by Jamie Begley
Their father narrowed his eyes on them as he gave a harsh bark of laughter. “You’re not helping that boy by protecting him. He has to learn what’s his, not get you two to do it for him. What’s he going to do when I’m not around to put food on the table? How’s he going to protect his ass when you two aren’t there to do it for him? Jesus, you think I’m mad at a few fucking chickens?” Shaking his head at them, he sneered as he walked around the front of the house to come up the steps to the porch where they were standing.
Dustin peeked between his brothers, warily watching their father stare grimly down at them.
“That might be a small cub that Dustin let get away, but it’ll come back when it’s older and hungry for the food it found here tonight. It knows it got away tonight, and it’ll do it again—that’s a fact.”
“Only one got away—”
Greer’s words were brought to a stop by the back of their father’s hand across his mouth.
“That’s one too many. You don’t leave one enemy standing. Not one! You hear me?”
“The whole mountain hears you.”
His eyes jerked toward the front door to see their mother standing in the doorway. Her unhappy features were highlighted by the shining light of the porchlight.
“The boys have school in the morning. If they are too tired go in the morning, then I’m not going to clean Mrs. Langley’s house for her,” she warned, shooing their sister back inside. “Rachel, get in your pajamas. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, Mama.” Rachel docilely went inside.
Their father threw a disgusted look at them before going to the door. As much as he wanted to give them an ass whooping, the fact that he wouldn’t have the money his wife would bring home after cleaning the large home was more important.
A shot rang out in the dark night, making everyone jump unexpectedly. Then there was a loud yelp from the dark woods, causing concern to fill their father’s face as he turned from the door.
“Duke! Here, boy!” Calling for the coon dog, his father ran down the steps in the direction the yelp had come from.
Dustin ran behind him, with Tate and Greer trying to keep up.
Dread filled Dustin’s heart when he realized they were heading toward the Hayes’ property that bordered the back of their property. Then anguish clogged his throat when he saw Greer bend down to the coon dog that they had grown up with. The lights surrounding the Hayes’ yard allowed him to see his brother shaking his head at their pa, letting him know they were too late.
“Son of a bitch! Why’d you shoot my dog?” their father shouted out to the man standing in his yard with his two sons standing next to him, all of them pointing rifles at them.
“I’ve told you to keep that mangy dog away from my house!” Frank Hayes’ formidable expression would have any man, other than their father, backing away. Their father was the only one in town who wasn’t afraid of the man, because he was just as mean-tempered.
“Duke was just chasing a damn fox!”
“How was I supposed to know that? From all the shooting going on at your place, I’m surprised one of your boys let it get away.” Frank’s sly grin mocked them, sending their father’s anger soaring. “Jessie already called the cops. You better get your ass off my land before the sheriff gets here and arrests you for trespassing.”
Dustin’s eyes went to the front window where the little girl was staring out at them.
“And take that dog with you. I don’t need it stinking up my front yard.”
“You’ve fucked with me for the last time, Hayes.”
Dustin shivered at his father’s words.
“Are you threatening me, Porter?”
“No, it’s a promise.”
The men stared at each other until Tate took their father’s arm, forcing him to lower the gun he was pointing back at Frank Hayes. “Let’s go, Pa. I see lights coming up the hill.” Tate nodded toward the dirt road that led up the side of the mountain.
Dustin released a shaky breath when their pa lowered his rifle.
“Another day, Hayes.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Frank spat a gob of tobacco into the dirt as Greer raised the limp dog into his arms.
Retreating in silence, Dustin walked somberly beside his family as they returned home through the dark woods. His father’s stony silence had him fighting back tears as he remembered the many times Duke had gone hunting with them at their sides.
When they got back in their own yard, their mother came outside, telling Rachel to stay inside before closing the door.
“What happened?” she asked, crying out when she saw the dog.
Ignoring their mother, his father’s voice stoically rang out in the cold night air. “Tate, go get me two trash bags.”
As Tate ran inside, their father walked into the barn without looking at the others, returning at the same time as Tate.
When Greer gently laid the dog down on the ground, Dustin tore his eyes away from Greer’s when his brother used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his tears away.
“Ma, take Tate and Greer inside. Boys, you better be in bed when I come in.”
“What about Dustin?”
“Woman, get your ass inside now!”
Dustin manfully shook his head at his mother when she would have taken a protective step toward him.
Her tear-filled gaze turned to Tate and Greer, who went to stand in front of him, trying to guard him from their father’s temper.
“Go.” Dustin made sure the wobble of fear was gone in his whisper.
“Boys, don’t make me tell you twice.”
“Go,” Dustin pleaded to them as their father took a step toward them.
Reluctantly, Tate and Greer went inside, where their mother slowly shut the door behind them.
Bracing himself for the whipping he knew he deserved, he flinched when his father dropped the shovel he was holding in front of him.
“Here.”
Dustin automatically reached out for the trash bags with his free hand.
“Give me your rifle. You won’t be getting it back until I know you’re ready to use it to protect your family.”
Giving the rifle to his father, he stared at the shovel at his feet. It was easier than meeting the incriminating glare that was drilling a hole through his soul.
“Use one of trash bags to put Duke in and bury him beside the hen house. Use the other for the dead chickens. Throw them in the trash. I’ll get rid of them in the morning. Get busy. And you better not be belly-aching in the morning when your ma wakes you up for school.”
“No, sir.” Dustin reached down for the shovel, expecting to feel the weight of his father’s hand at any second.
“Boy, quit looking at me that way. I’m not going to lay a hand on you. I don’t have to. Every time you look at that hen house, you’ll remember that Duke is buried there because you didn’t do what you should have done in the first place. Was not wanting to kill that fox worth Duke’s life?”
“No.”
“I told you never to leave your enemies standing. You failed tonight. That fox might be small, but it was taking food off our table, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That made it an enemy of ours. You left it standing, and what did it get you? You lost someone you loved. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but I reckon you learnt that tonight. If it had been a big bear, would you would have shot it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s the second lesson you learnt tonight—not all enemies are scary as fuck. Others come twisting their tails to get your attention. Either way, take them out before they take you out.”
Nodding, Dustin bent down next to the dog’s body, sliding the trash bag over and trying not to gag at the blank stare looking up at him.
His father started toward the steps.
“Pa?”
He stopped. “What?”
“If you don’t believe in leaving any enemies standing, why did you let the Hayes ge
t away with shooting Duke?”
An evil grin covered his father’s face. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Frank Hayes is going to pay for killing something that belongs to me. Don’t doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
Dustin didn’t stop his father from going inside a second time. After he tied Duke in the trash bag, he tried to lift him the way Greer had, but the animal was too heavy. So, using the tied top, he dragged the bag to the spot his father wanted Duke buried.
He lost track of time as he dug, making sure to dig deep enough that no other predators would try to dig him up. Sweat rolled off his forehead, mixing with the tears that were coming out his eyes. When he was done, he gathered the other trash bag, sick at the devastation the fox had accomplished.
The inside of the hen house was so dark that he couldn’t see. He was about to go out the gate so he could get a flashlight in the barn when he nearly pissed himself. Two shadows were stealthily coming around from the back of the house.
Taking off at a run, he started to yell when he was tackled from behind.
“Shut up!” Tate hissed. “You want to get me and Greer in trouble for sneaking out to help you?”
Dustin laid his face in the dirt in relief. “I thought it was the Hayeses.”
“If it was one of the Hayeses, you wouldn’t have made it out of the chicken coop.” Grunting, Tate lifted Dustin to his feet. “Let’s hurry before Pa comes out to check on you.”
Greer pulled a flashlight out of his back pocket, lighting the way back to the hen house. “Hold the bag and light while me and Tate pick up the chickens.”
Taking the flashlight and bag from Greer, he pointed the light downward, sickened again at what he saw.
“You two sneak back inside. I don’t need any help. Thanks for the light, but I can finish it myself.”
“Dustin, it’s not your fault—”
“It was,” Dustin cut Tate off. “You know it was. You and Greer would have shot that fox. Even Rachel or Ma would have. I didn’t. I won’t make that mistake again,” he vowed to his brothers.
“I know you won’t,” Tate said, patting him on his shoulder. “Let’s go, Greer.”
Greer went to the gate, opening it for Tate to go through.
After they left, Dustin cleaned the coop of the dead carcasses, then dragged the trash bag to the trash can. He had to turn the trash can on its side to shove the heavy bag inside. Then, using all his strength, he righted it again.
Feeling tired, he put the shovel and flashlight in the barn before going inside, where he softly closed the door.
He was startled to see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him.
“You okay?” she asked softly as he went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Going to the table, he stared down at the birthday cake they hadn’t had a chance to eat when Duke started barking.
“I’ll wrap it up, and we can have the rest of it tomorrow night.”
“Throw it away,” Dustin choked out.
“I’m not going to throw away a perfectly good cake. I’ll save it for your father and Greer. Nothing ever ruins their appetites.”
Dustin couldn’t help smiling at his mother, who was trying to make him feel better.
Reaching out, he took the candle off.
“What’re you going to do with that?” his mother asked as she got up to carry the cake to the counter.
He shrugged, using a dishcloth to wipe the frosting off the bottom of the number nine. “We didn’t have time to take any pictures, so I’ll save the candle.” His eyes watered at the memory of the party that had been interrupted.
“Baby …” His ma tried to reach out to hug him, but he sidestepped her, going into the dining room.
“Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, Dustin.”
He heard his mother crying as he went into the bathroom to shower. Taking his clothes off, he stepped into the shower, staying in there until the water ran cold. Then he got out and put on the pajamas his mother had lain out for him.
Quietly, he went into the bedroom he shared with Greer and Tate. Without turning the light on, he made his way to the bunk beds that were placed against the wall. Getting under the covers, he stared up at the bunk over his.
The candle still in the palm of his hand felt like it was burning a hole through it, even though the flame had been extinguished hours ago.
“You okay?”
Tate’s whispered question had him turning his head on the thin pillow toward the opposite side of the room. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
“No need to get snotty, bro. I told Pa that he built that hen house too close to the woods.” Greer’s head came over the bunk, looking down at him. “How many chickens did he get?”
“Two.”
“Could have been worse.” At that matter-of fact-statement, Greer’s head disappeared.
“Duke’s dead. How could it be worse?” Dustin put an arm over his face to keep from crying.
“You could have shot your foot off,” Greer joked.
“Or you could have shot Duke,” Tate said. “The way he was jumping around the coop, it was hard to get a clear shot. Besides, you didn’t have time to practice with your new rifle. Get some sleep. No sense in crying over something that you can’t change.”
Dustin rolled to his side as the bedroom went silent, except for the even breathing coming from his brothers, who he knew had fallen asleep.
He was still awake when he heard his mother wake up in the morning to fix breakfast. He got up before she could knock on the bedroom door to tell them to get ready for school.
The school day felt never-ending. On the way home, he ignored his friends on the bus, doing his homework as the they tried to talk to him.
Getting off as soon as the bus stopped, he walked up the rutted road to his house.
His mom gave him a curious look when he went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It took only a few seconds to fall asleep, still wearing his shoes on the bed he had made before going to school.
The smell of his mother cooking dinner woke him up. Changing his red shirt for a black, long-sleeved one, he reached for the hunting bow and arrows that used to belong to Tate. Tate had given them to him when he had gotten a new one two Christmases ago. Greer hadn’t wanted them, preferring the rifle that hung beside the front door under Tate’s and Pa’s.
The sound of his family settling down at the dinner table spurred him out his room.
“Dinner’s ready.” His mother placed a plate down at the spot he always ate as he walked by the dining table.
“I’m not hungry.” Dustin didn’t look at his father as he went out the door.
Walking down the steps, he walked toward the chicken coop. It was already getting dark. Studying the surrounding trees, he picked one that would give him the best view. Then he expertly shimmied up the tree to a branch that was almost over the coop. Supporting his back against the tree trunk, he settled back and waited.
Every time he almost nodded off, he forced himself awake, remembering the freshly dug grave that was too dark to see.
He stayed unmoving on the branch, despite his mother calling to come inside that it was bedtime. Finally, his pa hushed her up, telling her to leave him alone.
He stayed there until the sun came up in the morning. Then he got ready for school.
He lagged behind Tate, Greer, and Rachel as they walked down the dirt road to the main road where the school bus would stop.
“Dustin.”
Looking to the side, he saw Jessie climb out from behind a bush as his brothers and sister turned the corner.
His jaw tautened. “Get away.”
“I’m sorry about your dog. Ma and Holt tried to stop him.”
“Get away. What don’t you get? You called the sheriff on my family!”
“No, I didn’t! It was Ma! She didn’t want anyone hurt.”
“Your pa i
s a mean old man. He didn’t have to shoot our dog. He’s lucky my pa didn’t shoot him.”
“I know.”
“I gotta get to the bus.”
“I waited for you yesterday but figured you were too upset to meet me. We can meet at our tree this afternoon after school? We can talk?” she said questioningly.
Ignoring the hopeful look on Jessie’s face, he tugged off the bracelet on his wrist and threw it in the dirt at her feet. “We aren’t friends anymore! If I see you on our property again, I’ll tell Pa, and he’ll call yours.”
“Please, Dustin, don’t be mad at me. You’re the only friend I have …,” she pleaded.
Looking away from her miserable expression, he firmed his resolve. “I’m not your friend! You’re a Hayes, and that makes you an enemy of mine.” Dustin angrily kicked the bracelet toward her, then took off running when he heard the squeal of the school bus’s brakes stopping.
The driver was about to close the door when he came around the corner, barely making it in time.
He sat down next to Greer.
“If Pa catches you talking to that girl, he’ll beat the hell out of you.”
“I ain’t going to talk to her anymore.”
Greer cocked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said you were going to marry her when you grew up.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t be mad at me. You’re the one that said it.” Greer huffily turned to stare out the window, leaving Dustin to wish the long school day ahead was already over. He just wanted to get home and take a nap before it got dark.
When he did get home, his father stopped him from taking the nap, telling him as soon as he walked in the door that Greer and Tate weren’t going to pull the slack on doing his chores.
That night, he had to loop one of Pa’s belts that he had sneaked out around his waist to keep from falling from the branch in case he accidentally nodded off.
He was relieved when, three days later, he could finally sleep during the weekend.
On his ninth night in the tree, his father came out after dinner to stand under it. Dustin stared down at his father as the man rolled a joint and lit it.