The Round House - By Louise Erdrich Page 0,125

of each other, they’d get snarled up and never break apart.

C’mon down, all you spectators, called Doe, this is intertribal! Put your feet on the ground in whatever you got—boots, moccasins, even hippie sandals. What are those? Birkenstocks, somebody tells me. We found a Birkenstock outside of Randall’s tent last night. Ohhhh, yes. Howah.

Doe was always teasing Randall and his friends about their continual efforts at snagging women.

Fuck, said Randall, behind us. Some fuckers broke into our house last night and stole one a Dad’s deer rifles.

They get anything else? asked Cappy. He didn’t turn around to look at Randall, but frowned out at the dancing.

Nah, said Randall. That rifle shows up, I’ll coldcock somebody.

How’s Doe taking it?

He’s mad, Randall shrugged, but not that mad. He says it’s odd they just took that one rifle. They might of tried to take the TV, dropped the toolbox. Amateurs. Couldn’t find any tracks or nothing. Drugheads.

Yeah, said Cappy.

Yeah, I said.

Either the dogs weren’t doing their jobs or they knew who did it.

Or somebody coulda thrown them a piece of meat, said Cappy.

Randall made a disgusted noise. Wasn’t his favorite rifle anyway. If they got his favorite, he’d be mad.

That’s good, I said.

I felt so low I wanted to slide under the bleachers and crouch there with the dead cigarettes, melted snow-cone wrappers, balled-up diapers, and brown splats of spit snoose.

From now on we’re gonna keep the house better locked, Cappy said.

I’m going home tonight, said Randall. Sleeping on the couch with my shotgun until we fix the door.

Don’t shoot your nuts off, said Cappy.

Don’t worry, nutless. Fuckers show up to finish the job, they’ll be sorry.

You’re the man, said Cappy. He clapped his brother’s shoulder and we sauntered off. We walked around and around the arena. After a while he clapped my shoulder too.

You did it smooth.

I hate myself though.

Brother, you must get over that, said Cappy. He will never know, but if he did know, Doe would understand.

Okay, I said after a while, but when I do it, the rest of it, I do it alone.

Cappy sighed.

Listen, Cappy, I said, hoarse, nearly whispering. I’m going to call this like it is. Murder, for justice maybe. Murder just the same. I had to say this a thousand times in my head before I said it out loud. But there it is. And I can take him.

Cappy stopped. Okay, you said it. But that’s not the whole point. If you ever hit five, no, three cans in a row, just once, I’d say maybe. But Joe.

I’ll get close to him.

He’ll see you. Worse, you’ll see him. You’ve got one chance, Joe. I’ll just be there to steady your mind, your aim. I won’t get implicated, Joe.

Okay, I said out loud. No way, I thought. I had decided I would not tell Cappy what morning I was going to the overlook. I would just go there and do it.

The weather the first part of that week was forecast clear and hot. Linda had said her brother played early, before anybody else was out. So just after sunrise I rose and sneaked downstairs. I told my parents that I was getting in shape for fall cross-country—and I did run. I ran the woods trails where I would not be seen. I was getting good at skirting yards and using windbreaks for cover. I took a washed-out pickle jar of water in one hand and a candy bar in my shirt pocket. I made sure the stone Cappy gave me was in my jeans pocket. I wore a brown plaid shirt over a green T-shirt. The best I could do for camouflage. When I got to the overlook, I scraped the sticks and leaves away and set them aside. Then, I took the earth off the gun in the bags and set that aside too. I took the rifle out of the bags and loaded it. My fingers shook. I tried deep breaths. I wrung my hands and brought the rifle to the oak tree, sat down, and held it. I put the jar of water next to me. Then I waited. I would see any golfer on the fifth tee well before he came to the place where I planned to shoot. Then while Lark was starting down the fairway behind a screen of young pine trees, I would walk down the hill with the rifle and hide behind a riffle of chokecherry bush and box elder. From there, I’d aim and wait until he

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