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“Donny, Mark, stop it!” Bobby yelled, but neither man was paying attention.

“Well,” the man said, “if you’re her father, maybe running her over wouldn’t be so bad for the gene pool.”

That tore it. Donald threw down his helmet and stormed forward.

And found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.

“Daddy!” Betty screamed.

“Just hold your horses, pal,” the bearded man said. “I don’t really care for a fistfight today.”

“Oh, wow,” Bobby said. “Uh, Mark, could you put that down?”

The man looked to his right but kept the gun leveled at Donald. “You know this douchebag, Bobby?”

Donald didn’t move.

“Uh . . . yeah,” Bobby said. “This is my brother, Donny. Uh . . . Donny, this is my neighbor, Mark Jenkins.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Donald said. He kept himself very still while he said it.

The bearded man looked from Bobby to Donald, then back to Bobby again.

“Oh,” the man said, and lowered the gun. “Well, sorry about that, then.”

A huge breath slid out of Donald’s lungs.

“Bobby, sorry about drawing on your brother, but he was coming at me.” He clicked the safety on and slid the pistol somewhere in his ample back waistband. They all stood there in silence for a moment.

“This is just a bit uncomfortable,” Betty said.

“So, Mark,” Bobby said. “How was your hunting trip?”

“Pulled an oh-fer,” Mark said. “Got all new rifles, and the deer just didn’t show up. This might not be a good time for small talk, though, Bobby. How about you and the family come over for dinner? Next week.”

“Will do, Mark,” Bobby said. “Be seein’ ya.”

Mark nodded, turned and walked back to his Winnebago. The Jewells watched him get in and drive off.

“That gun legal?” Donald asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Probably. You know as well as I do you don’t ask around here. He moved in last year. Has a bit of a thing for Candice.”

“No s.h.i.+t?”

“No s.h.i.+t,” Bobby said. “He’s fairly open about it. Normally that would chap my a.s.s, but he can look all he wants. I don’t really make a big deal of it, for reasons I’m sure you can now appreciate.”

“Yeah,” Donald said. “I think I see where you’re coming from.”

“Gawd, Daddy,” Betty said. “You can be such an a.s.shole. Can you please pick up my sled so I can go back to Uncle Bobby’s house and die of embarra.s.sment?”

Donald did just that. She hopped on, then raced off down the trail. The Jewell brothers watched her go.

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