Sally’s Wedding: Book 3 Of A Contemporary Romance Short Story Series (4 page)

“Are you ok Sally?” Agnes asked.

“
Uh
..oh
yes I’m fine…I just felt that someone was watching me – I must be spooked by all this poacher nonsense!”

“Well I do not blame you for that my dear! Please try and put it from your mind though; I will be giving it my full attention and you can be rest assured we will catch them.” Malcolm said with conviction.

He reached out to shake Sally’s hand as they said their farewell’s; Sally however reached over to kiss him on the cheek – amazed at how comfortable she felt in this man’s presence, even though in truth she had only recently met him.

Katriona laughed. “Be careful my dear; you do not want to give him any encouragement!”

It was Malcolm’s turn to blush, as he stumbled to make a witty reply; which never quite made it to his lips.

“
Hmmph
..
yes
..
well
. Till
next
Friday my dear – and I’ll make sure haggis is off the menu!”

Sally laughed. “Yes I would very much appreciate that Malcolm!”

As they left the car park, Sally just could not shake off the feeling that she was being watched. Saying nothing about it to Agnes in case it frightened her; she nevertheless kept a close watch in the rear
-
view mirror.

******

John rubbed
his aching
leg carefully, as he lay silent in the undergrowth. The crossbow was loaded and pointed, in the direction where the deer was most likely to come from. It was a l
ethal
weapon, that
fired a fixed blade broadhead arrow mounted on a carbon fibre shaft. With an effective range of only around 30 yards, it would nevertheless kill easily if the arrow went true – which it usually did when
John,
and not his burly colleague Frank made the shot.

He wondered afresh, at the wisdom in bringing Frank along with him on these poaching expeditions. He was terrible company, and a constant fidget – which played havoc with John’s stalking ability. The fact was however that Frank was the brawn, and he was the brains and talent behind this operation; which up until lately had been running smoothly until the altercation with the estate worker a few months back
. It was an incident he regretted deeply, especially as he knew the
family of the
young man involved; he was happy to hear later that he had made a full recovery.

Frank on the other hand had no such regrets.
“Stop your bloody whining John!
” Was the reaction to the news that had filtered through to them
later.
“He got what he was bloody asking for and no mistake – would you rather that you were languishing in jail right now eh?”

Of course in a way, Frank was right, but it did not sit any easier with him; he was sure that this ugly giant would have broken the
lads
neck if he had not intervened to stop
him. The memory of Frank’s
wild stare made him shudder even now.

“
John
..
John
..
How
much longer are we going to wait here? I’m bursting for a bloody piss!” Frank’s urgent whisper broke into his thoughts
; causing him to reply angrily.

“What are you? Bloody incontinent! Hell’s fire, we’ve hardly been here half an hour and
your
needing a sodding piss! Maybe we should start packing bloody incontinence pants for you!”

“You bastard John, one of these days I’m going to break your bloody neck – I swear I will, so help me!”

“Just you keep dreaming Frank – and remember who’s holding the crossbow!” John replied bravely, for he knew that to show any sign of weakness to this giant would be fatal.

The fact was that when they started off on this partnership over a year ago now; they had got along reasonably well. Frank was not the ‘sharpest knife in the drawer’, but he was strong and generally amiable enough. John had damaged his leg permanently in a tree-felling operation that had gone wrong; leaving him with a permanent limp. With John’s
h
unting ability
,
honed from years
of poaching with his father when he was a lad; and Franks brawn to help with the lifting; they had a sweet little business going, supplying venison to some of the local hotels, who asked no questions regarding its source.

As John waited patiently, he wished – not for the first time – that he could have brought Robbie along. Robbie was his Deerhound; a favourite hunting dog amongst the Scottish clansmen, that could be traced all the way back to the
ancient Scots and Picts that once roamed these hills. The Deerhound was ideal for the conditions in the Highlands of Scotland; being faster than a greyhound in rough country, but with all the muscle a
nd
stamina to bring
down
even a full-grown Red Deer.

Used until quite recently by the Estate owners for Hare and Deer coursing – banned now with new legislation – The deerhound was now largely kept as a pet; or as a working dog by poachers.
“I
think that it is maybe time to retire old Robbie.”
John thought to himself.
“That last chase just about killed him!”
The thought made him feel somehow sad, reminding him that he himself was really getting too old for this pursuit.

At five years old, Robbie still had another two or three years left by normal standards; years that John decided would be lived out as a pet rather than a hunting dog
. Deerhounds generally have a quiet placid nature, making them ideal companions; and Robbie was no exception to that rule.
John had been on his own now for some time; after making some foolish mistakes ye
ars ago which haunted him still;
and Robbie had been good company, as well as an excellent hunting dog for him. John decided to reward him with early retirement
,
and long walks in the Scottish hills – while they were both still able to do so.

Meanwhile Frank fumed silently
. “
this
crippled little runt thinks he’s so blo
o
dy smart
; and I’m so stupid – well we will just see about that!”

Unbeknownst to John, Frank had in fact been saving his money and intended buying his own crossbow, and setting
out on his own. He was tired of the fact that he had to do all the heavy lifting, while john just shot the deer. He had also convinced himself that John was creaming off more than his fair share, when it came to selling the merchandise. He patted his pocket
lightly,
comforted by the feel of the cash he kept with him at all times.
“Not long now.”
He quietly said to
himself.

“
Shhht
..”
John whispered at his ear. He had seen the smallest movement in the trees about 25 yards up ahead, right where he expected the deer to show up. Night was falling rapidly and he knew that this would probably be the last chan
ce for the day.

Both of them crouched lower in the bracken. They were downwind of the creature, so their scent would not carry and betray their presence.

The deer entered the clearing cautiously, sniffing the air for strange scent. He was a young buck, the first in a group of three that followed along behind him.
A much smaller animal than their cousins the Highland Red deer; Roe deer were nevertheless highly sought after by some restaurants, for their lean tender flesh.

John carefully lined up crossbow, and loosed the fibre-carbon arrow. It flew straight and true, burying
itself deep into the young animal
and piercing the heart. Death was almost instantaneous, and the deer dropped where it stood.

Even Frank had to admit it was a good shot – much better than he could have done. It was not uncommon to have a long chase after a mortally wounded animal, finally running it to ground before giving it the coop-
de-grace.
Sometimes however the animal could not be tracked, and death was usually slow and painful from infection or loss of blood.

They walked over
to the fresh kill. It was a
healthy specimen, and would fetch a
top
price
.

“That’s a good animal Frank; must be about 70lb! Think you’ll manage all the way back with it?”

“Ha, easy!
Once we’ve finished with it.” Frank replied, thinking of his rising ‘bank-balance’.

“
Right then.
let’s
get to work, and be on our way before its pitch black out here!”
Said John moving towards the prone animal.

“Just a bloody minute will you!” Frank said, as he quickly unzipped his fly
;
and let loo
se a powerful stream against a g
narled old birch tree;
causing John to jump out of the way, as he remarked
s
ardonically that he had likely just killed the poor tree!

They both shared a rare laugh, as Frank zipped himself up with a sigh of relief.

Quickly they took out their knives, and Frank held it up
by the front legs, belly outwards,
as John gutted the beast; allowing the steaming entrails to gather in a heap.
Placing the animal on the ground, they then
removed the head and
the
legs
. All this had the effect of reducing the weight considerably; which was just as well, as they were a
good
mile away from the 4 x 4, hidden in a layby at the side of a forestry track.

When the butchery was finished,
they placed
the carcase
into a large polythene sack, to stop the
remaining
blood from pouring down Franks back, as he slung
it
over his
broad shoulder
.
T
hey
headed
off back to the layby, along tracks that J
ohn had used since he was a boy; which was just as well, as night had indeed fallen by the time they set off.

It had been a busy day, with two kills to their account
, and both men looked forward to a good drink at the ‘Deer & Hound,’ which lay 5 miles North of Aviemore, and whose patron,  John knew would pay handsomely for this prize.

******

Robert arrived back home at his usual time, to find Agnes and Sally busy in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. He still marvelled at how well the two women
worked together
, especially being from different backgrounds and cultures. The age gap between them seemed to be an advantage rather than a hindrance, as Agnes treated Sally very much as her own daughter
; relishing the chance to teach her all the tricks she knew about life in the highlands of Scotland – while Sally told her all about life in her home town of Milwaukee. The details of her near rape at the hands of her colleague however, she decided to leave for another time.

They were both too busy chatting and preparing the food to notice Robert, so he quietly sneaked up behind Sally; and wrapping his muscular arms around her waist, lifted her and spun her around like a child.

“Stop it you idiot!” She shrieked playfully
, as she experienced first fright, then delight as she realised who was behind her Ariel flight around the kitchen.

“Oh
well
..here
we go again I suppose – the child is back home!” Agnes said smiling, as she witnessed the obvious love that these two shared.

“Come away in laddie; and go get yourself showered – Tea will be ready shortly.” Agnes said, grabbing Robert by the collar and dragging him away from Sally.

“Excuse me Sally, while I extricate my son from your clutches will you?
” She smiled. “It’s either that or I throw a pail of cold water over you both!”

Robert protested in good humour
, as Agnes bundled him out of the kitchen and propelled him towards his room.

“Ha
ha
..you
really know how to handle him Agnes, I’ll grant you that!”

“Well I’ve had enough practice my dear, though lately he’s been a bit
more frisky
– I wonder why that is eh!”

“Maybe he has had a bit too much red meat? My father used to say that it ‘angries up the blood.’”

“Too much red meat eh…” Agnes said looking
intently at Sally;
who
flushed scarlet as she realised her
clever comment had a second interpretation
.
 

“Oh Agnes, your terrible really! I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Me? Why
..
I can’t imagine what you mean my dear! Agnes protested,
then
burst out laughing.