In the Drowned Lands

The gift of inheriting the hunt.

This is it?" Cargill asked. He hefted the antique firearm in his soft city hands and looked incredulously at the lawyer. "You hauled me all the way up here to the sticks-a whole day away from New York-just to tell me that I've inherited a . . . a fowling piece?" "You are his only heir," the attorney said patiently for the tenth or twelfth time. "Your uncle was an eccentric man, set in his ways. As I explained in my letter, his will required your presence, in person, at the reading if you were to inherit.

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