7
The Booth's place had the appearance of a rundown hill farm, with ranges of decaying buildings and a big backyard overrun with weeds. The sign by the road said: Red House and, underneath: E & S Booth. A mud-caked Humvee was parked near a threadbare windbreak of spruce and a dozen chickens scratched in the dirt by the dried-out woodwork of the back porch.
A battered pickup pulled in and stopped. Saul Booth and Isaac, his eighteen-year-old son, lifted a dead whitetail deer from the back of the vehicle.
"It's only an hour after sunrise and we're back home already," Saul announced. "That deer never knew we was there. Our magic worked again, hey, son?"
"Why won't you tell me how you do it, pa?" Isaac asked.
"It was mom taught me to begin with. If I tell you she'll know. And she'll take t
