Alex (In the Company of Snipers) by Irish Winters Page B

of his property to protect Kelsey, and of all things, the spirit of his dead wife walked with him. Alex smiled. Sara would’ve liked Kelsey.
    As he was about to turn back, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. About a hundred yards away in a stand of sun-deprived hemlocks, Durrant stood puffing on a cigarette, the same baseball cap as yesterday pulled low over his face. Alex crouched low and leveled his rangefinder for a better look. Durrant was deeper in the forest today, not safe by his truck. That could mean trouble.
    The blond-haired man appeared gaunt and nervous, a drug addict kind of nervous, like he needed a fix. The Winchester thirty-thirty hung off Durrant’s back along with an aluminum canteen. He wasn’t hunting though. It looked more like he was taking a smoke break, like he had all the time in the world.
    Alex studied him. Durrant didn’t look like any kind of a skilled hunter, but looks weren’t everything. He flicked his cigarette butt into the trees and stood scratching his nose. For a moment, Alex thought he might have been seen, but no. Durrant brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired high into a tree, chuckled like he had actually hit something, and reloaded. Needles and twigs fell to their death. He swung around and fired again, this time with his rifle at his hip, and once more without taking time to aim properly. More branches dropped dead. Some bark chips expired. Tired of shooting at nothing, he headed north, back toward the asphalt road.
    Alex watched him go. His assessment of Durrant’s hunting skills was once again confirmed. A fool with a gun, that’s all this guy was. He didn’t have a clue. That fact alone eased much of the concerns Alex felt. Durrant wasn’t so much a skilled predator as he was a bully. Alex knew the type. Durrant was the sneaky man who won his fights by a stab in the back instead of a direct one-on-one confrontation. He was the typical woman beater—a coward.
    When Alex got back to the cabin, the first thing he did was check on Kelsey. He didn’t step into the cabin though. No. He glanced in just enough to wave Whisper out. She was still asleep, which was a good thing. The more she rested, the faster she would get back on her feet. Besides, he didn’t need to see her all sleepy-eyed, her hair tousled first thing in the morning, not the way he was feeling. Absolutely not. That’s the last thing he needed, to see her yawn and stretch under the covers, or to hear the soft sounds she made as she woke. Hell, no.
    Instead, he leaned his rifle into the same porch corner as before and gathered a few branches for a fire. Campfire smoke always smelled good, and besides, he needed to keep his mind off the beautiful lady sleeping inside his cabin like she belonged there. He noted with chagrin last night would have been a whole lot different if he hadn’t gotten the bright idea to go down memory lane, or to help her wash her hair for that matter. That’s the problem with doing a good deed. It always came back to bite.
    His mind wandered. All that gorgeous hair of hers had felt like liquid comfort running through his fingers. It was the same feeling a man gets when a woman wraps her arms around him because he’s the absolute and only one she loves, the one she wants to build her world around. Everyone knows a man can’t build a world. Only a woman has that wondrous ability. Alex knew that much for sure. He had tried two times and failed.
    He lost himself staring at the flames. Kelsey had felt so fragile last night, as if she could’ve easily been broken or just as easily loved. He knew his thoughts were foolish. This woman had a world of grief. She was plenty broken. What would she be like when she got her memories back? For that matter, did she have any memories worth remembering? Did she smile very often? Did her musical voice giggle in real life? He doubted it. The weight of what he knew burdened him. She deserved so much more.
    Instantly another question