7
The Hunter
Blood seeped through the hunter’s fingers as he hoisted the dead elk over his shoulder. Though it was a heavy son of a bitch, he was no stranger to carrying the load of his livelihood. He’d just started to move through the woods when he heard a howl in the distance. With the same alertness that had made the game on his back grow still before taking the bullet between its eyes, the hunter looked toward where the sound had come from.
When he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary again, he thought he might have imagined the noise. But after he’d replayed it in his mind, an image of the young girl came forward. She was the only one he knew that would be stupid enough to treat the mountain terrain like it was her playground. Always getting into trouble, that girl. Someday, she would learn her lesson. Perhaps that day is today.
The hunter lifted the elk off his shoulder with a grunt then dropped the sturdy animal to the ground. He couldn’t travel quickly with the heavy kill on his back. If he had any chance of investigating the noise, he would have to move fast.
His heavy boots were loud as he stomped over fallen branches and dried yellow leaves. He walked toward the sound of the human howl, which still lingered in his mind while his twisted thoughts worked through all the scenarios he could imagine of the state he would find the young girl in.
Perhaps she’d stumbled into one of his bear traps. But that would be impossible, since the only two bear traps he’d placed were deep in the woods. Even Camila didn’t dare to go deep into the woods.
Maybe she’d fallen onto the jagged rocks in the creek. She would be wet and cold and ripe for the beating he dreamed of giving her, since her father didn’t have the balls to teach his little girl how to mind her own business.
Thought after disturbing thought of how he would finally find Camila raced through his head before he eventually made it to the clearing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins at the thought of finding her there, helpless and alone.
He emerged at a flat section of land on the back of the mountain then followed his unmarked trail to the side of it, just before the grass grew tall and thick. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but a feeling in his gut told him someone had been to the mine—his mine.
It couldn’t have been the girl. She would never come that way, not when she had those damn cornfields to run through. But that howl and her damn curiosity. What if she stumbled upon it after all?
Rage brewed inside the hunter at the thought of the intrusion. He’d had the mine and the surrounding land all to himself for over fifteen years, and he wasn’t about to let any of that change.
With adrenaline morphing into anger and boiling through his veins, he trudged toward the padlocked gate and cursed when he saw that the large rock he usually used as a doorstop had been moved. Did I do that? Or did she? He wouldn’t put it past that little brat to eventually wander too far and stumble upon the ancient landmark.
The hunter picked up the rock and set it back in its rightful place. After slipping his key into the padlock, he unlocked the door and opened it before stomping back into the woods to collect his latest kill.
For years, the young heir had been getting too close to the hunter’s grounds than he was comfortable with. The young girl was off-limits and was not to be harmed, and the hunter would obey that sentiment so long as he continued to have access to the land he’d profited from for so long… but he had a lot more to lose than ever before. The moment she became a threat, she would have to go. As simple as that.
8
Camila, One and a Half Years Later
Every so often, my papa and his old hunting gang gathered in the casita, a detached house on the west side of our villa. The small building held a few offices, including my father’s study, where they had their private gatherings. The room filled with smoke and laughter while the men drank too much wine, played poker, cursed every other word, and flung insults back and forth until they either passed out in one of our guest rooms or went home.
Mama always cooked a feast for the men, and I delivered it throughout the night. I’d taken on the job willingly when I was a bold eight-year-old who loved to hide in dark corners to eavesdrop on the men’s conversations. Lately, the entire scene gave me chills, and I wished nothing more than to be anywhere else.
“Your daughter is an angel, Patrick,” one of the men said as I set down a plate of sandwiches.
My papa looked up from his fanned-out cards. A cigar dangled from his lips, and he beamed at me like I was the equivalent of one of the hunting trophies hanging on his walls. “That she is, Bill. That she is.”
I took a few steps back from the table, ready to escape for a night out with my friends, when Thomas Bradshaw snaked an arm around my shoulders. “Trip says he’s picking you up to go to Mountain Village tonight.”
My papa’s attention piqued at the mention of Thomas’s son, and suddenly, all the men’s eyes were on me. Awkward. “Um,” I said with a soft laugh. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, Thomas. It’s not like a date or anything.”
He let out a playful “Ahh” and laughed. “That’s too bad. Your dad and I thought we’d be marrying you two off by now.”
Heat raced up my neck and spread over my cheeks. That Trip and I would grow up and fall in love one day, have babies, and live happily ever after on the vineyard, had always been the running joke between our families, but it wasn’t the case at all. Unfortunately, I was the only person who believed that.
I would only consider dating one boy at my school, not that Papa would ever allow it. I wasn’t the only girl who had noticed Ridge either. While he’d received a less-than-welcome reception when he moved to Telluride, he’d managed to turn things around just fine. Our classmates accepted him like one of their own—except for Trip, of course, who still stuck his nose up whenever Ridge was around.
I knew better than to give Trip any reason to pick on my secret friend, so although Ridge Cross remained off-limits, not a week went by without us meeting. Once fall came and went, snow packed the landscape, and the hilltop became inaccessible. Ridge and I started to meet at the bridge instead. Though we didn’t have the bird’s-eye view of the land, it was the second-best thing to the mountain. I loved to hear about his life on the reservation, his mom, and the few good friends he had. In turn, I kept him apprised of my hard work on the vineyard.
“Don’t listen to them, Camila,” the man to my papa’s right said. Gus was my friend Brody’s dad and had been the vineyard’s groundskeeper since my papa took over. “You’re too young to be thinkin’ about dating. Enjoy your time with your friends.”
I smiled at the kind old man. “Thanks for always having my back, Gus.”
He nodded, a smile pushing up his rosy cheeks. “You can always count on me, young lady.”
The sincerity of his words warmed me, and I left with a sense of relief that felt rare around my papa and Thomas. They were peas in a pod, always playing off each other like two brothers. I often wondered why my papa released so much responsibility to Thomas, but it became obvious as I got older and started to learn more about vineyard and winery operations.