Hawkins, riding into town with Mr. Parker when he went to get the mail and supplies, and she never went back, not even to get her clothes. Mr. Hawkins hired her on the spot, and she swore old Mr. Parker to secrecy, as no one had seen them leave together. Her new boss seemed quite concerned about her marriage difficulties, and he even offered her an advance on her first week's salary so that she could buy a few new clothes and not have to spend another second with that coarse slug of a husband back in Blackjack.She did take the time to write her husband a letter, though, which was probably more than he deserved. Mr. Hawkins mailed it for her in Las Vegas when he had to drive up there on business. She could just imagine Jamie, red-faced and blustering, clad most likely in work jeans and steel-toed boots, storming into Las Vegas and demanding of someone, probably the first policeman he spotted, that they return his wife before he got really mad and wrecked the whole place. Jamie was. He walked the thirty or so yards to the body and nudged it with his toe, rolling it over. He shook his head, saddened, but not remorseful. Life was tough out here on the mountain, and beautiful female or not, he couldn’t afford to lose his hens this close to the beginning of winter.Slinging his rifle across his back by the strap, he crouched down and worked his arms under the mountain lion, feeling his shoulders and his quads strain a bit as he took up the seventy or so pounds of weight. Carrying it back to the cabin, he laid it inside the steel cage, on top of an old blanket that provided some padding. He dug a small flashlight out of his back pocket and turned it on, holding it in his mouth as he worked the dart out from the mountain lion’s fur, taking care not to injure it further. The dart had small barbs, enough to hold it in place so the tranquilizer inside could work its magic without being dislodged.Once the cage was closed and latched, he headed back inside, unloaded the.
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