sees mostly. But inside I feel more than anyone knows. And Shaun has a sinkhole of grief inside. He makes me know how black the world can be.
So I pull up, and there are no lights. I hope that means he's out like a light. The door is partly open. I push in some with my shoulder. "Shaun?" I say.
There is a breeze, but it's eerie now and just shadows in the small room in the small house. It's a mess. Drawers pulled out, everything on the floor.
I see Shaun's boots in the doorway that leads to a small room where he slept with his wife…where she died. They died.
I hurry there, and he is on his back, and he looks dead. There is blood coming out of his head somewhere, and I know how the head bleeds, it's endless sometimes. "Shaun," I say, and I'm shaking him.
I pull on his arm and get him to sit, and he groans. I see two empty bottles along the wall where they've rolled because this floor has a pitch. "Shaun," I say.
He's moaning and not making sense. I look around, and this is a crime. I lay him back down and hurry to the wagon for my shotgun. I look around and the leaves in the pin-oaks rustle in the wind. There are night sounds and a donkey brays off to the south.
I get back inside and lean my gun against the wall. It takes forever to get him into the back of the wagon. He barely helps and stumbles and collapses on me. I drop him twice. I have a rag from in the house under his head to catch the blood.
The blow is on the side of his head like he got waylaid.
I get my gun, and I'm on the seat quick enough. I am armed and ready, and Dad has always told me to save myself if it comes to it. He says you have to get that in your mind before you ever need it.
So that ride home is twice as long as the one that came before. I pull the wagon close to the house, and I am calling for Dad. They pour out then, my parents and my brothers and sisters and last even my Granma.
They get Shaun inside so Mom can care for him and Dad goes for the sheriff while me and my brothers stand guard.
Joseph at the road where he will fire a warning shot if he sees anything, Ebbie at the house and me walking a circle around our place. This is how our father taught us.
All the tiredness has left me now.
I am ready to fight.
Chapter 23
And still, we milk. Birth or death, war or tornado, if there's a cow with a full udder we're on our knees trying to grab its teats.
Even Shaun. His head is stitched and bandaged, and he works at the stanchion behind me.
The sheriff came out last night and went over the tenant house with Dad. What little wares Shaun had were ransacked and some things were taken, things of no value but sentiment since his wife was gone.
"God hates me," Shaun said this morning after Dad said Grace over breakfast. Then nothing else.
I hope he doesn't talk religion with Sobe. The two are in need of a miracle.
Last night, Sobe did not ride along with her father. She stayed with the neighbor, the widow Olmstead. She is not known for kindness, that widow, but Sobe is allowed to sit in her parlor when Sheriff gets called away. I know because I asked the sheriff. "Where is Sobe?" I said boldly for the events loosened me.
He eyed me. Like he was considering me or something.
"Why do you ask?" he said.
"Just wondering…she…she might not like being alone."
"So I should bring her along when I'm called out?"
Well, I didn't know. I was just asking.
"You pretty good with that shotgun?" he said.
I'm a country boy. We're all good with our shotguns.
"Yes, Sir."
He nodded and started to pass me by, but he stopped and said, "She stays with the widow next door. I don't bring her around trouble, and she knows not to ask until it's over."
"Oh," I said.
I pictured her in her nightclothes, sleepy-eyed in the widow's parlor. And all because Shaun got clocked and robbed.
Whoever it was, the bandit is long gone, probably hitched a ride on the train by now, maybe crossed the river. He did if he's smart.
So this morning at breakfast Dad
So I pull up, and there are no lights. I hope that means he's out like a light. The door is partly open. I push in some with my shoulder. "Shaun?" I say.
There is a breeze, but it's eerie now and just shadows in the small room in the small house. It's a mess. Drawers pulled out, everything on the floor.
I see Shaun's boots in the doorway that leads to a small room where he slept with his wife…where she died. They died.
I hurry there, and he is on his back, and he looks dead. There is blood coming out of his head somewhere, and I know how the head bleeds, it's endless sometimes. "Shaun," I say, and I'm shaking him.
I pull on his arm and get him to sit, and he groans. I see two empty bottles along the wall where they've rolled because this floor has a pitch. "Shaun," I say.
He's moaning and not making sense. I look around, and this is a crime. I lay him back down and hurry to the wagon for my shotgun. I look around and the leaves in the pin-oaks rustle in the wind. There are night sounds and a donkey brays off to the south.
I get back inside and lean my gun against the wall. It takes forever to get him into the back of the wagon. He barely helps and stumbles and collapses on me. I drop him twice. I have a rag from in the house under his head to catch the blood.
The blow is on the side of his head like he got waylaid.
I get my gun, and I'm on the seat quick enough. I am armed and ready, and Dad has always told me to save myself if it comes to it. He says you have to get that in your mind before you ever need it.
So that ride home is twice as long as the one that came before. I pull the wagon close to the house, and I am calling for Dad. They pour out then, my parents and my brothers and sisters and last even my Granma.
They get Shaun inside so Mom can care for him and Dad goes for the sheriff while me and my brothers stand guard.
Joseph at the road where he will fire a warning shot if he sees anything, Ebbie at the house and me walking a circle around our place. This is how our father taught us.
All the tiredness has left me now.
I am ready to fight.
Chapter 23
And still, we milk. Birth or death, war or tornado, if there's a cow with a full udder we're on our knees trying to grab its teats.
Even Shaun. His head is stitched and bandaged, and he works at the stanchion behind me.
The sheriff came out last night and went over the tenant house with Dad. What little wares Shaun had were ransacked and some things were taken, things of no value but sentiment since his wife was gone.
"God hates me," Shaun said this morning after Dad said Grace over breakfast. Then nothing else.
I hope he doesn't talk religion with Sobe. The two are in need of a miracle.
Last night, Sobe did not ride along with her father. She stayed with the neighbor, the widow Olmstead. She is not known for kindness, that widow, but Sobe is allowed to sit in her parlor when Sheriff gets called away. I know because I asked the sheriff. "Where is Sobe?" I said boldly for the events loosened me.
He eyed me. Like he was considering me or something.
"Why do you ask?" he said.
"Just wondering…she…she might not like being alone."
"So I should bring her along when I'm called out?"
Well, I didn't know. I was just asking.
"You pretty good with that shotgun?" he said.
I'm a country boy. We're all good with our shotguns.
"Yes, Sir."
He nodded and started to pass me by, but he stopped and said, "She stays with the widow next door. I don't bring her around trouble, and she knows not to ask until it's over."
"Oh," I said.
I pictured her in her nightclothes, sleepy-eyed in the widow's parlor. And all because Shaun got clocked and robbed.
Whoever it was, the bandit is long gone, probably hitched a ride on the train by now, maybe crossed the river. He did if he's smart.
So this morning at breakfast Dad
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