4 Chapter 4

When I got out and changed into my pajamas, Dad had dinner all set. We sat down at the island in the kitchen instead of the dining room table. We’d never eaten in there except when we had company over. Company besides Fred, or Dad’s other friends.

“How soon before you get some of the buck that nearly cost you your leg?”

“Fred and Al will get it butchered sometime this week. I get a few pounds of it.”

“I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had venison.”

“We’ll make us a couple of thick steaks. It’ll be good.”

“What about some jerky?”

Dad laughed. “I can do jerky too, if you’d like.” 3

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Dad cursing in the kitchen.

I flew from my bed, worried he’d fallen and hurt himself further.

Instead, he was standing in front of the cupboard, a tin of ground coffee on the floor. He bent at the waist, but the small confines of the kitchen didn’t give him enough room to spread out his leg straight to reach the tin.