“For what?”
“For this.” He steps toward Renoir. “A dream come true.”
“What?”
“I can’t wait to stuff this sucker.”
I step in between Lou and Renoir. “Renoir ain’t for stuffing.”
“You mean he ain’t for me?”
I shake my head.
Lou looks down at the ground and scratches his forehead and kicks some dirt. He’s looking back at me and he says, “If he dies, you’ll let me know?”
I’m silent.
“You’re pretty attached to this animal, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Lou looks at the elephant again. “You … you mind telling me how you happen to have this thing?”
“I won him in a bet.”
“A bet.” He looks up at the sky and then around at the woods. “It must cost you a fortune to feed this thing.”
“No.”
“Oh.” He looks at Renoir. “Well, if he does—”
“I’ll let you know.” I stroke Renoir’s trunk. “You want to come inside?”
“Yeah.” He stops. “I forgot something. Come and give me a hand.” He walks back to the car and I’m following him. “I don’t want to leave these in the trunk; they might stink the car up.”
“What is it?” I ask.
He opens the trunk. “Road kills.”
I stop and I turn around and walk back to the cabin. I watch him from the porch as he pulls a few dead dogs and cats out and puts them on the ground by a tree. He’s slapping his hands clean as he walks toward the cabin.
“That’s got it,” he says. “You got any coffee?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” He steps up onto the porch.
“What about some bacon and eggs?” I open the door and hold it for Lou.
He steps inside and there’s Jincy putting wood in the fire to cook lunch — eggs and bacon. Lou is still.
“This is Jincy,” I says. “Jincy, this here is Lou.”
Lou smiles at Jincy and turns to me with a questioning expression. He’s looking around the cabin. “So, you like it here pretty much, do you?”
I nod.
“Where’s your mother, little girl?” Lou asks.
“Dead.”
“Where’s your daddy?”
“Jail.”
Lou looks at me. “Who is she?”
I look at Jincy and then at Lou. “My daughter.” Lou is real puzzled. “I adopted her,” I tell him.
Lou frowns and then he looks at the stuffed animals about the cabin. “Thelma asked me if I knew where you were. I told her you were scouting the farm teams. I told her I’d tell you to call her.” He pauses. “Peter misses you.”
“Yeah, well, I miss him.”
Jincy is staring at me.
“What about them eggs?” I ask and pull the skillet down and drop it on the stove.
Lou walks to the window and looks out at Renoir and then he turns back to Jincy. “Your mama’s dead?”
“As a doornail.”
Lou straightens up and tilts his head. “And your old man’s in the slammer?”
“Last I heard.”
Lou looks back out the window. “I don’t believe you’ve got an elephant.” He sighs.
Lou’s in the cabin taking a nap and Jincy is outside with a stick, pulling mud from between Renoir’s toes, and I’m heading out for a walk. The late-afternoon sun is hot, but I can’t really feel it until I’m by the lake. I’m standing by the water and there’s that osprey flying real high and then he takes his wings in and plunges down into the water and comes out with a fish.
“Pandion haliaetus,” comes a voice from behind me. I turn to the voice and it’s a short man, stocky, with glasses. He steps toward me. “Hello there.”
“Hey,” I says.
He points to the osprey. “Pandion haliaetus.”
I frown. “Osprey,” I says, and just like that, there’s that bald eagle screaming and scaring the osprey and stealing the fish.
“Haliaeetus leucocephalus,” he says, pointing at the eagle.
“Bald eagle,” I says.
“I’m Richard Beckwith.” He shoves his hand out.
“Craig Suder.” I’m shaking his hand and noticing that his glasses seem to be a quarter-inch thick.
He tilts his head. “Craig Suder, the ballplayer?”
I look out over the water. “This sure is a pretty place. This lake got a name?”
“Yeah, this is Ezra Pond.”
“Hmmmmm.”
“I’m from Oregon State.” He smiles. “I teach zoology. You are the ballplayer, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I look at his eyes and he nods and I says, “I’m on vacation.”
“Me, too.”
Well, this guy takes to walking with me and he’s talking about the weather and wildflowers and just generally making noise. And I figure I’ve got to shake him if I’m going to see any birds that ain’t flying away. And this fella insists on calling everything by its Latin name, which annoys me to no small degree, and I’m making a point of correcting him.
“Lepus sylvilagus,” he says.
And I says, “Rabbit.”
“Perisoreus canadensis.”
“Gray jay.”
Finally, we come to a fork in the trail and he tells me he’s got to go left and I tell him I’ve got to go right. There’s a grouse waddling along in front of us and I’m waiting and Beckwith says, “Bonasa umbellus.”
“Grouse.”
“How do you know it was this dog?” Bud asked Mr. Simpson, the next-door neighbor.
“I saw him,” said Mr. Simpson. “I saw that mutt digging in my garden.” He pointed at Django.
“I’m sorry,” Bud said, “but you should have a fence around your garden.”
“You’re telling me what I should have in my own yard?” Mr. Simpson was really mad. “You’d better keep that dog out of my garden.” He paused. “Who are you?”
I got down on my knees and stroked Django’s head. “We’re sorry, Mr. Simpson,” I said.
“Look, you’ve upset the boy,” Bud said.
Mr. Simpson pointed again at the dog. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better keep that dog out of my garden. If I catch him in there again, I’ll shoot him, so help me God.” He turned and marched away.
Bud looked down at me. “I guess we’re going to have to tie Django up.”
“Tie him up?”
“I’m sorry, Bird.”
We found some rope and tied Django to a tree in the backyard. Django barked and ran several times to the rope’s limit and was snatched back violently.
“He won’t hurt himself, will he?” I asked.
“No, but he’s going to be upset for a while.” Bud looked at the ground by his feet and kicked some grass. “Damn.”
“It’s not fair,” I said.
“What’s not?”
“Why does he have to be tied up? Why can’t we just let him run around?”
Bud didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked into the house. Django barked and pulled at the rope.
I walk on back to the cabin and as I get close I hear screaming. I run and there’s Jincy standing between Lou and Renoir, screaming. Lou’s got the chain saw in his hands and he’s trying to get around the girl to the elephant.
“Lou!” I shout, running to him.
He turns the saw off. “Shit.”
Jincy runs to me. “He was going to kill Renoir.”
I’m looking at Lou.
“You don’t understand,” Lou says. “I have to have that animal. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. I need this animal.”
“Give me the saw,” I says.
“You’re really fond of him.” He looks at Renoir.