Cash's Fight(61)

“Eighteen,” Cash answered in a low voice.

“Did you kill anyone?” Jace’s eager questions were beginning to wear on his nerves.

“A few.”

“I want to go in the service, but my dad told me no.”

“The thing about being eighteen is you don’t have to have anyone’s permission to do whatever you want,” Cash answered then backtracked at seeing the Porters’ glares. “Of course, you want your dad to approve. He may know what suits you better,” Cash ended lamely.

The suddenly mature expression on Jace’s face showed he had only heard the first half of his answer.

“It’s not fun and games, Jace. If you don’t like your dad telling you what to do, then you’re not going to like having people ranked higher than you doing it all day long. It’s hard work. It means getting your ass out of bed early every morning, working hard all day, just to be told when to go to bed. They won’t put up with an attitude; you have to be respectful at all times. It means giving a commitment to a way of life that means something to you, to help and serve others enough to give your life at any time.”

“Wow. I’ll think about everything you said.”

“Why don’t you do that and shut the fuck up before you scare all the game away,” snarled Greer.

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.#p#分页标题#e#

“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?”