Percival Everett - Suder

I got down on my knees and stroked Django’s head. “We’re sorry, Mr. Simpson,” I said.

“Look, you’ve upset the boy,” Bud said.

Mr. Simpson pointed again at the dog. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better keep that dog out of my garden. If I catch him in there again, I’ll shoot him, so help me God.” He turned and marched away.

Bud looked down at me. “I guess we’re going to have to tie Django up.”

“Tie him up?”

“I’m sorry, Bird.”

We found some rope and tied Django to a tree in the backyard. Django barked and ran several times to the rope’s limit and was snatched back violently.

“He won’t hurt himself, will he?” I asked.

“No, but he’s going to be upset for a while.” Bud looked at the ground by his feet and kicked some grass. “Damn.”

“It’s not fair,” I said.

“What’s not?”

“Why does he have to be tied up? Why can’t we just let him run around?”

Bud didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked into the house. Django barked and pulled at the rope.

I walk on back to the cabin and as I get close I hear screaming. I run and there’s Jincy standing between Lou and Renoir, screaming. Lou’s got the chain saw in his hands and he’s trying to get around the girl to the elephant.

“Lou!” I shout, running to him.

He turns the saw off. “Shit.”

Jincy runs to me. “He was going to kill Renoir.”

I’m looking at Lou.

“You don’t understand,” Lou says. “I have to have that animal. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. I need this animal.”

“Give me the saw,” I says.

“You’re really fond of him.” He looks at Renoir.

“The saw,” I repeat.

He hands it over and rubs his hands together nervously. He looks at me with wet eyes.

“Let’s eat dinner,” I says.

Eggs and bacon.

Night comes and we all go to bed, but I don’t sleep. I’m lying there watching Lou and he’s lying there watching me watch him. Every time Lou sits up, I sit up.

In the morning Lou is in his car. “I just can’t be trusted around that elephant. Hurry up and get better.”

“Okay,” I says.

He’s looking at Renoir and then he turns his eyes to me. “See ya.”

“I’ll call you if he dies.”

So, a couple of days later I’m in Parkdale and I’m in the little store buying eggs and bacon. There are some fellas standing around and I hear their conversation.

“I tell you,” says a large man in overalls, “the shit I found in the woods wasn’t dropped by no horse.” He pauses. “Nor cow.”

Another man chuckles. “What do you think it was, Justin? Bigfoot?”

Then the clerk says, “Some people was in here a week or so ago claiming they seen an elephant by the lake.”

“An elephant?” The second man laughs and pushes the brim of his tractor cap up.

“An elephant, huh?” questions the large man and he hooks his thumbs around the straps of his overalls and rocks back and forth on his heels. “This might have been elephant shit.”

“An elephant would have left tracks,” the second man says.

The large man tilts his head. “Yeah, but I wasn’t looking for elephant tracks.”

“This is it?” the clerk asks me, pulling the things on the counter toward him. “Looks like five bucks to me.” I pay him and he’s putting the things in a bag. He turns to the two men. “So, what’re you going to do, Justin?”

“I’m going to hunt down whatever it is and shoot it,” says the large man.

I pick up the bag and as I’m passing through the doorway I bump into a real thin fella with dark glasses and a badge. He gives me a real hard look and I head on outside. I glance back in and see the badged man talking to the clerk and I can tell they’re discussing me. I walk to the truck and I put the groceries on the seat beside me and, as I’m turning the key, a long thin hand slaps over the lowered window.

“Wanna turn off the motor?” asks the thin man with the badge. I shut down the engine. “I’m Sheriff—” He stops as the engine coughs. “I’m Sheriff Prager.”

I nod. “I’m Craig Suder.”

“You’re black.”

I don’t know what to say to him.

He smiles. “We don’t get many blacks around these parts.”

“Well, I’m staying at the Tyler place.” I look ahead through the windshield.

Prager thumbs his dark glasses up his nose and spits on the ground. “Gerald Sims tells me you were asking him about some hay.”

“I was thinking of getting a couple of horses, but I decided against it.”

“Hmmmmm.” He looks at me. “The reason I ask is because somebody’s been stealing hay from Michael Dobbs.”

“Oh.”

“Just asking.” He looks up at the sun. “I might just come up and pay you a little visit one day.” He smiles.

I nod and I reach to turn the key.

“One more thing,” says Prager.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a little girl lost around here.”

“Is she black?”

Prager looks at me. “Why, no.” He scratches his head. “You might keep an eye out.”

“Sure.”

He slaps the truck and walks away.

I pull the cord and the chain saw revs up and I push the blade against the north wall of the cabin. This wall is without windows and the saw churns through. I hear Jincy screaming and she runs out of the cabin and stares at me, panting.

“What are you doing?” she asks above the sound of the saw.

I stop the saw.

“What are you doing?” she repeats.

“Cutting.”

“What?”

“The wall.”

“Why?”

“So Renoir can get into the house.”

Jincy’s eyes light up. “Really?”

I nod and then I start the saw up again. She says something and I turn the machine off once more.

“Why?”

“I heard some people in town say they’re going to shoot him.”

Jincy is silent. I look at her for a while and I pull the cord again and start cutting. As I’m cutting I look over and see Jincy stroking Renoir’s trunk. I cut out a large section of wall and rig up some hinges at the bottom and with a couple of pulleys we’ve a drawbridge-type door for the elephant.

Inside, Jincy and I move all of our things to the south side of the cabin. I pile hay in the front corner of the elephant’s side and we bring Renoir inside. Jincy is just as excited as she can be, but I’m having second thoughts because this animal has a smell to suit his size.

“I don’t know,” I says, “he may have to stay outside.”

“Why?”

“He smells pretty strong, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, but we can’t let him stay out there. They’ll shoot him.” She runs over to Renoir and hugs his trunk.

“He stinks something fierce.”

“I’ll wash him three times a day.”

I look at her for a second. I don’t know that three baths won’t keep the smell away. “Okay.”

Daddy went running with Ma in the evening. It was cooler then. Bud and I were sitting on the porch and Martin came out.

“Sure is close out here,” Martin said, pulling the front of his shirt away from his body.

“Yeah, it’s a hot one,” Bud agreed.

Martin looked at me. “I think that dog needs some water.”

Bud was up and to the door. “I’ll take care of it,” he said and entered the house.

“How do you like Django?” I asked Martin.

“Stupid name.” Martin looked up and down the street. “Is Daddy really out there running with her?”

“Yeah.” I paused. “It’s not a stupid name.”

“Out there running. I don’t believe it. This is crazy.”

Daddy and Ma came into sight walking up the street and then they broke into a trot the rest of the way to the porch. Ma fell up the stairs and through the front door and Daddy sat on the steps. He was wet and breathing hard. “Man, is it hot,” Daddy said, wiping his face with his shirt.