Wounded Animals

“Sun’s coming up. Go on, get to it.”

“Please… I don’t wanna.”

“If I gotta call yer big brothers out here, they’ve got chores enough as it is. Littl’ Asher’s comin’ up soft as you anyhow. He don’t need to see this.”

“But pa—”

“But pa me nothin’. Go on, Ezra, or you’ll be sleepin’ in the cellar. Take the rifle.”

“It’s still breathing! Look, it’s blinking! Maybe we can take it to the barn and—”

“Dog-gone it, you see its insides leaking’ out? This calf’s done for. Now put it outta its misery like a proper man. Up against the skull. Let’s move.”

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“Why we still checkin’ traps?

“Our Bessie gored the wolf that mutilated her young’un. Rest of em’ greedy bitches’ll be back.”

“Ma wasn’t that way.”

“Ma was an angel. Too pure for this world. But she could hold a rifle as good as any man. Use yer head, boy. A wolf hide’ll fetch a handful of silver. You remember where we set the trap?”

“Under that Cottonwood.”

“That’s right. See any droppings? Push that brush aside with the rifle. Butt end first. Careful, don’t trigger it.”

“Jesus! Nearly took my leg off!”

“Better yer leg than my gun. Quit shakin’. Got two more.”

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“Rest of em’ wolves went hungry last night after gettin’ scared off. Our strawberry patch’s bound to have lured one in.”

“I hear the stream!”

“Quiet, Ezra! Don’t spook it!”

“Look—a basket. Berries all over the ground. Something’s moving. Pa! There’s a girl caught in the trap!”

“Shh. She’s got Sioux clothes on. More could be nearby. She’s either dead or ain’t heard us. Crouch low—behind the bushes. Easy now. Give er’ a poke.”

“She’s alive! Oh God, her ankle bone’s showing! Hello? Hello? We’re gonna get you loose!”

“Shut the hell up, boy! Can’t you see she ain’t right! Look at er’—all mouthin’ words, no sound comin’ out!”

“What do we do? You’ve gotta open the trap!”

“Hold on a minute, son—we got ourselves an opportunity here.”

“Whaddya’ mean? She’s only a kid!”

“She’s oldern’ you by the looks of it. Splint that foot and she’ll do just fine on the farm. Fetch me a stick—we gotta hold the spring.”

“I won’t do it.”

“The hell’s gotten into you? You clammin’ up again? Point that rifle away from me.”

“You can’t take her! She don’t belong to us.”

“She don’t belong to no one! Look—deaf dumb n’ maimed! Hand over that gun or yer ass’ll be black and blue ‘til Christmas!”

“No—give it back! Unhhh—Oh God—No, no no no—”

“Ezra… wha—what have you done?”

“I didn’t mean it, Pa! Papa?”

“I can’t… I can’t feel—”

“Please don’t leave me. Ma-ma!”

“You’re no son of—unghhh… grehhh…ahh.”

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“I’m sorry, Pa. I failed you… you… You! Cursed thing! This’d never’of happened if you hadn’t trespassed! You on Whitmore land! I oughtta put you down like that calf. Ahh-garnnn—dammit I can’t do it! Lord have mercy on my soul! You—take the gun. It’s empty. Your kin or mine find you with it, it don’t matter. You’re half dead already. I’m goin’—don’t say a word.”