Bent Road - Lori Roy [31]
“Know what else they say?” Ian says, crawling forward a few inches on his hips and elbows. The boot with the thick heel drags behind.
Daniel shakes his head. “Got mud stuck in your shoes,” he says, pointing at the tread on the bottom of Ian’s boots. Ida Bucher will know he wore them in the field. She’ll whip him because money doesn’t grow on trees and neither do black boots with extra-thick heels. “You’ll need a nail to dig that out.”
“They say your Uncle Ray went crazy from drinking.”
Daniel stands and looks back at his house. Though he can’t see the driveway, he knows Father Flannery has parked his black car there. He will have gone inside and is probably sitting at the kitchen table. Mama will take his coat and serve him a piece of the apple pie that Aunt Ruth made after breakfast. Dad will drink a cup of coffee, cream and two sugars.
“He didn’t even get his crop planted.” Ian’s head pops up, his legs go rigid and he fires.
Daniel stumbles backward, crushing a few feet of the new winter wheat and presses his hands over his ears. Beside him, Ian lifts up on his knees and watches his target. Wondering who or what may have heard them, Daniel scans the horizon.
“Got him,” Ian says, flipping the safety and shifting the gun to the other side so he can pass it off to Daniel. “Now be real quiet. And get ready.”
Keeping low to the ground where he’ll stay out of sight, Daniel scoots toward Ian again and they switch places.
“Come on,” Ian says, pulling back the bolt action. An empty casing pops out and flies over his left shoulder and after a new bullet has dropped into place, he pushes the rifle at Daniel. “Hurry up or you’ll miss them.”
“Who didn’t plant his crop?”
“Your Uncle Ray,” Ian says, flipping off the safety and pressing Daniel’s right hand over the stock of the gun. “A lot of nice land going to waste. That’s what Dad says. My brother says Ray got sick from all the drinking and the sheriff took him to Clark City. Says it’s been coming for years. Says that’s where people go to dry out.”
“Dry out?” Daniel asks. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looks down the barrel of the gun and tries to balance it. The wooden stock is cold on his bare hands and against his cheek.
“Dry out. You know. Stop drinking. Your Uncle Ray is a drunk. Everyone says so. Says your Aunt Ruth is a married woman and belongs with her husband. Says he wouldn’t be such a drunk if she’d go home.”
With his lips pressed together, Daniel stares up at Ian.
“That’s what they say. Not me. Hey, there’s one.”
Daniel flattens out so he can see under the barbed-wire fence. A hundred feet away, surrounded by unplowed ground covered with dry stubble, is the mound that had been Ian’s target. One small head shaped like a giant walnut pops out of a hole in the center of the mound and then disappears. A few moments later, a prairie dog creeps out and lifts onto his hind legs. Its brown, furry body is plumper than the one Ian shot.
“Wait. Don’t be too quick,” Ian says.
“Who cares what they say about Aunt Ruth?” Daniel’s breath warms the gun where it’s pressed to his cheek. And then, remembering the words Dad used when he sent Uncle Ray away, Daniel says, “She’s not my concern.”
“Some people even say your Uncle Ray had something to do with taking Julianne Robison. Say that he is just that crazy. Even say he killed your Aunt Eve. But that was a long time ago.”
“That’s a lie,” Daniel says, thinking that he’d know for sure if his own aunt was dead. “A God damned lie.”
“I ain’t saying it,” Ian says. “ ’Course it’s Jack Mayer who took Julianne. But you ought to know that since you’re the only one who’s seen him.” Ian kneels behind the same clump of grass. “Watch what you’re doing. Careful.” Before the new boots, Ian didn’t squat or sit on the ground much because getting