watched her walk away and called after her. “I prefer the web sling. It’s less weight than the leather in case of a long hike.”

Diana gave me a thumbs-up with her free hand. She returned with three more boxes of ammo (I will have to teach her that it should take no more than four shots to sight in a rifle), a black web sling, and a tan woven carrying case. Roy and I were discussing the mandatory Hunter Safety Course Max, Dino, Junior, and I were taking when she returned.

“The camo carrying case they have doesn’t match your BDU’s. But I did find this!” She pulled out the most god-awful, camo cap with bright fluorescent orange, fleece ear flaps. “Don’t want your ears getting frost bitten, and it goes a long way to meeting the regs for safety.”

Roy was as appalled as I at the head gear. “We haven’t sold a one of those since we opened.”

“We’re hunting on a private lease.” I dodged her good natured attempt to place the monstrosity on my head. “We’ll all know where the others are; I’ll be in one of the blinds.” I feinted to my left and weaved to the right to avoid her second attempt. “I’ll take my toque with me for the cold.”

“Oh, all right. Dino will give you enough grief about such a new weapon. But I am decorating your camos with this!” She held up a very large roll of fluorescent orange tape. “Unless you buy me lunch!” I know when I’ve been bested.

“Lunch it is.”

Roy and Mitch were laughing so hard at Diana’s and my antics they were finding it difficult to finish their side of my all-inclusive license authorising me to shoot anything non-human not on the endangered species list in the state of Texas and hook any fish in Texas’ territorial waters. Diana and I would return in five days to pick up my new jewel; five days is the length of time required for the background check verifications. On the way to the register Diana picked up a long sleeved forest camouflage T-shirt for me to wear over the silk long johns she’d given me and under my camo jacket; I snagged one of the skimpy, forest camouflage tees for us. I’d get my jollies watching her wear it round the house.

We took Mitch’s advice and ate at the Isla Morada Restaurant within the store. My day was looking brighter and brighter; the long bar had tap after tap of their micro-brewery’s beer. Our hostess led us to the patio seating area, and we quickly had our first pint before us.

Diana used her chair as a chaise lounge with her bum on the seat edge and her neck on the upper seat back, stretched out soaking in the warm autumn rays.

“I’ll never have to go back to Cancun again. Fogo de Chao for Brazilian beef, and the Isla Morada on the lake. Life is good.”

“Have you missed travelling to the tropics on holiday?”

She half-opened on eye. “Not really. You do so much travelling for work, I thought the time you spend at home might be considered your holiday.” She closed it again.

We haven’t had a holiday together. “We’ll get away somewhere next year. Someplace warm with cold beer where we can be complete hedonists.”

She reached for my hand. “Not if you’d prefer staying home, but we can turn off the phones, stop the mail, hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door, and shut the world out for a while. Next year, after Dino’s wedding and after the baby’s born. We’re booked solid until then.” She sighed heavily. “I hate being an adult.”

“Most people consider us Peter Pans.”

“That’s because you make everything we do look so easy.”

“I think it’s because you make everything we do fun for me.” We smiled at the sun and sighed.

Maria, our server, arrived with the first of our starters – my calamari and Diana’s venison stuffed mushrooms – and our second pints. Reluctantly, Diana sat up and promptly started devouring my calamari. “See, I don’t have to be on vacation to throw convention to the winds. I can do it on days when you play hooky.”

Mental health days are meant to be spent on a warm patio with the woman you love and neither of you having to move.

DINO
Bill wanted all the blinds we would be using stocked on Friday so all we’d have to carry in on Saturday morning would be a small pack and our rifles. That meant assembly at the lease no later than noon. No matter how Terry split it, we were spread too far over the Metroplex to meet anywhere other than work before oh-dark-thirty on Friday morning or for me to spend Thursday night at The Hawthorne.

I wasn’t too keen on Baby spending another weekend downtown and having to replace another set of wheels. Dee had even volunteered to wash all my hunting clothes in some scentless detergent she’d found at the outdoor super store. Baby would spend the weekend with Dee.

It had been a long time since the three of us had goofed over a steak dinner at home. It was too cold tonight to cook them outside; Terry fired up the indoor grill, and I sat at the kitchen bar, drinking a beer and laughing at Terry and her playing hip bump at the stove. The last time I’d seen her at the stove I’d caught a flash of a lot of skin and blue lace right before Terry had shielded her from my view.

“Yep, the best tasting beer is the last one before a hunting weekend.”

Terry lined both of us up in his sights …Dee because she’d catered the weekend again and me for opening my big mouth. “What do you mean ‘before a hunting weekend?’”

Dee gave me The Look that brings huge, hairy beasts to heel. “I need to start your laundry, Dino. Why don’t you explain it to him since you’re the one who brought it up?”

“Don’t you get on your high horse, Beautiful! You had it set up so I’d have to tell him tomorrow anyway. Preferably in a dry county so we couldn’t buy.”

Her head popped around the laundry room door. She smiled at me with her eyes twinkling devilment. “I tried.”

Terry narrowed his eyes as he spoke. “I want to save the head swivelling I’ll be doing listening to your explanations for the blind this weekend; with you two separated, I’ll use them up following your answers. Dino, either you get in the laundry or Diana, you’re at the bar.”

His Nibs has spoken.

Dee walked the two feet out of the laundry to Terry’s back where he was adjusting the heat on the steaks. She gently wrapped her arm around his waist and turned him towards me. “I’m taking the middle ground like I always do. I’ll stand here next to you, but Dino’s doing the talking.” She was on the verge of laughing.

Her Nibs has spoken.

“There’s no alcohol on hunting weekends. No beer, no wine, no scotch. Nothing, nada, zilch.”

Terry’s face was impassive though the rest of him looked to be close to laughter. “Go on. I want the why. I know there’s a good reason in there somewhere.”

“On opening weekend of deer season the human population of Central Texas – or any state that allows deer hunting –increases ten fold. Hunters will be standing shoulder to shoulder.”

Dee cocked her head, twisted her nose one way and her pursed lips the other, and nodded solemnly; her eyes gave away her merriment.

“They’re all gonna have shiny new toys like yours but won’t know shit from Shinola about using them. Somebody always gets wounded or kilt.” I haven’t heard Bill talk all that much, but my native Carolina drawl was close enough to his for this imitation. “The game wardens swoop in on every huntin’ lodge in the area ‘cuz they don’t know what rifle the shot came from. Likker in the camp and you go to the top of their suspect list. We’d spend the rest of our lovely weekend away from civilization in pale green rooms looking pasty under the fluorescent lights.”

I looked to Dee for confirmation. “Is that the way Bill told it to you?”

Dee's mouth twisted down in a good imitation of an unsmiley face and nodded. “Pretty much.”

Terry simply shook his head at the foolishness. “All right, Mate. I can live without alcohol for the weekend, but you got your last shot in about my new rifle.” I hated his smug smile when I had such a good, filthy riff rehearsed about his shiny, new gun. The Corps is great for distinguishing between a man’s rifle and his gun.

I gave him a two fingered salute, and Dee kissed his cheek. He’s gonna be insufferable all weekend.

Dee quizzed us over dinner about the hunting regulations. Her motivation? “Reags and I spent one weekend hauling your asses out of jail. Neither of us wants to do it again.”

Diana’s first question had to do with how to tell which bucks were legal to shoot. Terry and I had that information cold; the inside spread of the antlers has to be at least 13 inches wide. Diana began to laugh hysterically at us when we couldn’t or wouldn’t hold up our hands and show her 13 inches. My estimation of 13 inches was a mere eight; Terry declined to play.

He had his rationale ready. “Diana, I’ll look for their ears splayed out. If the inside of their horns are at their ears or beyond, I’ll take the shot.”

“Remember, once you have one of the big guys you can’t shoot any more. Only one big buck per person per year in Leon County.” She was so certain Terry would get the trophy deer on his first time out. Some hunters go their whole lives without bagging a big buck. Is her belief in his prowess love or what?

“Then, I’ll look for does.”

“You’d shoot Bambi’s mother?”

“Do you want to make venison chilli this winter?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going for does. If we find a spare fawn, we’ll bring him home to you.”

“Oh, no, you won’t. I don’t do young of any species. It sounds like there’ll be enough game wardens around; get one of them to take the fawn.

“OK, you guys are hopeless on measurements. Under what circumstances are you permitted to use a dog to hunt deer?”

“None, which is why I’m not taking Holly on this trip.”

“Wait a second, Buddy. You can use up to two dogs to track a wounded deer.”

We looked into the living room where Holly was still searching for her dog treat; Dee had given a treat to both dogs to entertain them when we sat down for dinner. Okie was gnawing on his with a happy Basenji smile; he was lying on Holly’s.

Diana was the first to bring up Holly’s inadequacies as a tracking hound. “If you got a deer, Holly would be so hurt when it didn’t get up and play tag with her or she’d break her own neck trying to drag it to you. You’re right; it’s better she stays home with me.”

TERRY
Dino looked down at his less than crisp camos once the sun came up. “Diana doesn’t believe in starch or ironing, does she?”

“Neither one, Mate. Our local laundry’s convinced I’m some sort of strange survivalist. They couldn’t get over why I wanted light starch in my BDU’s; they don’t have much experience with uniforms. Their version of light starch and mine are far different. I scratched for fifteen minutes when I wore them the first time. Finally stripped down in the barn, wadded them up, and rubbed the starch out. We finally got the starch sorted, but I gave up on the folding. Now, I keep them on hangers until it’s time to go.”

Dino and I had both despaired of finding a good laundry. There’s something to be said for living near an army post with a laundry that understands proper uniform turnout.

Dino was happily chowing down on one of Diana’s cinnamon rolls. I could see Bill and Junior on the Interstate ahead of us doing the same. She doesn’t bake often. The precision required in following baking recipes does not suit her free wheeling cooking style; she believes recipes are suggestions. Reags may have her self-proclaimed world famous stroganoff, but Diana has everyone up and down the road begging for her rolls; they’re the only baked goods she does well.

Once again the Tahoe was loaded – food for three days, drinks, and coolers of ice we would spend today hauling to the blinds for our comfort tomorrow and Sunday. Diana had sent sufficient food to feed a battalion on manoeuvres. We’d be warming the food indoors as Diana didn’t want any smoke from outdoor grilling to influence the deer’s attraction to us.

Even though we had sufficient room in the Tahoe for all of us to drive down together, Bill wanted his pick up to haul the carcass to the processor in case one of us was lucky enough to get a deer this weekend; he wasn’t too hopeful. Since The Gate – Max and Reags’ place – was a third of the way to Centerville, Max would meet us at the lease. Diana does her best thinking in the shower; I sort things through when I run or drive. With Irish napping, I have the time to consider Diana’s and my future.

Fuck it. If Irish woke up, he could listen to the CD Diana had made for me. I needed to hear it as I settled in with my thoughts.

“I can’t be yours. I WILL NOT belong to anyone ever again.” I’d put her words from the day she’d told me about her father – the word ‘father’ rankled with me still – in their own separate compartment; I didn’t want them to contaminate all the good and loving parts of our life.

Diana’s opinion of herself was that she is damaged goods. Since telling me about the most destructive relationship in her life, I’d seen signs of her unloading some of the baggage she’d carried. I’d approached the practical aspects of ditching her past by bringing Celeste in to clean whilst Diana spent more time with the horses.

Diana’s boarders don’t fully understand how good they have it. The barn is immaculate; that’s an expectation the boarders rightfully have. Many have been with Diana so long now that they’ve forgotten how little riding room they had before they came to The Hawthorne. Diana has always made sure the horses have impeccable ground manners; it’s too dangerous for them to disrespect humans. She also watches the boarders ride, claiming she learns from watching them. She very well might, but she also can see what problems they have mounted. If asked, she will work with the horse and rider to make corrections. If not requested, Diana will ask the boarder if she might ride her horse the next day so Diana can sharpen her own skills. The boarders are happy to accommodate. The horse has a schooling session with Diana, and his problem that she noticed goes away. The boarder notices her next ride goes more smoothly; the bright ones understand her horse got a tune up, and the next time the boarder rides, Diana’s comments are requested.

As she spent more time with the horses, improving them, I’ve seen her blossom. The self-confident front she dons for the public is taking root in her soul.

She’s beginning to believe in our future. Our work together on Max’s challenge to the firm showed her in ways my words never could that she’s truly my partner and that I’ve given up shielding her from the crap in my life.

The question now is whether I can live with that small bit she will always hold in reserve. Over the years she continued to hand over more and more of that little bit, catching both of us unawares when it happened.

Just as I’ve compared every car I’ve driven to the Jag, I’ve compared every other woman I’ve known to Diana. The others have all come up wanting. Some have had better tits, but they lacked Diana’s sense of humour. I meet smart women on every trip I take, but they’re cold and off-putting. The women who’ve laid their traps for me lately are too obvious for words; Diana can seduce me from across a room with no one the wiser.

In the two years I’ve been with her, I’ve had the mad, passionate, extraordinary love I craved. I’ve also had the soft, tender caring my soul needed.

I need to get over the fact that she’ll never marry me. Though she’ll never give up that last, little bit to me, she’s given me more than I ever thought I needed.

Dino woke with a start and rubbed feeling back into his face where it had been crushed against the window. “When the hell did you start listening to John Denver?”

How the fuck did I ever allow myself to question whether Diana was the right woman to spend the rest of my life with?

MAXIMUS
Terry asked if I wished to travel to the cabin with Dino and him. Though it would have been pleasant, I had declined. Cassandra was too close to her term to rely on others for my transportation should she go into premature labour. I would take the Hummer. I would have travelling companions, as I was taking both Bear and Caesar. Caesar must be trained to the gun, and the task would be more easily accomplished were he to work with a trained hunting dog; Bear was more than competent to assist me in training my own dog.

“You have everything? Medical supplies, tourniquets, the splints, antibiotics, all of it?”

“I have removed nothing from the kit you packed when I went to the cabin for the work weekend. It is all there, Cassandra.”

“Perhaps I’d best take one last look to be sure I haven’t left out anything you might need. Remember to leave it down there this time. There’s no point in hauling it home when you know you’ll be back at Bill’s cabin in the future.”

“Cara, we are less than ten miles from the local hospital, and only half-an-hour by air from the medical centre in Dallas should one of us be seriously injured.”

“I want to be sure you have anything you might need for first aid before the med evac flight arrives.” She emptied the box and made her inventory then repacked and closed it before seeming at peace. She becomes more fretful with each passing day; I can only attribute it to the nearness of her ordeal, as prior to her pregnancy she was not given to obsessive concern. Perhaps I should amend that notion …she did not display her concerns so readily as she does at this time.

She had made her inspection of the medical supplies on the kitchen table as I drank my third cup of morning coffee. I had loaded her Hummer with my own requirements the night before; we had arisen early today in order to have a bit more time together prior to my leaving for the weekend’s scheduled hunting trip with my colleagues, Bill, and Junior. It was Friday, and I would not return home until late Sunday.

“You have your shotgun and rifle as well as your sidearm and bow?”

“They are all in the Hummer, Cara. With my own weaponry in addition to that carried by the others, we could hold off Hannibal’s elephants should it be required.”

“That isn’t amusing.” I struggled to hide my smile. She worries for my safety even as I worry for hers and that of the child she carries beneath her breast. It is the way of things when one loves another as we do.

“I apologise. My comments were intended to make you smile more and fret less.” At last she did smile, the curve of her lips appearing bright as the morning sun.

“I’m sorry. My sense of humour seems to be worn thin recently.” I took her into my arms and held her close, my voice low when I spoke.

“And well it should be so, Cara. The ordeal you face is grave, and I fear for you and the babe.”

“It’s not so grave as in that first existence. I’ll have the best possible care, and every advantage modern medical science can provide.”

“I am quite sure of that, still I cannot allay my concerns.” Her laughter was warm in my ear, and I felt it move through her frame.

“Well, you need to stay them for the weekend …are you still determined to take Bear and Caesar with you? Bear’s more than experienced, but Caesar is such a baby yet …of course, if you’re going to train him as a gun dog, it really must begin now whilst he’s young enough to adjust to the noise without fearing it.”

“It is still my intention to take them along. Caesar responds well to my commands, and Bear will facilitate the pup’s training as well as assisting me in keeping him from mischief.” She looked up at me with eyebrows raised.

“You’d best pray that’s the case!”

REAGAN
My dogs have all been trained to the gun, and all have been used in the field to retrieve game. What little interaction I’d had with my father as a growing child had been a function of acquiescing to his desire to teach me to shoot so that I could eventually attract a worthy husband. I’m still unsure as to how being able to shoot straight and bring down a bird, a deer, or a javelina has anything to do with finding a ‘worthy’ husband, but I’d learnt early not to question anything my father said. He’d never struck me, but the looks and lectures I received on the occasions I questioned or disagreed with him made me wish he’d just hit me. It would have been less painful.

If you’re going to hunt small game – birds, waterfowl, pheasant – it’s nice to have a well-trained dog to retrieve them for you, else you’ll find yourself doing more walking and wading to find your game than you will hunting. We didn’t have our own dogs as my father didn’t want the responsibility, but Ellie’s family did. Her father and mine were friends and hunted together. As Ellie and I grew, we hunted with our fathers, and I grew to love the Hughes family’s Golden Retrievers. Their dogs were exceptionally well-trained, and when I “grew up” and had my own home, the first thing I’d done was to get dogs of my own and train them. They hadn’t been hunting often, but they knew how, and none of them were gun-shy. Max had been working with Bear to reacquaint him to the rigours of retrieving, and Caesar had been constantly underfoot. Bear had enjoyed the renewed training, and Caesar would learn …eventually. I kissed Max and rubbed the dogs’ heads in farewell and watched as the Hummer drove up the road and toward the Interstate.

BILL
Damn. That is the biggest Golden I’ve ever seen and a cute Shepherd pup. I might try to wing a deer just to see if the big guy would try to retrieve it. When our convoy drove up, Max was gettin’ out of a Hummer, and both dogs already had on those booties like he made Holly. Pete’s feet are tough as a boot and didn’t need ‘em, but they are cute. Mebbe I’ll ask him to make Pete a pair for Christmas. Nancy and Dee’d get a kick out of it.

The little ‘un had found the shells under the house and was carryin’ one around in his mouth. The big Golden was lookin’ on like a proud papa.

To a man, we started strechin’, scratchin’, sniffin’ the clean ar, and spittin’ soon as we got out of the trucks and said our howdy-dos.

“Bear. Come.” Funny how wrong you can be ‘bout a man. I’d never have taken Terry for bein’ a dawg lover, but the big guy knocked him over greetin’ him, and he was laughin’ sprawled on his ass. He’s sure sweet on Holly Girl, too. The way bullets’ll be flyin’ this weekend, I’m glad she’s not along. Poor boy’d never get a shot off for tendin’ to her.

“We got all weekend to talk. Let’s get some dinner in us so’s we kin get the blinds set up.” On accounta it’s my land, I guess I’m in charge agin this weekend. “Ya’ll want a hot meal now or some of the sammich fixin’s?”

Beins how it was mighty nice and sunny so’s we only needed flannies, we settled on sammiches. We had to get the Tahoe unloaded, and all it hauled put away ‘fore we could settle down ta eat. Dee had enuff coolers for the church to start borryin’ from her for a social. She had five big coolers and three little uns along with five cases of pop and enough vittle boxes to choke a hog. I thought we’d have less to unload this trip, but I wuz wrong. Don’t know how Terry stays so skinny ‘less she don’t feed him when he’s home.

Since it’s the boys second time here, we got everthin’ stowed raht quick. The pup stayed real busy tryin’ to herd us all; he wuz plumb tuckered by the time we got done. Mebbe he’ll grow into his name. Caesar. Now that’s a mighty high falutin’ name for a dawg. Max really does have a Jones for them Romans.

We ate standin up ‘round the table. Might only be a three hour trip down here, but I wuz ready to get this show on the road ‘fore the early shooters got a head of steam up this afternoon. I spread the propity map on the table so’s they all could see.

“Max, you still plannin’ on bow huntin’ this weekend?” I weren’t too keen on him out trompin’ round with his little bow and arrow when we all had rifles. He needed to be sure he knew where our field of fire would be. He ‘n I’d be takin’ a stroll this afternoon to be damn sure he knew where his 30 acres wuz. I’d hate to have that new youngun grow up ‘thout his daddy.

“I am though I have also brought a rifle my wife’s father had used.”

“You be damn sure them dawgs don’t help you scare up a deer. You kin use dawgs to track a wounded deer but not to hep you find ‘em.”

“I am aware of the law, Bill, and will not violate it in any fashion. You have my word. If it will ease your anxiety, I am not in pursuit of deer; my goal is to find a pig or boar. The law allows use of dogs to track wild or feral pigs and boars.”

“Well, if you give me your word, I’ll take it. Don’t think you’d lie to me …don’t reckon you’re capable of lyin’. I do have to say that havin’ dawgs on the openin’ weekend of deer season looks a mite funny.”

“Bill, I have no interest in deer. My goal from the moment you invited us has been in pigs and boar. This is simply the first opportunity I have had to pursue that goal. You need have no fear that my aim or bow is not up to the task. My bow is a Fred Kodiak Magnum Recurve – 52” from tip to tip – with a 65-pound draw. I use Red Head arrows with carbon shafts, 32-1/2” in length. Both bow and arrows are sufficient to bring down an elk or Russian boar. I doubt there is anything round here larger than either of those.” Talks like he knows his bow-huntin’.

“Well, hell, Max, you shoulda tol’ me that before. You kin come down here any time you want …I’ll give ya a key to the cabin door.”

“I appreciate your kindness and may accept that offer.”

One thing ‘bout firearms and these boys. They know their weapons. Shocked hell out of me when Terry showed up to the firin’ range with Dee in tow. He taught her how ta use that pretty little Walther just as patient as he had showed her how ta drive that little yellow thang. Don’t think she’ll ever be much of a shot, but no burglar’d ever know that the way she holds it. She sure as hell looks like she means bidness.

“So’s Terry’s the only one with a new rifle?” Man, it’s a purty thing, and he handles it like it’s part of him. Never saw a man so at home handlin’ a weapon. Mebbe I’ll have to take that back. Red and Max both look mighty comfortable with their old rifles. We wuz a sorry sight – sammiches in one hand ‘n a rifle slung over t’other – standin’ around a beat-to-hell, old kitchen table in the middle of nowhere.

Terry grinned good naturedly at my jab. Wonder why Red didn’t jump in on that? He’s not the type to let something like that pass.

“Ifn’ ya’ll don’t mind, Terry ‘n I’ll take this double blind raht here tamarra.” I pointed to where we’d be and looked around to the boys. Terry looked mighty uncomfortable; Red and Max jist grinned like they knew what we’d be cussin’ and discussin’.

Red spoke up. “Junior, want to hunt with me tomorrow? When we were down for the work detail, I found a nice double blind here,” he pointed right to it on the map. “I’d hate for the extra room to go to waste.”

That Red is a good ‘un.

“I’d like that, Dino. Since I’ve never hunted before, I’ll consider it my training day like the safety course recommends.”

Now wouldn’t that be somethin’? Junner gets a deer his first time out, and Red goes home empty handed?

“Max, that opens up the area you can use to keep you and them dawgs out of harm’s way. There’s a ground blind raht here to stow your gear or them dawgs if you git tard of ‘em runnin’ loose.”

He nodded. “That will serve admirably.” Don’t know why he’s so infernal taken with them damn Romans, but he’s a good enough sort.

“Then let’s get these coolers filled with everthin’ we’ll need fer tamarra. We’ll go out ‘bout five in the mornin’ and meet back here ‘bout four so pack accordin’ly. Red, you might want ta double up on rations; you’re lookin’ a mite peaked there. We’ll fill them thermoses with coffee last thing this evenin’ lessen one of you wants ta git up at four so’s the coffee’s hot. Be sure ya take one of them jars so your pee don’t scare off my big buck.”

“Terry’s big buck. Dee’s sure he’ll come home with a trophy this weekend.” Red was laughin’ full out at Dee’s high hopes.

“OK. Let’s git ‘er done. We got a long hike carryin’ gear this afternoon.”

DINO
I might not be able to gig Terry about his new rifle, but at least I could punch some holes in Tio’s big game hunting skills.

Terry’ll eat anything. Bill and he had their big blue cooler loaded first and were waiting outside when Junior, Max, and I came stumbling out of the cabin.

Caesar found another big oyster shell under the cabin and was playing keep away with Bear.

“The guys who owned the place ‘fore I bought it were Cajun fishermen out of Banderas Bay. They us’ta have big ol’ fish fries and oyster bakes up here and threw the shells under the house. Never hunted on the propity.” Bill shook his head in disbelief. “Kep’ it as a party house. When the younger generation come on, they wanted to party in Houston, so they sold the place to me for a song. They didn’t even know what they had.”

Bill sure as hell saw the perfect deer hunting grounds. The 150 acres sloped down from the road to the stream that bordered the property on two sides. Every deer on this side of the creek had to stroll through here to get to water twice a day. The woods were separated enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of herds didn’t live on the place year round.

For an old fella, Bill kept a pretty good pace getting out to the blinds. He didn’t want to risk taking the truck and scaring off the deer who always seem to sense when the season is about to start. They hide. That’s the story I’ve always used for why no trophy hangs over my mantle. In reality, when I hunted when I was a kid, we did it because we needed the meat. It never dawned on me to keep the antlers.

Junior’s a pretty hefty guy but strong under the layer of fat. Must be from bucking all that hay. We’re about the same height so we don’t have to worry about the ice shifting in the cooler. The temperature is cool enough that we don’t have to worry about all the ice melting before tomorrow. If we go out on Sunday, we’ll have to make a run into town for more ice.

I kinda felt sorry for Max. Bear was starting to enjoy running and romping with the pup. Max was letting them have their fun today exploring the place; he’d put them to work tomorrow.

We started splitting off to our different sections to Bill’s shouted warning to be back at the house by three. He’s hunted this property for fifteen years now; he knows the local customs and practices. Every hunting area has them; if you’re smart, you do what the locals do. Junior and I agreed on our way back to the cabin that neither of us really cared about the shooting; it was good excuse to get away for a guy’s weekend. We also agreed that if either of us did get a deer, we’d share the meat with everyone. For me, it felt good not to need to get a deer so we could be sure to have meat over the winter.

BILL
“What the hell is that?”

Terry had KP duty tonight. “Boeuf Bourguignon.”

“Not the French Beef Stew; I know what that is. Them bread things.” Dee never stops amazin’ me. Max, Terry, and Dino were busy tearing the tops and insides out of the small, round loaves in front of them.

Terry winced. “Diana got a bread maker. She’s uh …nesting along with Reags. We may have to get another freezer to hold all her …experiments. The birds can’t eat them fast enough, and I won’t.

“She sent the boulés along so we wouldn’t have to do dishes one night.”

“Well, Son, you’re washin’ one bowl tonight. I ain’t eatin’ no stew out of bread.” The bread wasn’t half bad with enough butter if’n you don’t mind what you say and say it real fast.

Dee’s bread may be a disaster, but her cinnamon rolls are better’n Nancy’s. Terry ‘n me were sittin’ in the blind, drinkin’ coffee, and I wuz on my second roll. We’d thought we’d heard somethin’ in the brush off to our right on Terry’s side, but he couldn’t see anything even with his night goggles. This might be a good day; not even sun up, and we already had some sounds around us. I knocked wood just for luck.

I can see why Terry shaves ever morning. That boy’s beard grows faster’n weeds. He hadn’t shaved this morning; seems he’d been busy doin’ other thangs. By the time the rest of us wuz up, he’d filled all the thermoses with coffee and had a spare pot brewin’. First time in a long time I’d had fresh coffee in the cabin on openin’ mornin’. I might as well put the poor boy out of his misery and git on with my gittin’ on.

“When ya gonna make an honest woman out of my little girl?” He waited a bit ‘fore answerin’ me. Think he might be a mite peeved.

“As soon as she’ll say yes.” I couldn’t see the look on his face, but at least he quit bouncin’ his leg.

“Thought as much. Now what do you do for a livin’, Son?”

“Insurance.”

“From the way you handle that rifle, you ain’t no insurance salesman. And I didn’t bring you out here to have you die in no huntin’ accident so don’t you worry none ‘bout what you tell me. Jist some straight, uninterrupted talk.”

“Max, Dino, and I are kidnap and ransom negotiators. We are in the high-risk insurance industry. If one of our clients is kidnapped, we try to negotiate with the kidnappers and pay the ransom. That doesn’t always work. If it doesn’t, we go in for an extraction …it’s a paramilitary operation in which we physically rescue the hostage and bring him home.”

That’s what I call up close and personal.

“That must scare yer wimmen a bit.”

“It does, but they accepted that reality when they began their relationships with us. Diana has been around one negotiation but for the actual extraction. All three of them are strong women …and they enjoy the financial rewards of our work.” Yeah, I reckon they would have more than that one thought.

“I knew you made good money. Dee wouldn’t be spendin’ her cash on that speedy little thang you got now – won’t even haul a bale of hay, so you musta bought it.”

He finally sat back and laughed a bit. “She tried. With the boot, er, trunk, in the front she couldn’t see over the bale.”

“So you’ve asked her then.”

“Now that you mention it, no, I haven’t asked her a question she’s guaranteed at this point to answer with ‘no.’ I want to be sure I can get a ‘yes’ from her.”

“Her momma was a fine lookin’ woman. She jist wasted away. Her daddy. Now he was somethin’. Always intrudin’ on Dee. Always treated her like she never growed up. Somethin’ weren’t right about him. Ever time I seen them together, seemed like it took her a couple a days to be herself agin.”

“She told me quite a lot about her father recently.” Terry seemed to spit that word out. “I’ve seen a change for the better in her once she got the whole story out.”

Mebbe she told Terry. “He didn’t …hurt her ever, did he?”

“Not the way you mean. She assured me he never sexually abused her. Most of his abuse was emotional, though he did strike her on a couple of occasions. She felt a duty to stay with him.”

I had ta lean my rifle up against the wall. The way my hands wuz shaking and my fingers clenchin’, I wuz feared we might have an unintentional discharge.

That son of a bitch.

I shoulda talked to Dee when Nancy and I first talked ‘bout her father. I shoulda offered her some help with him. She wouldn’ta taken it, but I shoulda offered all the same.

The doe came walking across the clearin’ raht in front of us. “Terry, take the shot.” He got down on one knee, lined it up, and took his breath to fire on the exhale when the fawn ran up to his momma. He eased his finger ‘way from the trigger real easy and let them walk on down to git their drink. I had to blink hard to clear my eyes.

I cleared my throat. The doe heard it and looked raht up at us. She hurried off following her baby where it disappeared into the brush.

Terry answered my hand on his shoulder with, “I promised Diana I wouldn’t be the one to shoot Bambi’s mother.” He hadn’t cleared his throat.

MAXIMUS
I heard no sounds from the points at which my companions were hunting. I moved quietly through the underbrush, watching Bear ahead of me with Caesar following closely. Somewhere in front of us a bird took wing, and Caesar barked at it. Before I could silence him, Bear took matters into his own capable jaws.

The second bark had scarcely left Caesar’s mouth when Bear pinned him on his back with his jaws firmly round the younger animal’s throat. His low growl told Caesar unmistakeably that his conduct was ill-advised. Bear shook Caesar once and held him a moment longer before releasing his hold. Caesar remained on his back in submission for several long moments. Though contrary to the nature of young dogs, that was the last bark Caesar made until we were back at camp much later in the day. Cassandra would laugh when I told her the tale on my return home.

I smelt him before I heard or saw him. Feral or wild pigs and boars emit a rank stench unmistakeable to those who have been round them. I stopped, and the dogs halted beside me, both their noses sniffing the air. I drew an arrow from the quiver and fitted it to the bow as I scanned the terrain ahead. It was a wild pig, a large male javelina. He, too, was sniffing but did not find us as we were downwind of him.

I must make this shot count, else I would have to use the rifle slung over the shoulder opposite my quiver. I sighted in the area just at the base of his head, knowing that if my aim was true, I could sever his spinal column and drop him instantaneously. The animal raised his head to sniff the air again then lowered it to nose at something on the ground. I let fly.

The arrow found its mark; the pig dropped to his belly and rolled to his side. I held my hand out low in front of the dogs.

“Stay.” Bear sat, and Caesar reluctantly followed suit. I lay my bow on the ground in front of them and pulled my rifle round. If the pig moved as I approached, I would shoot him in the head to insure his demise. I walked slowly toward him; he did not move. On reaching him, I toed him with my boot. He was dead. I smiled and pulled my knife from my belt before calling the dogs. We would have ample pig meat to flavour the sausage that we would make should one of my friends be fortunate enough to bring down a deer.

BILL
Damn if that one doe wasn’t the only one we saw all day. Any damn fool can shoot, but that boy is a hell of a marksman to be able to back off the shot the way he did. The only other man I’d ever seen who could do that had been a sniper in the Marines.

We’d heard gunshots all around us for a couple of hours. I hadn’t even gotten to the meat of what I wanted to tell Terry when Bambi and his momma showed up. I’d started out bein’ a pryin’, old coot and got a whole lot more about Dee than I bargained for. I’d also found out a lot about the man she’s thrown in with. One sickened me, but I was damn glad findin’ out about Terry.

“So where did you go that first weekend Dee went horsin’ around? Getting’ rid of one last flame?”

The boy looked confused. “Nance didn’t figure it out? Fuck!” Terry uses ‘fuck’ like the rest of the world uses ‘damn.’ Mebbe it’s ‘n Australian thang.

“I didn’t tell Nancy ‘bout you takin’ off. Didn’t want you disappointin’ her. If she wuz 20 years younger and didn’t have me house broke, I’d have to fight you for her.”

He grinned. He didn’t want to offend me by saying Nancy didn’t stand a chance; his momma raised him right. “I went to the horse show and watched her compete, but I hid all weekend.”

I couldn’t stop laughin’. We might as well have packed it in. No deer was gonna come near us now.

This huntin’ trip was worth every penny I’d paid for the propity over the years. I found out Dee had finally gotten herself a good ‘un.

“You might as well light up. My big mouth has scared ‘em all away. A little cigarette smoke won’t hurt us a bit now.” He handed me the root beer I’d tucked into the cooler yestiddy mornin’; he notices everything. He grabbed a bottle of water for himself and lit up.

“Since it seems you’re now part of Dee’s package, you might as well know. I liked what you did with the Bowen place. How you set up the future financin’. Nancy ‘n me ain’t told Dee what we want to do yet ‘cuz we don’t want to have to listen to her yammerin’ on ‘bout it for the next twenty years, Lord willin’. When Nancy and I pass on, Dee’s getting’ all the land and buildin’s. She gets this, too.”

Terry seemed to be calculatin’ somethin’. “Don’t make me sorry I tole you early.”

He smiled slow, finishin’ up whatever was goin’ on in his head.

This concludes “The Hunting Trip”

NOTES

Dropped his head	A well-trained horse maintains his same carriage (posture) when transitioning from one gait to another. By dropping his head, he can ignore the rider’s aids (instructions).
Evading the bit	A way a horse can escape the rider’s aid; he can shorten his neck or drop his head. Reins connect the rider’s arms and hands to the bit in the horse’s mouth, and they should have a small amount of tension on them, normally no less than a light handshake, at all times. This pressure increases depending on what the rider wishes to communicate with her horse. This is only one means of communication between the horse and rider. Other forms of communication between the two are the rider’s legs, body, head, and balance. I won’t bore you with the rest of them!
Serpentine	A series of half circles at each side of the riding area. The movement resembles S-shaped curves.
Backed up a horse to get hindquarters beneath him	The hindquarters are the horse’s ‘engine.’ Backing the horse brings his back feet under his torso slightly providing him the ability to push forward with more force.
Impulsion	Very simply put, the horse’s power or forcefulness coming from his hindquarters. It has nothing to do with speed.
Points	Horses’ teeth grow their entire lifetime and wear down unevenly, developing sharp points. These points will interfere with his eating and may cause his mouth to be uncomfortable when being ridden. The veterinarian smoothes (floats) these points when they become too long.
Interfering with the bit	Horses have a space between their teeth, called a ‘bar,’ where the bit rests. If the horse’s teeth have points, they can disrupt the even way the bit is held in the mouth.
Petted the horse’s rump	Many riders when mounted will pat their horse’s neck to indicate he’s done well. By patting his neck, the rider’s weight is shifted forwarded influencing the horse to shift his horizontal center of gravity to shift forward, moving more of his weight forward as well. By patting the horse’s rump, his weight and power remain in his hindquarters.
RMEF A-Bolt Special Hunter	For a look at Terry’s new toy, click here. http://www.browning.com/products/catalog/firearms/detail.asp?value=001B&cat_id=035&type_id=153
Rifle vs. Gun	The Marine Corps has a little verse to teach recruits the difference between their weapons and their dicks. “This is my rifle, this is my gun …one is for fighting, one is for fun.” You can sort out which is which for yourselves.
2006-2007 Texas Hunting Regulations	May be found here. http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/publications/nonpwdpubs/media/outdoor_annual_2006_2007.pdf
Wild vs. Feral	Periodically, domesticated pigs will escape their enclosures on farms; those pigs are termed feral when they escape captivity and return to their natural behaviour. Wild pigs are those born in the wild.

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