As they drove back to the lodge, Deakins insisted that Steve join him for a post-hunt drink. Steve wanted to find Kayla to report on his talk with Deakins, but the soldier was having nothing of that. "It's tradition," Deakins said as they approached the lodge in a four-wheel-drive. On the flatbed behind them was a buck that Deakins had shot in the late-morning. As they reached the lodge, the driver reported that Deakins had been the only successful hunter that day.

"So that gives you bragging rights," Steve said.

Deakins shrugged. "No big deal. Jethro and Jim Bob may be a mite jealous, but they've got a few more days here."

As they got off the vehicle, Deakins gave the driver instructions about processing the deer. Then he turned to Steve. "C'mon, Jo- I mean Daniels. I'm sure ol' Bubba has the beer flowin' right now."

"Or Aunt Patty has a bottle of Jack to share," Steve muttered.

Deakins laughed. "Y'all seems to have us figured out. C'mon. I'm sure the game's on."

"The game?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he started up the steps.

"Ah . . . ya don't have us figured out completely. Georgia football - the Deakins family religion. They might say they're all Baptists, but if'n the Dawgs were playin' on Sunday, none of 'em would be in church."

Entering the lodge, they were greeted by the sound of cheers from the back of the building. Steve followed Deakins down the back hallway to the room where the family had eaten dinner the night before. Today, it was set up with a bunch of chairs surrounding a television.

Spotting them, Jethro leaned over from his chair, pulled two cans of Pabst out of an ice-filled bucket, and tossed them to Deakins and Steve. Once they were seated, Jethro quickly filled them in on the score - Georgia was beating Ole Miss - and Bubba began quizzing Deakins about the hunt. After a bit of ribbing from Deakins over the fact that the other hunters had bagged nothing, they all got shushed by Aunt Patty.

"Cut down that racket, you boys," she said. "Don't ya see the game's on."

Everyone settled back to watch and, a few minutes later, Steve felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see Kayla leaning over the back of his chair. "Hey, baby."

"Hey, yourself," she said, coming around and taking a seat on his lap and giving him a kiss. "How was your morning?"

There was something in the way she asked that made Steve wonder what had happened while he was gone, but he knew better than to ask right now. "It was fine. Roy got himself a deer."

"That's great." Kayla reached down, took the can of beer from his hand, and sipped it. She suppressed a grimace, but Steve didn't miss the "yech" that escaped. Whispering, so only Steve could hear, she said, "I don't think I've had a Pabst since high school. And that was because it was the cheapest beer we could find. I see it hasn't improved with age."

"Don't knock free beer, Sweetness," Steve whispered back. "Let's just enjoy the game." He deliberately ignored her skeptical look.

Jethro did not. "You ain't a fan, Miss Kay?"

Kayla acted offended, but Steve knew she was kidding. "Now why would you assume that?" she said in mock outrage. "I'll have you know that I can diagram a hell of a slant, halfback pass out of an I-formation not to mention I can debate the finer points of a veer versus a wishbone option."

Jethro's beer bottle wavered in his hand and Steve feared it was about to drop.

"Close that mouth of yours, Jethro," Aunt Patty snapped. "You'll start catching flies."

Kayla chuckled. "My older sister wasn't much of a fan, so my brothers used to have me quiz them on their playbooks."

"So. . . ." Jethro seemed to recover the power of speech. "So, uh, what college do you back? I mean, don't everyone have a team?"

She smiled. "My college didn't have a football team, but I'm Catholic and from the Midwest. I'd probably have been kicked out of the house if I didn't root for Notre Dame."

"Damn Papists," muttered Aunt Patty in a voice loud enough for half the room to hear. It earned another collective eye roll.

Jethro said, "Don't mind her." He grinned. "They showed a lot of your games last year. That Rocket Ismail was a crazy player."

Kayla's smile faltered. "I . . . I didn't really get to watch much last year. . . . There was a lot of . . . stuff going on. . . ."

Steve understood what Kayla was not saying. With his "death" and then dealing with the aftermath, football was probably not high on Kayla's list of activities that year.

It seemed that Kayla's tone told Jethro not to press, so he turned his attention to Steve. "And what about you Bill? You also a Domer fan?"

"Nah, not really." Steve had lost track of sports when he joined the Merchant Marines. "I grew up in L.A., so I grew up watching USC. My best buddy was a pretty big fan; we used to sneak into the Coliseum to watch them play."

Bubba laughed. "And here I thought Notre Dame and USC fans hated each other. So how'd you two get together?"

Almost in unison, Kayla and Steve answered, "Fate," then broke up laughing. Steve added, "And we don't talk football much."

"Actually," Kayla said. "We don't because I'd tease him mercilessly about how we've beaten his team for the past eight years in a row."

Steve made a point of grimacing, "Thanks, Sweetness. Did you have to rub it in?"

"Can't help myself." Kayla chuckled. "But I love you anyway," she added, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Well . . . we'll let you stay," Jethro said, laughing. "Hell, we let Cousin Wyatt come, and he roots for Miami."

From her leather seat, Aunt Patty harrumphed. "Always knew there was sumpthin' funny 'bout that one."

A couple of people laughed at that, but their laughs died as everyone's attention jumped back to the game. On screen, the Georgia QB launched a long pass and a receiver made a diving, one-handed catch.

"Damn! Would ya look at that?" Deakins said, as everyone cheered. Steve realized for the first time that Deakins' wife and children had joined them and his son was now sitting in his lap, cheering along. Deakins looked down at his son proudly and ruffled the boy's light blond hair. Lily sat beside Deakins with their daughter next to her. As Steve looked on, Roy leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek, causing her to break out in a big smile.

Watching them together, Steve thought about something Shane had said. Steve had asked why Shane was putting Deakins' family above his own, and Shane had insisted he wasn't - it was just that Deakins' family was important too. Seeing the family in person, Steve understood. He could no more ask Deakins to give up his family anymore than he would give up his own.

"What are you thinking about?" Kayla whispered in his ear.

He looked up at her, gave her a crooked smile, and sighed. "How we're back at square one."

Kayla seemed to understand, but she did not seem upset. Instead, she offered him an encouraging smile. "I'm sure you'll find another way."

Steve would have to. He just did not know how he could. His plan had seemed so simple. Talk to Deakins. Make him see reason. Remind him of how Shane had saved his life. Of course, Deakins would agree to testify.

When Steve was in Salem, it all sounded so easy.

The room erupted in another round of cheers as the Georgia running back broke through a tackle and raced into the endzone. The men began high-fiving.

"I swear that Hearst kid's gonna win the Heisman before he's done," said Bubba, as the TV showed replay after replay of the touchdown. "Best dang back the Dawg's have had since ol' Herschel Walker."

In Deakins' lap, the little boy announced, "When I grow up, I'm gonna break all them records. Gonna be me a Dawg."

"Are you now?" Steve asked. He was amused by such a pronouncement from a boy who was probably only about three or four.

The boy nodded seriously. "Yep. And then I'm gonna be a soldier like my daddy. He says football's jes like bein' a soldier. Ain't that right, Daddy?"

Deakins looked down at his son proudly. "That's right, Darrell. And why's that?"

"It's 'cause yore like brothers, an' ya have ta work together and ya always got your brother's back." The boy finished and looked at his dad for approval. Steve suspected that the boy's little speech had been instilled in him ever since he could talk.

Deakins' eyes met Steve's. Then the man looked away, breaking eye contact. He was trying to cover up the flush rising in his cheeks.

He has nothing to be sorry for, Steve thought.

"Your daddy's right," Steve said to the boy. "There's nothing more important than having your buddy's back. And when you're on a team, you've got to work together to find a way to win - even when your first plan of attack doesn't work." He turned his attention to Deakins, who was now looking up again. "Ain't that right, Roy?"