BLOOD BROTHERS - Sample Chapters

Chapter 3 - Part 1

Myrna grimaced as she walked through the abattoir. One stuffed animal after another lined the walls and ceilings, cluttering up the walkways, as well, forcing her to brush up against them-an even more uncomfortable reminder of the cruelty that went into fostering this collection. "I wish you could see how much more magical these creatures are when alive, what blessed grace and joy they bring into our lives. A piece of our souls is lost every time one of them is lost," she said, catching up to Clay at his workbench in the center of the room. He had his killing utensils-the marksman's rifle, the knives-all laid out, making sure nothing was missing, like a good boy scout. He hadn't heard her, his concentration was so focused on what he was doing.  

She roared like a grizzly, and he came out of the trance, perking up at the prospect of a good hunt. Summoning animals had long been a gift, since a very young age, so she was not surprised she could fool even a trained hunter. "When do you leave?" she said. 

"Soon. A hunting party is paying top dollar for me to lead them through this big game paradise. Ironic, when you consider you can't throw a stone without hitting some critter." 

"Please, just keep it far away from the cabin. I don't want to discourage the creatures that live nearby and consider my home their home from coming by." 

"That's our agreement. I remember the day I signed the truce." 

"You could stand to go out further still. The report of one of those rifles is enough to keep me up nights, and the canyons around here play with sound, carrying it for miles." 

Slinging his thirty-odd-six over his shoulder, he said, "That'll mean more gas and transportation costs, cutting into my already slim margins." 

"Please." 

He made a turned-down-lips expression of resignation and nodded. He'd had time to load up the rest of his weapons in the time it took her to admonish him, being far more efficient at dispensing death than she was at dispensing words.  

She had fallen into a trance herself, imagining the worst of the worst, when the sound of his jeep firing up brought her out of it. She heard him drive off, the whine of the 4 x 4's engine surprisingly like the tenor of their past arguments on this subject. 

One of the kids that came from miles around to see Clay's natural history museum had his face pressed up against one of the many square window panes framing the long wall in the sixty by twenty foot shed. The sheets of glass ran from the mid wall to the sixteen-foot-high ceiling. She had frosted all the bottom row vantage points to keep the children from seeing in and thus spreading the hunger for this sort of thing but, to her chagrin, she had apparently missed a spot. The cold was forever causing the frosting to flake off. She went over to the window and sprayed the pane, preventing him from seeing in.  

Myrna could hear his sigh of disappointment from her side of the glass. It was high time she started leading some expeditions of her own to train the next generation of nature lovers to offset the work her husband was doing. Nature abhors a vacuum. 

She tripped on her way out of the room, sending some cylindrical device scurrying under the lower shelf of a workbench. Since she was now on her knees anyway, she stretched her hand to see what it was. It took her a while to realize what she was holding; his rifle scope. How could this have happened? He'd been so methodical with checking his equipment. Maybe the catch securing the eye piece had finally given way. He wasn't going to be doing any long distance marksmanship shots without it, which meant he couldn't rescue the creature after some poor sap in the hunting party with half his training and professionalism butchered the kill. Myrna reconciled herself to chasing after him. Maybe she could catch up before he got too far out.