Page 110 of Misguided
I lift the rifle to my knee again and glass the slopes, pretty sure my failsafe spot has let us down when I get the glimpse of something that doesn’t quite fit with its surroundings. Sure enough, a doe lifts her head and looks across the valley to where we are, before ducking down to eat again.
Where there are females, the boys are sure to follow.
“Have you got something?” Mel whispers, her breath hot on my neck.
“As much as I love you this close, babe, you won’t be able to see down the scope too.”
She playfully punches me, and I almost lose sight of the doe. Alternating between the scope, and my naked eye, I run a grid over the area around her looking for a buck. Sure enough, he emerges from behind a stand of trees, the steps he takes between each head-twisting tear at the grass painfully slow.
“Here.” I beckon for Mel to slip in closer.
She tucks herself under my arm and brings her eye to the scope.
“By the trees to the right of the rock line.”
Seconds pass with my heart beating painfully hard in my chest, the panic that he’ll spook making my trigger finger itch. Calm, and steady.
“I see it,” she whispers, eye still on the prize. “He’s got lots of horns.”
“Antlers, babe.”
She snorts a little laugh and slips away again. “How old do you think he is?”
I line the stag up in my sight again and count his points. Eight. “It’s hard to tell until I see his teeth, but he’s not too old.”
“Wouldn’t you want to shoot the old ones?”
“Nope. They usually have the most does to protect, so you let them run and do their job.” I lift a finger to my lips and focus on the stag.
Mel sits still as a statue, her breathing barely audible beside me as I wait for the animal to turn side on. He takes his sweet time, but with a little patience, I get my chance.
I count the seconds between each breath, my finger slipping the safety off. The stag stalls, his head lifts, and I hold my next intake of air so that I’m rock solid as I pull the trigger.
The crack of the shot echoes around us, bouncing from hillside to hillside as it descends the valley. The beast falls, and I wait to see if he staggers back up again.
Nothing. Only the mound of his rounded belly and one perfectly formed side of the rack protruding from the grass.
“Did you get it?”
“Uh-huh.” Making note of his position using landmarks, I push to my feet, scooping the bag up in the process. “Now for the hard part.”
“Is it heavy?” Mel asks as she falls into step beside me. “Like, do you think I’ll be able to help you carry it back to the truck?”
I smirk at the wide-eyed innocence on her sweet face. “It’ll be a darn sight lighter once it has no legs or gut.”