* * * McLeod was bored mindless at lunch. Only a handful of times the conversation had included him. He was thinking sex whereas the woman talked abou... the rising price of meat, their mutual friends, movies, books, soaps on TV and for fuck’s sake the weather! When Chris went off to make coffee, the table already cleared, Rhonda said, ‘Chris is eyeing you. I’ll go soon and she can bring you home later.’ Eyeing him? McLeod hadn’t noticed. Well he had a choice, a quarter horse that was a sure. She remembered the cold burn of fire in ice, the chilling breeze barely kept in check by the flames. She remembered.‘Come here Jean.’She knelt by the flames, carving the small piece of ochre oak she had been given for her birthday. She ignored him, as she had been trying to do, for the last few days. But every night, he had returned.‘Come here, Jean.’The voice was more purposeful now. But still, she ignored him. Her father always came back later with the carcass, his duty and right as chief,. More

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