What if they were just playing around though?
Making his mind up, he drove crazily, turning back onto the main blacktop highway, kicking up a storm of rocks behind him. Finally, he nearly toppled Tina and Tarra over as he careened between two abandoned cars, one on each side of the road spaced barely a car’s length apart. One man appeared to be standing guard over his vehicle, a newish Porsche Cayenne SUV, with a ball bat in his hand. Jake wondered if he’d been there since the lights went out. They flashed by, missing him by inches, and the man angrily waved the bat at them, screaming profanities.
Poor guy probably still hoping for a tow truck or a miracle.
A chorus of screams assaulted his ears from the back. He checked the mirror… everybody still okay—but seemingly really pissed off at him.
But the bike had fallen back some. Maybe they’d had their fun and had given up? Or maybe they’d been hit with a rock and had to slow down and stop soon.
Jake didn’t give them a chance to change their mind. Breathing a sigh of relief, and with the road now clear, he put the pedal to the metal and let Ruby roar, hoping to see Tina and Tarra stand down and take their seats back on the hay, and to never see the motorcycle again.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
23
Puck watched with animated interest as Olivia stood defiant in the back yard, her arms crossed over her chest. He couldn’t believe grown-up sisters still fought like this. “No. I said I don’t want to. You do it,” she said to her sister, Gabby.
Gabby had set up some targets in the back yard—two soda cans, an empty soup can, and an empty coffee can—and was trying to coerce her sister into doing some target practice.
“I’ve already shot some rounds,” Gabby argued. “Graysie has, too. But really, it’s you that needs the practice, Olivia. I put up some new cans for you. Let’s see what you can do.”
Olivia fiercely shook her head. “I’ve got to get food ready. I’m not a shooter. I’m a cook.”
Graysie flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and piped in. “Earlier you said we all have do a bit of everything around here now. I cooked this morning, so you need to shoot,” she chided her stepmother.
Puck stood up from the back porch where he was sitting beside Graysie, enjoying the sunshine. Ozzie ran back to him with his ball, and he threw it again without complaint, this time knowing not to whine anymore that he couldn’t run with the dog. He knew Olivia was getting angry with him. She kept saying no, be still. But, being still was so hard… he felt like running. Or doing something.
Instead, he’d watched as first Gabby, and then Graysie went through the motions of disassembling their guns, cleaning them, putting them back together, loading them, and shooting them. He’d watched closely, with great interest, and until now hadn’t made a peep.
He raised his hand on his good arm into the air, nearly jumping up and down with excitement. “I’ll do it next!”
As one, Olivia, Graysie and Gabby all shook their heads and loudly said, “NO!”
His lip poked out. “Why can’t I do it? Please! I know how to shoot. I do it on my Xbox all the time.”
Gabby set her gun down on the little card table she’d set up for her shooting stuff, and walked over to Puck, looking up into his innocent face. She gave him a one-armed hug. “This is different. It’s shooting for real, and that’s dangerous, sweetie.”
Puck didn’t want to argue, but he’d watched them carefully. He knew how to handle those guns now. He was sure of it. He was a good shooter, on his Xbox. He wanted so badly to prove it, so that maybe GrayMan would give him a gun to carry, too. “Please? I know how. And GrayMan carries a gun all the time. So does Mr. Jake, and you, and Graysie and those other ladies,” he said. “I’m the only one that don’t get to carry a gun.”
“I’m not carrying,” Olivia chirped brightly.
“That’s because you’re scared,” Gabby answered, then looked at Puck. “And you should be scared of them, too, Puck. They’re not toys.”
Puck crossed his arms, forgetting his injury, and flinching yet again. “I’m not a little boy. I’m almost a grown-up. Same as Graysie,” he insisted stubbornly.
“Kid’s got a point,” Graysie said cheerfully as she sat braiding her hair in boredom. “Teach him to shoot like a girl, Aunt Gabby.”
Gabby gave Graysie the look. “Puck, if you’ll wait until Tina and Tarra get back, I’ll ask them to teach you. Those ladies are real instructors. They know the proper way to teach, and they’ve already mentioned they’re going to be giving Jake some more lessons. We’ll ask Grayson, and if he agrees, I’m sure they’ll be glad to teach you, too.”
Puck still didn’t seem satisfied. “I don’t want to shoot like a girl. I want to shoot like a man,” he insisted.
They all laughed—all except Puck.
Gabby answered him. “That’s just an expression. It doesn’t mean girls shoot different from men. It sort of means they shoot better—sometimes,” she said, and glanced at Olivia.
Olivia glared back at her and walked off, going into the kitchen to work on their next meal. She slammed the door on her way in.
Gabby ignored her sister’s dramatic exit, and went on. “Women seem to have a natural talent for shooting, so I’ve heard. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been at the range, and I hear some man tell another man, ‘you shoot like a girl.’ It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment—a good thing.”
Puck beamed. “Okay. I want to shoot like a girl!”
“Alrighty then. I’ll tell you what. You help Olivia around here with the food today, and we’ll see what we can do when Grayson and the ladies get back.”
Puck knew what he had to do. He’d show them he wasn’t a child. Graysie had already told him to do it, and Gabby just told him to help out with the food. Maybe if he brought food back, GrayMan would let him and Jenny stay forever.
When Gabby and Graysie returned to their shooting table, Puck stubbornly headed off into the woods.
He’d show them.
24
A shot rang out, followed by horrifying, blood-chilling screams.
Elmer skid the tractor to a stop and jumped down, running as fast as his old legs could carry him to the end of the wagon with his shotgun ready. Already huffing and puffing, he turned the corner, coming face to face with Emma and quickly looked her over. “Hell’s bells you skeered me, girl. You alright?”
“He moved,” she said, with a stoney face.
Elmer turned to look, and had to swallow hard. Pudgy’s groin was a mess of blood. He was on his knees, his buddies tightly huddled to him, against their will, writhing in agony.
He pulled off his hat and slapped his leg with it, sending a plume of red dirt into the air. “Dagnammit, girl! Were you aiming for his pecker?”
Emma slowly nodded yes, not taking her eyes off of him. She didn’t blink an eye.
“Son of a—” Rake screamed. He tried to pull away from Pudgy, failing.
Cowboy stared over his shoulder with an open mouth, not able to really see the damage; his imagination filled in the blanks and his Adam’s apple frantically bobbed up and down.