Page 22 of Within These County Lines

“I know which one it is. It’s been coming around here a lot lately.” She looks through the scope. “It’s missing the top chunk of its left ear, and its tail is all black . . . blacker than most other coyotes I’ve seen.”

“But if it’s rabid, it could be dangerous.”

“Exactly,” she says with added annunciation on the t. “This is why we need to go after Bennie’s attempted killer while it’s close. It will attack again if we don’t.”

“What if we just take this opportunity to leave town? This could be our sign. It’s not safe for us here anymore!”

She loads the gun. “You coming or not?” she asks. “Bennie’s attacker could be miles away after all this talk.”

I bite my lip.

“If your aim is good enough, we won’t have to get too close.”

She raises her eyebrows, positioning the butt of the gun against her shoulder, and points it at a lone branch dangling from a nearby tree. She pulls the trigger. The bullet cuts through the knot and splits the branch from the trunk. It spins through the air like a boomerang before colliding with earth.

“I think it’s pretty good,” she says, smirking.

12

After locking Bennie inside, we return to the woods. Whitley leads the way. Her bushy hair collects dead leaves and bugs from the thickening tree canopy. Rays from the setting sun periodically bounce off her rifle butt and into my eyes.

As I grab a spider from her hair, she starts to hum, tracing her fingers gently along the trees bordering our path.

“Way down in the valley, lies Stillwell High,” she sings. It’s the opening verse of our high school alma mater. “Let us raise our voices for all to hear, over the hills and into the sky. Our ancestors came upon this land, a place of faith, honor, and tradition most grand.” She stretches out her right arm, waving it over the ground.

“We promise to serve and pledge our love,” I continue. “To always look out for thy neighbor and put Penango above.” Twigs crunch under my shoes along to the melody of the song. “For the lessons of life to us impart, knowledge to aid that can never be taken apart.”

Whitley inhales, then takes over the next line. “So adorn our hearts with the striking silver and black.”

I clear my throat. “For we have found victory here!” My voice amplifies. “And will live out the virtues to always give back.” I pump my fist into the sky.

“Wait!” she yells, and puts her hand over my mouth. “We should be quieter. We’re going to scare away the coyotes. We can’t let that sucker know we’re close. Let’s camp out here.”

I nod, then lower my arm. “You’re right,” I say.

We sit beside a fallen tree. Silence settles over us like a midnight snowfall. We wait and search for any movements.

I tap my fingers along my knee, between flicking flies off my legs. My vision wanders from the coyote-absent horizon to the area around me. Whitley’s phone rests on her lap. A notification banner showing eight missed calls from her dad flashes across the screen.

“You okay, Whitley?” I ask. She inspects the split ends of her blond hair.

“Yeah,” she says. “What do you mean? We got to be patient. It hasn’t been that long.”

“I mean besides the coyote.” I nod at her phone.

She swallows, then swipes away the notifications. “I’ll be better once we get the coyote and Bennie is safe.”

“If you ever want to—” I start, but Whitley holds up her hand to silence me.

“Shhh,” she slurs. “Look.”

A coyote stands in a clearing by the river. It’s maybe fifty or so yards away. Its tail is black, but I can’t tell if it’s missing a chunk of its ear from this distance. Whitley slowly lifts her gun. She puts her eye to the scope.

“You going to take the shot?” I whisper.

“Yeah,” she says, licking the corners of her mouth. “That’s him. Ear is gone.”

The coyote’s head twitches in our direction. I freeze every muscle to avoid making noise.