Once Upon a River Page 0,104

Cubans I know down there,” Johnny said. “I’m looking forward especially to one certain lovely Cuban lady.” As he was leaving, he reached out and tugged Margo’s braid.

“That man is something,” Smoke said after Johnny left. Smoke’s cheeks were still flushed. “If he could package it and sell it, he’d be rich.”

Margo let Nightmare out of the bedroom. He sniffed where Johnny had been sitting and growled.

The first time Margo got a muskrat without putting a bullet hole in it she brought it to Smoke’s as per Fishbone’s request, with the fur brushed and cleaned, and she was glad to find Fishbone there, getting out of his boat. He accepted the long, limp creature she held out to him, took hold of it by the tail.

“What kind of trap did you use?” he asked.

“I didn’t use a trap. I shot it through the eye.”

“Are you really that good of a shot?” Fishbone squinted and smiled enough to show teeth, and Margo saw that he was missing a canine. “Smoky, I believe our Margo is blushing. Young lady, I think you should ask the farmer to let you use his crop-damage permits. Tell him I’m tired of shooting his deer.”

“Tired of aiming at them and missing, you mean?” Smoke said.

“I got me two deer this year. That’s more than you got the last ten years.”

“Can we keep the venison?” Margo asked.

“You can eat it or give it away, or donate it to the gospel mission. But you’ve got to talk to Mr. Harland.”

Though the farmer must have seen where the boat was parked, he hadn’t approached her. She’d taken to sneaking around close to the farmhouse to spy on him, and once she’d seen him arguing with his wife, standing still and silent while his wife stomped around and yelled passionately. Margo also liked to watch the woman across the road from the hay barn. She spent a lot of time outdoors, feeding the birds and working in her garden. Margo watched through the slats of the barn, and tried to imagine starting a conversation, but hadn’t yet figured out what she’d say.

“Do you have a shotgun?” Fishbone said.

Margo shook her head.

“Do you know how to use one?”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I would’ve married a girl like you, if I’d known there was one out there,” Fishbone said and laughed.

Smoke shook his head. “You need another wife, all right.”

“Smoky, you’re going to have to give her your shotgun for deer hunting. She’s got to do this right. I don’t want her out there trying to shoot deer in the eye with a .22.”

“Give her your own damned shotgun. I might need mine.”

“Ignore that complaining old woman, Margo. You go get me a kitchen chair, a grocery bag, and some newspaper and bring it out here to the patio,” he said. “Oh, and a big soup spoon.”

“Who’s an old woman?” Smoke said. “Speak for yourself, you old church lady.”

Once Fishbone was sitting on the chair, he flattened the brown bag on the ground, piled some newspapers there. “Yeah, Smoky, you need that shotgun, all right. Like you need a hole in the head.”

“Aren’t you going to mess up those fine leather shoes?” Smoke said.

“I’m not going to. And this is going to take me two minutes to show this girl how to skin a muskrat. You watch this, too, Smoky. You might still learn something in your old age.” He produced a heavy hunting knife. With one hand on the back of the blade and the other on the handle, he cut off the muskrat’s back feet using the stack of newspapers as a cutting board. Then he put his foot on the muskrat’s tail, stuck his knife into the back of one of the legs, and sliced up to the side of the tail. He made the same cut on the other side and then cut all the way around the tail. Drops of blood fell onto the paper between his shoes.

“What the hell are you going to teach me after all these years?” Smoke muttered.

Fishbone laid his knife on the milk crate beside him and pushed his fingers under the skin, used his fingers to peel the hide from around the tail and back legs, toward the front of the animal. Margo noticed his fingers were long and straight, not crooked with arthritis like Smoke’s, not even scarred. He rolled the hide off the backside of the animal. “See? I’m careful with the belly, saving it till the end, trying to