Trent Reedy - Hunters Choice (McCall Mountain)

HUNTERS CHOICE

TRENT REEDY

This book is dedicated to Travis Klima, a fantastic brother-in-law and a master hunter. May the largest buck always find his way to your stand. Its prime time!

Contents

HUNTERS CHOICE

TAPTAPTAP . HEY, HIGGINS , KELTON FIELDING WHISPERED . TapTapTap. Higgins. Kelton Fielding was always tapping Hunters back, wanting to tell him something. It was only October, and Hunter had already been in trouble four times from talking to Kelton, usually when the guy couldnt resist offering an update about his repairs to his ancient broken snowmobile.

Hunter let out a breath. Thirteen minutes and forty-five seconds left. The clock on the classroom wall ran so slowly. Miss Foudy sat at her desk at the front of the room filling out grades or doing whatever she did during the afternoon work period. Miss Foudy was cool, but she was nobodys fool and did not allow talking during study time. Hunter leaned way back in his seat and pretended to stretch his neck. What? he whispered.

You gonna bag a deer this weekend?

Hunter nodded. Of course he would shoot a deer this weekend. Several guys in the sixth grade and at least half the guys in the junior high and high school were going hunting this weekend. Kelton knew darn well that Hunter was going hunting too. Why did he ask the question with so much doubt in his voice?

Moms boyfriend says he knows about a cabin where a guy has a salt block, Kelton whispered. Says a big ol buck has been hanging round there.

Hunting with a salt blocks illegal, Hunter whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Aint our salt block, Kelton hissed. We take that buck, even off that guys land, whats he gonna do? He cant complain much since hes already breaking the law.

For once, Hunter would have preferred to hear more about Keltons junky old snowmobile. He shook his head. Using a salt block to illegally lure deer to the kill. Trespassing and hunting on someones land without permission. Hunter had had the vague idea that Kelton Fieldings mom was dating a new guy. He seemed to remember that her last boyfriend had been kind of a jerk. This guy didnt seem much better. Hunter wasnt supposed to know anything about these kinds of things, but there werent a lot of secrets in a little town like McCall.

Im going to take a four-by-four buck, Kelton said quietly. Or something bigger.

Annette Willard, who sat at the desk in the next row over, looked up from the notebook in which shed been writing. She flashed a cute look of forced irritation and pressed a finger to her lips.

Sorry, Hunter whispered, glancing at her a moment longer.

Hunter was sure Annette really did want them to quiet down so she could write, but she wasnt mean about it. More importantly, she wasnt about to shush them loud enough to draw Miss Foudys attention.

You aint gonna bag no deer, Kelton whispered.

Hunter sighed. Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Twenty-one. Twenty.

TapTapTap. Im gonna bring in a huge trophy buck. I bet you dont even pull the trigger.

Shut it, Fielding, Hunter whispered.

Thats good advice for both you boys, Miss Foudy called from the front of the room, fixing them with that serious glare and doing that thing where she tapped her pencil on a book on her desk.

Hunter wouldve given real money if everybody would stop tapping. He quickly looked down at his social studies book. But not before stealing another glance at the clock.

Ten minutes and fifty-one seconds. Fifty. Forty-nine.

FOR ALL HIS EAGER ANTICIPATION OF THE END-OF-THE -day bell, Hunter didnt bolt from his desk and sprint for the door. Once he was free from the rigid control of the classroom and the weekend had officially begun, he felt no rush, no anxiety. Most of his assignments were done, so he wouldnt have to look at his schoolbooks until Sunday night. His clothes and boots were packed. His Remington 783 bolt-action rifle and plenty of 6.5 Creedmoor rounds were locked in Dads pickup. He was ready.

The weekend of his first-ever hunt had arrived.

He just had one stop to make first. Hey, Mom, he said entering the school library and spotting his mother behind the counter scanning some books. Can I still check out a book? I need something to read during downtime this weekend.

Sure, she said. If you hurry. Im trying to get everything shut down here.

Hunter headed for the fiction section. No problem. Ill just grab

Hatchet? Mom shook her head in mock irritation. Again? That would be at least the tenth time youve read it.

Its a great book!

Yes. Mom nodded. But I pride myself in running a library filled with hundreds of other good books. It wouldnt kill you to branch out a little.

Hunter pulled his favorite book off the shelf, enjoying the familiar library plastic over the dust jacket of the well-read hardcover. Please? Just one more time? I promise Ill read a different book next.

She smiled and sighed. Its your first hunt. Ill humor you. And it is a great book.

The best, Hunter said. Thanks, Mom.

She scanned the book. Youre welcome. Now would you get out of my library so I can close up for the weekend? She laughed as Hunter bolted.

OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL, THE BRIGHT SUN WELCOMED everyone to freedom. A warm day for October. Hunter watched the schools Patriot Squad lowering the flag for the day. They had a whole procedure where three of them folded the flag in a perfect regulation triangle, while the others stood in a straight line. Later that night right before the football game, theyd march the American and Idaho flags out onto the fifty-yard line for the National Anthem. Hunter planned to join the Patriot Squad when he became eligible next year in seventh grade.

At the bike rack, he caught up to Yumi. Hey, cousin, you got a new game youre gonna master this weekend? Neither Hunter nor Yumi had any siblings, and since they were the same age, theyd grown up almost like brother and sister.

She scowled, wrapping herself tighter in the Army field jacket liner she used as a coat, hiding her new Halo Master Chief T-shirt. I wish. Dads acting all weird again. She picked at a string at the edge of a hole in her jeans. Who knows?

Hey, slow it down! Mr. Dufflin, the high school principal, called to some high school boys as they rolled toward the parking lot exit in a blue raised-up four-by-four pickup.

This isnt NASCAR, Yumi said quietly, pulling her silver ten-speed bike from the rack.

This isnt NASCAR! Mr. Dufflin shouted, running his hand back over his shining bald head.

Yumi rolled her eyes. The guy is so old. Hes been high school principal here since way back before the school even had internet.

Yeah, but I heard hes going to retire at the end of the year. Hunter pulled his smaller stunt bike out of the rack and stood for a moment on its back pegs, pulling the handlebars up to pop a wheelie.

Come on, Higgins. Yumi shook her head. They say that every year.

She ought to know. Yumi was tapped into pretty much everything that happened or that people said was going to happen. Her mom, Hunters aunt Tomoko, owned and ran Wine OClock, a wine-tasting and -drinking place on the corner where the highway turned downtown by Payette Lake. A lot of peoplelocals too, not just touristshung out there, including Yumi, especially when the place got busy and Aunt Tomoko needed extra help.