Page 45 of The Sheriff and the Outlaw

“Andrew!” Daxton reached for the two rifles mounted over the fireplace. “I’m just helping her, taking care of her until she gets on her feet.”

“Uh huh.” Andrew gave him a knowing smile.

Daxton sighed. “You, my son, are growing up too fast.” He handed Andrew a rifle. “Let’s go before Lillian comes home.”

Andrew tucked the rifle under his arm and pointed the barrel down, as his father had taught him. Daxton was careful to teach both of his children about gun safety at a young age, and to respect weapons. One couldn’t be too careful.

“Where would you like to go, Pa?” Andrew asked, walking beside his father.

Daxton sighed. “How about our usual hunting spot?” There was a meadow in the center of the forest that he had often taken Andrew to. It was quiet and there weren’t many bears to worry about. Bears usually stayed close to the base of the mountain ranges and in the mountains themselves. But at the meadow, he and Andrew could stay in the tree line and wait for a buck, if they were lucky.

Andrew nodded. “Sounds good.” They walked in silence for a while. When they were deep in the woods, he asked, “Pa, I know you may not marry Josey, but do you think you ever will get married again?”

A crease formed between Daxton’s eyes. “What brought this on?”

Andrew lifted one shoulder, glancing over at his father. “I see the way you are with Josey… taking care of her… and I was just wondering. You and Josey are good together.”

Daxton gave him a small smile. “Son, don’t get your hopes up about her. She’s going through some things right now and she needs our help.”

“Do you think she might stay, though?”

Daxton sighed. “I’m not sure, son. Again, don’t get your hopes up.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think you might marry again?”

Daxton shrugged. “Maybe… if I meet the right person. But….” Daxton ruffled his hair. “She will definitely have to love children.”

“Children? Ha!” Andrew looked at his father in disbelief. “I’d be happy if she knows how to play Poker.”

Daxton laughed, remembering their Poker game the night before. “I’d just be happy if she can cook. Speaking of cooking, let’s see if we can bag us a deer.”

Usually, they got one every summer. Venison was good and a nice change from beef, pork, and chicken. He knew they were truly blessed, though. Not everyone had the means to stock up during the summer for the harsh winters. Reverend Caleb Henley sometimes took up special collections and donations at the church so he could bring food to those unable to get out in bad weather.

As sheriff, Daxton had gone with Rev. Henley on many occasions to deliver the food. Usually, it was to the elderly, to the occasional family whose father had been injured, or to a woman raising her children alone because the father had died. But in this part of the country where women were scarce, it was rare to see women with children alone. Usually, they married out of necessity before the harsh weather hit, if nothing else.

“Pa,” Andrew whispered, nodding toward a thick of trees. At the base was a four-point stag. It was gorgeous with dark brown fur, going up to light brown and then white around the neck.

“Go ahead, son,” Daxton whispered, loud enough only for his son to hear.

Andrew took aim and then pulled back the hammer with a click. The stag immediately lifted its head and perked its ears, sniffing the air. When he caught sight of them, it galloped at full speed across the meadow, headed away. But Andrew tracked it and then fired, bringing it down with one shot.

“Good shot, son! Let’s go get him.” Daxton squeezed his son’s shoulder with pride and they both crossed the meadow to the deer, lying lifeless. “Come on. We’ll take it home and will dress it there.”

Andrew nodded. Although he had been hunting with his father several times before, it was Andrew’s first kill, and Daxton saw that it bothered him.

Daxton knelt on one knee beside his son. “Son, you didn’t kill this deer for sport just to leave it. You killed it for food to feed our family.” He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “This deer will sustain us for the winter. Kill with purpose or for protection, not for any other reason. And only shoot what you will eat. Okay, son?”

Andrew nodded. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Daxton shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I hate to say this, but the first time is the hardest. After that, it gets easier. But if you don’t want to do it again, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Andrew shook his head, tears welling up behind his eyes, obviously unable to speak.

Daxton’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Son, you know what the Indians do? They thank the animal for giving its life for the good of the tribe. Would you like to do 3?”

Andrew smiled, nodding his head.

“Go ahead.”

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