Page 30 of Craving Chaos

“You have your choice of baked beans, baked beans, orrr baked beans with maple.”

“Surprise me,” he says dryly. “You say there are tools on the back of the cabin?”

“Just a couple of things—the traps and an ax most importantly.”

“I’ll check that out while you get the beans going.”

An hour later, we’ve had our meager breakfast and are on our way to check the traps I set. They aren’t far. My encounter with Smokey was still too fresh in my mind for me to feel comfortable wandering off alone.

I had no idea what I was doing when I “set” the traps. Because of that, I know as we approach that the chances of catching anything are slim, but I’m unexpectedly frustrated to see both traps empty. I would have loved more than anything to bring Renzo out here and present him with something solid for us to eat.

“Not sure how you’re supposed to catch anything with a wire,” I grumble. “What are the chances something will just happen to walk through the trap?” The whole thing seems impossible.

“These are snare traps, and you’re right, they key is knowing where the animal is likely to go. Plus, we need to get every single one of those traps out here. It’s about numbers. There are nearly two dozen snares, and we need every one of those rigged.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know anything about trapping.”

“Compared to the sort of person who comes out here intentionally, I don’t.” His eyes cut to me, and I see a hint of mischief glinting in their depths. “But the city has a lot of rats.”

My mouth gapes open. “Why on earth would you hunt rats? They make tidy little box traps for that.”

“A lot of us boys hung around in the summer with nothing to do. Sometimes we’d make it a competition.”

“I will never, ever understand men.” I shake my head slowly side to side, though I’m amused. I imagine an adolescent Renzo would have been pretty entertaining before the pressures of adulthood sobered him.

The sly grin he flashes me launches a score of butterfly wings flapping in my chest. “Fortunately, you don’t have to understand us to appreciate what we have to offer.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that? Toxic masculinity and a patriarchy?” I know. I can’t help myself. At least my tone is playful.

Renzo glares, matching my teasing energy. “I was thinking catcalls and commitment issues, but you had to go and make it personal.”

His comeback is so unexpected, I burst out laughing. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. How could I have ignored the obvious?”

He grunts. “Try better next time.”

My eyes follow him with no small amount of intrigue as his gaze searches the area.

“You say there’s a creek nearby?”

“Yeah, over there about one hundred yards.” I point in the direction.

“Let’s head that way. We need to look for tracks. Any kind of sign that something is in the area. I figure that’s more likely around a water source.”

“Makes sense.”

He eyes me for an elongated second before starting to walk, and I’d give my favorite left toe to know what he’s thinking, but there’s no way I’m going to ask. It’s probably best I don’t know. These next few weeks will be difficult enough as it is. No need to complicate things.

I have to repeat the thought three times to myself before I remotely start to believe it.

We spend the next two hours setting up all the snare traps he brought from the cabin. We stake broken branches into the ground wherever possible to anchor the snare or use low-lying branches suited for rigging a noose.

He’s worn down by the time we get back to the cabin. It worries me. I don’t want a relapse.

“Why don’t you relax a bit—have a can of fruit and some water—while I chop more firewood.”

“We need to get that bonfire going, though.”

“I have a couple of logs set aside. I’ll add any more that I see. Tomorrow, you’ll have more strength and can help me finish up.”

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