C. Box - Endangered

“ There you are,” he said finally. “It took me a minute to see where you were.”

“I’m here,” she said.

“I got your supper.”

He backed off for a second and then reappeared. His cowboy boots descended rung by rung. His back was to her as he came down, but he had his head turned so he could watch her and make sure she didn’t try anything. He steadied himself with his left hand on the rail. A black feed bucket with a small quilt over the mouth of it hung from his right.

“You’ve got a hell of a treat coming your way. Fried chicken, corn on a cob, rolls, butter, and salad with Thousand Island dressing,” he said.

When he got to the bottom, he turned. He was big, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. His head was blocky and he had a lantern jaw and small, close-set eyes. As always, he had her Smith & Wesson Governor tucked into the front of his jeans and an electric hot-shot, designed for livestock, sticking out of his back pocket. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use it on her if he felt the need. Or maybe just for fun.

She could smell the aroma of fried chicken from the bucket.

“How long are you going to keep me down here?” she asked. “It gets really cold at night.”

He snorted and pointed at the space heater that glowed red.

“It doesn’t exactly keep it toasty in here.”

He said, “I woke up once in the woods with five inches of snow on me. This ain’t so bad.”

“It is for me .”

He shrugged. “That ain’t my call.”

“Whose call is it?”

“Why do we have to get into all this again?” he said. “Can’t we ever just have a nice conversation? Why do you always have to be so feisty?”

“ I’m in a hole in the ground . What if it rains or snows?”

“That’s why we put them blankets down here, I think.”

“What if it rains hard and this cellar fills with water?”

“Yeah, well,” he said after a long pause. As if he really had to think that over, she thought.

“Why did you kill him?”

“I just do what I’m told to do for the good of the family. It wasn’t nothing personal. Mom always says we gotta cover all the bases.”

Those were the same words he’d used when she’d asked him the last time. The same words he used every time she asked.

“ ‘Cover all the bases’? What does that even mean?”

He shrugged again and said, “She’s always thinking a few steps ahead of everybody else. I don’t even try to outguess her on this kind of thing.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?” she asked.

That made him think. It was as if he’d never even considered the question.

He said, “We hit him with three full loads of buckshot. That’d kill any man.”

“Nate’s not any man. He’s a good man. And he was unarmed.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. Then: “Why was that? Why didn’t he have that famous gun of his on him?”

“The feds took it away.”

“Damned feds anyway,” he said. “That’s what they’re tryin’ to do with all of us—take away our guns. That’s what your president wants to do.”

Liv said, “Why is he my president?”

He reddened. “You know. Jeez, it seems like everything I say makes you mad.”

“I’m in a hole.”

“Could be worse,” he said.

“What did you do with the van?”

“We took care of it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s okay if you don’t eat it all,” he said, lowering the bucket to the floor. “I noticed you don’t eat everything I bring you. That’s probably why you’re so skinny.”

She sighed.

“Man, that chicken smells good, don’t it?” he said, nudging the black bucket with his boot tip. “I bet you can’t wait to dig into that.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because that’s what my people eat?”

“Shit, that ain’t what I meant,” he said, looking down for a second. “Me, I love fried chicken, and as you can see, I’m a white man. Mom makes it once a week, on Friday night, and I always make sure I’m around. It’s my favorite thing. I usually eat six or seven thighs.” He paused. Then: “I’m a thigh man. I love that dark meat.”

“There you go again,” she said.

When he looked up, this time he wasn’t embarrassed at all, and she realized he’d meant to say it. He’d probably been practicing it to himself on his walk over from the main house. He probably thought he was clever.

“Oh,” she said, sickened by the realization, but trying not to show it. She refused to show him weakness.

Above, Liv heard a door slam shut in the distance, then a woman shout.

“Bull? What are you doing down there?”

The man rolled his eyes and boomed, “No names, Cora Lee!”

He looked at Liv and shook his head as if he expected her to agree with him what a dolt Cora Lee was.

“Bull and Cora Lee,” Liv said. “So was that your mother I met at the ranch?”

“Quit asking me all these damned questions,” Bull said, irritated. She couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or at Cora Lee. Or both.

“Bull!” Cora Lee shouted. “We’re all fuckin’ waiting on you to eat! You’re supposed to lower that bucket down to her. You ain’t supposed to deliver it like you was fuckin’ room service.”

“She’s got a mouth on her,” Bull said as an aside to Liv. “And she could probably afford to miss a few meals, if you know what I mean.”

Liv forced herself to grin. She could tell he liked that.

“Bull, goddamnit!” Cora Lee yelled.

“I’m coming!” he yelled back. “I’m coming.”

Before he climbed back up the ladder, he asked, “You need anything?” His tone was much gentler than the one he’d used to answer Cora Lee.

“Yes. Let me out of here.”

“Very funny,” he said with a chuckle.

He climbed to the top. She heard Cora Lee say, “Jesus, man. There you are. Hurry the fuck up.”

“Shut up, Cora Lee,” Bull said as he pulled the ladder up and swung the doors closed and locked them.

—

TWO HOURS LATER, the footfalls came back. Lighter this time, but not much.

Instead of Bull, it was Cora Lee. Liv recognized her by her voice.

“I’m doin’ the shit run,” Cora Lee said, dropping the coil of thin rope to the floor. It nearly hit Liv. “Tie it on your feed bucket first. Then I’ll drop it back down for the chamber pot.”

While Liv bent down to fix the rope to the black bucket handle, Cora Lee said, “What is it you and Bull was talking about for so long?”

“I wasn’t the one talking,” Liv said.

“Goddamn that man,” Cora Lee said under her breath. “You just stay the hell away from him.”

Liv looked up, exasperated. “I’m not the one coming down the ladder.”

Cora Lee narrowed her eyes. She was a sturdy, rough-looking blonde. She looked like she’d lived hard. Liv could see where she had once been pretty, twenty years and fifty pounds ago. Now, though, she had a weathered face set in a scowl.

“Tell them to let me go and I’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone,” Liv said.

“Like I’m gonna believe that,” Cora Lee said, untying the feed bucket and setting it aside. She dropped the rope back down. “Now your shitter.”

As Cora Lee hoisted the white bucket, it thumped on each rung of the ladder. Liv retreated to the far corner of the cellar before any of the contents could splash out and hit her. A few foul drops stained the floor near the feet of the ladder.

“Oh, sorry,” Cora Lee said, not sorry at all.

Liv heard Cora Lee empty the bucket on the ground a few steps away from the cellar door, then she returned to lower it back down.

“Would you mind rinsing it out first?” Liv asked.