Brother's Keeper

“Pa said don’t go over that ridge, Jed, you know that!” My little brother, Eli shouted trailing behind me as I grabbed the rifle and started for the steep snow-covered hill on the northern stretch of our land.

“It could be anything!” he tried again. “You and Pa think it’s a fox, but it could be anything – a coyote, a small bear, a…”

Adults seem to think if you’re a ten-years-old, 3 years shouldn’t make much of a difference with who you fellowship with, but 3 years is quite a divide to cross. I reminded myself that the good book says, “Love thy brother”.

“…a… wolf!” Eli was afraid of wolves, even crying at night when they howled. Their howl so loud it felt like they were right outside the window.

“I’ll be fine.” I assured him putting one arm around him while the other still clenched my rifle.

Pa let the outer northern ridge of our land be taken back by the earth. Given strict orders to not go there, we had adhered. Or at least, I had around Eli. I had gone into the thick woods with a few friends on the way home from school, but never deep into those woods. Maybe it was Pa’s ominous warning or maybe it was just something unsettling. Out there deep in those woods, something lurked. I felt it.

“Please, at least wait until the sun is full above the horizon. It’s not even up yet!”

“It’s up enough. We can see can’t we? Besides if I wait, it’ll be gone.”

“You know those animals get crazy when they’re hungry. You know they come closer. They don’t care when they’re hungry, Jed. Please.” Eli started to sob quietly.

Any other day, Pa would’ve been out here instead of me; he always liked getting the eggs for breakfast every morning from our coop. My father insisted on being out on the land but kept mostly indoors during the worst of these months. Winter had brought a chill that kept him stranded next to the fire in that old chair with a bad cough and fever. This morning, the cough that had been progressively getting worse seemed to go into his lungs. Ma said if it wasn’t better by noon, she’d send Eli and I into town to fetch the doctor.

“Look.” I pointed at the chicken coop. My arm still around Eli, I guided him toward the hole in the wire mesh that had been chewed and clawed, prying itself away from the wood. I leaned down and pointed at the blood staining the white pure snow. “That’s the third time he’s gotten in.”

“Look!” I pointed into the coop and Eli stuck his head closer around the small wooden wall to see the chickens hunkered in the corner, afraid and clucking quietly, fearfully to themselves.

Eli’s face grew red as jagged puffs of air came out of him like a locomotive. He closed his eyes and a tear pressed free running down his cold cheeks. I pointed at the tracks guiding him a few steps up the ridge even though he resisted as I pointed at the droplets of blood. Blood for blood, I had thought but didn’t dare say as I was worried it would send him spiraling.

“Grab some of the eggs for Ma. She’ll be in the kitchen soon. I’ll be quick.” When he stared at me, I nodded. My voice deepened like a man’s, “Go on inside. I’ll be quick.”

I left him there.

Winter seemed to bring nothing but misery as we hunkered down through the worst of it, burying ourselves under animal hides. The few hours during daylight were precious as we strove to do what we could to make the best with what we had. Even though the fire never warmed the house enough and the food was always seemed cold from plate to mouth. We took what pleasures in the day that we could.

As I rose above the ridge, the barn owl that had hunkered down two summers ago up in the loft, flew overhead. I ducked, surprised, a little on edge expecting it to come at me. I smiled at it seeing its white wings speckled with brown, stretch out as it soared ahead of me.

Grandmother had said the owl was bad luck. “It’s an omen owl.” She had said the same summer it came and hunkered down. She died that fall and if it hadn’t been for the owl hiding away in that loft only making noises at night, Pa might have listened to her after all and shot the thing. But at the time he gave an excuse, like he usually did whenever he was tasked with something he didn’t want to do.

I thought of that excuse as I looked out into a small stretch of land before the thick forest woods covered in a fresh blanket of white snow. I didn’t feel the cold until a wind picked up on that ridge and aggressively reminded me of winter’s cruelty.

At the far tree, that old owl perched and watched me. I stared at it before looking down to see the tracks of the animal, blood droplets leading right into the woods. I hesitated and feared looking back at my brother reminding myself that Lot’s wife had looked back and turned into salt. I imagined salt drifting away in the wind like snow flurries. I tightened my grip on the rifle, holding it now with two hands as I stepped forward into the woods.

The woods were quiet at first, except for the crunching sound of my hurried steps. Time was essential. I had to move quickly. I could not hesitate. I envisioned myself coming home with the fox and Ma making a good fox stew. Pa’s health restored. I had saved the day.

My hands shook. My fingers already turning paler as I heard a branch crack. Something moved quickly but was gone as soon as I looked. These woods weren’t right. I spun the rifle in its direction. Behind me, that wasn’t right. Turning back, I saw the blood droplets pooling in the snow, I knew I must make haste. Hurrying forward, my feet sunk a little deeper in the snow with each step.

When I heard the garbled clucking of the chicken’s death throes, I hurried. Knowing the chicken was too far gone, but maybe I could come back with both. As I hurried. I heard the screeching cry of the owl. Screaming into the day as it had at night. Many nights that strained single note as it sang out, chilled me further down into my bones.

The fox, chicken in its mouth, bit down again and again as if trying to swallow the bird whole. I pointed the gun as the owl let out what sounded like another strangled cry. My heart raced as I felt something like guilt brush my soul. I tried to aim. I thought of coming home victorious fox in hand, but something wasn’t right.

Eli’s trembling voice warned me. The cry of the owl at night, like a whisper echoing out into the night and those same nights, the howling of the wolves. The wolves who came out of the forest. So loud I had thought they just be right outside the window. The wolves who came hungry and maybe just maybe staring up at some old barn owl who….

I turned, leaving the fox with its horrible blood-stained fur and trudged back toward the edge of the woods. Dashing my dreams of heroism, I heard Cain’s angry question to God. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” I heard the Reverend Powell proclaim with closed fist upon the pulpit the angry and vicious single word that broke me to my core. “Yes!”

I made it out of the woods and staggered feeling the cold snow deepen each step as I noticed the paw prints that had come fresh across my own tracks. I fired the rifle into the air out of desperation as my feet buried deeper into the snow.

I saw the wolves, two of them, probably more nearby. Maybe they had been spooked when I fired the rifle into the air, I let out a cry. No one looked at me. No one saw me. I tried to aim, but the cold had my hands shaking. Eli backed against the fence of the pen wherein we would let the pigs in during the day.

“Climb in. Climb in. Climb in.” I whispered but couldn’t shout.

I pulled the trigger and missed the first wolf completely blowing a small hole into the side of the chicken coop and hearing them caw and cluck in exasperation. Already they were frightened, and I foolishly thought of the lack of eggs we would have for the week because they were too afraid to lay.

I tried to aim again. I shook. The cold was taking me over. I saw that first wolf crouch down and to my ever-ending shame, I did what came so easily to me. Without any thought, without any hesitation, instinct driving my aim. I pointed the rifle at my brother and shot.

I felt the tears freeze on my cheeks as I heard the wolf yelp out as it fell forward onto my brother. I pointed the rifle at the second wolf, the barrel bouncing as I ran down the ridge and shot wildly at it. Scaring it enough to run away.

The wolf wasn’t moving but neither was Eli when I got there. Both lay in a pile next to the fence. I pointed the gun. Breathing heavily, creating little puffs of mist as I tried to control every emotion surging out. I nudged the wolf once with the barrel before dropping the rifle and pulling the empty carcass off my brother.

Eli’s eyes stared open into the sky above. I let out a horrid sob and fell to my knees when he turned his head to me.

“Jed?” He asked. But I couldn’t hear. He held me as I sobbed thinking I had lost him.

As I calmed down, I inspected him. He grinned showing the part of his coat that had been seared as the bullet went through the wolf nearly missing him. We got to our feet, my arm around him again. I let out a laugh of shock and joy. Not wanting to ever let go of him, he pointed at the chicken coop.

“You shot the coop. Pa isn’t gunna….”

Punching him in the stomach, he winced and fell to his knees. I grabbed him by the coat, feeling the frayed edge that the bullet had seared and pulled him up to his feet.

“Let’s get inside. I almost shot that fox but I had to come back and rescue your sorry self.”