“Looks a little too decorative for something you kill things with. A little mannered.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. Why would you want to kill a beautiful bird with an ugly gun?”
“Well, if you want to get mystical…”
“No more mystical than, say, Clovis man and his spear points.”
“Leave it, Sheil… the Yankee bastard’s right for once.” Juan had come up behind her. He began massaging her neck. “Bird hunting is one thing you better yield to Mr. Nick on.” He turned to Nick. “How many palomitas, bro?”
“Cinco.”
“Same here. See, Shelagh, two roads to the same goal. Only, he does it prettier. Now if you children can kiss and make up, I think it’s time for the annual Sharpe-Aragon pic-nic. Come on.”
In a few moments, Juan had a fire of juniper twigs crackling in a nest of stones by the truck. He
