Da’d been grieving a long time, and there was nothing unusual in that. Weren’t expected that he’d kill himself, though. He must’ve been grieving bad to decide on leaving them like that. Simple affair, it was. He packed his pipe one night, gave a nod to the door, and grunted that familiar word, ‘Outside,’ before heading just there – as if ten years of his nightly smoke weren’t enough to pass as routine. Ma only nodded, as she too’d done for ten unchanged years, stroking their son Tobe’s tired brow.

Tobe shifted his legs to ease his head further into her lap and he sighed, squinting his eyes. Taking small, shallow breaths, he waited for the huffed breath to come - the one he’d take when Da’d come back in and the heady scent of tobacco’d fill the room, dancing with its sister-smell of the hearth. And how Tobe’d always sniff that air! Routine, it was. Sure as a sunrise, as Da might’ve said.

Da’d always smoked his pipe twice in a day; always the one in the morning, always the other before bed. He’d even done so that night of all the screaming, when Ma’d misbirthed. He’d softly patted the midwife’s shoulder then lowered his head, which fell in upon the rest of him. The whole kit that was him had collapsed into his chair, like a pile of sticks gone wayside.

As he’d sat there crying, before later consoling his wife, he’d packed his pipe then stepped outside, for once without his usual simple announcement. The night following Ma’s misbirth, however, he’d said the same old thing before his pipe, once again finding his voice. Then every other night till his last was the same. ‘Outside...’ was the last thing he’d say.

‘Outside...’ and then he was gone, leaving Ma to her thoughts as she stroked her child’s head. Leaving Tobe to think of little as he dreamily sniffed at that lacking warm air, waiting for the tobacco scent that would never again come.

Somewhere, far beyond Tobe’s closed eyelids, he heard footsteps across the porch, heading away down the steps. Then the same footsteps again, slower when they returned, low muffle tread like a wave rolling out then back in. Tobe, in the rush of blood to his ears – tired, shallow breaths taking their toll – heard a heavy rustling like leaves, and the verandah beams creaking softly.

Then silence... for some time.

Next thing Tobe heard was the sharp staccato of Da tapping his pipe on the heel of his boot. That, for all of Tobe’s ten years, had also been the routine. The next sound that Tobe heard wasn’t routine at all. Something fell with a thud and there then came a heavy whine, verandah beams in protest, creaking in a keening moan before CRACK!

Then silence again.

True silence.

It wasn’t the noise that made Tobe lift his head. It was the lonely quiet that followed. His mother hushed him, still stroking his brow, and she solemnly looked to the door.

‘Shh...’ she said softly. ‘No fear, Tobe. Da’s gone hunting, and he won’t be back. S’a prize trophy he found now...’

Tobe frowned for his ignorance, but Ma stroked away those creases and he easily, quickly, fell asleep.

Outside the house, by the still-warm pipe, their dog Cayden sniffed at Da’s boots, as they swung back and forth above the porch boards.

*****

They set to burying him out back beside the pumpkins. Hot day it was, and Ma looked an angel, sweat dripping down her face, glimmering gold in the sun. Tobe did what he could, which was actually very little. But when he did do little – scooping the dirt aside with his hands or shooing the flies from his Da – his Ma’d look at him across the hole she was digging and smile. Angel, she was.

When the hole was done she stepped back and sighed, one hand to her hip as the other wiped at her brow. For a moment she looked like a kettle, right down to the rusted tan of her skin and the smudges of dirt like ash. Tobe smiled briefly, about to declare her a kettle, as was fit. But Ma lowered her hand to flick the sweat away from her fingertips, giving the illusion away.

‘Help me lay your Da down, Tobe,’ she said. ‘Before the flies start settin’ to maggots.’

The smirk fell away from Tobe’s face, dead as his Da by the hole, hole nearby the pumpkins. He looked down at the dusty boots he’d have to take hold of, saw the peppered spots of pipe ash on the heel, and he remembered the last tap-tap-tap. He wasn’t about to cry, it was something else. He didn’t known what, though. All he knew was that it was big. Ma soon made it small, though.

‘No more’n a chicken, Tobe,’ she said. ‘Know when I’m stuffin’ the chicken? Gettin’ it all ready for dinner?’

Tobe nodded, jaw slack and eyes wide upon his father.

‘That chicken don’t feel a thing, Tobe. Packin’ it full’a that stuffin’… That chicken don’t… feel… a thing.’ She nodded sharply to her husband. ‘And now your Da don’t feel a thing either.’

She picked the shovel up from the ground then drove it into the soil beside the hole. ‘All he knows now is peace. So we’ll bury him, say goodbye… and be happy for what he’s got now.’

She smiled warmly, hooked her hands beneath Da’s arms, and nodded for Tobe to take the feet.

‘Puts me in a mind, in fact… All done later,’ she said, ‘and we’ll go on up the Harrison place, get us one of their chickens. Maybe have pumpkin pie, too.’

Tobe nodded dumbly as he grabbed hold of his Da’s boots. And they laid him there by the pumpkin patch, while his Ma smiled like an angel.

*****

Was six months now passed since Da’d gone and killed himself, and the verandah beam was still cracked. Tobe was staring up at it, strained on the tips of his toes, wondering how much of his fingertip would fit in that crack. Wondering if he’d get a splinter if he tried. He was also wondering if his Da might’ve smiled for such foolery.

Nick Murphy, down the way some and a year older than Tobe, had said his Da would’ve shitted himself when he’d gone and died. Way it was, Nick’d said. His older brother’d caught buckshot in his belly some time back, pants had been full when they’d found him. No one had ever been figured as to have shot him, though. He was shot and it was all left at that. But he’d shitted himself when he’d died, said Nick, and Tobe’s Da’d be no more different.

Was only a week back when Nick’d said that, and Tobe’s side was still feeling poorly from the scuffle they’d had. Not half as poor as Nick’s leg, smiled Tobe, having given it a swift kick come the end. When he’d called Nick a liar, Nick’d scuffed dirt at his feet, giving a loud, ‘Nuh-uh!’ Tobe’d fired back with a louder, ‘Are too!’ and then pushin’ had come to shovin’. End of the day they’d both shared some bruises, and whether or not Da’d shitted himself remained to be seen.

Tobe put thoughts of Nick aside and now fell back to his heels, still staring to the crack in the verandah beam. He was better craning his neck than tiptoeing, what with the pain at his ribs. He raised his hand and pinched his fingers before his eyes, measuring that crack to his finger. ‘Bout a good third of his finger’d fit in there, he reckoned, give or take a smidge. He stepped forward, trying to decide if he should test it. But there was that chance of a splinter, and he figured a sore side was well enough for now without a splinter in the mix.

Had Da smiled when he’d died? Tobe suddenly wondered. He thought about his Da’s face when they’d buried him; eyes shut tight and his lips kind’a opened apart, as though he’d been about to speak. Tobe’d seen that look on his Da’s face before and he tried to remember where, why. He rolled his eyes, thinking, then frowned when the memory came. It’d been the same face Da’d always made with his wind! Damn that rot-bastard Nick! Tobe stomped down the steps of the porch to go walking and kicking at stones, swearing on all things holy that his Da did not shit his sweet self.

Round back of the house there was Cayden, snapping at a cabbage moth as it flitted about daringly. Tobe looked along the ground a moment, then kicked at a large rock, sending it Cayden’s way. The dog turned sharply, belly and head down low as the rock skimmed past his leg. The moth flew away, making one last bold swoop past Cayden’s muzzle before it took to high air. Cayden turned his head, whiplash quick, watching the moth fly away. He turned his head again, stared square at Tobe and growled.

‘Know your damn place, dog!’ spat Tobe, just like his Da’d say when Cayden’d been just a pup.

Cayden’d always listened to Da. Never listened to Tobe, though. Never cared a fig for Tobe. There’d even been that one time when Cayden’d bit him. One time. Da’d surely shown Cayden his place that day, there on the end of his belt. Belt was buried now, thought Tobe sullenly. He should’ve grabbed it before they’d set him to ground. If he had the belt now he’d soon show that Cayden what for.

It was as though Cayden sensed this, and the two of them squared off a while, the dog staring with an angry stance before Tobe kicked another stone at him, sending Cayden away to the trees.

Tobe watched the dog disappear into some deep thicket. He waited a little to see if Cayden’d come back out, but soon lost interest and turned away. Turned away and saw it… saw him.

Mathew.

Nothin’ but a cross of thick sticks, stuck above dead, dry grass. And beneath that, a dead, dry baby. Nary a breath that baby’d made, dead when he’d left Ma’s belly.

Mathew…

The name brushed softly over Tobe’s lips and he squinted at the cross, wondering if his dead brother’d even earned a name, being so short of the world. There’d been two dead of Cayden’s litter when they’d got him from the McKays. Two dead and Tobe couldn’t remember Mister McKay naming them.

‘This one I call Splint,’ McKay’d said to Tobe and Da, pointing to one of the pups. ‘On ‘count he’s so thin.’

He’d further told them of three other pups he’d named, including Cayden, who McKay had named Riley, being so active and such. Needless to say, Da’d thought nothing of the name, changing it to Cayden when they’d taken him home. Tobe couldn’t recall the other two names from the litter. There’d been four in all, six if you counted the two that’d died, and they’d never earned no names. Just dead was all McKay’d said of those two.

So, why Mathew, then? Why not call him just what he was – a dead baby. He soon gave up on the matter, having pondered it before. He was about to shrug at the cross, in his own subdued show of respect, when the hand fell at his shoulder and Ma’s lips moved close to his ear.

‘Be three of us left if he’d stayed on,’ she said, nodding to the cross. ‘Four if you count lil’ Cayden.’

Cayden might’ve heard her just then, might’ve not. Whatever the case, the dog ran out from the thicket, stopping a yard from Ma and Tobe, mouth slack and his pale, pink tongue hanging loose over his teeth. A bead of saliva hung tight at the tip of his tongue, would’ve made the trip to the ground had Cayden not yawned, that spotted strip of flesh curling back up into his mouth, taking the spittle with it. He cocked his head as he finished the yawn, muzzle snapping shut as he gave a low whine.

Ma’s cheek touched against Tobe’s ear as she smiled broadly. She gave a tight squeeze of his shoulder and pointed to Cayden. ‘Good as family,’ she nodded. ‘So, I reckon that does make us three.’

Tobe said nothing, only leaned forward a little to hide his face from Ma, hide the sour glare he threw at the dog. The dog made no such bones about its feelings, staring coldly back at Tobe from beneath a lowered brow.

*****

Too much food for just the pair. That was Ma’s reasoning three nights later, when she’d brought Cayden inside of the evening. Too much for two, so there was no harm in sharing up for a third.

Tobe ate slowly and quietly, setting a brooding gaze to the dog as it sat there in the corner, licking a plate clean. Weren’t but two minutes after the food had been set at that plate, and he was already done, greedy beast! Cayden finished off what ghost of a taste was still on the plate, then sat stiffly upright, smacking his mouth with his tongue running over his teeth.

Ma smiled down and patted her leg for him to come on over. ‘Still hungry, boy?’

Cayden wagged his tail and lurched a step forward, foot hitting the plate to rattle it upon the floor. Ma stabbed a fork into the last potato in the bowl, center of the table. Tobe watched her lean down to shake it free of the fork. It hit the floor with a dull thud, the noise quickly drowned out by the eager dog’s snuffling and snorting.

As before, the dog made quick of his food, potato swallowed whole before Tobe could even blink. Not that he would have, though. Tobe was too busy staring wide-eyed at the dog, then to the barren table with remorse. It was with a sullen demeanour that he looked to his own plate, the measly shred of potato he had himself. With his appetite gone, he left the table and retired to bed.

Ma gave his scraps to the dog.

*****

Time later, given a week or so, and Tobe was to the back of their land, West-side where Da’d cleared away the trees to grow corn. That’d been soon after he’d started grieving. ‘Bout three days after Ma’s misbirth, in fact. He never had gotten round to settin’ any corn there. All he’d done was to clear away a good deal of trees, swinging that axe like an angry god. All of forty trees, Tobe’d reckon, and Da’d just swept through ‘em like a hurricane. Took him all of a week, stumps and all. Never did get to growing corn, though. Just ripped all Hell through the trees. Like an angry god with an axe.

Tobe stepped along some, eyes set down, looking at the small patches of weed and grass that’d made a home there now. The soil, turned when Da’d torn out the stumps, had now settled to a hard, uneven sight. Nasty looking. Tobe tried to remember what it’d been truly like, with all the trees. Closed his eyes and tried to look at it with the mind’s eye – that’s what his teacher, Miss Burke’d said, wasn’t it? Called it the mind’s eye? Right before Ma’d pulled him from schooling, saying a man’s hand was needed at home.

Can you get dust in your mind’s eye? wondered Tobe. ‘Cause he wasn’t seeing much at all in there. The trees came to him like sad, hunched things, their foliage more like hay bales than actual leaves. He’d have a better time drawing them with a lump of coal, and Tobe’s drawing left much to be desired in itself. Nup… Not one tree worth a damn there, and still he closed his eyes. Still, he tried.

Eyes closed, breath kept shallow, Tobe suddenly pulled that slight breath in deeper. Miss Burke’d never said nothing ‘bout the mind’s eye playing at trickery! There, amongst those sorry trees in his head, Tobe saw his Da, axe in hand. In his mind’s eye, Da turned to him, and Da weren’t much better than the trees. It was Da by all rights. His clothes, his stance, the axe even. But the face… the face wasn’t right, made of vague afterthought. It sat there on Da’s shoulders like a murky fog with a crop of hair, more scarecrow than a man.

Tobe opened his eyes, letting his breath out sharp in a gasp. For a moment he was scared he’d really find Da standing there, staring back with white-pebble eyes and a gashed-with-a-blunt-stick mouth. No Da, though. No trees. Just the memory of both, and the realisation that each was lost, faint. Tobe couldn’t quite remember what Da’d really looked like. There was more luck in pulling up those weeds than a memory of how his Da once looked. All he could bring up clearly was the axe, swinging all holy murder through the trees. Just an angry god and the trees. And Da never had set to the corn…

*****

Ferguson land weren’t any good for but two things. The first thing the land was good at was being Ferguson land. Apart from that it just sat there, ol’ Ferguson’s shack nestled deep somewhere in the brush. Whether or not Ferguson was there was another matter. Was many said she’d expired or left. Fact was that no one’d seen hide nor hair of the woman in four years. She was the local dare, her shack the proverbial lion’s den for every young Daniel with a goading friend at their back, calling ‘em wuss unless they ran out into that land to find it.

Tobe’d made it in a few steps one day, Nick and some other boys cheering. They never did know that Tobe’d chanced on a ditch that was out of sight. Ducking down to give himself time, he’d returned to his friends with a good show of acting out of breath. Touched the shack itself, Tobe had said. They’d looked at his hand like it carried a curse, all of ‘em wanting for words.

The second thing Ferguson land was good for was flowers and mushrooms. According to Ma, at any rate. Truth was, Tobe’d been through Ferguson’s many times, just never alone without Ma. He’d never told Nick and the others ‘bout that. Felt odd, to be told. He’d never been sure why, but it seemed wrong to tell the boys that. Like he was worried they might think bad of his Ma.

Ma. Who bravely strode through Ferguson’s now. Ma. With her skirt hem lifted up with one hand, petticoat trailing at her ankles as she crouched to pick up more mushrooms, tossing them into the deep pocket her skirt’d made. Ma. Who now looked across, sweet smile for her boy who stood nervous, wondering just where Ferguson’s shack was.

‘You still fussed ‘bout that ol’ woman, Tobe? I told you time again, she’s no bother.’

‘I know…’ Tobe muttered.

‘Then why you all fidgets and nerves? That ol’ woman’s no harm to anyone. More chance crossing a hare than you have runnin’ in with her.’

Tobe laughed, picturing himself squared against a rabbit. Laughed more when the rabbit laid a sharp paw to his chin, knocking him flat to the dust. Ma smiled, guessing he’d gone a’wander in that head of his. A dreamer, Tobe was. And Ma was glad for that.

‘Sweet truth be told, Tobe,’ said Ma as she stood up, bundling the bulging skirt to her waist, ‘that ol’ Ferguson’s just a woman likes to be alone. She knows more’n most folk round here, let me tell you. Wise woman, that Ferguson.’

Ma wiped her brow with her free hand, crouching down again to lay her palm against the soil, small specks of grit sticking where the sweat had been. Tobe’d never been sure why she’d sometimes do this. Tobe’d never been sure why Ma did a lot of things.

‘Well, all done here, Tobe. We’ll get on home now and I’ll set to a stew.’ She looked about, head swinging this way and that. Gave a sigh that was heavy. ‘Wise woman, that Ferguson. Wise enough to keep to her own.’

The trees rustled, all whispers. Ma smiled, nodded as the rustling died down and the trees grew still. Tobe shuddered for the chill of a breeze at his neck, wondering why the trees were quiet now, what with a wind coming. Cayden’d come along, as he’d always done, and as always again he was snuffling about some rocks, minding his own affair. And just as always, he yipped and yapped, bounding to Ma’s side as though he just knew she was ready to leave. He was smart for such a stupid, fool dog, Tobe thought.

Ma, clutching her skirt with the mushrooms and flowers bundled inside, moved on with Cayden stepping wild about her heels. Tobe followed them through the trees, casting a nervous glance back for ol’ Ferguson, who may or may not have been dead, but was wise nonetheless – if Ma was asked.

Out from the trees, they crossed the old wire fence that looked like a cow had sat there, pulling the wires down flat and defeating all purpose of a fence. They stepped out to the road that sat up a ways from their own property, a good trek down the hill.

Tobe could see the clearing from here, that dead place where once had been trees, where once had been Da. That place without corn. He stood there, squinting through the midday sun to ponder on that. Wondering if anything would ever grow there, he turned his head when he heard the cart, the trundling storm of McKay’s Clydesdale, hooves stamping heavy as it carried McKay and whatever he touted around beneath that canvas in the back.

Tobe’d think back later and remember it all clear as a bell. Standing there, watching the cart rise up over the peak of the road, watching it come bearing down, quick. Ma, lifting a hand to wave at McKay, the hand poised at the ready for when he’d soon be in eyeshot.

And then Cayden… barking a mess as he’d do whenever a cart was nearby, yapping and snapping, running back and forth. Cayden… running forward as the cart bore down the hill and Ma’s waving hand dropped slackly as Cayden fell under the wheel, that bark rising up into a squealing nightmare sound.

Ma’s other hand slipped for just a moment, the skirt falling down with mushrooms and flowers dancing, ready to spill. Just a moment before she snatched up the hem, pulling it tighter to her than before. She was awful quick in the movement, but one of the flowers fell out.

Tobe looked to Cayden, limp on the road and bleeding. Saw the flower lightly tumble along, the wind picking back up. The flower, small and white with a yellow center, rolled like a winking eye.

The flower rolled over to Cayden, nestling just at his ear that twitched at the touch. Only forward, not back. Wasn’t a twitch that drew the ear back down. Was a slow slumping fall like the ear alone had decided on a nap. Cayden seemed to have decided much the same, sleeping through all the noise.

‘Sweet Jesus and Mary!’ McKay’s words, loud as they were, seemed faint amidst the alarmed din the Clydesdale made. The cart, which had lurched violently when it’d struck Cayden, now rocked only slightly as the horse stamped a large, heavy hoof, eager to move on. Panic was still in the air and the horse fought its basic desire to run, the alternative being McKay’s whip.

‘Sweet Jesus and Mary…’ said McKay again. ‘Lordy me, Kelly, I think I’ve gone killed your dog.’

Ma cocked her head, looking sadly to Cayden. Looking sadly, but still with some of a smirk. Ma smirked like she always did when sad, like everything was nothing, and nothing was everything. Like it all mattered, but didn’t.

She stared down at the flowers and mushrooms in her skirt, stepped off the road and turned her back on McKay and Cayden. She let the skirt fall, flowers and mushrooms falling to the ground at her feet, mushrooms falling heavy, flowers falling light. Mismatched rain of pale and bright colours. Her eyes followed the flowers and mushrooms, caught Tobe’s gaze on the way up. And she smiled to him, not a hint of sadness there in her soul, all’a sudden.

‘I reckon you have killed ol’ Cayden,’ said Ma, turning back to McKay. ‘But don’t you feel bad none. He was a good dog with a bad head on his shoulders, is all. Was his bad sense for this, not yours.’

‘Oh, but I feel terrible for this, Kelly. Want I should give you and Tobe another dog? Bess had another litter just a while back. Still a few I got hanging ‘bout for no good. Say the word, Kelly, and one of ‘em’s yours.’

‘No,’ Ma smiled, some of that sadness returning. ‘I reckon we’ll be fine. No other dog like Cayden, so I won’t go pretending otherwise.’

She walked across to where Cayden lay, resting a hand to the Clydesdale’s flank to calm him. After a few quick pats the horse snorted, dipping its head with a huff. Ma crouched down, spreading her skirt loosely between her outstretched knees, then she carefully picked up the dog and lay him into the skirt. Bunched the skirt up and about him, like she had with the mushrooms and flowers, then she stood.

‘We’ll be off, Evan,’ she told McKay, seeing him wince as he still searched for words. ‘Hush now…’ she told him sternly. ‘Weren’t no wrong on your part, and I’m not jus’ saying to be polite. These things happen.’

‘Well… I’m awful sorry, all the same, Kelly. I hope you truly do forgive me. Both of you,’ he said, looking to Tobe.

Tobe shuffled his feet in the dirt, gave a shrug to Mister McKay. Didn’t matter squat to Tobe, really. He felt sorry for Cayden, surely. Wasn’t no reason for him to be all torn up, though. Like Ma’d said, these things happened.

‘Anyways…’ McKay pulled at the reigns loosely, just enough to alert the horse. ‘I’d best get along myself ‘fore Leanne gets worried. You ever feel like playing with the dogs, Tobe, you just feel welcome to come on by.’

Tobe smiled awkwardly. ‘Thanks, Mister McKay.’

With that, the cart, carrying Evan McKay – and whatever he touted around beneath that canvas in the back – made along down the road, past the turn that led to Ma and Tobe’s, then further on to where McKay’s own land lay.

Watching the cart make away, Ma stood center of the road. She walked back to where the mushrooms and flowers had fallen, traipsed a foot through the half-circle line they’d made. They dragged under her toes, pulling down into a cross.

‘Jus’ the two of us now, Tobe.’ And she looked down at Cayden, nestled in her skirt with the flower stuck to his ear, stuck to the small patch of blood.

Above the line of her hem, one eye stared out at Tobe, a small, dull black globe that even now was turning pale. Like Cayden’d dipped his face in a bowl of milk and hadn’t yet blinked it away. Tobe stared right back, swearing that dog still had the look of hate to his gaze, no soul left there to be hateful, though. Would be like Cayden to still be a bad dog in death, thought Tobe. He was betting it’d be his job to bury him, too.

Back home and Tobe’d gone round the back of the house, getting the shovel as he’d thought he should. There was no need. Not yet, anyway. He found Ma before the open wood bin that was fixed to the house, near the porch. She was carefully lowering her skirt down, then just as carefully sliding it out from under the dead dog. Tobe heard the dull clatter of kindle and logs as Cayden settled into the box. Saw a fine, pale dust that rose from the bin and at the same time fell from Ma’s skirt as she stepped back to let it fall about her legs. She looked at Tobe, there with the shovel. Looked back to the box and shut the lid.

‘Cayden can wait, Tobe.’

‘When do you want me to-’

‘Don’t you worry,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll take care of him later.’

Tobe gave a shrug. He was hardly about to argue if digging wasn’t his to do. He headed back round the house to return the shovel, his ears pricking at the faint voice of Ma, whispering to the dead dog in the wood bin.

*****

Was a fitful sleep, and that was to be expected. According to Ma, anyhow. When Tobe’d told her how restless he’d been – how he’d woken with a sweat, hearing noises – she’d told him it must’ve been ill thoughts that’d plagued him. Nothing good ‘bout having a dog die like that, she’d said. Weren’t no wonder he’d slept poorly.

‘Way it is, Tobe, is that you lay down with them thoughts in your head, they gonna stick there like a smell. Rankle your nose something awful!’ And she’d made a face, features pinched in comic disgust, making Tobe blush and laugh.

‘But it was weird, Ma,’ he’d told her. ‘Didn’t feel like a dream at all.’

‘And you tell me what a dream does feel like, Tobe!’

It’d been a blunt request, one he was probably not meant to answer. But damn, if it didn’t have him thinking now, sitting there on the porch. Who was he to say that what’d happened last night had happened? The question itself left his head feeling sore. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense.

He never told Ma about what he’d seen. It was all best if he said “noises” and stuck with that. Noises could’ve been anything. Could’ve been the wind, could’ve been the wood settling with the cold, like Da’d explained when he was younger, scared in bed. Could’ve been no more’n a dream, just like Ma’d said. Could’ve been anything but Ma.

Say “noises”, he’d decided, and you won’t be pointing no fingers. Say you saw her at the table eating that dead, dumb old dog, though… He shook his head. Ill thoughts or none, he couldn’t figure to why he’d even dream such a thing.

Way Ma’d been stood there, kind’a crouched down low at the table, not even bothered with a chair… He shook his head again. That’s what seemed odd to him. Not the fact that he’d maybe woken up to find Ma eating Cayden, but the fact that she hadn’t bothered to sit. He wasn’t too small a dog, that Cayden. And, from what Tobe’d maybe seen when he stuck his head round the doorway, Ma’d maybe made a good effort of eating that dog, head to toe. From his sorry, dry nose to his tail. Was a long time to be stood there eating, not bothering to sit.

Noises, as he’d told Ma he’d heard, could’ve been the wind. Could’ve been the wood settling with the cold. Could’ve been anything. He cast a glance back at the doorway, shifted down a step on the porch. Even still, supposing that noises were to set their mind to eating a dog, you’d think the least they’d do is sit down for the task.

Tobe’d hopped out of bed that morning, the sight of Ma fresh in his mind’s eye. Couldn’t see Da at a simple thing like chopping trees, yet Ma eating a damn dog was like pegging a horseshoe from a yard away. Didn’t seem right, somehow.

Ma’d been all of a smile as he’d come out from his small room earlier. All smile, and for a moment, between those bleary, tired eyes and the secret eye there in his mind, he could almost see her as he’d done last night. Could almost see those teeth, tearing and chewing like a fox at a chicken. Like Ma at a dead, dumb old dog.

‘G’morning, Tobe,’ she’d said happily.

Tobe’d intended to answer, intended to smile back. Didn’t. Stared at those teeth. Remembered the ripping noise as they’d gnashed at Cayden’s hind leg, tattered remains of all else of him dangling like a sheet in the wind.

‘Morning, Tobe,’ she’d said again when he hadn’t answered. ‘What’s with you little man. You didn’t sleep well?’

Did she know? Tobe’d remembered the flicker of the fire, the orange glow that’d sat on her hair, on the grease that’d been slick on her hands. ‘I… I heard noises last night.’ He’d immediately wished he hadn’t said anything, as Ma’d smiled reassuringly with those maybe dog-eating teeth, stroked his hair with a maybe grease-covered hand.

‘Don’t dwell on it none. Nothing but a bad dream, I’d say. Fitful sleep’s to be expected after what happened.’

Tobe’d simply nodded as she’d said this. And now, some moments later on the porch, he shook his head a third time. He tried to believe it’d been a dream, but couldn’t. He stood up and jumped down the last two steps of the porch, walked a small way to the wood bin. Held his breath and opened it up. Cayden was gone.

He scratched his head, stared down at the scattered logs of wood, spotted one that had a dark brown smear to it, where Cayden’s bloodied head’d been set. Nestled down alongside the log was the flower, its petals beginning to wilt, falling limply in on one another.

Tobe closed the lid of the bin quietly, not wanting Ma to know he’d had a look. He thought for a moment about heading round the other side of the house. Thought about taking a look at the shovel, before he forced a nod on himself, deciding there was no need to check it had recently been used.

It was a subdued nod, though. Not entirely convinced that “noises” had buried the dog, sometime late last night.

*****

Swell to her like a pot-belly stove. Tobe’d surely noticed it in the past week since Cayden’s passing. Since that night of noises. He’d not put the thought of a pot-belly to her, though. That was Mister McKay’s notion, staring down at her now from his cart. Ma had her flowers and mushrooms again bundled up in her skirt, and McKay, peering down to see the stock she’d taken, had noticed her big, swollen belly.

‘Goodness, Kelly! Like a pot-belly stove, you are!’

Ma blushed, laughing coy like. Tobe looked up at Ma, looked up at McKay, wondering what Ma’s explanation’d be. That’d be our dead dog in there, Mister Mckay. And a fine meal that rascal was!

Tobe held his breath, waiting for these words, waiting for the look on McKay’s face. Waiting to know for sure he hadn’t been crazy that night all a week ago.

‘It’s a surprise to me, and it has been for some time. I should’ve said something for a while now…’ She blushed again. ‘As things are, with such a thing… Well, it seems my man did me a service before he passed on.’

McKay frowned with surprise of his own, forgetting himself. Then he smiled gingerly and tipped his hat. ‘I didn’t even notice last week when I… well, what with poor Cayden my mind was on other matters.’ His smile broadened, trying to leave the sour topic. ‘Been a good seven months since Tobe’s Da passed on now, hasn’t it, Kelly? You’d be due some time soon, I expect.’

Ma laughed. ‘Ain’t you expecting a thing, Evan McKay,’ she’d said, patting her belly. And McKay laughed with her. ‘As for you noticing or not, us women have ways of hiding things.’ She sighed, shook her head. ‘Sad as what Nate did was, taking himself off like that on the porch, it’s a blessing he’s still here in a fashion.’ And she patted her belly again.

McKay nodded sadly. ‘That it is, Kelly. I tell ya, Leanne’ll be pleased to hear of this. Slightest whiff of a babe, even the next town over, and she gets a rose to her cheeks like it’s her own.’

Ma smiled with a nod. ‘Sometimes it’s a woman’s way, Evan. You tell her she’s always welcome to come on by. Same for you.’

‘Well,’ McKay gripped the reigns of his cart, ready to draw them up. ‘I reckon she’ll be ‘round in no time, soon as she gets the news. She’ll be pattin’ your belly for luck, no doubt.’ And he laughed, looking down at Tobe. ‘You’d do well for the same, Tobe. No luck like patting a fruitful belly, that’s what Leanne says.’

Tobe smiled awkwardly, shuffled a step back as the cart pulled away. Ma put a hand to Tobe’s shoulder, smiled down at him.

‘Time you knew, anyhow, Tobe. McKay and his wary eye, taking good news from my lips like a boiled sweet.’ And she laughed, stepping forward and off for home. Tobe lingered back a moment, staring at the ground. Then, when he did look up and saw Ma waiting patiently, he ran on over and took Ma’s hand.

‘That true? What McKay said?’ he asked.

‘Is what true?’

‘What he said ‘bout patting your belly? For luck.’

Ma laughed, slipping her hand from his to adjust her skirt, making sure the flowers and mushrooms wouldn’t stray. ‘Depends who does the rubbin’, Tobe. Right person wishes hard enough for what they’re wanting, I reckon they could peel an apple and set to having their wish.’

Tobe again lingered as she moved a few steps ahead, then he lurched forward, skipping about her to block her way. Wasn’t any need to tell Ma what he was up to. She smirked for his foolery then lowered the hem of her skirt a little, half-circle of  flowers and mushrooms framing the rise of her belly.

Tobe looked up at her, just to be sure this was right. When she nodded for him to go ahead, he bit his lip and squinted some, thinking hard what he should wish for. With a careful movement he put his hand flat to her belly and lightly patted it three times.

‘Good number of pats to take, that,’ Ma told him. ‘Think luck’ll come your way?’

Tobe shrugged, suddenly feeling foolish for what he’d done. ‘We’ll see,’ he muttered, kicking at a stone as an excuse to step ahead of Ma. He didn’t want to chance his wish being there in his eyes. Didn’t want Ma to catch a glimpse, if it was.

If his wish came by him and the baby never came right, just like Mathew, he knew that Ma’d be more than miffed. But the wish was made and, if it came by, it’d surely be for the best. Always would be with just the two of them together and no third getting in the way of that.

Always.

*****

First thing Tobe’d done was curse Ma’s lying, no-luck, wish-stingy belly. Second thing was to run on up to fetch Leanne McKay; nearest thing to a midwife as there was. As near as Tobe’s legs’d take him, anyhow.

Evan McKay’s eyes were wide and red, having stumbled through the dark to the door. His face was pale and drawn in the moonlight, then sort’a bloated and yellow as Leanne came behind him with the lamp.

‘Ma’s having it!’ Tobe spat out.

‘Having what?’

Leanne slapped her husband on the arm, bustling past like an enormous firefly, what with that lamp. ‘The babe, you fool! She’s having the babe!’

‘Mother of…’ Evan McKay followed her outside the house, turning his head at a loss. ‘You… you get the horse set to the cart, I’ll get my boots. We’ll go fetch Ida.’

He was met with another sharp slap to the arm, lamp light swinging in Leanne’s other hand. ‘No time for that, you remember what happened last…’ She stopped suddenly, looking warily to Tobe. ‘She’s come on early, like the last time. Ida was no good last time, and there’s too much a chance this is the same.’

‘Well, we’ll take the cart and you’ll have to –’

Leanne was already away to the stable, leaving Evan behind, appearing as stunned as Tobe. ‘Damn your cart, Evan! Help me saddle the horse and I’ll sit behind you. Tobe, you run ahead. You get there before us, you set the kettle straight away. Understand?’

Tobe nodded, then at the urgent glare Leanne threw him, he took off back down the road, chest like a water-logged drum, cursing all this damned running he was having to do.

‘Tell your Ma not to worry!’ Leanne McKay called at his heels.

*****

Out on the porch, Evan’d been staring at the splintered, wooden beam of the verandah. Only ‘cause Tobe’d done the same for the past half-hour or some. Evan’d assumed the boy’d been pondering his Da; how such a thing could happen, how his life might’ve been different with his Da still alive.

Tobe’d been aware of Evan’s own scrutiny of the beam, wondering if the old man, like him, was pondering whether his finger’d fit in that crack. Being a good much older and bigger than him, Tobe doubted very much that Evan’s finger’d get in there. He also figured it might be good for a wager. But the time just didn’t seem right, Ma screaming inside and all.

The thought of wagers and the crack in the beam left Tobe’s head all a sudden. The night was silent again. No screaming to be heard from the house. Then there came a muffled, weary sound that Ma made, along with a cooing, gentle noise from Leanne McKay. Then the night erupted again with the sound of screaming. Wasn’t Ma, though. Was the baby.

Evan had his head cocked toward the door, eager to enter the house. He knew better, though. He’d wait till his wife’d allow them. Hands fumbling, he gave a relieved and nervous smile to Tobe. ‘Sounds like you’ve got new kin.’

Tobe stared at him evenly. ‘Sounds it.’

The din inside came to a stop and sometime after the door opened and Leanne popped her head out, eyes wide like a chicken that’d sprung a cow from its egg.

‘It’s a boy, it is!’ she said, voice a crisp whisper, but still excited. ‘Get in, you two. Mind though, dear thing’s just nodded away, so don’t you wake him.’

Evan gave a stooping nod, like her demand sat at his back like a heavy weight. He knew all well when she was set to something stern, and when it came to babies she wouldn’t get no sterner. He ambled carefully to the door then gave a nod for Tobe to go first.

Tobe shuffled past with as much care, more for a sense of it all being peculiar than for any respect for the baby. There was no sign of Ma when he entered, then he saw Leanne’s head pop out from the door of Ma’s room, giving him an eager nod. Walking down the short passage way, Tobe felt like he was stepping into deep water. The light of the lamp from Ma’s room washed down the passage way, making it seem longer somehow. Nearer Tobe got, the thicker the light seemed. Smell was the same too, sweat and something else getting stronger the nearer he got. Wasn’t but six or seven steps he had to take to the door, but each one might’s well have been a dozen for the ache in his legs. He finally made it through the door and Leanne McKay pushed him gently forward, big wide grin on her face.

‘That’s your brother, Tobe,’ she whispered, making Ma look up at these words.

‘C’mere, Tobe…’ said Ma, her voice soft and weary. ‘Come’n meet your brother. Thinking I might call him Zachary. You like that name?’

Tobe kinda nodded, kinda shrugged. Kinda couldn’t take his eyes off that baby. Right then he couldn’t give two damns ‘bout the baby’s name. The boy opened his eyes but a moment, just the tiniest smidge, but it was enough. Flash of those eyes and Tobe’d seen how they’d set on him good and proper. Just stared for a moment then closed his eyes, as though they’d never opened at all. It was then that Tobe realised two things… That baby, flash of a glare like that, was sneaky like. Cayden like.

Second thing Tobe knew was that there weren’t a chance in Heck he’d be setting a wager now. Damn thing had the tiniest, stubby fingers, tailor-made for that beam and the crack that his Da’d made when hanging himself.

*****

Little Zachary – or Zach, as Ma’d taken to saying – was proving a spritely baby. They’d been Leanne McKay’s words, not Ma’s, and certainly not Tobe’s. Tobe would’a said lil’ Zach was nothing short of surly. And he would’ve only said that on a good day. The baby, as Tobe’d taken to saying simply, was as yippity and yappity as that dog, whose place he’d taken.

The baby, now all of eight months old, would be crying to be picked up, crying to be set down, crying because he’d been crying, or just crying because he hadn’t. The latter, Tobe’d supposed, was only to come on spiteful because whatever brief silence was offered was never long enough, not by any stretch.

Aside from being spritely – or surly, if Tobe’d been asked – that baby was also proving to be one that grew awful quick. Tobe was starting to wonder if the child would set to being taller’n him some day. That just wouldn’t be right, if that was the case.

Tobe was not going to hold stock with younger kin that might grapple him to the dirt. If there’d be any tussling going on one day, Tobe’d make sure that he was the one left standing.

Ma was sat by the fireplace, shawl pulled aside as the baby sucked at her breast. Moments like this, feeding times as Ma’d say, were as noisy as any other. The baby’d be all clumsy hands, latching and slurping, slurping and latching, sneaky eyes rolling from side to side as he’d suck down on Ma’s milk.

Tobe understood enough to know he must’ve once fed like this himself. Strongly doubted he’d have made such a show and ruckus of it, though. Not like Zachary was wont to do, treating Ma like no more’n a dairy cow!

Tobe was thinking on all this, ‘bout just how much no-good there was that came with that no-good baby, and he must’ve been frowning a lot. Enough for Ma to notice, at least.

Looking to Tobe from her chair she frowned some herself, leaning back a little, shifting that baby at her breast. It’s sneaky eyes rolled with the movement, took Tobe in then looked away with no more thought, slurping and latching like always.

‘Got somethin’ on your mind, Tobe?’ Ma asked.

Tobe had a whole lot there on his mind, but nothing he’d easily tell Ma. He gave a shrug, thinking quick for an answer.

‘When’ll he set to walkin’?’ he asked. ‘Y’know, runnin’ about and all that.’

Ma’s own frown remained a moment, but its purpose was now held to her own thinking. ‘That all depends, really, Tobe. I reckon it won’t be long ‘fore he’ll be crawlin’. Grows awful quick, your brother.’

Tobe gave a slight nod. He didn’t need to be told that, now, did he, having already noticed the same?

‘Lord knows he’s set to his teeth somethin’ fast. Lil’ scamp bit at my breast jus’ last night. Near drew blood, he did.’

Tobe gave another nod, wishing his Da was still about. Da’d have had none of this folly, Tobe decided. Da weren’t a man who’d take kindly to any ol’ silliness, let alone a baby that might’a once been a dog. Da wouldn’t have let Ma eat that damn dog in the first place. Da’d have given her a proper baby, given Tobe a proper brother.

‘You got that thinkin’ there on your face again, Tobe,’ said Ma.

‘I was wonderin’…’ Tobe began, ‘he meant to bite you like that? Babies meant to go bitin’ all the time?’

‘Not all’a time,’ Ma chuckled. ‘S’only when they’re gettin’ acquainted with their teeth. Must be like a pair’a new shoes, no doubt. Must say his teeth come on sooner than I’d have thought.’

Tobe nodded again, not quite listening, doing his best not to frown again.

‘Mind,’ Ma said, ‘you were quick to your teeth, too, if I recall proper.’

Doing his best or not, Tobe couldn’t keep from frowning now. He was wondering if he might’ve once been a dog himself. Wondering if Ma once ate him, just so’s he’d flower up in her belly. He quickly decided that was more than silly. For one thing, he’d know if he’d been a dog. Somehow you’d have to just know. For another thing, Da’d been there to keep watch back then, preventing any such caper.

Tobe’s frown just got worse with all these thoughts, pondering on what Da’d have said if he’d known what was happening now. There was as much luck guessing what his words would’ve been as there was in remembering his face. Da was slowly slipping away. Not much more to him than the pumpkins he was set down near.

‘Speakin’ of teeth, he’s done bit me again, said Ma. ‘Sharp lil’ pegs he has, too! He’s drawn blood again, I reckon.’

Well, damn it, woman… that’s all for having a dog at your teat! Tobe pictured his Da as sayin’.

*****

Way it turned out, and true to Ma’s words, it weren’t long at all before Zachary was walking. Tobe didn’t know all too much ‘bout babies and how they was set to growing and the like, but he did know they should not’ve grown fast as Zachary was doin’. Also suspected very much that most babies would not’ve walked as soon as him either.

Zachary found his legs just after he’d come on a year old. Found his legs and also saw good and proper to using them. Boy was running about in no time, getting under Tobe’s heels, flying between Ma’s legs and skirt like for all the world she was a carnival tent.

Tobe’d seen other kids running before, no doubt, times when he’d tripped into town with Da and seen them playing out in the streets. He had some trouble recalling whether or not he’d seen them running so young, though. It’d been a while since Tobe’d set into town. Ma never went into town, so Tobe no longer went either.

Still biting some, too, that boy. Away of Ma’s breast and at proper foods now, he’d be chewin’ a storm at whatever he set to his mouth. And there was a lot that he’d set to his mouth. Grabbing at sticks, at Ma’s wooden spoons, even chompin’ at the good metal ladle and such.

Tobe was special annoyed as Zachary’d now gone as far as chewing some on his wooden soldiers. McKay’d carved them special for him, too. All of five of them, Tobe’d had. Now all he had was two and maybe a third, seeing as that one was no more than legs now, gnarled and chewed at the waist.

‘Be all right,’ Ma said, ‘sure McKay’d be happy to carve up some new ones.’

‘Didn’t want new ones,’ Tobe sulked. ‘Those ones were fine as was. How ‘bout we just got a new baby?’

‘Now, Tobe! That ain’t a nice thing to be sayin’. Mind how you go talkin’ of your brother. Won’t be long at all ‘fore he’s set to some understandin’, and he’ll know just what it is you’re saying about him.’

Tobe looked out through the door to the porch, where Zachary was squat on his haunches, chewing at what remained of soldier number three. Boy turned a glance back at Tobe, almost like Ma was right and he’d sure enough heard his brother. Boy then looked away, lost in all his chewing and gnashing, making good work of them teeth.

He ain’t so smart, thought Tobe, doubting much that he’d ever take well to words. Growing fast and running about was expected of a baby that’d once maybe been a dog. But words? Nuh-uh!

As a dog, Cayden’d never took to words much. Certainly hadn’t taken to “Sit”. More often than not he would’ve met you with the other, the one that rhymed with sit, but came along with a smell. Cayden’d been right good at that, at least.

So was Zach, it seemed, smell wafting across at Tobe through the doorway as his brother chewed at the soldier’s feet.

*****

Zach was just on three years old, and he was still game for biting also. But that’d just be a phase, Ma’d said, despite his having long found his teeth.

Ma’d say a lot of things when questioned about lil’ Zachary. Like why, as Tobe’d rightly thought, he still hadn’t come on to talking. Just grunts when he was wanting, and loud bawling when he wouldn’t get. Not so much as a “this” or a “that.” He still hadn’t even said, “Ma.”

‘He might be the quiet type, Tobe,’ Ma’d said. ‘Your brother, he mus’ be a thinker.’

Still without words, Zach seemed to think often, like now with his soft little grunts heard from away out back of the house.

‘What’s he doin’?’ Nick asked.

Tobe only shrugged, sitting in the dirt, tracing a circle with a stick. ‘He’s doin’ what he always does,’ he told Nick. ‘He’s doin’ nothin’.’

‘He’s doin’ something a’right,’ said Nick. ‘Look at him. He’s got somethin’ over there.’

Tobe glanced up briefly and saw Zach away near the brush, down on his knees and his hands, buried somewhere in all the dry leaves. With a swift twist of the stick Tobe finished the circle he was tracing, tossing the stick down beside him.

‘We’s playing marbles or not, Nick?’

‘I still want to play marbles,’ Nick said. ‘I’m jus’ asking you what he’s doin’ over there.’

‘An’ I told you!’ Tobe said gruffly. ‘He’s doin’ squat. Just like he’s always doing.’

‘Nuh-uhh… He’s doin’ somethin’. Just look at him. He’s got somethin’ over there.’

‘Well he sure ain’t got marbles, that’s what I know,’ said Tobe. ‘Ma even told me to keep him from mine. Keeps puttin’ ‘em away in his yap.’

Nick said nothing, watching Zach still foraging in the brush.

‘You know he ate my prize speckled one?’ Tobe said. ‘That big’un with the shiny spots set to it. Had to wait till Ma weren’t lookin’ and dig it up outta the shitter.’

Nick was still lost to watching Zach, but after a moment he turned, face all a frown at first then suddenly all a scowl. ‘That blue one?’ he said shrilly.

Tobe went a little white, remembering how Nick’d only won that prize marble last week, dubious treasure that it now was.

‘Not that one…’ Tobe lied. ‘Red one with the speckles. I got more’n one marble with speckles.’

‘Not a prize one,’ said Nick. ‘And I ain’t ever seen you with no red marble holding to speckles!’

‘Well, I’m just gonna win it back off you anyways, ain’t I?’ said Tobe.

‘Hell, you will!’ said Nick. ‘Still a good marble, that. No matter how much poop it’s been set to.’

‘Well it was only the once. And I washed it. And I’m still gonna win it back.’

Nick gave a nod like he hadn’t been listening, watching Zach again.

‘Not that I remember bein’ three all that much, but I’d’ve been more discerning ‘bout what went into my mouth,’ said Nick. ‘You missin’ any more’a them marbles?’ he asked.

‘Few here’n there,’ said Tobe.

‘Reckon he might have ‘em now. He’s got somethin’ there now, in his mouth.’

‘Well, I reckon I ain’t interested if it ain’t a somethin’ that’s speckled,’ Tobe said.

More Tobe thought on it, the more eager he was to get that prized marble back from Nick. The sun was setting low now and he knew he’d have no more’n an hour or so to try and win back that marble.

‘How ‘bouts somethin’ with feathers?’ Nick asked.

‘What?’

‘What he’s got in his mouth. I just caught me a glimpse. It’s got feathers, it has!’

‘Then it ain’t one’a my marbles, is it?’ Tobe snapped. ‘You come here to play at marbles, or to stand there and gawp at my no-good brother?’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Nick said, voice straining some with his own impatience. ‘I’m just sayin’ he’s got somethin’ in his mouth, is all.’

‘And you’ve said it a good five times!’ Tobe threw back.

‘Yeah, and now I’m sayin’ that the somethin’s got itself feathers, is all!’

‘Hell, Nick! You so interested in my brother’s affairs you can forget marbles and just go home. And you can take that brother of mine, too, along with whatever he got in his mouth!’

‘You know what,’ Nick said, ‘maybe I will just set on home. And I’ll take that marble back with me. Cuts through that time you’da wasted tryin’ to get it back, anyhow.’

Tobe scowled at the ground and was still set to thinking on a reply when he realised Nick was walking away.

‘Yeah, you’d best set home!’ Tobe called out. ‘We both know that’s the only way you’d keep that damned marble!’

He frowned when Nick didn’t even turn his head, wondering if he’d heard him proper. ‘And we also know that I’d’ve won all the rest’a your marbles too! Poop on ‘em or otherwise, Nick!’

Nick still didn’t turn and Tobe, with his last slant at his lips, could only shake his head, giving up on the matter. He stood up and angrily kicked his foot through the dirt, cutting the circle he’d drawn in half.

‘Damn you, Zach!’ he roared, looking across to his brother. ‘You hadn’t ever seen to eatin’ that marble then this wouldn’t have happened, turning the afternoon to what’s in your mouth or ain’t!’

Zach turned his head, still on his knees and still at the brush, and still with something at his mouth. Tobe saw the grimy brown about his brother’s lips, the few feathers that were wedged and juttin’ from his lips.

‘That a bird?’ he cried. ‘You wait till I tell Ma you’d gone an’ eaten dead birds you stupid… you dumb dog!’

Zach said nothing and Tobe, given Nick’s own lack of response, was sorely getting tired of no one giving a damn but him.

‘You want’a be a dog so bad, then fine!’

Tobe crouched down and in a swift grab he had the stick ready at hand.

‘Go fetch this then, you stupid ol’ dog!’

The words flew from his mouth, sharp like, likewise the stick from his hand. It sailed across to his brother and still Zach said nothing. Not so much as a grunt. He did make a loud thud noise, however, when the stick hit him square on the forehead and he fell heavy on to the ground.

Tobe stood there a moment, that heart of his making its own noise, thudding deep in his chest. He waited a moment more, watching for his brother to get back up. He heard a loud screaming, even as he ran across to Zach. It was only when he fell to his knees that he realised he’d been calling out to Ma.

She came outta the house and around the side and Tobe’s heart was still thudding away, trying to get the one-up on the noise that sat thick in his panicked head.

Nick did it! he thought at first. It wasn’t me, it was Nick.

He ran it through his head as fast as Ma ran across toward him, small clouds of dirt and dust setting up with each stamp of her feet. She ran on over and was soon on her knees like Tobe, the pair of them leaning over Zach.

‘Lordy me!’ she cried. ‘What happened, Tobe?’

‘Bird!’ he said, eyes settin’ down to the mangled bird nearby. ‘It was… It was that bird. Flew into him and hit his head and knocked him down and…’ He was crying suddenly. Shuddering his shoulders, stooped low over Zach. ‘It wasn’t Nick, was a bird!’

‘Zach…?’ Ma was sayin’, resting her hand beneath his head. ‘S’all right Tobe, just a bump. He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine…’

Her words were fallin’ in line with Tobe’s settling heart, her voice getting softer with each beat.

‘But he… I mean… But his head…’

‘Shhh, Tobe, s’all fine…’

Tobe drew a breath, held it tight and he squinted, blinking the tears from his eyes. It was when he opened them wide that he saw Zack staring up at him.

‘See, Tobe,’ Ma said. ‘He’ll be all right. S’just a bump, like I told you.’

Tobe sniffled and gave a nod, feeling foolish now for crying. He also felt bad for what he’d done, but Zach soon turned that around. Tobe gave a startled yelp and stumbled on to his backside.

‘Back to his old sweet self,’ smiled Ma, picking Zach up to his feet, as Tobe nursed the hand his brother had suddenly bit.

*****

Da’d never been much for reading when he’d been alive. But what he had read, he’d read often. Was three books that Da’d owned – only two, though, if you discounted one of them for being a periodical.

Tobe considered them his books now, seeing as Ma’d never seen fit to read them. She’d seen fit to keep them, though, but all else of Da’s was now gone. Slacks, shirts, his musty coverall, the good pants he’d sometimes worn just to show that he had himself some good pants… Ma’d gotten rid of it all, but where it went, Tobe couldn’t say. He’d simply look about one day to find that all that remained was them books.

Tobe’d proved to be much like Da in that when he was for readin’ it was the one book again and again. He didn’t care much for the periodical, nor for the book about birds. Still couldn’t figure why his Da’d had a book about birds, as Lord knew he’d shot at the crows often enough.

The periodical itself was what Ma called a Penny Dreadful, something Da’s brother’d sent from England. Tobe’d never met his uncle, so any look he tied with the man was set from that Penny Dreadful. Near as Tobe knew, his uncle wore a top-hat and was partial to skulking down dark laneways, frightening women folk that wore bonnets. Might’ve all been a feud over hats, Tobe’d once reckoned.

Nick liked the periodical, though. He’d often look on it when he came by, and Tobe figured he was welcome to it. What Tobe really liked was that third book about myths, heroes, gods and the like. Fighting all them monsters seemed more exciting than any pursuits concerning hats that his uncle might’ve favoured.

It wasn’t just ‘cause that book had it some pictures, either. By the whole, the Penny Dreadful would’ve had more pictures if you tallied it up with the writing. And even if you did square them up by the count of pictures, the book on myths was much better to look at. It had it them glossed type pictures – four pages of them, centre of the book.

Whenever Tobe’d look at the coloured pictures he’d keep one hand deep in the back of that book, fingers buried between the rough-papered pages, tips taking in the grain. His other hand’d be set atop the pictures that felt smooth and cool as a pebble. Touchin’ the book like that, it always seemed to Tobe like one hand was far from the other, living in different lands. Just like Da and Tobe’s uncle, perhaps. Da’d never really talked of his brother, but of all them three books the periodical had grown the most worn, read much more than the others.

Tobe was again proving like Da in this regard and the book about myths was starting to show its own wear and tear. Left to its own devices – should it ever be dropped in a haphazard fashion – the book would always open smack-centre to show two of those colour printed pages.

Spread out wide like that, there were three pictures to look at. Two of them were set to the page at right, one showing a three-headed dog that stood amidst fire, and the other being what seemed to be a cow that peered round the corner of a wall. Cerberus and the Minotaur was what the book said they was. The dog, or dogs as might be if you were counting the heads, was impressive to look at. The Minotaur… well, that just seemed dumb and curious like any cow Tobe’d met, aside from the setting of it peering round that corner like that.

The picture that always caught Tobe’s eye, however, was the one on the left-hand page. He’d always read the caption before he’d look at the picture, taking in them eyes, that crazed-but-something sad glare that the old man had, his mouth gapin’ wide. He would’ve seemed like he was hollering loud in a fit were his mouth not so full. It was Saturn, eating his son of all things.

Tobe was fascinated by the picture, knew every last little detail of it, every whisker of that crazed, hairy god. He’d always forget the name of the artist what made that picture – or more to the point, he’d get confused, thinking that someone named Gorgon had set it to paper. He’d then just always remember that the Gorgon was actually another person in the book who had herself snakes where her hair should’ve been.

Always made Tobe laugh, that did, picturing that woman painting with a brush held at each snake’s mouth. He’d set the notion to Da once when he’d first seen that picture of Saturn, and Da’d laughed also. Tobe liked to think even now that his Da still laughed on it, somehow watching whenever Tobe looked over that book.

Tobe’s laugh fell somewhat short this day, though, what with the smell of pee ripe up each nostril. With one hand atop that glossy page, what had once felt smooth as a pebble now seemed kind’a rough. Thinking on it, sniffing again, the pages at his other hand, back of the book, they also felt wrong. The pages felt gritty and damp, like the underside of tree-bark – had the tree seen the worst side of Winter, that is.

Tobe flicked back some pages, saw how they buckled at the edges and knew he’d suspected right. Someone’d peed on his book! He closed it and went across to the corner of his room, which he’d taken to sharing with Zach, and the smell hit him sharp like a cane to the nose. He didn’t even have to pick up that book on birds or his Da’s worn periodical. Tobe could just smell it and knew… they’d all been set to with pee!

Zach, being near on 5 years now, would have also made a point to pee right there, what with having finally just taken to peeing in the outhouse. Short of Ma thinking it right to squat herself over those books, Zach was simply one culprit to consider. And even if Ma ever did raise her hand and confess to the smelly task, Tobe’d still have seen fit to blame Zach. It was just a simple fact that Tobe didn’t like his brother.

Staring down at his ruined books, he pegged the feeling as mutual.

*****

Mary Thompkins had gotten to having some bosoms, as it turned out. Standing before Tobe and talking on them some, Nick had his hands out at his chest, cupping each one like for all the world he was holding a pair of watermelons. When he saw the frown that Tobe was wearing, he brought his hands in a mite, admitting that they weren’t that big, but sure enough, big enough so you could see them.

Bringing his hands in again, so maybe that Mary had her some apples instead of watermelons, Nick saw that Tobe was still frowning and realized that Tobe couldn’t care one fig – a fruit that it just so happened was most likely closer in size to the developments Mary had seen fit to taking.

‘Don’t ya think none on girls?’ asked Nick, unable to fathom Tobe’s lack of interest in bosoms, Mary Thompkin’s or otherwise. ‘I’m thinkin’ ‘bout them all the time, I am. Getting’ so I can’t think much for nothin’ else, and even when I do, it just gets me back to boobs, somehow. That and kissin’. I been thinkin’ a lot about kissin’, somethin’ awful.’

‘Kissin’ somethin’ awful?’ said Tobe, frowning a whole lot more now. ‘Why’d you want’a go and do a thing like that and kiss something that’s awful? Less’n there was a dare to it, maybe.’

‘Not kissin’ somethin’ awful!’ cried Nick. ‘Meant I been thinking about kissin’ something bad… Shit, you know what I mean.’

Tobe was cautious now to keep a frown from his face, wary of letting on that he didn’t know what Nick meant. A keen interest in bosoms aside, there was a lot that Tobe just didn’t understand about Nick these days.

Nick tended to swear a lot more now, too, seeming to bring out a new shade of cussing each time that he came to see Tobe. Way Nick told it, all them kids at the school were cussing a whole lot more. And it weren’t just Nick that had a mind set to bosoms and kissing either.

And the marbles… Well, must’ve been a good hour now they’d stood over Tobe’s marbles, yapping, and Nick still hadn’t seen to getting his out. Tobe felt a grudge at his gut, deciding it best not to ask on it. He’d already started to figure that Nick hadn’t brought any marbles at all, what with their last game falling short when Nick’d declared it as tiresome. Kicking aside one of his marbles a smidge, Tobe gave a nod down at them as he shrugged.

‘I, y’know… I got ‘em out as I figured I’d sort what ones was worth keepin’. If there’s any you like, go’n take ‘em.’

Nick’s nose wrinkled when he looked down at the marbles, like the offer had it a smell. ‘Naw,’ he sniffed. ‘I reckon I’m good. Don’t see much to playin’ marbles these days.’

‘Bein’ taken with boobs an’ all,’ said Tobe.

‘Not just that,’ Nick told him. ‘Just seems the stuff that kids are at, is all. And I reckon I ain’t no kid now.’

‘You sayin’ I am?’ Tobe asked curtly.

What with the prospect of playing marbles now by the wayside, Tobe had already figured they’d end up engaged in the other pastime they shared, that being fighting. If that was going to prove the case, Tobe’d rather it came on sooner, not later. He’d been finding Nick’s company wanting lately, but this day, for some reason, Nick was irking him good and proper.

‘I ain’t sayin’ you’re no kid,’ said Nick. He stared flatly at Tobe, doing a show of keeping a smirk from his face, what with knowing about double negatives now from his schooling.

‘Better not be,’ Tobe muttered, oblivious to the slight. ‘And anyways, you ain’t what I’d ever call a man if you was set to callin’ me a kid. So I don’t reckon your opinion don’t count none.’

‘I’d say I agree,’ Nick told him, his smirk wearing thin along with the appeal of double negatives, wondering if Tobe had just used one on him. ‘You ever miss it any?’ Nick asked, changing the subject.

‘Miss what?’ asked Tobe. ‘Marbles?’

‘Not marbles, school. Been a good two years now, ain’t it? Don’t ya get bored none, just with your ma and Zach?’

‘I got enough to do helping Ma to ever get bored. Sometimes the McKays too. Mister McKay’s been teaching me on looking after his horses. Says I got a knack for them. Even lets me take reign of his cart sometimes, doing town runs for Ma or himself.’

‘No shit?’ said Nick, wide-eyed and a little jealous. He could feel the wind knocked out some on thinking himself so mature earlier. ‘Swear my Ma’am’d have me in a stroller still if she could. Shits me no end. Pap reckons it’s on account of them losing my brother when he got shot, wants to dote on me like a babe. He finds it irksome, too. Not that he’d say as much to her, though.’

Tobe didn’t have much to say on this, and so he did what he often did and said nothing. It left the two boys with a big quiet between them, something that was growing more common each time they’d shared company. As always, it was Nick who made point to break that quiet, Tobe always seeming content with it – or just ignorant of it. Older they got, the more Nick was inclined to think the latter, Tobe lacking certain… graces, as he’d learned to call it at school.

‘How old’s your brother now, anyways? Mine’d been seventeen, hadn’t got himself killed.’

Tobe felt his jaw clench some just at the mention of Zach.

‘Just come on five, he did, four months back,’ he told Nick.

That quiet came upon them again, one that Tobe was less fond of and not so ignorant to.

‘Your ma going to send him off schooling, ya think? Only askin’ as someone else asked me, and I said I rightly din’t know.’

‘Who asked?’ Tobe replied, something of a demand to the request.

He was already suspecting there was no “someone” to speak of and it was just Nick being nosey. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to Tobe that Nick just as often asked on affairs concerning Ma and Zach as he would things regarding Tobe. Made Tobe uncomfortable, it did, realising more and more that he and Nick had no common ground these days.

‘Mistress was asking, is all,’ Nick told him. ‘She knows I visit on ya, so I s’pose she’s curious. She asks about you sometimes, too.’

‘Well, you tell her I’m doing fine,’ Tobe said. ‘Because I am. You can tell her too that she wouldn’t want no Zach all into her school business. Only things he learns, it seems, is new ways to get on my nerves.’

‘Is he still… y’know, him, I guess?’

‘And then some,’ Tobe answered, that “then some” he mentioned accounting for Zach also being Cayden, not that he’d ever tell Nick such a thing. ‘Ma reckons he was a mite touched after that hit to his head, but I figure he’d always been that way.’

‘Still not taken to words yet?’ Nick next asked.

Tobe simply shook his head, wondering if he’d have been better nodding to convey this was the case.

‘So, he’s dumb still, then?’

Tobe felt an angry knot in his gut, more for Ma’s behalf than Zach. It was one thing for him to talk ill on Zach, but it didn’t sit right with him if Nick ever did.

‘Ma don’t like that word,’ he told Nick. ‘Prefers the term “mute”. Even then she says it’s by his choice anyhows. Reckons he’ll talk to her when there’s no one else in earshot.’

‘Even you?’ Nick asked.

‘I guess so, as I’ve never yet heard him speak any.’

‘Reckon that counts him out of schooling, then,’ Nick muttered, more to himself than to Tobe. ‘Not much use to Mistress Aitkens if he can’t answer back at her. Hell, way some of us talk at her now, she might prefer that, so who’s to say?’

Tobe mused on Nick’s comment, thinking about how Ma had been so quick to pull him from schooling after Da’d passed, how she’d said it had been more of his Da’s inclination to send him, how she’d said there was more to learn just by living.

‘Ma’s to say,’ he answered flatly, already feeling whatever grief he felt on that fact waning within himself. He may not have been as much a grown-up as he thought himself – or as little as Nick seemed to presume – but Tobe did know it was a grown-up’s way to talk less on how they really felt.

In that regard he already felt old.

‘I’m heading in,’ he told Nick. ‘Too damn hot out today, any case.’

With that he turned and walked away, leaving his marbles there in the dirt. He could feel that he wanted to cry – missing Da, missing school, missing a life where it was just him and Ma and no Zach getting into their affairs. And he wasn’t about to weep none in front of Nick. Wasn’t about to beat on him none, either, which was the other inclination he felt.

That Nick didn’t see fit to stop him also added to the knot in his chest. He felt it trickle down to his feet, carrying the stiff, angry stride he always would when something weighed on him. Must’ve been some stride this day, as he soon found himself clear across the field, approaching the house in short time.

Coming up on the verandah, he was about to open the door when he heard Ma talking inside. Didn’t quite take in the words, but more the tone of her voice, realizing it was a reply of sorts. With no cart outside, he wondered if Mister McKay had let Mrs McKay off for a visit while passing through, as he would at times.

Opening the door, he was met with no such measure to the expectation. All Tobe found was Ma in her chair, Zach squatted down beside her, caught in the end of their conversation. Tobe stared at them both, took in the silence they offered, knowing he’d not be privy or welcome to whatever had been said by the pair.

It was only when he shut the door behind him that Ma spoke.

‘How’s your Nick, then?’ she asked.

Tobe said nothing as he made way to his room, feeling a touch mute himself just to spite her.

*****

Laying in bed that night, Tobe couldn’t settle that head of his. He wanted sorely to blame the moon being so bright and the thin thread of the curtains, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Knew that he was still thinking on what Nick had brought up. He just as sorely wanted to lay all blame on Nick, but knew it had been a matter preying on him for a long time now. Even calling it a “matter” was a conscious decision, unwilling to call it a “concern”, which was a much more fitting term.

Tobe couldn’t help wondering just what it was Zach ever said to Ma, wondering also if it was about him. That didn’t seem right, his brother talking on him when he had no presence to state his own case. He couldn’t see anything Zach said as being on the side of flattery either, and he hoped Ma would put him in line if that was ever the case.

Maybe that was what was irking him enough to keep him from sleep, that Ma was party to whatever was said between her and Zach, but never seeing fit to share with Tobe. Did that mean that any talk from Zach was about Tobe? What could his brother have to say of him, anyways? Short of that hit with the stick, Tobe had long made a pointed effort to have as little to do with Zach as possible, good, bad or otherwise being between.

Tobe shifted in his bed, away from the wall that threw back the light of that moon. Staring across to Zach’s bed, he thought on how he’d lulled himself to sleep listening to Ma sing to his brother. Just like every other night. Was a year back that he gave up on asking if Ma could sing to him also, feeling at odds with it all, feeling childlike in any such request. The times he didn’t drift off to her crooning, when he’d simply lay there waiting on sleep by pretending it had already come, it was enough for him that Ma always made a point of kissing his head before she left the room, right after she’d done the same for Zach.

Staring at his brother, Zach was a bundled lump of blanket, curled up tight in his sleep like he always was of a night time. He’d always be gone from the bed before Tobe also, blankets astray on the floor, leaving Tobe to set them back like he already didn’t have enough to do being the older of the two.

More he thought on it now, there wasn’t much at all that Zach did to add to the running of the house short of eating and shitting. That and apparently conversing with Ma as long as Tobe wasn’t about. Even then, Tobe couldn’t see his brother discussing much outside of eating and shitting. He tried to think on what Ma’s reply had been earlier that day, but it just wouldn’t come to him. What he did remember was that it hadn’t sounded like the way she’d talk at him, which was why he’d figured on it being Leanne McKay that Ma was talking with.

Tobe closed his eyes tight as he turned back again toward the wall, trying to shut out that moonlight and wishing his busy brain had itself a pair of lids also to shut out any pondering. It wasn’t much more than a moment before he again sat up in his bed, looking back to Zach sleeping in his huddle.

He wanted to know. More than that, felt that he deserved to know. It was with this determined thought that he shifted back his blankets and walked quietly to Zach’s bed, intent on asking his brother just what it was he’d ever have to say to Ma that Tobe couldn’t be privy to.

Tobe sat on his haunches, squatted by his brother’s bed, and he held his breath some, not yet sure if this was something he really wanted to do. It was a different thing to be so sure of himself from across the room in his own bed, but being so close to his brother now he began to have some doubts. Despite Zach’s habit of biting having waned some over the last year and some, it was only a month back that Zach had once again bitten him. Ma never laid any blame on Tobe outright, but it wasn’t like she placed any blame on  Zach either. It was always that Tobe had been too loud, too close, too quick, startling his brother into snapping at him.

It was with this in mind that Tobe shifted his stance, ready to leap back or make quick to his own bed, should Zach be inclined to bite. That and he could feign ignorance if Ma woke up to the two of them, pretending he’d just woken up also to whatever Zach chose to do, be it biting or hollering – hollering without clear words fit for Tobe’s ears anyway.

There was a tremor to Tobe’s hand as he pinched at Zach’s blanket, gently pulling it downward to reveal Zach’s sleeping face. Looking on that small sleeping face, Tobe had himself a moment where he truly wondered why he didn’t like his brother. Because he could surely grow fond of him like this, being as still as he was and less of any nuisance he caused when awake. It was a short moment, though, quick to recall every bite, every shriek, every time Zach had just plain irked him. He was just as quick to think on how close Zach was to Ma, a closeness he’d long felt dwindling, much like any bond he’d ever had with Nick or anyone else he’d known through school.

And Da, he thought sadly.

Would he have liked Zach more had Da been around still? Least with that being the case, he might’ve had more time with Ma, should Da have been inclined to share as much time with Zach. Tobe shook his head at this, frowning. Nup. Da being around, he reckoned there’d be slim chance of Zach ever coming about, what with Zach’s being here at all tied so firmly to Ma eating Cayden.

Tobe again shook his head, realising that any thoughts on what might have been with Da still alive only made him feel… not worse. Empty, he realised. And a mite angry. It was that anger, and the determined decision to set out and do what he’d come there to do, that goaded him to say Zach’s name louder than first intended, hissing his brother’s name.

‘Zach…’

Not quite a yell, but uncaringly loud, any wariness of waking Ma now lost to the frustration that had gathered in his belly.

‘Zach… Wake up. Wanted to ask you something.’

Zach didn’t stir in the slightest and the snub, intended or not, only served to make Tobe feel more surly.

‘Zach!’ he said more loudly, this time casting a glance to the door. Angry and sad as he was, Ma waking up was still not a desirable outcome, much as his caution had wavered. He wanted to have matters out with Zach, not Ma.

Looking back to Zach, he saw that his brother hadn’t stirred in the slightest, so he then placed his hands at the sides of Zach’s bedframe and gave it a sturdy shake.

Still nothing.

Tobe drew his breath, wondering whether that wish he’d long ago made might have come on five years late, when he’d patted Ma’s belly and wished Zach hadn’t been at all. He knew the idea still had some appeal, but at the same time it made him feel sick, his thoughts racing through what that would entail, with Ma grieving at such a thing. Tied in with this thought was also how tiring he’d find it, having to pretend on grieving himself – not just Ma, but the McKays and all else, the faces he’d have to make, pretending he felt the same.

Shaking his head, Tobe told himself that this just wasn’t the case. Wishes didn’t come by so tardy, and he remembered that Ma had herself a knack for wishes that even Da used to call uncanny. And Ma’s wish had clearly been for new kin, come Hell or high water. No amount of Tobe’s wishes could have ever outweighed hers.

It was then that Tobe’s eyes narrowed, thinking on how this had all began. It was then that Tobe whispered, so softly that it wouldn’t have stirred a chicken feather had it rested itself on his lips, unsure now if he actually wanted to waken Zach.

‘Cayden…’

His brother’s eyes opened, quick as that fancy Jack-in-the-Box that Nick once had. Even the face looked made of painted tin in the moonlight through the window. Wasn’t just the face that looked different, either. His brother’s eyes were big in that moonlight. Too big. Too dark. Too much like Cayden’s.

Tobe instantly regretted having woken him, and was already inching back to make back to his own bed. But his brother’s mouth then opened in something of a smile and Tobe felt a tickle of relief and almost nervously smiled back. Then the mouth opened wider, lips rising past the teeth, then the gums, turning quick to something of a snarl, his brother all of teeth and eyes and that painted-tin face in the moonlight.

Whether or not Zach was set to begin hollering, neither would know. Weren’t but a second before Tobe shot his hand out, clamping it firm across Zach’s face. Not so firm though that Zach didn’t manage to lower his jaw, bringing it back to bite hard into Tobe’s hand.

‘You God-damned mutt!’ Tobe roared, slapping his other hand hard at his brother’s side, for all the good it did, being swaddled in those blankets.

Tobe tried to pull his hand free, but with his brother showing equal determination, all this served was to have those teeth dig in deeper, tearing the skin they’d set to. Tobe even felt his pinky finger jerk in a spasm like the muscles themselves had been bit.

Slapping his brother’s side again, Tobe this time braced one foot against the bedframe and gave a mighty heave. He pulled his hand away from his brother’s maw, but not without losing some of himself in the doing so.

Zach’s mouth was wet and black in the moonlight, grimace stretched across his young face more for the size of the chunk of Tobe’s hand he had buried in there. Tobe watched as Zach’s eyes narrowed – face he’d make when having a shit or eating – and Tobe knew which would come before the other.

‘No, you don’t!’ he said sternly, but it was too late.

Zach swallowed the mouthful of Tobe’s hand, his neck straining as he made effort to choke it down.

‘You…’ Tobe wasn’t sure what to say, his own neck straining itself with too many words before he managed to spit some out. ‘You don’t fucking get to eat me!’ he roared. ‘You don’t… You don’t know your damn place!’

Tobe stood, feeling dazed, feeling he’d fall, as his hand bled at his side. He staggered back from his brother’s bed, trying to keep some purpose to the stride, trying to make like he was more sure of himself than he was. His next step back wasn’t so determined, more like a ragdoll in decline as his knees went weak at the sight of his brother sitting up in the bed, kicking the blankets aside.

‘You’ll know your damn place if it kills me, Cayden!’ he spat. ‘Yeah, that’s right! I know who you are!’

Even as the words left his mouth, the intent behind them had already settled itself in his chest and deep in his gut, knowing what he needed – wanted – to do. Ma waking up be damned, he ran from the room and flung open the entrance door, not caring how loud he might be. He leapt down the steps of the porch and set off towards the pumpkin patch where they’d long back buried his Da.

Coming to a stop in a stagger, he cast his gaze back to the house and saw Zach at the doorway, pale in the moonlight, watching. Wasn’t so much the act of lowering to his knees as falling to them, that giddiness returning. And without much more thought on that he set to digging, determined to fetch Da’s belt.

Had to be the right place, he thought to himself, hands clawing into the dirt, sweeping back the dead vines of pumpkins that had seen fit to cover his Da only to never come full as if to spite him and Tobe alike.

The open wound at his hand stung horribly as the coarse dirt got into it deep, peppering the raw flesh. He lost a nail, feeling it snap back and away from the finger, dirt sticking at that fresh wound also. And still, he clawed at that dirt, determined to get his hands on that… That nothing, he sadly realised, staring his Da in what would have once been his eyes.

His Da stared back, more scarecrow than a man, as good as that vague ghost Tobe had once pictured as chopping at trees. Da was just a withered skull peering up from where Tobe had dug. And in the wrong damn spot, at that. Tobe scooped some more of that dirt aside, this time with a solemn purpose and not the rushed work that had got him here. The jaw bone shifted some as he swept clear more of the soil, Da’s teeth on a slant like he’d made himself a joke. And in a way he had, Tobe realized, still wishing he could get at that belt.

‘Couldn’t have hung ya’self with that belt, could you, Da? Would’ve made this easier if you had,’ Tobe muttered.

And then, for the first time since his father had passed, Tobe began to cry, feeling his face twist into something of his own, and not what he thought fit for others. Words his own also came to his lips.

‘I miss you, Da,’ he whispered. ‘I miss you awful bad, I do. And if you was here I’d ask –’

  The thought never made it to Tobe’s lips, cut short in his throat as Zach bit hard into it, sending them both toppling across Da’s grave. Tobe tried to lift a foot to kick out at his brother, but it was caught on one of them pumpkin vines. Tried to lift his arms, but they were weak from all that digging. Seemed there was no way of getting his brother off of him until he found Ma doing it for him, pulling Zach back roughly, yelling a storm at his brother as she dragged him back and away from Tobe. As with the hand, Zach had made good to take his share, and as Ma pulled him away, Tobe felt a chill at his neck, the blood flowing swift in the cool night air.

‘Oh, Tobe,’ Ma said, pushing Zach back some before she knelt by Tobe’s side. She glanced down to where he’d been digging, stared at Da’s feeble offering of a face, and even then she saw fit to offer a fond smile down at what was left of Tobe’s father.

‘Why, Tobe?’ Ma asked, putting her hand upon his to hold it, other hand across his throat, for all the good that would do.

Tobe felt the blood pushing out of him, a steady beat to it like the deep breaths he tried to draw, growing slower, but also more intent. Blood and breath coming on harder, like he was determined to blow out his own candle, or drown it in crimson, at least.

Zach inched closer and even now, knowing he was going to go the way of his Da, Tobe felt a prickle to his pride as Ma instinctively drew his little brother close, for the moment letting go of Tobe’s hand. She soon found it again, having drawn Zach close.

‘Started it,’ Zach said, pointing down at Tobe.

Tobe’s eyes looked up at his brother, starting on something of condemnation before they had a humour to them. Would be that Zach would wait till the last before letting Tobe hear him speak. He wasn’t sure if he tried to laugh, or whether it was that blood pushing awful hard now from his throat. Whatever the case, he felt his chest heave, and a gurgle came from where he’d been bit.

Maybe they’d spoken more, they might’ve had a bond, Tobe thought to himself.

Then it became hard to think much at all.

‘S’rry…’ he managed to murmur, looking to Ma and crying. ‘S… s’rry.’

His mother hushed him, stroking his brow. ‘Shh...’ she said softly. ‘No fear, Tobe. Everything’s going to be okay…’

Tobe closed his eyes, falling into her words and the gentle shushing she offered. And as he drifted away, he wondered if, like Cayden, Ma’d somehow see to bringing him back.

Maybe she’d even see to him coming back as a puppy, he thought, seeing how Zach had once been a dog. He smiled at the thought as he died, the idea holding some appeal.

Yup.

Coming back as a dog’d do Tobe just fine.

‘Cause Lord knew a boy’s life was hard.

—::—::—::—
#brettjcole #shortfiction #shortstories #actuallyautistic #autisticartist #autisticwriter #ruralgothic #horror