Bent Road - Lori Roy [74]
Olivia staggers a few steps to the side and back toward Dad. Waiting until she staggers away again, he grabs at the strap and walks her in a half circle, coaxing her quietly until she is facing the opposite direction. Still talking to her, telling her she’s a good girl, he backs toward the fence, and without taking his eyes off of hers, he wraps her lead around the nearest wooden post and ties it off. Olivia’s blood is smeared across his face and his neck. Giving the lead a tug to test that it is good and tight, Dad sidesteps away from her.
“Go ahead on, son.” He nods, and as he steps away, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the blood from his hands.
Waiting until Dad is clear, Daniel lifts the heavy gun and walks toward Olivia. With the wooden stock pressed to his cheek, he wraps his finger around the stiff trigger and stares down the wide barrel until Olivia is lined up in the sight. She is a Brown Swiss with long thin legs and dark lashes that trim her brown eyes. Akin to a deer, Dad had said. She’ll be a jumper, quick and light on her feet. She’ll be a good girl, a good cow. But a quick one. You’ll have to take good care. She throws her head again, stumbling left and right, the lead pulling tight against her weight. Daniel’s finger is numb on the trigger.
“Go on with it, son,” Dad says. He stands with his back to Daniel and Olivia. “No need letting her suffer.”
Daniel stares down the barrel at Olivia. She flicks one round ear and swats her long black tail.
Dad turns back to face Daniel. He exhales loud enough for Daniel to hear and reaches out as if wanting Daniel to hand off the gun. Instead, Daniel lines it up again and begins to pull the heavy trigger.
“Hold on there, Dan,” Dad says. “Wait. Dan, no.”
Daniel pulls. He thinks he pulls. And jumps when a shot fires.
It catches Olivia square between the ears, and the sound of her exploding skull seems to surprise her. She tosses her head, shaking away the echo, but the lead holds firm. Another shot. She drops her snout, nuzzles the ground, stumbles, her front feet crossing one over the other. Her back feet are rooted. The lead holds firm. A third shot. She falls. Daniel lowers the shotgun and turns. There, standing in front of his truck, ready to take another shot, Jonathon holds his position, but Olivia is already down. He had perfect aim with all three. He lowers his gun and leans against the hood of his truck. He’s parked in his usual spot.
“Got herself caught up back there,” Dad says. “Tangled up in her lead.” He takes another deep breath and shakes his head. “Couldn’t find her way out. Threw her head through the garage window.”
Jonathon nods and wipes his brow with the palm of his hand like Dad always does. In the passenger side of his truck, Elaine sits, her face hidden in her hands.
Daniel looks down at his gun and back at Dad.
“Wouldn’t want a shotgun for a job like this, son,” Dad says.
Jonathon lays his rifle in the back of his truck. “Shotgun’ll do the trick if something’s coming at you,” he says. “Good for protection and hunting. But if you have time to take aim, you want a rifle.”
“Should have told you to get your rifle,” Dad says. “Man’ll always do right with his own gun.”
Jonathon nods and Daniel wants to lunge at him and beat him in the face for always being Dad’s extra set of hands. Instead, he nods like he understands about shotguns and rifles.
“Hustle on in and get me some clean clothes,” Dad says, noticing the blood smeared across his shirt and arms.
Unable to say anything, Daniel nods again, lays down Grandpa’s shotgun and steps around it. At the top of the porch stairs, he turns. Dad has picked up the gun and he and Jonathon are looking at it, studying it. They stare at each other for a good long moment, like they are saying something without having to speak, and then propping the gun over one shoulder, Dad walks into the garage.
“Damn shame,” Jonathon says, walking toward Olivia.
Daniel says nothing while he waits for Dad to come back out of the garage. When he does,