SECOND THOUGHTS
Chapter One
Petey dropped his gun and it went off.
Max fell off his chair and Moose jumped a foot into the air. The bullet ricocheted off the tool box in the corner, struck the edge of the storage cabinet, rebounded from that to the door frame’s hinge, creased Petey’s ear as it returned to where it had started, then finally lodged itself in the stuffed head of the deer mounted on the wall. It’d missed Moose’s head by an inch and a half.
Too late for the deer; it’d known its first bullet fifty years ago. But Moose was still breathing—once he got his breath back—and undoubtedly he’d prefer to keep it that way. He looked at the deer and its third eyehole.
“Almost killed me,” he breathed. “The kid almost killed me.”
“And he almost killed himself.” With his gaze riveted on Petey, Max got to his feet, righted the wooden kitchen chair, but didn’t sit on it.
Petey touched his ear, then examined the blood on his fingers. He looked more confused than usual. His eyes moved to the side and his head turned as he tried to look at his ear. He made a half circle before he gave up.
“My whole gang could’ve been wiped out with that bullet. Just a single, solitary one. And no one’s even shooting at us.” Max stared at his hands on the back of the chair, feeling and seeing a trembly reaction settling in as he realized how close he’d been to the initial path of the bullet. He would’ve been first, then Petey and then Moose.
Except if the bullet had hit Max, it would’ve lodged in Max.
In two strides, he reached Petey and picked the gun up off the floor. He waved it in front of his brother’s nose. “You see that thing there? That’s a safety, Petey. It’s a safety, and you put it on, like this.” He paused long enough to demonstrate. “And then it won’t go off until you want it to. You got that, Petey? You got it?”
“I’m sorry, Max. I’m real sorry.” Petey’s voice sounded shaky. His gaze darted around the room, lighting everywhere but on his brother.
Max relented and stuck the weapon in his belt. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he’d not mentally progressed beyond primary school age. It was just one of those things that happened sometimes. Numerous doctors had come up with possible causes, but nothing that could be treated or reversed. So if the bullet had done any real damage, it would’ve been his big brother’s fault for letting the physically grown man, who was still a child in every other way, have the gun in the first place.
Petey’s expression turned even more worried as his gaze followed the gun. “Uh, Max, it goes off real easy,” he warned.
Max pulled the weapon back out with forced patience and pointed at the lever. “That’s the safety, Petey, remember? When it’s on, the gun won’t fire.”
“Uh,” Petey said hesitantly. His gaze flitted over the weapon and its complicated mechanisms. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, Petey. Positive.” Again Max started to stick the pistol inside his belt, then he got another thought.
“Wait a minute.” He felt his brow furrow as he looked at Moose. “It won’t ring true if each one of us isn’t armed.” So, after a brief moment, he removed the clip, checked the chamber to make sure it was empty, and then held the gun out to Petey. “No one besides us will know his isn’t loaded. Right, Moose?”
“Sounds good to me.” Moose blew his breath out in a loud whoosh, then added, “Sounds more than good to me.”
But Petey took a quick step backwards. “Uh-uh! I don’t trust it. I don’t want it back.”
“It’s not loaded, Petey. It can’t go off, so it can’t hurt you or anyone else. It’s okay.”
The gun remained extended toward him. Petey reached for it, then snatched his hand back. “Is the safety on?”
Max closed his eyes for an instant. Then patiently he reset the safety. “Yeah, Petey. It’s on.”
Petey accepted the gun, still looking dubious, but gamely stuck it inside his own belt as he’d seen his brother do.
Max wet his lips as he stared at Petey. Then he glanced at the table where his own gun lay, then again at Moose. They exchanged a long look. Max returned to the table, wordlessly removed the clip from his weapon as well, and watched his friend also empty his.
He drew in a deep breath. He felt more comfortable with empty guns than with loaded ones, but the feeling he was being forced into an action he didn’t want to take was stronger than ever. Any other way, he thought, anything but this. But he’d exhausted every other option.
Damn Hayworth and his greed. But it wasn’t even greed; not really, more like jealousness and stupid, underhanded one-upmanship.
He shook off the thought, ignoring his qualms. What was done was done.
He turned back to Petey. “Okay, almost set. Let’s have a look at your ear, and then we’ll be out the door. That tetanus shot you got last year is gonna come in handy again.”
The ear had stopped bleeding and required nothing more than a quick dab of antiseptic. Petey had been lucky. Max didn’t want to think about how lucky. Petey followed his brother as far as the bathroom door. Standing in the doorway, he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, scrunched up his face and clenched his fists while Max applied antiseptic peroxide with a Q-tip.
Finished with the first aid job, Max put the medicine kit away. He returned to the living room and looked at Moose, who still stood next to the deer with its three eyeholes. “So,” he said crisply, ignoring his misgivings. “Are we ready?”
Moose shrugged, appearing as unflappable as ever. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”
(In order to introduce Derek and Connie, here also is a brief excerpt from Chapter Two.)
She lunged to her feet, water sloshing. She’d left the door open to be sure she could hear the kids, and now …
“Derek, don’t come in here!”
“Oh, you’re in the bathroom. I’ll wait in the—” When his voice broke off, Connie could almost see his frown. “Kristy?”
“No, it’s not Kristy. It’s—”
Her foot slipped as she reached for the towel. She grabbed the rack for support, dislodged the towel and it fell into the water.
“Connie? Is that you?” Then he was in the doorway. His face creased into a smile as he looked her up and down. “Yep, that’s you, all right.”
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