having any of it. The minute Chantry put his hand in the cage the cat slashed him quick as anything, four red stripes of blood welling up on the back of his hand before he could jerk it back fast enough.
“Shit!” he couldn’t help yelping, then glanced over his shoulder. Malone wasn’t in sight. He turned back to the cage. The cat hissed again, looking menacing and pretty proud of the fact it’d gotten rid of that hand. This wasn’t going to be easy. Smears of poop went up the steel walls and lay in clumps on the floor. A litter box was virtually untouched, but newspaper was wet and soggy and shredding with urine and feces. Mrs. Tidwell’s cat hunched in the middle of all of it.
After a minute of eye to eye contact, Chantry tried again, but the cat leaped at him and set the litter box on its side, spilling clay litter all over the bottom of the cage. It mixed with the wet newspaper and clumps of poop. Chantry looked at the mess, then he set the bucket in the middle of the big cage between him and the cat. He blocked the opening with his body in case the cat tried to escape, but it decided it didn’t like the plastic bucket and backed into a corner. Grabbing a dry towel, he wrapped it around the cat to keep the claws busy and managed to get it into an empty cage, then set to work cleaning up the mess and scrubbing.
By the time he finished, the cage was clean, the litter box refilled, fresh water in the bowl, clean newspapers put down, and he had four more claw marks on his arm where he’d gotten careless.
Malone stopped behind him. He eyed the cage, the cat, and Chantry for a minute. Then he nodded. “Show up after school and half-days on Saturday. Four dollars an hour.”
“Three-fifty and a fifty percent discount on the best dog food you sell.” Chantry met Malone’s eyes, saw something flicker there, and wondered if he’d gone too far. Then Malone nodded.
“Done. There’s some hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin by the sink. Use it on those scratches.”
The vet walked away and Chantry let out the breath he’d been holding. He had a job, and he’d be able to get Shadow good food. And he had a plan. If life really was about making his own future, he’d give it a shot.
Mama wasn’t as pleased as he’d thought she’d be when he told her about his job.
“Your school work should come first, Chantry. A high grade point average will get you into almost any college you choose to attend.”
He didn’t say what was on his mind, that college would take too much time and keep him tied to Cane Creek too long. He just said he could do it all.
“My grades are good. I can do it.”
Mama gave in finally, but she still worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep up and told him if his grades suffered, he’d have to give up the job. That only made him more determined to do it all, especially when Rainey said it was a waste of time to even talk about sending him off to some damn college.
“Let him get a job like Beau and Rafe done. They’re makin’ good money doin’ iron work off up in Missouri, and stayin’ with my kin saves money to boot. High rise work pays extra if you got balls enough to walk those beams. Takes a man to be a rod-buster.”
Chantry didn’t say anything. He just stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room where Rainey sprawled out in his worn recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote to the TV in the other. Mama kept the house clean and neat, furniture always polished and the floors swept up, even the old rug, but there was no style to anything. It was just plain second-hand furniture, some of it covered in throws bought at the dollar store. Only the TV was new, bought with money made off the pups.
“I do not intend for my son to have to do that kind of work,” Mama said stiffly, and that brought Rainey’s head snapping around to look at her. She didn’t back down. “Chantry has a good mind and should not have to use his back to earn a living. An
“Shit!” he couldn’t help yelping, then glanced over his shoulder. Malone wasn’t in sight. He turned back to the cage. The cat hissed again, looking menacing and pretty proud of the fact it’d gotten rid of that hand. This wasn’t going to be easy. Smears of poop went up the steel walls and lay in clumps on the floor. A litter box was virtually untouched, but newspaper was wet and soggy and shredding with urine and feces. Mrs. Tidwell’s cat hunched in the middle of all of it.
After a minute of eye to eye contact, Chantry tried again, but the cat leaped at him and set the litter box on its side, spilling clay litter all over the bottom of the cage. It mixed with the wet newspaper and clumps of poop. Chantry looked at the mess, then he set the bucket in the middle of the big cage between him and the cat. He blocked the opening with his body in case the cat tried to escape, but it decided it didn’t like the plastic bucket and backed into a corner. Grabbing a dry towel, he wrapped it around the cat to keep the claws busy and managed to get it into an empty cage, then set to work cleaning up the mess and scrubbing.
By the time he finished, the cage was clean, the litter box refilled, fresh water in the bowl, clean newspapers put down, and he had four more claw marks on his arm where he’d gotten careless.
Malone stopped behind him. He eyed the cage, the cat, and Chantry for a minute. Then he nodded. “Show up after school and half-days on Saturday. Four dollars an hour.”
“Three-fifty and a fifty percent discount on the best dog food you sell.” Chantry met Malone’s eyes, saw something flicker there, and wondered if he’d gone too far. Then Malone nodded.
“Done. There’s some hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin by the sink. Use it on those scratches.”
The vet walked away and Chantry let out the breath he’d been holding. He had a job, and he’d be able to get Shadow good food. And he had a plan. If life really was about making his own future, he’d give it a shot.
Mama wasn’t as pleased as he’d thought she’d be when he told her about his job.
“Your school work should come first, Chantry. A high grade point average will get you into almost any college you choose to attend.”
He didn’t say what was on his mind, that college would take too much time and keep him tied to Cane Creek too long. He just said he could do it all.
“My grades are good. I can do it.”
Mama gave in finally, but she still worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep up and told him if his grades suffered, he’d have to give up the job. That only made him more determined to do it all, especially when Rainey said it was a waste of time to even talk about sending him off to some damn college.
“Let him get a job like Beau and Rafe done. They’re makin’ good money doin’ iron work off up in Missouri, and stayin’ with my kin saves money to boot. High rise work pays extra if you got balls enough to walk those beams. Takes a man to be a rod-buster.”
Chantry didn’t say anything. He just stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room where Rainey sprawled out in his worn recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote to the TV in the other. Mama kept the house clean and neat, furniture always polished and the floors swept up, even the old rug, but there was no style to anything. It was just plain second-hand furniture, some of it covered in throws bought at the dollar store. Only the TV was new, bought with money made off the pups.
“I do not intend for my son to have to do that kind of work,” Mama said stiffly, and that brought Rainey’s head snapping around to look at her. She didn’t back down. “Chantry has a good mind and should not have to use his back to earn a living. An
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