TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STIR"

 

Hello,

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write to word prompts. This week the word prompt is "stir". We are starting a new story today, "Sam's Decision", book 3 in my historical romance series, "The Catskill Saga". I hope you like it and see fit to leave a comment. When  you're finished, hop on over to read the other authors' Tuesday Tales creations. Find them HERE. 

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Fitch’s Eddy, End of October 1790

With his dog, Lucky, by his side and his musket tucked under his arm, Sam Chesney slipped quietly out of the Inn right before dawn. Legally, he owned the inn, because women couldn’t own property, but his grandmother ran it. She provided him with a comfortable bed and excellent meals. He trekked a short distance through tall grass toward the woods and the old oak tree where he’d join up with his brother-in-law, Benjamin Fitch.

They met there to hunt. The image of his grandmother’s roast duck got his mouth to watering and made his stomach growl. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a day-old biscuit and bit off a hunk. It would have to do for his breakfast until he returned.

Sam respected water fowl and their uncanny ability to hear him creep through the woods, no matter how soft his footfall. He enjoyed the challenge of sneaking up on them. If Sam got the jump on a small flock, he almost always bagged one or two.

Benjamin Fitch considered himself to be a skilled hunter. A friendly rivalry grew up between Sam and Ben. Sam crept along, feeling his way.

“Psst! Sam! Over here.”

In the slowly rising sun, Sam recognized the outline of his friend’s hat.

“Ben? That you?”

“Who else would it be?” Ben appeared from behind the tree, flanked by his brown-and-white dog, Patches.

Sam chuckled.

“Where’s Josiah?” Ben asked.

“Aw, he’s a tenderfoot,” Sam said, making a gesture.

Though Josiah Quint was Sam’s best friend, he didn’t cotton to hunting. Since he took his meals at the Inn, he didn’t need to outfox wild animals.

“Come on. You’re late."

“Don’t think no ducks are gonna complain, do you?” Sam asked.

Ben laughed.

“Shh!” Sam put his finger over his lips. Even the slightest stirring in the underbrush would alert their prey.

That's all for this week. Thank for stopping by.