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Hunter
I’m heating baked beans in the kitchen when I hear the gunshot. A chill starts behind my eyes and runs through every bone, organ, and vein before exiting my fingers and toes. Flicking the stove off, I jog to the front door, stepping into my boots on the way out. Dad’s supposed to be pulling ragwort. That’s what he said two hours ago as yet another beer hissed open in his hands.
‘I’ll cook dinner when I get back,’ he’d said before leaving.
Liar. I can’t remember the last time he was sober enough to cook.
The sheep disperse when I leap over the gate and start running. I’m prepared for anything at this point—I’ve been prepared for years. Though imagining his death is one thing, seeing it up close will be quite another.
But he’s not dead. He’s sitting up, head in his hands and the rifle lying in the grass next to him. I freeze when I see a bloodied and lifeless kelpie twenty feet away.
‘What the fuck did you do?’ I ask, heading straight for the dog.
He looks up, red-faced and clearly drunk. ‘I thought it was a fox.’
It looks nothing like a fox. I bend down to ensure it’s dead, then walk back to Dad, snatching up the rifle. ‘Go home.’
He blinks up at me. ‘Whose dog is it?’
I open the bolt and empty the remaining cartridges onto the grass. ‘Likely the Wilsons’.’ It tends to wander.
Dad stands up and sways on his feet. ‘I’ll take it to them.’
I fight the urge to push him back down. ‘Really? You’re going to show up at their house, still drunk, and hand them their dead pet that you just shot?’ I sling the rifle over one shoulder and go to collect the animal. It’s still warm, and that makes me even angrier for some reason. ‘I’ll go.’
‘I can clean up my own messes.’
‘You couldn’t last night,’ I say, referring to when he was sick beside the toilet. ‘Go home and sober up.’
Without a backwards glance, I keep walking all the way down to the creek that separates our farm from the Wilsons’ acreage. There’s a railroad tie posing as a bridge across the water. Only their dog crosses it, so I’ve no idea why it’s even there. Once a family of four, the Wilson family has dwindled to two—Annie and her mum. They’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, so the only time they step foot on our property is when they’re either looking for their dog or when they’re knocking on doors with bullshit messages about God, hope, and the meaning of life.
I head up the hill, swearing at a blackberry bush that snags my clothing. When I reach the top, I spot Annie in the horse paddock filling the water trough. She stills when she sees me, gaze dropping to the dog in my arms. She stares at it for a long moment before turning off the hose.
‘Your dog was on our property again,’ I say, stopping a few feet from her. ‘You know we have new lambs. I thought he was a fox.’
I expect her to cry or pray or fall to her knees, but she tucks locks of copper hair behind her ears and continues to stare at the animal with that sad expression on her face.
‘What’s your dog’s name again?’ I ask. ‘Moses? Noah?’
She lifts her gaze, her amber eyes reflecting the light. ‘My dog’s name is Banjo.’
I had it in my head that it was a Bible name. Now I look like I was being a smart-arse.
This is the part where I’m supposed to apologise and show some kind of remorse, but I don’t really do apologies—or remorse, for that matter. ‘Want me to bury him?’ I’m always happy to dig a hole in place of words.
She draws a long breath. ‘I don’t want you to bury my dog, no. You’ll need to ask the Davises about this one.’
Confused, I look down at the corpse in my arms. ‘This isn’t yours?’
She shakes her head, and her hair comes loose. ‘Fairly sure it’s the Davises’ new working dog. Her name is Millie.’
I check the gender of the dog. ‘Ah.’ Probably should have done that before presenting her with a bloodied corpse.
Annie whistles, and a moment later, a very much alive Banjo comes bounding up to us. His tail stops wagging when he smells the blood, and he walks over to sniff the dog I’m holding.
‘Well, make sure yours stays this side of the creek,’ I say, pushing her dog back with my foot. ‘Consider this a preview of things to come.’
She crinkles her nose. ‘You know, I saw your dad wandering around with a rifle earlier.’
