Chapter 2

Let’s skip ahead 25 years. Those Lucky’s finally killed Dad five years ago. Mom is in a home for people with Alzheimer’s. Jenny married and moved to California with her husband. They have 2 kids. That’s all I am going to say about her husband or those entitled brats.

Brother married his high school sweetheart and bought a farm bordering our farm. They have a couple of kids, both boys. He seems to be raising them right. In my opinion, whatever that’s worth.

Me? After high school I joined the Navy, became a hospital corpsman, did a tour with the Marines walking around the DMZ in Nam, then came home, got married, then divorced two years later. I live and work the farm I grew up on.

One night the phone woke me up. When I looked at the clock it was 2am! This ain’t good news. It was Cindy, Brother’s wife. She was crying as she said, “Son, get over here quick! He won’t let me call the police or an ambulance!”

“Let me have the damn phone!”

That was my brother’s voice.

“Son, I’ve been shot but it is really nothing more than a graze. I am holding a towel on it and the bleeding has already stopped. I just need a few stitches.”

“What about the guy who shot you?”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s laying dead in the back yard.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I hung up the phone, quickly dressed and grabbed my 1^st aid kit. Fifteen minutes later I ran up onto Brother’s front porch. One of his sons opened the door.

“He’s in the bathroom waiting on you.”

I rushed into the house and found him sitting on the toilet holding a towel to his side. His wife backed out of the way as I examined his wound. “You’re lucky. A couple of inches in and the bullet would have hit your liver. That would have been a problem. As it is, I’ll dis-infect the wound, put in a few stitches, give you an anti-biotic shot and you’ll be good as new in a week or so.”

When I finished stitching up his wound, I gave him a shot of an anti-biotic that we used on the cattle. As I stood up, I said, “Now let’s take care of the guy who shot you.”

“No!” said his wife.

“Brother you are going to lay down and that’s an order. Travis, take your uncle out back and tell him what happened. The truth, Travis.”

“Yes ma’am,” said the boy.

I followed my nephew through the kitchen to the back door as Cindy and her youngest son helped Brother up off the toilet and into his bedroom. Just off the back porch, laying in the dew-covered grass was a dead body. Half the man’s head was blown off!

“What happened here, Travis?”

“I heard Mom and Dad talking about someone trying to get in the back door. Dad went out the front and was coming around the house to catch the guy. I took my 16-gauge pump shotgun off the wall in my room and loaded three 00 buck rounds in it and watched out my window. I saw Dad confront the man and the man shot Dad, then I shot him through the window! I helped Dad into the house and Mom called you. I was pretty nervous but Dad told me not to worry you would know what to do.”

I looked into the boy’s eyes. He was not crying and he did not seem to be upset.

“Run get me a shovel” I said.

“I’ve already put two in the bed of the truck. Wait here a minute and I’ll pull it around and help you load him.”

He walked off to get the truck as I examined the body. This guy was no kid, he looked like he was about 40 years old if I had to guess. He did not have a billfold, so I was not able to get a name.

Travis was back with the truck and we loaded him up and drove to the old cemetery. When Travis parked his truck and got out he yelled, “Wake-up everybody we’ve brought you some company!”

I told you; Brother is raising this kid right!