Read Online Fourth of July Creek by Smith Henderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Smith Henderson
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like Tony or get pregnant by guys like Tony who bought and bred dogs for sheer destructive power. Raze the thing. Scatter the Shorts to the winds.
He grabbed their case file from the seat, and bloodied the case log:
The Shorts breached their agreement with Agency and were again (fifth time) absent for a previously scheduled from this agent. Agent believes that the Shorts are evading inspection as ordered by the Rimrock County Family Court and Rimrock County Office of the Montana Department of Family Services and may again be involved in criminal activity (see log 7/30). Agent was unable to survey house due to attack by the Shorts’ wild dogs who were left unsupervised at home location and may pose considerable danger to Short children. Agent was bitten on the hand and—
Pete set the paperwork aside. He reached into the open glove box, fetched the canister from within it, and cracked the window. He paused a moment in sympathy for the guileless animals, genuinely touched by the raw beauty and ideal breeding snarling wildly at the inch-wide gap in his window. Then he maced one dog square in its snapping face with exquisite joy. It bucked back and twirled coughing, fell, scrambled up in the mud, and then careened blind until it collided into a metal shed at full speed with an explosive bang. For a time it did not move. The second bore into the field after Pete sprayed it, simply trying to outrun the hot torment. Peace settled over the scene. The hornless billy chuckled like an amused codger. Pete stashed the spray and wrote some more:
Agent recommends to the Court that the children be remanded to their aunt’s (Ginny Short) until such time as Crystal and Antonio Short can demonstrate their willingness to work in good faith with the State of Montana and as per their plea agreement with the District Attorney’s Office and the Office of Child Protective Services.
—Agent P.W.S.
Did her father call?
Yes. She’d answered the phone assuming it was Kim or Lori and hoped maybe but probably not Kevin calling her back.
God, if it was Kevin. A soph-oh-more. Yes, more please.
Hey Applesauce, her father said.
Oh.
Yeah, hi.
Hi .
Look, I can’t make it down today. I’m really sorry. I got bit by a dog. I need to have it looked at—
She asked him did he even have any idea what was happening.
He said what, what was happening.
She said she couldn’t believe he didn’t know. She wanted to get back at him. Intuited that she had some power in knowing what he didn’t: her mother was in her bedroom, shoving clothes into garbage bags.
What is it, honey? What’s going on?
What is wrong with this family?
He said Rachel. He said come on Applesauce. He said to put her mother on the phone.
She placed the phone on its silver cradle. She ran her hand through her hair over and over and hated her tiny head in the reflection of the toaster. The phone rang again. She stood from the table and walked on the balls of her feet to her bedroom. Her mother said for her to get it, but Rachel closed her door.
Jesus, Rachel!
YOU GET IT! she shrieked. I’M PACKING LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO! GOD!
An empty suitcase. She heard her mother’s voice veer into a fighting pitch on the phone. She opened a drawer and pulled out an armful of shirts and threw them onto the bed. In the back of the half-empty drawer was a saddening fifth of vodka.
Was it for a party? Was it for showing how grown she was and practically sophisticated?
Yes. It was for sitting with Kevin. She’d seen his stomach once. His bare stomach.
God.
Soft. But hard.
Oh.
More.
It ached to think about.
Was that so over now?
Duh.
FIVE
H e drove four hours to the city of Missoula to see his wife. He didn’t eat or stop for gas. No radio. Like when you were a kid. The old man treated every road trip like a moon shot. You brought your grub for the trip or you went hungry. You held it or you pissed in the milk carton. Wasn’t anything on the radio anyway.
He took Orange
He grabbed their case file from the seat, and bloodied the case log:
The Shorts breached their agreement with Agency and were again (fifth time) absent for a previously scheduled from this agent. Agent believes that the Shorts are evading inspection as ordered by the Rimrock County Family Court and Rimrock County Office of the Montana Department of Family Services and may again be involved in criminal activity (see log 7/30). Agent was unable to survey house due to attack by the Shorts’ wild dogs who were left unsupervised at home location and may pose considerable danger to Short children. Agent was bitten on the hand and—
Pete set the paperwork aside. He reached into the open glove box, fetched the canister from within it, and cracked the window. He paused a moment in sympathy for the guileless animals, genuinely touched by the raw beauty and ideal breeding snarling wildly at the inch-wide gap in his window. Then he maced one dog square in its snapping face with exquisite joy. It bucked back and twirled coughing, fell, scrambled up in the mud, and then careened blind until it collided into a metal shed at full speed with an explosive bang. For a time it did not move. The second bore into the field after Pete sprayed it, simply trying to outrun the hot torment. Peace settled over the scene. The hornless billy chuckled like an amused codger. Pete stashed the spray and wrote some more:
Agent recommends to the Court that the children be remanded to their aunt’s (Ginny Short) until such time as Crystal and Antonio Short can demonstrate their willingness to work in good faith with the State of Montana and as per their plea agreement with the District Attorney’s Office and the Office of Child Protective Services.
—Agent P.W.S.
Did her father call?
Yes. She’d answered the phone assuming it was Kim or Lori and hoped maybe but probably not Kevin calling her back.
God, if it was Kevin. A soph-oh-more. Yes, more please.
Hey Applesauce, her father said.
Oh.
Yeah, hi.
Hi .
Look, I can’t make it down today. I’m really sorry. I got bit by a dog. I need to have it looked at—
She asked him did he even have any idea what was happening.
He said what, what was happening.
She said she couldn’t believe he didn’t know. She wanted to get back at him. Intuited that she had some power in knowing what he didn’t: her mother was in her bedroom, shoving clothes into garbage bags.
What is it, honey? What’s going on?
What is wrong with this family?
He said Rachel. He said come on Applesauce. He said to put her mother on the phone.
She placed the phone on its silver cradle. She ran her hand through her hair over and over and hated her tiny head in the reflection of the toaster. The phone rang again. She stood from the table and walked on the balls of her feet to her bedroom. Her mother said for her to get it, but Rachel closed her door.
Jesus, Rachel!
YOU GET IT! she shrieked. I’M PACKING LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO! GOD!
An empty suitcase. She heard her mother’s voice veer into a fighting pitch on the phone. She opened a drawer and pulled out an armful of shirts and threw them onto the bed. In the back of the half-empty drawer was a saddening fifth of vodka.
Was it for a party? Was it for showing how grown she was and practically sophisticated?
Yes. It was for sitting with Kevin. She’d seen his stomach once. His bare stomach.
God.
Soft. But hard.
Oh.
More.
It ached to think about.
Was that so over now?
Duh.
FIVE
H e drove four hours to the city of Missoula to see his wife. He didn’t eat or stop for gas. No radio. Like when you were a kid. The old man treated every road trip like a moon shot. You brought your grub for the trip or you went hungry. You held it or you pissed in the milk carton. Wasn’t anything on the radio anyway.
He took Orange
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