James and the ducks

I remember that night like it was yesterday, even though I was a boy then and now I'm real old.

I remember that crazy man banging and hollering at the farmhouse door. I remember pa telling me and ma "Git upstairs!" and we went, sure, but I didn't go far. I sat on the top step, and I saw my pa get his shotgun and shout through the door. "Who's there?" he shouted, trying to sound scary. "Larry!" was the shout from outside, and pa pointed the gun at the floor and opened the door.

Larry was the Sterlings' youngest. Mr and Mrs Sterling owned the next farm over, up against the foothills. Big property, but tough land to farm, and they was getting old. All their boys had gone - to the city, or those big cattle ranches over in the plains - but Larry stayed. When he weren't around, people would joke he was soft in the head, "born idjit" they said. Nobody said that stuff to his face, though. No fear or nothing, just that Larry was too friendly and cheery to be mean to.

No cheer that night, of course. Larry seemed like he'd gone crazy, eyes bugged out and hair messed and tangled like a tumbleweed. I knew he weren't too many years older than me, not shaving just yet, though looking like he'd need to soon. When he crashed into our front hall
that night, though, he looked older than his own pa. White, his face was. I remember thinking I never saw a face so white.

He stumbled over to pa, grabbed him, bear hug like, and they both went half down, kinda half sitting and half kneeling. I thought for a second that Larry was attacking pa and I was getting set to pelt down those stairs and drag him off, forgetting of course that Larry was twice my size.

But then his foot kicked back, slammed the door with his foot. After the mighty bang of it slamming, everything was still and silent for what felt like a long time. There was only one noise, a kind of bubbling and whistling. Took a minute, but I worked out it was Larry crying. He held my pa like a baby clings to its ma, and he cried into his chest.

Was weird, seeing a near grown man cry like that. I could see pa was out of his depth, too. His hands was up in the air and his face was all confusion and shock, like a man who cracks an egg into a frying pan and finds a goldfish inside. "What's goin' on, Larry?" His voice was gentle - he remembered who he was talking to - but there was a lot of worry in it. "Huh? Your folks okay?"

Larry stopped crying and pushed back, fast. His foot slipped out from under him and he plopped down on his ass. Would've been funny if I weren't so scared.

"Ma and pa..." Larry started, then stared. He tried again. "Ma and pa, they're dead."

"Dead? How Larry? Tell me." The gentleness had gone out of pa's voice - it was like a stone now.

"Ducks," he said. "The ducks did it."


Stay tuned next week for part two of Beyond the Valley of the Ducks!