Bent Road - Lori Roy [73]
Dad and Olivia are standing in the small alleyway between the house and garage, the space that Daniel always forgets to mow. But the grass has died off with winter and the ground is hard and bare. With one hand, Dad pats Olivia on the hind end. With the other, he waves Aunt Ruth away. Olivia is too large to turn around in the narrow space and she can’t walk through and around the house because old Mr. Murray’s rusted car blocks the far end. The only way out is for Dad to coax her to back up.
“There you go, girl,” Dad says to Olivia in a quiet voice. He sounds like he’s talking to Evie. “Get on back now, girl.”
Step by step, Olivia backs out of the narrow passageway.
“Dan,” Dad says, seeing Daniel standing in the driveway. “Get Evie inside. Get her inside now and get me my gun.”
Blood is splattered across Dad’s white work shirt, the one with the Rooks County patch that Mama sewed on the left pocket before his first day of work. Both sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his hands are shiny red like he dipped them in red paint. Olivia turns, leading with the top of her head, followed by her round, brown eyes.
Aunt Ruth said Olivia was a good mother to many calves, but she’s too old now and she’s apple-assed. No one wants her apple-assed calves anymore. Daniel gags into a closed fist and stumbles backward.
A gash runs the length of Olivia’s neck and down into her dew-lap and her jowls hang like parted curtains. Most of her blood is gone, drained out on the ground, soaked up by the dirt. What is left is thick and dark, almost black. A shadow grows out of the wound and spreads up and across her neck, staining her chestnut coat. She staggers, moans, barely more than a whisper. Dad pats her right haunch. Coughing and choking, Daniel thinks of Evie. Dad thinks Evie came home on the bus. No, she’s with Mama. Mama came to school for her, picked her up early. The nurse was going to call Mama because Evie wore Aunt Eve’s dress. The nurse was supposed to call.
“Get my gun,” Dad says, starting to back up again and coaxing Olivia with his quiet voice. “Get on back, girl. Get on back now.”
Daniel’s legs won’t move. He sees the steps leading to the back porch. He’ll go up them, two at time, unlock the cabinet, grab the gun. Evie’s already inside, hiding her face in Mama’s apron, probably crying because Olivia is going to die. The gun is inside, too. But Daniel’s legs won’t move.
“My gun, Dan,” Dad says, wiping his forehead with his shirtsleeve and leaving a red smudge. “I need a gun.”
Daniel takes a step toward the porch. Only one. Another low rumble drifts up from Olivia. Dad yells again for him to get moving. He takes the stairs two at a time. Inside the back door, Mama and Aunt Ruth already have the gun cabinet open. They stand back as Daniel reaches in and grabs the shotgun. Dad said it once belonged to Grandpa Robert, but he’s dead so now it’s Dad’s gun. It’s heavier than his rifle, the weight of it pulling him forward. With one hand on the stock and the other on the double barrel, he swings around, careful to not hit Mama or Aunt Ruth, and runs back outside.
“Careful, Dan,” Mama calls out.
Olivia and Dad stand in the driveway now, clear of the small space that had trapped Olivia. Dad has one hand on a leather lead that dangles from Olivia’s neck strap. Evie left it on. Damn it all, she’s always leaving on that lead. Olivia stomps her front feet, staggering from side to side as if she’s frightened now that she is in the open. She starts to swing around, throwing her head to the left. Dad looks behind, measuring the distance between him and the garage because Olivia might crush him against it.
“There’s a girl,” he says, dropping the leather lead and coming at her from the front end