Three hours. It took three hours to cut out the good pieces of meat along with the backstrap. Never much caring for the offal, he bagged it up to take it deep in the woods to feed a carnivorous family scratching out a meal in the snow. The shed was a nice touch. It had everything a man needed to get things done and take care of his family. Whoever designed it took into consideration all the small details. The shed even had a dividing wall from the main room that held a toilet and a urinal. A sink, deeply recessed, sat outside the wall to be shared with the processing part of the shed. It was only, in his estimation, 800 square feet of man cave awesomeness. There was even a speaker with an MP3 player connected for tunes.

He didn’t care much for the musical selections on the device and opted instead to work in silence. He added chunks of meat to the freshly washed grinder and attached the casings. Adding just enough spice, he began hand-cranking the grinder, watching ribbons of sausage fill the clear casing, twisting as each meat link got to the perfect length. Cotter thought about the kid who lived next door to them in Minnesota. What was his name? Ralph. Ricky.

Ricky!

Their family was poor like his own. His father, Mike, hunted for their meat. Ricky wasn’t the type to take a life. Deer, elk or otherwise. When Cotter asked to learn to hunt, Mike was happy to teach him. Unlike his son Ricky who threw up at the sight of gutting a deer, Cotter didn’t balk. The first two times he watched. The third time Mike handed him the knife and showed him how.

At the age of 13, he couldn’t get a job to help out around the house, but he could hunt. He took down his first buck in one shot which provided enough meat to last his family for six months. It was a lesson learned. The following season he made sure he shot two deer a season to have enough meat to last until the next season.  By the time he was 15, he calculated that if he took down four animals, he could sell the meat from the other two in order to buy pork chops, ham and bacon.

Mike, a connoisseur of venison, explained every season which spices made the best sausage, and how to cook a roast so that it melted in your mouth and didn’t taste gamey. Over the years, he’d held on to those tips and his sharp shooting was what led to him becoming a sniper in the Army. The sharp shooting and quiet methods of getting shit done earned him a spot in the Ranger Regiment, then in Special Forces. He started out taking down deer to feed his family. He wound up taking down bad men under the guise of protecting his country. Finally, he ended up taking out bad decisions made by people with too much money.

Today, he was a married man with a daughter. I have a family. A little thing he hadn’t planned on since he’d never quite gotten right the whole share his life with a woman thing. He hated being nagged. Bossed around. Whining. That’s what it was: the whining. Susie, his little sister, whined all the time. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard to him, and he hated the sound of a woman whining, expecting a man to do things for her.

The few women he’d dated, even in the Army, started out tough and hard core, but in the end, started whining about his socks, his boots, a dirty plate left in the sink. Just to have peace of mind, he lived alone. Living alone, a man could wash a fucking dish when and if he felt like it. His boots, smelly socks, and dirty underwear could grow into a Christmas tree in the corner of the house if he wanted them to, but it wasn’t his style.

Oh shit! A Christmas tree!

His back ached from hefting the deer into the truck. His arm burned from the cut and working in the tight confines of the deer carcass to get the cuts of meat just so. In a word, he was tired. A nice soak in a hot tub of water would be nice.

Shit. I need to fix the tub.

A light tap at the door made him jump. Instinctually, he reached for his weapon. He always kept it on him and pretty close by as he eased his way to the door, cracking it open to find Johnnie standing outside in the bright ass orange coat with a cup of hot coffee.

“Hey kiddo, is that for me?” he asked, not wanting her to see the mangled deer hanging on the hook.

“Yes sir,” she said, pushing past him and coming inside the shed. To his surprise, she didn’t balk at the bloody mess in the shed. “Mama said you should be getting hungry. She sent coffee and a sandwich. It’s sliced chicken.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the goodies. “You can take these sausages back inside for me. Give them to your Mom and let her know we’ll have them for dinner with some rice.”

“Will do,” Johnnie said, but she hadn’t moved.

“What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

Her bundled up little body swayed from side to side as she fought to find the courage to ask the man questions. “You gonna be my Daddy now?”

“Depends on whether or not you are okay with that,” he said, as if she had a choice in the matter.

“I’m okay with it,” Johnnie replied. “Do I call you Daddy?”

“I would prefer if you called me Pops for now, then when company is around, you can call me Daddy,” Cotter said. “You understand?”

“I got it,” she said. “Are you a bad man, like my real Daddy?”

Cotter watched the little face, nearly hidden under the cap and hood of the brightly colored coat. She was setting him up for a blow to his chest and he could feel it. This was another of those moments with Johnnie where she gave him just enough information to figure it out.

“What makes you say your Daddy was a bad man?” he asked, drinking the hot coffee, which in his estimation was far too bitter.

“Mama never let him tuck me in at night or give me baths,” she said. “She watched you real close with me. Especially when you washed my hair. If you are a bad man, she’ll make you disappear too.”

“You think your Mama made your Daddy disappear because he did bad things to you?” Cotter asked, concerned.

“My Mama is quiet,” Johnnie said, moving around to the deer carcass. “There’s a spot over the hill where Mama would dump these after she cleaned the rabbits and does. I never knew her to get a buck. It would be nice to keep this skin to make a rug for my room.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” Cotter said, watching the little girl go towards the door.

“She’s making water for you to take a bath when you come inside,” Johnnie said. “I’ll get these sausages to her for dinner.”

“Thanks,” he said to her. She didn’t respond, and he watched the orange coat disappear around the side of the house. His stomach rumbled, pushing him to wash his hands and start on the sandwich. He ate in silence, the thoughts pinging in a head that tried to wrap his mind around what the child had just told him.

Did she open the contract on Caleb? How, she is flat broke? Or is she? No phone. No power. No way to get to town to buy food.

His hackles were up as he wolfed down the sandwich, which sat in his stomach like a lump of coal. Finishing up the processing, he filled a bucket with water to wash the blood down the drain. The antlers he kept, along with the hide, but the remainder he put in large bags and took to his truck. Over the hill the kid said. Three armloads of meat were carried into the house and set on the table. The tub, filled with just enough water, beckoned him but he needed to discard the offal and items and ensure no embers were left in the potbelly stove.

“Be back in a jiffy,” he said, going to the shed to secure it and double check behind himself. The hide, he left hanging, but the rest of the place was clean.

Outside, he looked over the land and saw only one hill. Sludging his way to the truck, he cranked it and made for the hillside. Shifting to a lower gear, the heavy-duty truck climbed the embankment with ease. Carefully, he unloaded the bag, opening the top to allow the scent of blood to fill the air for hungry diners. Looking down the hillside, the snow-covered area prevented him from seeing the years of bones underneath the piles of compacted powder.

He dumped the contents, taking the bloody bag with him, but as he turned, a gust of wind hit hard in his face, blurring his vision. Blinking away the tears, his eyes slowly focused and his breath caught. The land, covered in snow, reminded him of a Christmas card. The small home at the bottom of the hill had on two lights and the billowing of smoke from the chimney. He imagined in the summer, the green hillside covered in wildflowers that he would pick to bring home to the woman, who in turn would teach the girl to dry the petals for other uses.

A tightness hit him as he held his chest, thinking, she was waiting for him. The bath he knew was her way of saying tonight she would give herself to him, to become his wife in every sense of the word. He wanted that more than anything. Shaking off the bevvy of emotions, grey shadows appeared in the wood line of hungry wolves coming to feed. His moment of nostalgia rudely interrupted, Cotter got to his feet. Inside his truck, he held the steering wheel, then downshifted to a lower gear and made his way home.

Home.

Driving down the hill he had a thought. A silly thought but it would be a nice surprise and gift. Far enough away from the feeding wolves, he stopped the truck. The one upside to his type of work was that in his truck he held all the tools of his trade and a few others for just in case situations. He stopped the truck, climbing out, his feet covered in the depth of untouched snow. Opening the rear door, he lifted the back seat to take out a handy tool, which was ideal for the task at hand. Smiling, he went to work to bring his ladies home the perfect gift. Home. He whispered to himself and set about the job at hand.

****

COTTER CAME THROUGH the front door dragging a four-foot-tall pine tree that he’d shaken the snow off the branches, tapping it lightly on the front porch and stepping inside. His chest poked out with pride as he leaned the lopsided short leaf pine against the wall. Wide eyes watched the man, grinning from ear to ear with the Charlie Brown looking Christmas tree which he presented as if he’d conquered the world, Paul Bunyan style.

“Oh, it’s a Christmas tree,” Johnnie said.

“I’m hoping you have decorations for it, if not, Johnnie and I can head into town after dinner and grab some cranberries to string,” Cotter said. “If you have needle and thread, I bought a bag of corn we could pop and string that too.”

“String cranberries and popcorn?” Judy asked, slightly confused as to why he would want to put food on strings in a Christmas tree.

“Yeah, we would string cranberries and popcorn for garland each year,” he said. “It was cost efficient and gave us something to do to keep us out of Mom’s hair. I mean, unless you already have ornaments.”

“We have ornaments, but you, Mister, smell like something the dog dragged in to play with and are in dire need of a bit of soap and water,” Judy said.

“Pops, you smell terrible,” Johnnie said, picking up the bar of soap. “We got your bath water started too.”

“Thanks a lot, both of you,” he said, bending to unlace his boots. Cotter kicked them off and hung his jacket on the hook by the door. The outer shirt was removed as he kept his eyes on Judy who carried a hot pot of water to the waiting tub. Johnnie disappeared, returning with his towel and wash cloth, plus his lounge pants and a clean tee shirt. It was his last one. Tomorrow, he would have to wash and buy a few more items. He only traveled with five days’ worth of clothing, and now he was down to his last.

“I’m going to my room,” Johnnie said, leaving them alone.

“I’ll let you know when he’s done,” Judy said.

“Hopefully, dinner will be done too,” Johnnie countered, “because I’m hungry.”

“When is that kid not hungry?” Cotter asked, removing his shirt and pants to step into the warm water. He lowered his body into the tub, leaning against the side, stretching his legs over the rim, allowing the warm water to soothe his back. He groaned in satisfaction as the water pooled around his waist.

Judy, carrying a small glass container, spooned lavender scented salts into the water as she looked at the strong face. His eyes were closed and his long lashes lay spread out against the weathered skin. The contentment on his face was enough for her to take a seat and just look at him. Handsome. Rugged. Broken.

“I know you are relaxing, but I have some concerns,” she said softly. His eyelids didn’t flutter nor his face give an expression. “You have done so much for us, and I’m grateful; however, everything has a price. I’m waiting for you to tell me yours. What is it that you get out of all of this? What is it you want me to do for you or to give you?”

“Johnathan,” he said, sighing loudly.

“What?” she asked, unclear as to his meaning.

“You said you had two children’s names picked out to inherit this land, a girl and a boy named Johnathan,” Cotter said. “Give me a son and we can round out our family.”

Judy sat on the couch, just watching his face. One eye opened suddenly making her jump in place. A son. He wants me to give him a son.

“Have you changed your mind, Judy?”

“No, I thought we were just putting on a show for the Sheriff,” she said.

“But you have the boy’s name already,” Cotter countered, “and it’s on the deed to the property. Give me Johnathan. I will be happy.”

“Is that all you want is a son? Cotter, what about the rest?”

“The rest of what?” he asked, sitting up in the water. His eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her shudder.

“I’m no fool to believe that you and I will be some kind of love match, that we made the choices which landed us here. I just don’t plan to be alone out here again, waiting for a man to come to my rescue if you decide to leave,” she said softly.

“When my truck leaves this property, both of you will be in it with me,” he said. “Speaking of that, I think we should take the train to Vegas from Kansas City. It is about the same distance driving as taking the train. At least with the train, I don’t have to spend so much time behind the wheel and we can get a sleeping car.”

“Cotter, you changed the subject on me again,” she said wistfully. “We need to discuss things. Understand how this is going to work out for us both.”

“Easy, we both get what we want—a family,” he said, leaning back in the tub. “Hey, will you wash my back again for me?”

“I’m going to drown you in that damned tub if we don’t have a conversation about how this is going to work for us as a family,” she said, emphasizing the word family.

“I go out, hunt, kill, and bring home the bread,” he said. “You butter it, buy pretty stuff for the house, and together we raise a family.”

“You said the kill portion too easy,” she muttered. “Is that what you do for a living?”

“Do you really want to know...tonight?”

“Not really,” she said, “But I need to know how you make a living. How you came across Caleb, what he sent you here to do.”

Cotter bolted upright in the tub again. The box. The fucking box. “He sent me to bring you a box. I didn’t open it, so I have no idea what’s in it.”

“How did you happen to come across him as he was dying, as a matter of fact where did he die and how did he die?” she asked, wringing her hands together. “Was it by your hand?”

He didn’t want to start his new life off the same way the old one ended, with a lie. He wanted more than anything to be truthful with her, but the uncertainty of her reaction he wasn’t prepared for. Instead, he employed the oldest tactic in the book, feeling like an ass for doing so, but now just wasn’t the right time to confess his sins.

“Seriously? I go out, hunt down enough meat to feed you, the kid and two neighbors for at least three months, and this is the thanks I get? I even made sausage and cut down a fucking tree as a present. Maybe you’re right. This isn’t going to work,” he said, sounding exasperated. “The last thing I need in my life is a nagging, ungrateful woman. Fine, I will fix what I can and move on, but just remember, you made the offer for me to stay.”

“And I want you to stay, but I have every right to know if the husband I am laying down with tonight is the same one who killed the last man I was married to!” she said, throwing the Caleb tactic back in his face. Too many years of dealing with Princess’ ne’er-do-wells had taught her to spot a pile and shit and then say it stank.

“At this point will it matter?”

“Everything matters, Cotter,” she said softly. “Everything we do in this life to each other and against each other matters.”

“You were half starved and dying when I walked through those doors, and now you are on your feet and full of piss and vinegar. Maybe that’s why he left,” Cotter said.

She was on her feet and coming at him. The first slap he wasn’t prepared for, catching him off guard. The second blow he caught in his hand, yanking her into the tub with him. Face to face they stared at each other, both breathing hard. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the mouth, expecting her to fight, but she didn’t. Her body went all soft against him, as she parted her lips for a deeper kiss.

“Shit,” he mumbled, trying to drag his mouth away. The taste of honey on her tongue from the tea made the kisses even sweeter and at the peril of getting sick himself, he didn’t give a sneeze in the middle of a blizzard, he was kissing her back.

“You got me all wet,” she said breathily into his mouth.

“Just getting started, little lady,” he said, pushing her out of the tub and getting to his feet. Wet ass, dry feet, and hard on to rival his teen years, he yanked her by the hand to the bedroom. Cotter locked the door as he eyeballed the turned down bed with freshly made sheets. She’d prepared for this night.

He had as well.