Smoke and Mirrors

4

Putting on his coat, Rush raced out, following Sean and Nemo, his head tilted upward, listening.

“What’s the deal?” he asked.

“He’s dead,” Faith Ann said in a strained, trembling voice.

“Who’s dead?” Rush asked her.

“Rudolph,” Faith Ann said, sniffing a little but smiling proudly. “A mean old twelve-pointer.”

“No shit!?” Rush blurted.

“Rush Massey!” Sean exclaimed. “Watch your language.”

“A deer has a name?” Rush asked. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s at the food plot,” Faith Ann said. “I came back to get the pull-cart thingie to bring Rudolph back here to be skinned out.”

“How’d you get the blood on your face?” Sean asked her.

“Your husband did it,” Faith Ann said, now exasperated. “First blood. It’s this thing you do.”

“When you kill your first buck you have to get his blood put on you,” Rush explained. “It’s a hunting ritual. Sometimes, depending on local customs, you might even have to take a bite of the heart and swallow it.”

“Euuuuuwww! I most certainly will not eat any deer heart!” Faith Ann exclaimed.

“I should hope not,” Sean said.

“You really killed a deer?” Rush said. “I bet you freaked when you did it.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Faith Ann said. “A clean kill isn’t gross. They get hit by cars, brought down by wild dogs, starve, all kinds of ways to die that are worse.”

“I know all that. I can’t believe you really killed a deer,” Rush said, smiling. “Was it cool?”

“It was totally necessary,” Faith Ann said. “You see, Rudolph was attacking a smaller deer to take his does away from him after he found them. Rudolph hurt the little deer’s leg and was fixing to kill him. You could just tell. So I just did what had to be done.”

“You killed a deer in deer-defense?” Rush said, laughing. “That’s got to be the most ridiculous reason for killing a deer in history.”

“You didn’t see it,” Faith Ann said defensively. “He was really big and mean as a snake. The littler deer was brave, but he was going to lose, and they fight to the death, you know,” she said importantly.

“Deer don’t fight to the death. Only people do that. Are you sure my daddy didn’t shoot it?” Rush said. “I bet he did.”

“Of course I shot it. He dropped where he stood like he was poleaxed.”

“I bet you don’t even know what a poleax is,” Rush said.

“Duh, it’s an axe on a pole,” Faith Ann said.

Sean said, “You need me to help you take the cart back?”

“Go back inside. I’ll help her,” Rush said. “Olivia’s awake. I’d rather eat a deer’s heart than deal with her.”

Faith Ann went to the skinning shed and opened the doors to the storage room. Inside, among the organized clutter, was a two-wheeled cart. She wrestled it out and righted it, opening it to lower the wheels.

Rush lay down in the sling, facing the sky. “Wake me up when we get there,” he said.

Laughing, Faith Ann began pulling Rush toward the plot. Nemo ran ten feet ahead of the kids, the ridge of hair on his back standing like a Mohawk.