When they heard her coming up behind them, they turned. Duncan grinned brightly—and Phoebe noticed that his face was hurt. One cheek and eye showed a large, aging bruise, and he had a bandage across his cheekbone.
“You’re back,” she said as she pulled Amos to a stop.
Still grinning, he came up and stopped so close that when she swung from the saddle and hit the ground, he reached out and caught her arm without even having to stretch.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
She laughed and hooked her gloved hand into his coat, where the zipper was open on his chest. “Sweetheart? Pretty generic nickname, don’t you think?”
“Not sweetheart—SweeTart. Like the candy.”
“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Yep. Sweet and tart. It’s perfect. And I notice you haven’t said no yet. You knocked the others down right away.”
She thought this one was dumb, too, though maybe a little cute. Still, she didn’t need or want a nickname. “It’s a no.”
“Fine. Your loss.” His grin faded. “I missed you, you know.”
She’d missed him, too, but it felt dangerous to admit it so freely already. Like flying down a steep hill in a toboggan, toward a lake you’re not quite sure is really frozen.
Rather than reply, she gave his coat an affectionate shake and looked past him to Margot. “We met a boar in the woods. The fence is down along the back line, and he came through. I shot him, but I don’t know what to do with him now.”
“A boar?” Duncan said before Margot could. “You okay?”
Obviously, she was. “Yeah, fine. But we can’t leave the carcass out there. It’ll draw scavengers, and might draw more hogs.”
“Vin can dress it,” Margot said. “And we can take into town and have Terry butcher it.”
Terry Groves was the town butcher; in addition to the usual butchering of beef and fowl and such, he had a service for hunters as well.
“Vin can’t dress it in the field,” Phoebe pointed out. “Especially not in this weather.”
His prosthetic came from the VA and was some distance from top-of-the-line; he got around just fine on floors and paved surfaces, and he managed well, carefully, around the homestead, but he did not hike the woods even in summer. Certainly not in snow and ice.
“It’s a huge black boar. Probably weighs two hundred pounds or more. And it’s almost two miles back.” Feeling suddenly exhausted and frustrated, Phoebe stomped her foot. “Fuck! I don’t know what to do!”
“Hey.” Duncan caught her hand. “I’m standing right here. I’ll help.”
“It’s not your job to save me, Duncan.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said that or why it had felt like the most important thing to say.
“I know. I got a job already, anyway. But I am standing right here, and I can help, and I want to. I guess it’s not clear enough for a truck back there?”
“Not at all. We have an old four-wheeler, but even that would be tight back there. Can you ride?”
“Technically, yeah. I got family with a farm, and when I was a kid I rode there a bunch of times. But not for years. I’m not a cowboy, but I know how to get on a horse and use the reins.”
Phoebe tried to think how to handle the boar problem—but her brain simply refused to work on it. She could not get past the question and even take a step toward an answer.
“Fuck!” She slapped her forehead. “My stupid fucking brain!”
Margot pushed in between Phoebe and Duncan and clutched Phoebe’s shoulders. “Look at me,” she ordered.
Phoebe looked at her.
“Take a breath.”
Phoebe took a breath.
“What problem do we need to solve?”
“The fucking boar!”
“Okay. You killed it, right?”
Phoebe nodded.
“So we need to get it out of the woods so we can deal with the carcass. Right?
She nodded again.
“It’s too big to carry, so we need to haul it. How about Titan? He’s big and strong. Could he carry the boar on his back?”
Starting to get purchase on the problem, Phoebe took another breath and had an answer. “Yeah, but he’s eighteen hands tall. How do we get the boar on his back?”
“That’s where I come in,” Duncan said. “I can overhead press two-twenty. I can get a two-hundred pound boar to a horse’s back.”
Phoebe focused on him. “Two-twenty overhead? Seriously?” That had to be close to, if not greater than, his body weight.
His grin widened again. “I mean, I’m not doing many reps at that weight, but yeah. Let me help you.”
Because her thinking still felt shaky, Phoebe looked to Margot, who nodded.
“Okay. I think that can work.”
~oOo~
They saddled Maple, a gentle gelding large enough to carry Duncan comfortably, and fastened a pack pad over Titan’s back, with a waxed canvas tarp and some good rope. They mounted up, and Phoebe led Titan while Duncan followed on Maple.
He was obviously not completely comfortable on horseback, but he knew well enough what he was doing. Phoebe made sure to lead them over the easiest possible terrain.
When they got to the boar and dismounted, Duncan didn’t hesitate. He went straight to the carcass and crouched beside it to check it over.
“Damn. Good shot.”
Phoebe pulled the tarp and rope off Titan’s back. “I missed the first. See its ear?”
Duncan looked. He grabbed the ear and studied the shredded space where the bullet had taken out a swath. “I see. Still, though. For a miss, it’s a great shot.”
That wasn’t worth debate, so Phoebe didn’t bother. “You sure you can lift that beast?”
Shifting to a weightlifter’s crouch, he slipped his hands under the carcass and gave it an experimental lift. “Yeah. Once we get it wrapped up, no sweat.”
Phoebe brought the tarp over. They spread it over the snowy ground, and Duncan rolled the carcass onto it, then rolled it over until it was wrapped like a Tootsie Roll. They bound it—Duncan tied excellent knots—and then he shifted into that deep crouch again, shoved his hands under the bundle, and stood.
Though he’d moved with slow precision, clearly feeling the weight, Phoebe was impressed. He hadn’t even take a sidestep. He hadn’t made a sound.
But he had the bundle cradled at his chest. Titan’s back was several inches higher than that, and if the bundle wasn’t laid carefully, the horse could be hurt.
“Careful,” Phoebe warned as Duncan approached the Percheron.
“I am,” Duncan assured her.
What an interesting way to put it. Most people would say something like Okay, or Don’t worry, or maybe I will be. I am, Duncan had said, as if it were a statement of being more than an observation of the moment. To her ears, he’d meant I am a careful person.
Phoebe believed it. And was eased.
Duncan hoisted the bundle up and laid it so gently over Titan’s back that the horse barely shifted his stance. Together they bound the bundle snugly to the pack pad.
“Excellent. Thank you. Ready to head back?” Phoebe turned to Amos.
Duncan caught her hand. “Wait. Can I ask you something?”