Page 39 - WTP Vol. IX #8

red as the words rushed out.
Pa stared at him with cold eyes. Mr. Jenkins slunk back a little and looked down at his feet as he re- gained himself. Pa had that effect on people.
We stood in uncomfortable silence for several sec- onds, each breath creating tiny ice clouds in the winter air. Finally, Pa said, “I said ‘I’m sorry,’ Ned. Ain’t much else I can offer you other than an apology and my word it won’t happen again. You won’t ever have to worry about Waldo on your property again. Go home, Jimmy. Let’s go, Claude. Good day, Ned.”
With that, Pa turned and went back into the house. Both Ned and Jimmy exchanged exasperated looks. Retrieving the coal buckets from the yard, I followed Pa into the house without another word to them.
Pete had been standing near the front door listening, and as I closed the door behind me, Pa lit in on him. “How many times have I told you to make sure that damn dog is chained up?”
Pa yelled at him, their faces inches apart. Pete trem- bled as he kept his eyes down. He didn’t answer because he knew, as well as I did, that no answer was ever good enough. “Grab your gun and go put an end to this shit.”
“But, Pa!” Pete cried.
“But nothing! That dog has been trouble since you got him, and he’s caused a hell of a mess this morn- ing. I want him dead, and he’s your dog, so don’t even think about coming back til you hunt him down and kill him!” With that, Pa lit a cigarette, blew out a plume of smoke, and headed to the kitchen.
Pete stood there, bewildered and terrified. Finally, he gathered himself and gazed at me with misty eyes. “Claude, can you show me where you seen em last?”
I hesitated for a second. I didn’t want to go, but being here to weather Pa alone wasn’t exactly hearten-
ing. Besides, Pete could use my help, and Pa might respect me a little for going.
“Ok, Pete, let me grab my twenty-two, and I’ll go with ya.”
I went to the gun rack and grabbed my rifle and a box of shells while Pete was putting on his coat and boots. I snatched the 12-gauge down for Pete and pocketed a box of ammunition for him as well. I was hungry and wanted to try to get some grits or toast
“As I arrived at the front porch, a
scream pierced the icy air. It came from the neighboring farm.”
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