After the first calf was killed, we walked the entire perimeter of the fence line but there were no obvious signs of entry.
“Damn, did the sum bitch jump over the top of the fence?” my brother Davie inquired.
“We better figure something out?” I answered.
“I’m trying P.” That’s what my family called me. My name is Peter, but when my younger sister was barely old enough to talk, she could only say P and nothing else. It stuck.
I grew up on a cattle ranch. We raised beef cattle. It was once a good living, something worth the effort, but in time corporate farming took over. The market pressure was immense, cost skyrocketed, and soon we were in over our heads. It was my father’s dream to live on a farm. He scraped and saved until finally he and my mom had enough money to put a down payment on a good plot of land far away from the city. My dad and mom were city folk, but we grew up trying our best to be country folk. We were miserable at it.
Twenty years in and two years ago, as I mentioned, everything went sour, dead in the red. Instead of sticking it out, my dad disappeared, headed off to who knows where. Left me, my mom, my brother, and my sister to fend for ourselves. Luckily, Davie was knowledgeable enough to know how to run the ranch in a fairly decent manner. He was the oldest and the smartest. In his late twenties, he held a deep grudge because of things he would never get to accomplish. He wanted to go to college, to go back to the city and claim the original family heritage- good old fashioned city hedonism. See, dad had a reputation, a bad one to say the least. He may have wanted to live in the country, but I often heard how much he enjoyed living in the city.
My mom would say, “He thought being in the country would make him pure. The city made him a scoundrel.” My mom passed away not long after dad had left. Now Davie would never get to be a fun-loving city scoundrel, acting like a God-fearing country puritan, like his dad.
I was almost eighteen when the cattle were slaughtered. I felt guilty but in time I had planned on leaving the ranch. I didn’t want any damn part of it anymore.
“P, this thing is big. I don’t see how it could go over the top. I just don’t get it. We can’t shore up the fence.”
“Well, we gotta figure something out.”
“You already said that.” I could see Davie was a little irritated.
I found the first slaughtered cow. I was walking through the field to check on the feed. The calf was lying next to the hay feeder, with her stomach ripped open and neck bent sideways. It was a small kill, so we figured it was some coyotes.
Another day, and another calf. That was the first time Davie and I inspected the fence. We strung some barbed wire across where we thought the predator was getting in, but that following Saturday we found two more dead, but this time it wasn’t no calves. These were full grown cows. They were a mangled mess, legs ripped apart from their bodies, insides all torn out and slung across the ground, and one of them had its head torn off.
The last and final cow was an impossible scenario to explain. The cow was thrown up in the willow tree, hanging over a thick branch, headless with its side torn away and missing. The ribs were visible, and I could smell the stench of blood, still dripping from the tree.
Davie found it and got me out of bed.
“I need some help. You ain’t gonna believe this shit.”
When we got to the tree and I saw how the cow was positioned, horrible thoughts began to rush into my head.
“This ain’t the work of a coyote,” I said.
“You think this is someone trying to scare us, maybe chase us from our land?”
“I don’t know, but suddenly I ain’t worried so much about the cattle as I am for us.”
“I hear ya. It’s an animal. A big fucked up animal, but it’s an animal. I think I know what we can do. I’m gonna get some bear traps.”
“Bear traps,” I answered in disbelief. “Where in the hell are you gonna get bear traps? Ain’t they illegal?”
“They are, but forever that old man that hangs out at the feed store kept trying to sell me and dad some bear traps. He said we would need them one day. Well, maybe this was what he was talking about.”
“I don’t like it. What if Allie comes back here? It’s too dangerous Davie.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her. We just won’t let her play back here. She’ll have to stay in the front yard, close to the house. You or I will always be with her until we figure this out.”
“Yeah, but what if you catch a neighbor in that bear trap or an innocent kid just trolling around?”
“P, what neighbors? We are miles away from the next nearest road and you’re talking about neighbors.
It’s an animal!”
“An animal that can throw a full-grown cow up in a tree?”
Davie let out an angry sigh and stormed off towards the truck.
That following day I watched as Allie played in the front yard. Every now and then I would walk to the side of the house and see what Davie was doing. I could see him bending down and setting the traps. He put one at every other post. He must’ve gotten more than a couple.
“P, why can’t I go help Davie.”
“He’s doing something important. Takes a lot of effort, not something a little girl like you can manage.”
“I’m not a little girl.”
Without thinking I answered, “What he’s doing is dangerous, even for a grown man.”
“Dangerous?” she asked. I looked back at Allie, and I could see a little worry in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just mean he’s doing something important and if we bother him, he could mess it all up.”
Davie didn’t get all the traps set until late afternoon. I could only make out his silhouette as he came scampering back towards the house.
“Man, what’s wrong?” He looked worried and confused.
“I heard something back in the woods. I felt like someone was watching me.”
“What did you hear?”
“I don’t know. Heavy breathing or something. Let’s get inside.”
His voice cracked with fear as he spoke. I followed him from behind into the house. He was tapping his right hip with his hand. He always did that when he was nervous.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“Just get in,” he commanded as he held the door open. “Where’s Allie?”
“She went upstairs to her room.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Calm down.”
Davie turned and dashed upstairs, yelling for Allie. I had a guttural reaction before I began to realize that I didn’t really remember seeing Allie go back into the house. She said she wanted to go to her room, but I didn’t recall if she did or not. I just accepted that since she said it, she did it. I was absolutely and horrifyingly wrong.
Davie rushed backed down the stairs.
“Where is she P? Where is Allie? I can’t believe you. I can’t fucking believe you.”
“She said she was going back into the house. I heard the door slam shut. I think… well, I know she went back inside.”
At that moment we heard an animal howl in the distance. It was fierce and yet, full of pain. There was another howl and then a high pitch screech. This kept up and increased in frequency and intensity. The howls began to sound like screams, and the screams began to sound like howls. We finally realized that the screaming was coming from Allie, the howls from something else.
“Dammit P, Allie’s in the back yard.”
We ran around the house and down the side of the fence. I peered up towards the forest and the back of the fence line. Allie was only halfway up the left side of the fence, a little distance from the beast caught in a bear trap at the back. She was firmly planted to the ground, her arms stiff by her side, and her hands balled up in fists. She was screaming so much that she would lose her breath, began coughing, and then resume screaming.
When we reached her, Davie flung her up in his arms and held her tight to his chest.
“Don’t look Allie.”
The sun was barely visible, hidden behind the forest. There was a scattering of sunlight cast through the leaves, illuminating the beast stuck up against the fence. It had to be at least seven feet tall, a towering mound of fur, with long arms, and what I believed from that distance to be claws on its hands.
“Is that a werewolf?” I asked.
“Shut up P. It’s just an animal.”
“A werewolf?” Allie asked.
“No honey. P is silly.”
The howling had never stopped. The beast was in obvious pain. Fear plus the irritation of that constant bellowing wore thin on my nerves.
“We need to get out of here! Davie let’s go. We need to go get the police.”
“We need to put it out of its misery?”
“What?” I said in disbelief as my eyes began to water. I could no longer contain my fear. “Are you kidding? What are you St. fucking Francis. That’s a monster Davie. A monster who ripped open cattle and threw one up in a tree like it was nothing.”
“Shut up! Just shut up. You’re scaring Allie!” he screamed.
“I’m scared Davie. I’m scared too. You’re talking stupid. Let’s get out of here.”
“Here.” Davie set Allie down and fumbled into his pockets. He pulled out the truck keys and handed them to me.
“Take Allie and get out of here. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“What? Come on. Leave it. It’ll either escape or die. We just have to leave and wait it out.”
“I can’t do that. First of all, I need to kill it to make sure it’s never a danger to us or the cattle anymore. Second, it’s just an animal. It doesn’t know what it’s doing. It’s not evil. It’s suffering. It needs to be put down.”
“We’re losing the ranch anyway. Why are you fooling yourself? Let it go, let all of it go. You don’t give a shit about this ranch anyway.”
“Go, get out of here.” Davie went back towards the house. I knew he was going for the rifle. He was a stubborn see to the end kind of guy.
I took Allie by the hand and walked toward the truck. She fought me and tried to run back to Davie.
“Come with us Davie! Come with us!” she yelled as I dragged her along. Davie stormed out the door, rifle in hand, with a stern, determined look on his face. His mission was one of mercy and defense, and he was damned willing to die for it.
I finally got Allie in the truck. I had to hold her tight to me as I tried to start the truck. Every time I tried to turn the ignition she would reach for the door.
“Stop dammit! Just fucking stop. Stupid ass Davie!” I banged my fists against the steering wheel.
We heard a gunshot and Allie stopped squirming and sat still. Was it over? I had to see for myself. I turned the engine over and backed out of the driveway. I drove the truck slowly down the street until I could see the backyard.
The beast had broken loose from the beartrap, limping slowly along to our barn, dragging Davie behind him. Davie wasn’t moving or attempting to get away.
“Is Davie alright? I don’t see him.”
I couldn’t answer. I saw him and I didn’t like what I saw. I sat there in silence. I was drawing up in my mind the different scenarios, the different ethical outcomes of my uncommitted decisions. Should I try and save Davie and leave Allie in the house or should I drive away with Allie and assume Davie already dead. I began to weep. The weight of my choice was too much of a burden for me to handle. Allie saw my crying and began to cry too. She was smart enough to know something difficult lie ahead.
I pulled the truck back in the driveway and turned the engine off. I took Allie back in the house. She was submissive, even quiet, strangely quiet, as if the good brother was already dead. Why worry about the less significant brother? I took her into the house.
“When I leave, go lock every door in the house. Front door and back door. Go up to your room and lock that door as well.” I reached in my pocket and handed her my phone. “Call the police and tell them you need help immediately. Don’t tell them there’s a monster. Say there’s a bad man on our land. Do you understand?” She nodded her head yes as she closed her eyes.
“Be careful P. Please save Davie.”
I went outside. I heard the deadbolt lock from the other side. I gathered myself, took a deep breath and walked around the side of the house. I didn’t see any sign of Davie or the beast, but I could see the barn door swung wide open.
I made my way to the back of the fence line. The rifle was on the ground near the fence post, with blood smeared across the stock. I picked up the rifle. I knew it probably had at least two shots left. I stumbled a bit and put my hand out to catch myself. My hand landed against the post. As I was looking down, I noticed that the beast’s foot and ankle were lying in the beartrap, its mechanical jaws clamped tight. The flesh was gnawed and torn. It was apparent the beast had chewed through its ankle to escape the trap and Davie. There was also a brownish-grey tuft of fur snagged on the barbed wire.
When I got to the barn I hesitated. I pondered what I should do. What was my plan. My mind was too scrambled to come up with something rational, so I decided to move forward and accept my fate. I stepped lightly through the interior looking side to side in each stable, gun at the ready, and heart beating angrily at my chest. There was a trail of blood contrasting sharply against the hay on the ground leading to the last stall on the right. The barn was darker than I had anticipated before going in. I now longed for a flashlight or a lantern. The further I stalked into the barn the darker it got. The darkness was not overbearing, but it did hinder my ability to see finer details.
I finally got to the last stall and quickly pointed the rifle inside. Two men were lying in the stall, Davie flat on the ground, and a stranger leaned up against the back wall. His chest was heaving up and down, the air wheezing as it escaped his weakening body. I saw his right leg bleeding profusely, a fleshy gnarly stump with no foot or ankle. I saw that Davie had claw marks slashed across his face and his neck had a gaping wound. Unlike the stranger, Davie’s chest was not moving.
I pulled the butt of the rifle up to my shoulder ready to shoot at the darkened mass at the back of the stall when I heard it speak.
“Son,” it spoke weakly.
The stranger leaned forward. In the glare of a strip of light shining through the tired wooden barn slats I saw my father’s face.
After a momentary flash of nostalgia, I pulled the trigger and shot.