Bradley Denton - Blackburn

Dad looked across the yard. "What the hell you mean leaving that mower out?" he yelled. He sounded as if his tongue were too thick. "Supposed to goddamn rain. Ain't I told you to put it back when you're finished?"

"I was going to," Jimmy said. He was miserable.

"And you stopped with the job half done," Dad said. "What kind of lazy shit did I raise, huh?"

Jimmy's misery became rage. "It ran out of gas," he said. His voice was loud. "And there wasn't any more."

"I better go home," Ernie mumbled. He put down the comic book he had been reading and started toward his bike in the driveway.

"You talking back to me?" Dad bellowed.

Ernie looked back at Jimmy. His lips formed the word "Pray." Then he hurried to his bike and pedaled away. He had forgotten his backpack. It lay on the porch beside the comic book.

"You talking back to me?" Dad bellowed again.

Jimmy's skin was hot all over. He jumped off the porch. "I'll talk to you any way I like," he said, "you son of a bitch."

Dad lunged for him. Jimmy dodged, and Dad banged his shin against the porch. He turned toward Jimmy. His face was purple.

Jimmy ran to the backyard and past the chicken coop. The chickens scattered as he passed. Feathers flew. Jimmy could hear Dad's footsteps behind him. Dad wasn't yelling, wasn't saying anything. That scared Jimmy. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? If he had kept his mouth shut, Dad would have smacked him once or twice. Big deal. Now Dad wanted to kill him. He really wanted to kill him. Jimmy could tell.

He crashed through the evergreens and clambered over the barbed-wire fence. His cutoffs caught and tore. A barb scratched his thigh. He didn't stop. Dad was coming through the trees. Jimmy dropped to the hay meadow and ran hard for the second fence.

Hay whipped his legs. His heart slammed against his chest. Hot wind scraped his throat. He ran as fast as he could, up and over the hill and down. He couldn't hear Dad behind him anymore. As he climbed over the second fence, he risked a glance back. Dad had stopped at the top of the hill and was watching him.

Jimmy dropped into the pasture and kept running north, over the rise and down toward the pond. His arms were heavy and tingling. His head hurt. But he couldn't stop. He had called his father a son of a bitch. He passed the salt blocks. Some of them had smooth channels where they had been licked over and over again. He kept running.

The cattle were at the pond. Most of them stood in the shallow part beside the flat bank. The rest were lying on the mud. They saw Jimmy coming and tensed. He ran wide around them, up onto the dam. They didn't spook, but they watched him. They didn't trust him.

He stopped halfway across the dam and looked back. Dad was nowhere in sight. Jimmy stood there awhile, breathing hard and blinking away sweat. Then he sat down among the dry weeds. He hooked his elbows around his knees and grasped his right wrist with his left hand. He watched the steers watching him.

"Moo," he said.

The steers stared back with dull eyes.

"Moooo," Jimmy said.

Before long the steers were ignoring him. They drank the fouled water, lay on the mud, and switched their tails at flies. It was hot. Flies started buzzing around Jimmy, too. He pursed his lips and blew at them. Dad could go fuck himself with a crowbar.

His butt began to itch, but he didn't want to stand up. He leaned to one side and scratched, then leaned to the other side and scratched. It didn't help much. His underwear and cutoffs were still damp from swimming. They were sticking to his skin. He tried to pull them away, but they sucked right back. Short of stripping them off, there was nothing he could do that would help. He tried to ignore the irritation, but he couldn't. He scratched and pulled.

Ernie had said "Pray." Ernie believed in that stuff. Maybe there was something to it. Preachers were full of shit, but maybe God didn't have anything to do with that. God had, after all, seemed to answer Jimmy's prayer about the sparrow. And he hadn't even been serious. Maybe God had been telling him that he should be. Or maybe he'd just had a lucky shot.

If Mom didn't come home soon, he might as well run off or die. Mom coming back was the only thing that would keep Dad from killing him. Why was she staying away so long, anyway? What was she trying to prove? Did she think Dad would get all pitiful and go running after her, begging oh please come home I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry? It would be a cold summer in hell when Dad ever did anything like that. Goddamn her anyway. Goddamn both of them. Bitch and son of a bitch.

Jimmy closed his eyes. The sun was so hot on his head that it hurt. He started to pray.

"God," he said. "Lord." He didn't know how to do this. The prayers he had learned when he was little had all been poems. God is great, God is good, Let us thank Him for our food, Amen. Pass the gravy, pass the meat, pass the taters, Lord, let's eat. Amen.

He felt the crying coming up tight in his throat. He didn't want to let it happen. He had spent years training himself not to let it happen. Men didn't cry. Men who cried were queer. Pussies and fairies and faggots.

"God," he said. He hated his voice. It wasn't a voice at all. It wasn't even his. It was a baby's. "I'll do anything You want. I'll pay any price You want me to. But make Mom come back. Please."

He didn't know what else to say. He sat there and cried. Finally he remembered to say "Amen." He pulled up the bottom of his shirt and blew his nose.

The weeds off to his right whispered. He looked and saw the brown rat terrier. It was sitting six or seven feet away. It was grinning and panting. It seemed to be glad to see him.

"Hey, pup," Jimmy said. "Was that a good rabbit?"

The dog came closer, wagging its tail. It was a funny-looking thing. Its tail was stumpy and mud-caked. Its head was like a furry wedge of wood.

"Don't you have a home?" Jimmy asked. "Don't you have people to feed you and pet you?"

The dog came closer still. It was two feet away now.

"I'd be your people if I could," Jimmy said. He reached out. "But my dad doesn't like dogs. Maybe he'd change his mind if he knew you could feed yourself."

He touched the top of the dog's head. The fur was short and stiff. The dog flinched, but didn't move away. Jimmy spread his fingers so that his palm rested on the dog's head. The head felt warm and strong.

Jimmy told the dog about the latest adventures of Green Lantern and Spider-Man. The dog sat down and grinned while Jimmy petted it. They sat there a long time.

Just before sunset, Jimmy had to take a crap. Some trees lined a dry creekbed west of the pond, so he went there and found a fallen trunk. It was propped a few feet off the ground, held up by its dead branches. Jimmy shucked down his cutoffs and underwear and sat with the backs of his thighs on the narrow trunk. He lost his balance and grabbed a branch to keep from falling. The dog was sniffing around underneath.

"Get away," Jimmy said, swinging his legs at it. It looked up, then resumed sniffing. Jimmy broke off a stick and threw it across the creekbed. The dog went to investigate, and Jimmy strained to finish before it returned. He used leaves for toilet paper.

Then he stood and pulled up his pants. He kicked dead leaves and dirt over the turds. He was disgusted. The dog had returned and was curious about what he was doing. Jimmy started back toward the pond. The dog sniffed and dug a little, then followed him.

They returned to the dam, and Jimmy watched the sun go down. It was a golden evening. The pond shimmered. The water looked pure in this light. Jimmy threw a clod into it and watched the ripples glint. A breeze came up, smelling of cattle and prairie hay. The steers began to wander off.

Jimmy supposed that he would have to sleep on top of the dam. He wished that he'd thought to grab Ernie's backpack. There had been some Cheez Curls left.