Bird Shot

✦

✦

✦

G ashouse johnson came for Tanner Rogers just be-

fore noon. He knocked on the Rogerses’ door and then

waited, pacing the porch and examining the carpentry.

His dog, Snipe, followed, limping like a man with a bullet in his

spine. Tanner’s mother, Diane, came to the door. She had all her

pretty blond hair pulled back away from her face.

“Diane, ” he said.

“Gashouse.”

“I want to take Tanner with me to the pigeon shoot today.”

Diane raised her eyebrows. Gashouse waited for an answer,

but she didn’t give one.

“I think he’d like that, ” Gashouse said. “I think he’d like to

see a pigeon shoot.”

“He doesn’t go, ” Diane said.

“I’d sure like to take him, though. On account of his father.”

“He never went. Not with his father, either.”

“What is that, Diane? A rule of your house or something? ”

“It might be.”

“Come on, Diane.”

“I think it’s a sick thing. I really do. I think pigeon shoots are

sicker than hell.”

✦

p i l g r i m s

“You used to love it.”

“I never loved it. I never once loved it.”

“You used to go.”

“I did used to go. But I never loved it.”

“Ed loved it.”

“Tanner doesn’t go, ” Diane said again. “He’s not even inter -

ested in it.”

“There are people up there who love Ed. A boy should meet

the people who love his father. It’s healthy for a boy to meet

people like that.”

Diane said nothing.

“I’m shooting for Ed today, ” Gashouse said. “Until they find

someone else who can replace him permanently. Or until he

gets better, I mean.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“I’m a good shot, Diane. I used to be a hell of a good shot

when we were kids.”

“Good.”

“Of course, I’m no Ed.”

“How many pigeons you plan on killing today? ”

“Many.” Gashouse smiled. “I’m going to kill so many god-

damn pigeons. I’ll see to it that Tanner kills a ton of pigeons,

too.”

Diane nodded, tired.

“Hell, I’ll kill enough pigeons to make you a coat, ” he said,

and then Diane did smile. Gashouse Johnson’s smile widened.

“How about it, Diane? Let me take your son up there and we’ll

bring you back a hell of a nice pigeon-fur coat.”

Diane looked past Gashouse Johnson to Snipe, who was

trying to lie down. “What happened to your dog? ” she asked.

“He got old.”

“He looks like hell. He looks like he got run over.”

“He just got old.”

50 ✦

Bird Shot

“It’s no place for dogs up there, ” Diane said. “Not for dogs or

kids, either. Dogs get shot up there.”

“No. Pigeons get shot up there. Nobody never shot a dog or a

kid yet.”

“Ed shot a dog up there once for chasing dropped birds.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” Gashouse took out his

handkerchief and blew his nose.

“Gashouse, ” she said, “do you want to come inside? ”

“No, I won’t bother you.”

Snipe was lying down by a pair of boots near the porch steps,

chewing on his tail. His head was thick and brown as a boot

itself, and while he chewed, he watched Diane. His dog face

was void.

“How old is he? ” Diane asked.

“Eleven.”

“Just the same age as my Tanner.”

“I hope your boy is holding up a little better than my dog.”

Diane smiled again. They looked at each other. After a

moment, she asked, “Did you go see Ed in the hospital? ”

“This morning.”

“Did he tell you to come here and check on me? Is that it? ”

“No.”

“Did he tell you to spend some time with Tanner? ”

“No.”

“What’d he say? ”

“Ed? He said, ‘You think the first cigarette of the day

tastes good? Wait ’til you try the first cigarette after a triple

bypass.’”

This time Diane did not smile. “He told me that joke, too, ”

she said. “Except that I don’t smoke.”

“Me neither. I chew.”

“Well, ” Diane said, “I drink.”

Gashouse looked down at his hands. Took a long look at his

✦

p i l g r i m s

thumbnail. Diane said, “You’ve got something on your beard. A

crumb or something.”

He wiped it off. He said, “Could’ve been toast.”

“It looked like a piece of fluff.”

“What’s Tanner doing right now, Diane? Come on, Diane.

Why don’t you go ask your son if he wants to come along on a

real live pigeon shoot? ”

“You are an optimistic man, Gashouse. That’s what you are.”

“Come on, Diane. What’s he doing right now? ”

“Hiding from you.”

“He’ll love it, ” Gashouse said. “Unless he gets shot...”

“He might not even want to go, ” Diane said, and Gashouse

replied, “Ask him. Just go ask him.”

Later, Tanner Rogers and Gashouse Johnson drove through

town in Gashouse’s truck. The boy was dressed in a heavy

winter coat, a red hunting cap, lace-up boots. He was shy, and it

took him some time to ask Gashouse the question he had been

privately nursing.

“Isn’t it against the law? To shoot pigeons? ”

“Nah, ” Gashouse said. “Shooting pigeons is not against the

law. Betting on people who shoot pigeons is against the law.”

“What about my dad? ”

“Your dad? Why, he doesn’t bet. He just shoots the pigeons.

Everyone bets on the shooters. You see? Everyone bets on your

father, to guess how many pigeons he can shoot. Your dad don’t

need to bet.”

“What about you? ”

“I bet like a son of a bitch. What about you? ”

Tanner shrugged.

“How much money do you have on you, son? ”

Tanner took a handful of linty change from his pocket. “Dol -

lar eighteen.”

“Bet it all, ” Gashouse said. Then he laughed and yelled,

52 ✦

Bird Shot

“Double it! ” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

“Double it! Triple it! Ha! ”

Snipe barked once, a hound’s low woof. Gashouse spun his

head and looked at Tanner, suddenly serious. “You say some-

thing, boy? ”

“No, ” Tanner said, “that was your dog.”

Gashouse leaned forward and wiped the inside of the wind-

shield with his sleeve. “Son, ” he said, “I was just kidding with

you there. That was my dog barking. I knew that.”

“Sure, ” Tanner said. “Me too.”

“Good boy. We all had a little joke, right? ”

“Sure, ” Tanner said. “Okay.”

On their way out of town, Gashouse stopped at Miles Spi-

vak’s grocery store to buy shotgun shells. Miles himself was

behind the counter, looking wintry and old. He found the shells

that Gashouse asked for.

“Miles! ” Gashouse shouted. “I’m shooting for Ed Rogers

today. You should come on up there for once. You might have a

good time, Miles! You might see some hell of a good shooting

from me.”

Miles took a slow look around his store, as if expecting to see

another person appear behind him. “Damn it, Gashouse. You

know I’m the only one here. You know I can’t go.”

“But I’m shooting today, Miles! Worth closing early for. I

used to be a hell of a good shot.”

Miles considered this.

“You know Ed’s boy? ” Gashouse put a big hand on Tanner’s

head.

“Have five boys myself. Just had the last one two months

ago. By cesarean. You ever seen one of those? ” Miles asked

Tanner.

“For Christ sake, Miles, ” Gashouse said. “He’s just a kid.”

“Tied her tubes right there. So we won’t have another kid.

Now that’s something to see, to see your own wife laid open like

✦

p i l g r i m s

that. Women got some pretty tiny equipment inside. Ever seen

those little things? Ever seen those little tubes? ”

“Jesus Christ, Miles, ” Gashouse said. “Wouldn’t you be sur-

prised if the kid said yes? ”

“Damnedest things, ” Miles said. “Tiniest, damnedest things

you ever saw.”

“Let’s get out of here, Tanner, ” Gashouse said. “We got a

crazy man! ” As they walked to the door, Miles called after them,

“She’s a wonderful woman, my wife! ”

“I’ll tell you something about that one, ” Gashouse said when

they were outside. “He’s too dumb to bat both his eyes at the

same time.”

When they were back in the truck, Gashouse took the box of

shotgun shells from his pocket and read the label carefully.

“Hell, ” he said, “I don’t know.” He turned the box over and read

it again.

Tanner waited, then asked, “What kind of gun do you have? ”

“Twelve gauge.” He looked over. “Does that mean anything

to you? ”

“My dad has a double-barreled eighteen gauge.”

“Sixteen gauge, ” Gashouse corrected, putting the shell box

back in his pocket. “Ed’s got a double-barreled sixteen gauge.

It’s been a long time, son. I’ll tell you that right up front. It’s

been a hell of a long time since I shot a gun.”

Gashouse sighed, then slammed the steering wheel again.

“Hey! But come on! It’s not even my gun! It’s Dick Clay’s

gun! Ha! ”

Snipe woofed again from the floor.

“I didn’t say anything, ” Tanner said.

“Ha! ” Gashouse slapped his own knee. “Ha! You got the joke,

son! You got it! ”

Gashouse started up the truck and pulled out of the parking

space. He said, “Good thing you like a joke, because we’re on

54 ✦

Bird Shot

the road to big fun today, that’s for sure. Any questions up there,

you just ask me.”

“Why do they call you Gashouse? ” Tanner asked.

“Farts, ” he answered without hesitation. “Some real wood-

chippers, too. Real ice-breakers. I’m better now, though, than I

used to be. No more dairy.”

“Does my dad call you that? ”

“Yes.”

“Does my mom call you that? ”

“Tanner, ” Gashouse said, “it was kind of a consensus. You

know what a consensus is? ”

“No.”

“Well, ” Gashouse said, “that’s what it was.”

At the next stop sign, Gashouse rolled down his window and

yelled to a red-haired woman on the sidewalk, “Hey there! Hey

there, you little stack of pancakes! ”

She smiled and tossed out a wave as if it were a candy

wrapper.

“Hey there! Hey there, you little side of fries! Hey there, you

little deep-dish apple pie! ”

The woman blew him a kiss and kept on walking.

“We’ll see you later! ” he yelled. “Cutie! ”

Gashouse Johnson rolled up the window and said to Tanner,

“There goes my girl. Can you believe she’s fifty? Who would

guess? ”

“I think I know her from school, ” Tanner said, shyly.

“Possible, ” Gashouse said. “It is possible, because she does

teach there sometimes on a substitute basis. She looks great,

don’t you think? A good-looking woman. You’d never guess her

age, right? As long as she keeps her shirt on, right? ”

Tanner flushed and leaned down to pat Snipe’s head. The

dog woke up and panted gratefully, his breath hot and ripe.

The man and the boy drove on, quietly. They drove out of

✦

p i l g r i m s

town and past the dump, past the cemetery, past the farms,

past a cornfield with a fire engine parked beside it. The road

became dirt, and they passed loudly over a cattle guard’s wide

grate. Gashouse drove farther still, up the forlorn road. He took

a sudden left onto a mining road, driving slowly on deep ruts

that might have been dug by tires, but might, too, have been

dug by water. Where the wood line stopped abruptly, they came

out at the edge of a wide, flat dish of rock and mud, the rough

grave of an abandoned strip mine.

A few trucks were there already, lined up neatly, like cars at a

drive-in. Men were talking in a small group, kicking at rocks,

their dogs milling around beside their muddy feet. Gashouse

and Tanner got out of the truck. Snipe followed, painfully.

“Hey! ” Gashouse said to Dick Clay. “Place your bets! ”

“Can’t, ” Dick said. “No birds. Willis got shut down.”

“By who? By the hell who? ”

“By...” Dick hesitated. “By the authorities.”

“Well, ” Gashouse said. “Don’t I just feel like a slapped butt? ”

“Happens.” Dick shrugged.

“Not in twenty years, it hasn’t happened, ” Gashouse said.

“Willis got shut down by the authorities, did he? Son of a bitch.

By what goddamn authorities? ”

The other men looked at one another. One of them coughed

and said, “Just some officers of the law doing their job.”

“Just some good old boys, ” another man said. “Just some

fellas enforcing the law, for once.”

“It’s not against the law to shoot pigeons, ” Tanner said.

The men looked at him.

“Gashouse? ” Dick Clay asked quietly. “Is that Ed Rogers’s

boy? ”

“Sure is.” Gashouse again put his big hand on Tanner’s head.

“Ed don’t want his boy up here, Gashouse, ” Dick said.

“That’s not true, Dick. It’s Diane who don’t want the boy up

here.”

56 ✦

Bird Shot

“What’d you do? Kidnap him? ”

“I invited him, ” Gashouse said. “I invited him to come

up here and watch me stand in for his old man. I invited him

to come up here and watch me shoot some birds for his old

man.”

The men looked at one another, looked at their boots, looked

at their dogs.

“I came here to shoot some pigeons, and by Christ, I’ll shoot

them, ” Gashouse said. “I’m calling up Willis. I aim to find out

what the hell’s going on. See what this is all about. Authorities

shutting him down. See if I can’t do something about it.”

“Actually, ” Dick said, “actually, it doesn’t really matter. No-

body’s planning on showing up anyhow. On account of Ed

being in the hospital. The pigeon shoots are pretty much can-

celed for now.”

“But I’m shooting for Ed, ” Gashouse said, and smiled, as if

he’d solved something. “ I’m shooting for Ed, and any folks who normally bet on Ed Rogers, why, they can bet on me.”

Dick said nothing.

“For Christ sake, Dick. You know I’m shooting today. You

lent me your goddamn gun, Dick.”

“I got to tell you something, ” Dick said, “because you’re my

good friend. The truth is, Gashouse, the authorities didn’t shut

down Willis. That’s the truth, Gashouse.”

A few of the men started heading back to their trucks, in a

sort of casual way.

“Dick? ” Gashouse said. “Where the hell are people going? ”

“Gashouse, ” Dick said, “I will say this. And I’m only telling

you what I’ve been hearing. This is not me talking. This is what

the guys are saying. I told some guys that you wanted to shoot

for Ed, and some guys said they would rather cancel the shoot.

Some guys don’t think that a bet on you is much of a bet. Some

guys think they might just want to stay home until we find

someone else.”

✦

p i l g r i m s

The men stood quietly then, like mourners or surveyors.

“Well, ” Gashouse said finally. “Well, well, well. We won’t

fault anyone for that. Will we, Tanner? Will we, son? ”

In Willis Lister’s barn, there were dozens of pigeons. The pi-

geons were caged, sitting in the dust of old feathers and shit.

The sound of all those birds was a collective gurgle, like some-

thing thick about to come to a boil.

“Dick Clay told me not to show up, ” Willis Lister was ex-

plaining to Gashouse Johnson. “On account of Ed. He told me

they were canceling the pigeon shoots for a while.”

“See, now, ” Gashouse said, “I realize that. But I thought

Tanner here might want to see me shoot for his dad. Tanner’s

dad is in the hospital, you know.”

“I know that.”

“And I thought it might be a special thing for the kid to see a

pigeon shoot. On account of the high esteem that all the guys

have for his old man. I thought he might want to see me shoot

some birds for his old man. On account of the high esteem I

have for his dad. And the high esteem that I have for his

mother.”

The pigeon man squatted down and looked at Tanner. “I’m

sorry, ” he said, “about your father.” Willis was an old man. Still,

his face was smooth and unmarked, except for a small scar the

shape of a sickle, pink against his cheek and shiny as a fleck

of mica.

“Thank the man.” Gashouse nudged Tanner.

“Thank you, ” Tanner said.

Willis stayed squatting. “Son, ” he said, “your hair is really

kicking today.” He took a comb from the bib pocket of his

coveralls and offered it.

“I’m okay, ” Tanner said.

Willis kept looking at him, waiting.

Tanner said, “I already combed it today.”

58 ✦

Bird Shot

“It’s really kicking, though. A boy should try to keep himself

neat.”

“I went to sleep on it last night and it was wet. I can’t fix it.”

But Willis still held out the comb. Gashouse nudged Tanner

once again. “Why don’t you use the man’s comb, son? ”

Tanner took the comb from Willis Lister’s hand and ran it

through his hair once. Then he handed it back.

Gashouse said, “Why don’t you thank the man for his offer of

a comb? ”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, son, ” Willis said. “Don’t you look neater

now? ”

Willis stood up and faced Gashouse. “What do you need

here? ”

“Birds.”

“Nobody’s up there to bet, Gashouse. There ain’t gonna be no

shooting today.”

“Don’t need betters, ” Gashouse said, grinning. “I just need

birds. I’ll shoot them right here.”

Willis didn’t answer, and Gashouse stamped his foot and

laughed loud enough to send the pigeons into a boil of talk.

“Hey! I mean — not here! I’m not going to shoot your pigeons here in their damn cages. The boy didn’t come here to see me

shoot birds in a cage! I’ll shoot a few of them in your yard. Just

so the boy gets an idea.” He stopped laughing, found the hand-

kerchief in his pocket, and blew his nose. Willis looked at him

and also at Tanner, who was patting down his hair with both

hands. Willis looked at Snipe, who was licking the wire door of

an empty birdcage.

“How many? ” Willis asked. “How many birds for your little

venture? ”

Gashouse returned the handkerchief to his pocket and pulled

out a wallet, from which he took a twenty-dollar bill. “Can you

give me four birds for twenty dollars? Can you do that, Willis? ”

✦

p i l g r i m s

Willis looked pained. “Four birds? What’s four birds? I lose

more birds than that to rats in a week.” He turned to Tanner.

“How many pigeons you want to kill, son? ”

“Me? ” Tanner looked nervously to Gashouse.

“I’m shooting, Willis, ” Gashouse said. “I’ll explain it to you

again. Point is, I want the boy to see how his dad does it. Want

the boy to see how his dad got so famous.”

“How many birds? ” Willis asked.

“I only need to kill one, I guess.”

“Hell, Gashouse, you can have one bird. What the hell is one bird to me? ”

Gashouse looked at his thumbnail carefully. “Problem is, it

might take me a few birds to kill one...”

“Christ, man.”

“Come on now, Willis. It’s been a long damn time. I might

miss the first bird or so.” He paused. “You know, I used to be a

hell of a good damn shot when —”

“You can have three birds, ” Willis interrupted.

“I used to be a hell of a shot.”

“You can hit one bird in three, can’t you? ”

“My God, ” Gashouse said. “We’d all better hope the hell so.”

Willis went to the nearest cage, stepping over Snipe, who was

still licking at a wire door as if it were gravy. He opened the trap

and pulled out the birds one at a time — by a foot, by a wing —

with a frown at the dust and down raised from the panic. He

tucked a pigeon under each arm like a schoolbook and handed a

third to Tanner. “Tuck his wings down, ” Willis instructed, “so

he don’t beat the hell out of himself.”

Tanner followed the men out of the barn, carefully carrying

the bird away from his body, as though it were something that

might spill on him. He waited in the field with Willis while

Gashouse went to the truck for his shotgun. Snipe sat in front

of Willis Lister, looking hopefully at his pigeons.

60 ✦

Bird Shot

“What do you think, dog? ” Willis said. “You think I got a

biscuit for you? ”

Then they were quiet. Tanner was miserably uneasy to be

alone with Willis Lister. The grass in the yard was high, thick to

the middle of Tanner’s shins, and damp. There was the kind of

gray sky that can mean rain any minute or no rain for months.

Tanner’s pigeon was hot and thick, bigger than the cradle of

his two hands. Beside him, Willis breathed heavily from his

mouth, like a deep sleeper, and after a long time said, in a low

voice, “You think I got a biscuit for you, dog? That what you

think? ”

Gashouse Johnson came back with the shotgun and shells.

He knelt in the grass to load, and Willis said, “What the hell

kind of shells you using? You planning on shooting bear out

here? ”

Gashouse looked at the box and did not answer.

“That’s not bird shot, man. You hit a bird with that stuff,

you’ll be lucky to find the goddamn thing. You’ll blow the thing

all to bits.”

Gashouse loaded the shotgun and stood up.

“You really planning on shooting those hand grenades? ” Wil-

lis asked.

“You know, ” Gashouse said, “I honestly don’t care what kind

of shells these are. I think I’d just like to kill these birds and go on home.” He held the gun to his shoulder, waiting.

“You know what boys like you do up at the pigeon shoots? ”

Willis said to Tanner. “There’s always a job up there for a boy

your age. You think you can do a boy’s job? ”

“Sure, ” Tanner guessed.

“This is the boy’s job. You wait for the shooter to drop the

bird out of the sky. Then you chase that bird down, and if it ain’t

dead, you kill it off. Just a neck-wring’ll do it. You think you can

do that easy job? ”

✦

p i l g r i m s

Tanner looked at the fat bird in his hands.

“That’s a boy’s job, ” Willis said. “Okay. Get behind the

man, son, lest he blows your goddamn head off with his lousy

shooting.”

Tanner backed up.

“Okay, ” Willis said, “let’s go.”

Willis pulled one of the pigeons from under his arm and

tossed it into the air. It fluttered low, over their heads.

“Wait, now, ” Willis told Gashouse. “Let her get some

height.”

The bird flew. It flew out and away from them, straight

toward the trees at the end of the field. Gashouse shot once, a

tremendous blast that knocked him over backward, almost into

Tanner. The bird flew on, into the trees. Willis, still holding the

second pigeon in his hands, looked at Gashouse, who was sit-

ting in the tall wet grass, rubbing his shoulder.

“Okay, ” Willis said. “Ready? ”

“That gun’s a kicker, ” Gashouse said. “Knock a guy right on

his ass.”

“It’s the shells, ” Willis said. “Plant yourself better. Ready? ”

Gashouse stood and raised his gun. Willis tossed the second

bird up, and it flew in the same line as the first had.

“Now! ” Willis shouted.

Gashouse shot, missed, shot again, missed again. They

watched the pigeon make it to the line of trees and van-

ish. Snipe lay at Tanner’s feet, groaning unhappily from the

blasts of noise. Willis Lister stared out toward the end of the

field.

“Let me ask you something, ” Gashouse said. “Now, will those

birds of yours eventually come back to your barn? Eventually? I

don’t want you to lose two good birds for nothing.”

Willis turned to Tanner. “When I tell you, I want you to toss

that pigeon of yours up in the air. Not too hard. Ready? Now!

Now! ”

62 ✦

Bird Shot

Tanner opened his hands and raised them. The bird shifted

slightly but stayed put.

“Go, ” he whispered.

Tanner jerked his hands, and the pigeon tumbled forward

and out of his palms. It flew briefly, then settled on a rock in

front of Willis Lister.

“Shoo! ” Willis waved his hat at the bird. “Shoo! ”

The bird flew a few feet and landed in the grass. Willis swore

and picked it up. “Sick bird, ” he said, and handed it to Tanner.

“Go get another one. Leave this one in an empty cage.”

Tanner walked back to the barn with the wet, heavy bird. He

found an empty cage. The bird, when dropped inside, stayed

where it fell, facing away from Tanner. He shut the wire door,

which was still damp from Snipe’s mouth. In the other cages,

the pigeons moved around, stepping and nudging one another

for better positions. He found the cage with the fewest birds

and, reaching in slowly, caught one by the foot. It fluttered

horribly, and he dropped it. He shut his eyes, reached in again,

grabbed a wing, and pulled the pigeon out. He ran with the

flapping body tucked under his jacket, as if he had stolen it and

was being chased.

Gashouse Johnson and Willis Lister watched him coming,

and when he was before them, Gashouse said, “Good boy, ” and

Willis took the bird.

“Ready? ” Willis said, and tossed the pigeon up and away

from them. It circled, then flew.

“Now, ” Willis said. “Now! ”

Gashouse shot once, and the bird dropped. Straight to the

grass. Snipe took off after the bird and found it more or less

accidentally, by running over it. The pigeon was still alive. It had

not fallen far from them. They walked over to it, quickly. It had

lost a wing.

“Get it, ” Willis Lister said. Not to Gashouse. Not to Snipe.

But to Tanner.

✦

p i l g r i m s

“Go on, get it, ” he said. “Just a neck-wring’ll take care of it.”

Tanner did not answer or move.

Gashouse said, “Now your father, he could drop twenty birds

in a row, just like that. How about that, son? ”

“Jesus Christ, ” Willis Lister said, and squatted beside the

bird. He lifted it just enough to get his hands around its neck

and twist, and as he was doing this, the bird made one twist of

its own — a small adjustment toward comfort or resistance —

and died. Willis dropped the bird on the ground.

“Stay the hell off that thing, ” he said to Snipe, and wiped his

hands on his coveralls.

They walked back to the truck.

Gashouse said, “If I’d have missed that last bird, I was going

to start aiming at the side of the damn barn. See if I could hit

the side of a goddamn barn! Ha! ”

“Careful of the gun, ” Willis said sharply to Gashouse. “Don’t

go blowing your goddamn leg off like an idiot.”

“Time was, I used to be a hell of a good shot.” Gashouse

laughed. “Of course, that was twenty-odd years ago. Could be I

might’ve been piss awful then, too, and just forgot about it. Ha! ”

Willis Lister spoke to Tanner without looking at him. “At a

pigeon shoot, ” he said evenly, “when a man brings a bird down,

it is always a boy who wrings the neck.”

Tanner nodded.

“That’s a boy’s job, ” Willis said. “Always has been a boy’s job.”

“You want to go for a beer? ” Gashouse Johnson asked Willis.

“No.”

“What about you, Tanner? You want a soda pop? ”

“Take the boy home, ” Willis said. “Nobody wants any soda

pop neither.”

The dress that Diane Rogers had been wearing that morning

was hanging over the kitchen sink, just washed, when Gashouse

Johnson returned with Tanner. It was a thick cotton dress and it

64 ✦

Bird Shot

dripped steadily onto the dishes below, like something melting.

She had changed into slacks. She watched as Gashouse sat at

the table, Snipe at his feet.

“Tell your mother what a crack shot I am, ” Gashouse said to

Tanner.

“Crack pot, ” Diane corrected.

“Come on, Diane. It was something to see.”

“Did you win any money? ”

“I wasn’t betting. I was shooting.”

“I was asking Tanner.”

“I wasn’t betting, ” Tanner said.

“Good for you.”

“Nobody was betting, ” Gashouse said. “Nobody was even

there. On account of respect for Ed.” Gashouse leaned forward

and pointed at Diane. “Out of respect. They canceled it out of respect for the man.”

They looked at each other gravely. Then Diane laughed. She

went to the refrigerator and got beers for herself and Gashouse.

She got a glass of juice for Tanner.

“How bad a shot are you, anyhow? ” she asked.

“I’m a fine shot. We got our shots in.”

“Where? ”

“Willis Lister gave us three birds.”

“Four, ” Tanner said.

“Okay.” Gashouse shrugged. “We shot at four birds.”

“Three, ” Tanner said. “One was too sick.”

“Just for kicks, you were shooting? ” Diane asked.

“So that your son could see what his father does.”

“One bird died, ” Tanner said.

Gashouse opened his beer, twisting the cap off with a corner

of his shirt over his palm. He put the cap in his pocket.

“Diane? You ever tell Tanner that Willis Lister is your

cousin? ”

“No, ” she said. “When I was little, my mother used to say,

✦

p i l g r i m s

‘Don’t let your cousin Willis kiss you. You tell me if he tries to

touch you.’”

“That’s not true.”

“Honey, ” Diane said, “you were absolutely not there.”

“Could have been.”

“I don’t want to talk about Willis Lister.”

“Tanner? ” Gashouse said. “Did I ever tell you that your

mother was the first girl I ever kissed? ”

“No, ” Diane said. “And don’t tell him that again, either.”

“Ha! ” Gashouse laughed, and slammed the table so hard that

Tanner’s juice quivered in its glass.

“You have a girlfriend these days? ” Diane asked. “Some poor

little thing? ”

“Yes, I do.”

“Blond? ”

“Brown.”

“Brown? ”

“Brown hair.”

“Blue eyes? ”

“Brown.”

“Well. That’s not your normal taste, Gashouse.”

“Brown skin, too.”

“How about that? ”

“She’s pretty much brown.”

“Well.” Diane took a long drink of beer. “Sounds beautiful.”

They both laughed.

“She’s okay, ” Gashouse said. “She’s no you.”

“Neither am I, anymore. Not these days. I’m too old.”

“That’s not true. That’s a damn lie. It’s always nice to sit with

you, Diane. It always has been nice to sit with you.”

“Hm, ” Diane said. “Saved up any money? ”

“Five thousand bucks in the bank.”

“As we speak? ”

“Just sitting there.”

66 ✦

Bird Shot

“You owed Ed about that much just last winter.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I don’t know. Seems to me, a man who owes five thousand

dollars one minute and has five thousand dollars the next min-

ute hasn’t really saved that money. He just hasn’t spent it yet.”

“Maybe, ” Gashouse said.

“Don’t spend it all on that girl.”

“Come on, Diane.”

“I know you.”

“I should hope the hell so.”

“She call you Gashouse? ”

“She calls me Leonard. Lee-oh-nard...” Gashouse drawled

in three long syllables.

“How old is she? ”

“Twenty, ” Gashouse said without blinking. When Diane

didn’t answer, he added, “Turning twenty-one next week.”

Gashouse waited, then said, “Next Thursday, as a matter of

fact. Yes, sir. The big two-one.”

Diane tucked one of her feet under her body and asked,

“What’s her name, Gashouse? ”

There was a beat.

“Donna, ” he said.

Diane did not respond.

“Having a big party for her, actually, ” Gashouse went on. “For

her and her friends. Her little school friends. Hell, you know

how girls are.”

“Gashouse, ” Diane said kindly. “All your lies are safe with

me.”

“Diane —” he said, but she cut him off with a slight and

elegant wave. An authority of silence.

They did not speak. Young Tanner Rogers had been sitting

with one foot on his chair all this time, and he had untied the

lace of his wet boot. He was practicing knots with the short

length of damp rawhide lace. It was too short a lace for compli-

✦

p i l g r i m s

cated knots, but he was repeating smoothly a simple knot of

three steps — a rabbit around a tree and down a hole, a quick,

snug pull. Diane looked at her son’s hands, working. She got up

for a paring knife, and when she sat down, she laid her own

hand on the table, palm up.

“Give me that dirty paw, ” she said.

Tanner gave his right hand to his mother. She gripped it in all

confidence. With her paring knife, she dug under his thumbnail

just firmly enough (shy of the pink bed of skin) to pull up a thin,

crumbling line of brown dirt. She wiped the knife on her knee,

then cleaned the next nail and the next and the next. Gashouse

Johnson watched. And Tanner watched, too, sitting still, with

his left hand hovering over the knot he had made — a sports-

man’s knot, a modest knot — that will hold and hold, but can

release, too, with a quick tug, in emergencies or at the end of its

usefulness.

68 ✦