We kept machetes and rusted butcher’s knives embedded in the flesh of trees all through the hunting grounds. If you saw a pygmy rattlesnake or a wat...r moccasin you grabbed the nearest blade and decapitated the son-of-a-bitch. Carefully, though. The heads still bit for five minutes after they died, and even when they lay still clumsy handling could scratch a fang and send fire with a vicious efficiency through your system. I hate snakes. I really wanted to use the gun on warm things. I. " Everyone has fantasies, Marsha. Fantasy . . . is part of life, honey, don't shut it out. It can make life bearable until . . . " Carol's voice trailed away. Marsha looked at her strangely. What was her mother trying to tell her?"Until what, Mom?" Jokingly, she asked, "What's your fantasy?"The blush on her mother's face brought her up short. Oh, my God, she thought, Mom's had an affair. What else could her fantasy be?"Making love to another woman," Carol said in a small voice. Now it was. More

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