Open Season by C. J. Box Page A

getting.”
    â€œHoney, I’m sorry,” Joe said. “I just need sleep.”
    â€œSo sleep.”
    â€œI will, if you’ll get me that bottle of pills from the counter.”
    Marybeth brought him a glass of water and the bottle of painkillers and returned to the sink. She had stripped to her bra and panties to scrub her face. Joe thought she looked good standing there. She stood on her toes to get her face closer to the mirror, and he admired her legs. Marybeth was not extremely thin, but she was firm and still looked athletic. The only place she looked pregnant was her belly. Marybeth carried her babies high and straight out as if she were already proud of them. She looked perfect as far as Joe was concerned. She could be fun in bed, and Joe suddenly wanted her there.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” she asked, looking at him from the mirror.
    â€œI’m thinking you look pretty good.”
    â€œAnd . . .” Marybeth said, “aren’t you too tired?”
    â€œAnd I want you.”
    Marybeth stopped scrubbing and turned toward him. “Honey ...” she said, almost pleading and gesturing toward the closed bedroom door.
    â€œShe can’t hear us,” Joe replied dryly. “I’ll make a point not to shout.”
    Marybeth glared at him. “It’s not that. You know I don’t like to do anything when my mother is in the house.”
    Joe knew. They had had this discussion before, many times. But he continued, “Do you think she thinks the kids were conceived by divine intervention?”
    â€œNo,” Marybeth said, “but I’m just not comfortable when I know she’s in the house, under the same roof. If I’m not comfortable, how fun can it be?”
    Joe conceded the point, as he had conceded the point before.
    â€œOkay,” he said, covering up. “No hard feelings.”
    â€œGood,” she said. “I’m glad you understand. I know it’s irrational, but it’s the case here.”
    When she came to bed, he was still awake.
    â€œDo you want to know who came in and saw me last night in the hospital?” Joe asked as she snuggled into him.
    â€œWacey.”
    â€œWell, him, too,” Joe said. “But after Wacey, Vern Dunnegan came to call.”
    He felt her stiffen.
    â€œI really hate hospitals,” Joe said.
    â€œI know you do. What did Vern have to say?”
    â€œHe just wished us well and said he thought I had done a good job up there in that camp with Wacey. He said he was proud of his two boys.”
    â€œYou’re my boy, not Vern’s,” Marybeth said. Then she cautioned him. “Be careful with that man. I don’t trust him. I never have.”
    Joe chuckled at that. The pills were beginning to work. He felt numbing waves slowly wash over him. “He just stayed for a minute, but he said he wanted to meet with me later this week. He said he wanted to talk about my future.”
    â€œWhat did he mean?” Marybeth asked haltingly.
    â€œHe kind of offered me a job with InterWest Resources,” Joe said. “For a lot more money.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” Marybeth said, sitting up and turning to him.
    â€œI’m not,” Joe said, patting her.
    â€œWell, my goodness, Joe,” she said. “My goodness.”

PART THREE
    Lists
    (c) (1) The Secretary of the Interior shall publish in the Federal Register [, and from time to time he may by regulation revise,] a list of all species determined by him or the Secretary of Commerce to be threatened species and a list of all species determined by him or the Secretary of Commerce to be an endangered species. Each list shall refer to the species contained therein by scientific and common name or names, if any, specify in respect to such species over what portion of its range it is endangered or threatened, and specify any critical habitat within such range. The Secretary shall from time to time