The Broken Rifle
Copyright© 2024 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 23
There he was ... looking like he was asleep. I was unsure how long he had been there ... but the tree was doing its best to surround him. Maybe in another fifty years the tree would have done it ... maybe. Maybe not. The bark was about his shoulders as if in a hug. The rifle was across his lap his arms across the stock ... He was ready for the elk.
I put the location in my GPS and went home. I called. I made more than one trip.
Eventually...
“Remarkable,” said the County Coroner. “This looks like a job for the Federals. Oh ... where is the gun?”
“What gun?”
“The rifle. He never went to the woods without it.” That was accompanied by a look.
He knew. Damnit.
“You were not the first call I made ... I called from home.”
“In your gun safe.”
Not a question. A statement of fact.
“I’d admire to see it. You should gather up his possibles ... they need to be with the gun ... and with them here and the rifle gone? Guilty ... guilty ... guilty.”
“Yes Sir,”
“We’ll call from the house.”
“Yes Sir.”
We were silent during the drive down the mountain ... it was as if we were giving him our last respect ... because the Feds surely wouldn’t.
After a minute examination, the Coroner said, “It’s genuine.” A heavy sigh ... then, “would you take a hundred for it?”... “thousand.”
“Doc ... put me on the spot, why don’t ya. You tempt my resolve.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so ... deserves a glass case and a spot in Cody or the Smith.”
“My kids will have to decide,,, I’m gonna shoot it.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.