by Schow, Ryan
Connor cut away the lower portion of hide. Being the first time field dressing a deer, Logan thought he was going to get sick, but without a bunch of blood gushing and blasting everywhere—and the deer laying back and chillin’, almost like you could put a beer in his hand (hoof) and set him in front of a TV and he’d be Kosher—he found the process to be interesting, rather than challenging.
“So now that you have your anus, your lower intestines freed up, and your pelvis”—he said, gripping the bone with one hand and giving it a little shake—“we can move up to the chest.”
Connor spun around and looked at Logan, making sure he had his attention.
“I’m going to make an incision up top, pulling the hide up and sliding the blade through it. Just make sure you cut up and away, like we talked about. You’re going to be on hard sternum here, so you don’t have to be terribly gentle, but then you’re going to reach the stomach. Here, feel that.”
Logan slid his palm over the animal’s chest, following the ribs down to the sternum and the obvious drop off where everything got soft.
“If you’re sloppy with your blade work, if you move too fast, or start showboating because you think you have it down, you could puncture the stomach lining and let’s just say that’s not so much fun, either.”
“Roger that,” he said.
“Now we’re ready to cut through the stomach lining, but you still have to be careful not to puncture the stomach. You’re going to enter at the point of the sternum. It’s easiest from there, rather than down below where it’s all muscle.”
He cut down into the hide, giving it a real pull, then said, “Okay, so now you’re going to slide your two fingers up in here, between the stomach and the abdominal muscle.” He said this while sliding them in deep and giving a healthy tug upward.
“Reminds me of my first girlfriend,” Logan said.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Connor snapped. “I’m trying to teach you something and you’re making sex jokes?”
He held up his hands in surrender and said, “Sorry, Connor. Mum’s the word.”
“Good God, boy,” he said.
“Now that you’ve got your two fingers in there”—he said, causing Logan to smirk a little, then snort out a laugh—“oh my Lord, kid. What are you, twelve?”
“I’m sorry, seriously. I am. I’m just so run down, my filter is off, even in my own head.”
“Slide the blade in between your fingers, cutting away from the intestines and stomach. You nick any of that with your knife and it’s going to smell like a shit soufflé.”
“Sounds like a ‘wrong hole’ joke,” Logan said, low under his breath.
Now Connor started to snicker, finally letting go. When he looked at Logan, he said, “In so many ways, son, a person never sees you coming. Normally I’d say that’s a good thing.”
“You can say it,” Logan said with a genuine smile.
“Alright, son. It’s a good thing. But moving on, seriously,” he said, “you’re going to cut all the way back to the pelvis. You want to do this as soon as possible, because the longer you wait, the more the animal is going to bloat, making everything in here tight.”
“Right, so loose is good, tight, not so good,” he said, straight-faced, mostly serious.
“You keep it up and I’m going to make you finish,” he said.
He tightened his lips, promised himself he’d shut up, even if he was on a roll.
“Now reach in here and all that gray mass, that’s the bladder, just reach in and pull that away, then we’re going to take the bone saw and cut away each side of the pelvis. It’s not necessary to cut both sides of the pelvis, but if you want to get a nice big gateway, you can do the other side as well and the animal will open up wide.”
“So do we just pull this stuff out now?” he asked, looking at a big pile of guts, and still marveling at how there was really no blood.
“No, not yet. You need to cut through the ribcage with the bone saw, staying away from the digestive organs.”
Before he was ready for it, taking a deep breath, Connor got in, took both sides of the ribcage and pulled it open, the rest of the bones breaking and tearing apart.
“Whoa,” he said.
The entire animal was opened like a pair of barn doors. “Reach in there and grab that organ right there,” he said. Logan did. He said, “That’s the heart. We’re going to nick the sack around it”—which he did—“then we’re going to keep the heart.”
Logan pulled it out and said, “Should I take a bite or something?”
Connor shook his head and said, “I swear, you city boys and your thinking. This ain’t computers, this is the business of the world. Here before video games, coding, that Siri lady on the phones.”
“So what do I do with it?” he asked, holding it up.
“Blow the dust off that rock, set it there.”
Logan did.
Connor cut the esophagus, then said, “All you have left is the diaphragm, and you can cut that.”
The thin skin peeled away, freeing everything up.
“So this big ass pile of guts, they can be pulled right out,” Connor said. “Grab the anus if you will.”
“Really?” Logan asked, not terribly anxious about that part.
Connor laughed, teasing him now. Then he said, “No, you grab the esophagus to do that.” He reached in, grabbed the windpipe, started peeling it all away, tearing through the last of the diaphragm. When he was able to pull everything out, he said, “And that’s why you have the gateway. This whole thing just slides right out.”
He cut away the liver and the kidney and said, “Put that with the heart. All that’s going in your bag.”
“So that’s it?” Logan said, now seeing a bit of blood pooling inside the wide open chest cavity.
“We’re just going to cut out the tenderloins and we’re done,” he said, going to work inside the animal.
“So it’s done just like that then?” Logan asked, his own muscles starting to hurt watching all this.
“Well, other people do it other ways. This is how I do it. Makes it easy to work, you can always keep an eye on your blade, and the dressing is clean.”
“Hey,” a woman said, both of them jumping at the same time from the interruption.
Logan looked up and saw Harper standing there, smiling. Her hair was tied up, and she looked surprisingly fresh.
“You scared the crap out of us,” Logan said.
“Working on my forest walk,” she said. “Super quiet, like a ninja.”
“We’re just about done here,” Connor said, wiping down his blade.
“Oh man,” she said. “I wanted to learn, too.”
“Logan can teach you next time and I’ll supervise,” Connor said. “If he’s not too busy making jokes.”
“So we might have an issue,” Harper said.
Connor was quickly interrupted by Cooper scrambling down the hillside to join them. He went over and sniffed the deer, but then he stopped, head snapping up, eyes leveled on the forest. He started a low growl in the back of his throat.
“Whatcha see, boy?” Connor asked, looking first at Harper, then at Cooper, and now into the woods.
Cooper started barking.
That’s when Logan saw the two-way Harper was holding.
“He’s headed your way,” the soft, female voice came over the Uniden.
“Thanks,” Harper said.
“I’m on my way, sit tight,” she replied.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” Harper urged. Her voice suddenly tightened, going more stern than usual. “You need to sit tight. We can handle this.”
“Bad reception,” the voice came back, the two-way keying off.
“Looks like we have company,” Harper said.
“Who was that?” Connor asked, grabbing Cooper by the collar as he kept on barking.
“Stephani. She’s at the sniper’s nest in the barn. Well, she was. Apparently she’s on her way down.”
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“She was just asleep,” Logan said.
“She does that sometimes,” Harper responded. “She also said she only needs one functional arm to be a spotter. And that technically she can shoot a rifle just fine. She left with both a sidearm and a pistol this morning.”
Connor shook his head as they heard movement in the brush. That’s when they saw someone wandering up through the woods with a camouflage hunting vest and a rifle at his side.
Harper already had her weapon out, tucked down at her side. She said, “You can’t hunt here. This is private property.”
The man was maybe fifty, fifty-five years old, scraggly beard, but clean looking. He looked around at them, already aware they were there because Cooper made it obvious with his barking.
“Mornin’ folks,” he said, seemingly unconcerned. When no one said anything, he offered an explanation. “I don’t mean nothing by it, but there ain’t no law around here to stop people from coming up and doin’ what God intended of ‘em.”
“This is our property,” Connor said, telling Cooper to calm down.
The dog did not calm down.
“With everything going on,” the man said, seeing the pile of deer intestines, stomach lining and esophagus lying in a pink and red pile just below the deer, “I’d think the company of strangers wouldn’t be a bad thing. You know, people helping people?”
“You heard what he said,” Logan stood and told him. His gun was nearby, but going for it could be considered an act of aggression as opposed to an act of protection.
“I heard, but I don’t hear so well,” he said, his tone changing. “You see, hunger can change a man’s sensitivities. For example, he stops being kind because he’s devolving into his lower level primate, and that—”
“Save it, bud,” Harper said, audibly keying the two-way at her side. “You’ve got two people you can’t see who have weapons on you right now. That’s the law now, the only thing you really need to know.”
“Yeah, right,” he grinned.
She put the weapon in her jacket pocket beside Logan—in case he needed it fast—then pointed to the ground by the man’s foot.
“What?” he asked.
Harper tucked her hand aside, made a fist. A gunshot cracked through the air and the dirt by the man’s foot kicked up. He jumped, a little yelp escaping him, his countenance changing entirely.
“Like I said, the new law is you trespass, we shoot you,” Harper said. “Now I can escort you off the property or you can go on your own, nice and polite.”
He held up a hand and said, “I’m a pacifist.”
“We’re all pacifists until we aren’t,” Logan said in an assured tone. “Off you go.”
He turned and said, “I appreciate you not shooting me.”
“Just as long as you know we will next time,” Connor said with a smile.
When the man moseyed off, Logan gathered up the organs, mounted the quad and had Harper get on with him. She held the bag ‘o guts, not terribly happy about it.
Later that night, Logan and Harper heard a gun go off. It sounded like a rifle. They were sitting on the porch when this happened, causing them to sit up fast. Connor hurried out front, rifle in hand, right in time to hear another shot ring out.
“Son of a…”
Logan and Harper grabbed their weapons the instant Connor said, “I need another set of eyes, maybe some backup.”
Orbey was out on the porch, hot on Connor’s heels. She had a weapon in her hand, but Connor said, “Not you.”
She looked at Logan, a question in her eyes. “I’m fine for now,” he said, “but I’m not sure how agile I’ll be.”
“That’s why I’m coming, too,” Harper said.
Stephani appeared outside as well, wincing from a dull pain, rifle in hand and warming up the shoulder nearest her injury. “Where do you want me?” she asked.
“Behind the woodpile,” Connor said, taking charge. “Orbey you’re on the porch. Anyone not us, shoot first and we’ll sort it out later.”
“Will do,” she said.
“Logan, are you coming?” Connor asked.
He wasn’t looking forward to the pain, but war was no place for pansies, so he was going to suck it up and do what was necessary to protect the Madigans, Harper and their property.
“Yeah, but if I slow down, don’t worry about me,” he replied.
They moved quickly into the night, relying on their senses for guidance, creeping like hunters in search of prey, hoping they didn’t end up the prey themselves.
As they traversed down the grassy hillside toward the tree line, Logan found the pain in his feet had diminished, and that the dull throb in his side from where he’d been shot was manageable. A hundred yards inside the tree line, they heard men ahead, and saw a hearty glow in the forest. They got close, found two men kneeling over a dead buck.
The chatter was interrupted by a cranking sound Logan couldn’t identify.
“Hand crank flashlight,” Connor whispered.
The light was brighter, giving them some visibility and a clear target. One of the two men was the man he and Connor saw earlier, when they were getting ready to field dress their animal.
“Are you warmed up for a fight, or do you want to cover us from afar?” Connor asked.
He wanted to say he could fight, but the truth was, his core was still healing, his feet weren’t a hundred percent, and even if he could win the fight, the cost to do so might put his recovery back too far to justify.
“Let me run the perimeter,” he said. “I’ve got you two covered.”
“Roger that,” Connor said.
Logan set out into the forest, far enough to hide in the shadows, but close enough to be in the fight in no time should they need backup.
Connor pulled Harper close, but before Connor could speak, Harper fired a shot in front of the men and spoke up. “You’re on our property,” she announced, “which means this buck is ours.”
Logan shook his head, concerned with her brazen approach, terrified she was going to bite off more than she could chew.
The men turned to her with guns, but Harper and Connor already had them dead to rights. On the perimeter, the three quarter moon was high, bright enough for Logan to scope in on them.
“I know these woods like the back of my hand,” Connor said, “which means if you don’t leave, you’re going to get a second asshole. Don’t make me count to three.”
One of them fired a round into the air, but Logan wasn’t sure what that meant, so he shot and wounded one of them and both Connor and Harper put the other down. Logan wasn’t sure if they were shooting to kill, or just to wound. Harper walked over to one of them and said, “Where do you clowns live?”
“I thought we were clear,” the guy said, blood bubbling out of his mouth, his teeth stained dark in the night.
Logan moved in, quietly in case there were more. His senses flared, so he stopped, moved behind a tree. He was still shrouded in darkness, still on high alert.
“I gave you a warning, dumb ass,” Connor said. “Your answer was to not pay attention, then to discharge your weapon at us in the dark. Are you kidding me right now?”
“You think you can protect your land?” the other guy said, surprisingly not dead.
Logan scoped in on them from twenty feet away, the man’s hand crank flashlight washing the scene in a dull, yellow light. The downed man gave a small laugh, and that’s when Harper knelt down and put her thumb in the guy’s wound, making him scream.
“We can protect our land from you,” she said. Then looking at Connor, she said, “But we told you that already, and look at you now.”
“What about us?” a voice said.
Harper raised her rifle, but by then six weapons were on her. The hair on the back of Logan’s neck and arms shot straight up. Fear ran through him like adrenaline, a giant pit forming in his stomach.
“Put your gun down and walk away from them or we’re going to put you down,” the deeply mascul
ine voice said.
There was a richness to it, a sincerity he prayed Harper and Connor would not overlook.
“This is our land,” Harper said, unrelenting.
“You willing to die for it?” he asked.
“So long as I take you with me,” she said, “yeah.”
“You won’t,” he said. “It’ll just be you and the old man.”
“I’m not the only gun out here,” she said.
The man’s eyes roamed around the trees, his eyes studying things in the direction of the house.
“Is that right,” he said, a statement, not a question.
“You bet your balls, Sunshine,” Harper said. “Like I told your dim-witted friend here, this is our land and you’re trespassing.”
“This is God’s land now,” he said. “He made it, you didn’t. But I don’t mind burying you in it. Then it can be your land forever.”
“When I send you His way, you make sure you ask Him, because as far as I’m concerned, this is ours,” Harper growled. “Now pack up your two gimp turds, and beat feet.”
One of the six looked at the other and then he said, “Is it me, or does she not realize there are six of us and one of her?”
“I don’t know if you realize there isn’t just one gun on you,” Connor said. “She told you that already, and I’m telling you that, too.”
Harper carefully let a hand leave the stock of the rifle. Like she’d done with Stephani, Harper pointed to the man who just spoke. Logan put the man in his crosshairs, waited with bated breath. First she pointed at his head, and then she lowered her finger to his foot. He waited for her to make a fist. When she did, he squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot rang out, a puff of dirt jumping right beside his foot. At that point, everyone got real tight with their weapons, but then the lead man lifted a hand and started backing up.
“Spread the word ass hat,” Harper said.
The guy looked down at his two men and said, “These two aren’t going to make it.”
“Then put them out of our misery,” she said.
“I…I…” he stuttered.
“You pansy,” she said. Withdrawing her pistol, she fired a round into each man then said, “This world is going to eat you whole and shit you out in pieces.”
