Page 44 of So Far Gone
Kinnick looked up. Dust at the far end of the driveway. “Someone’s coming.”
Bethany went to the front window and looked out, Kinnick stepping up beside her.
A black Dodge Ram pickup was driving toward the house.
“Shit,” Rhys said. “I know that truck.” He reached up and touched his yellow-bruised eye, the panic rising in his chest.
The pickup parked right behind the Outback, nearly at its bumper, as if signaling that no one was going anywhere for a while.
The driver’s-side door opened and out stepped the man with the goatee. He was wearing a black Kevlar vest, his handgun holstered
under his armpit.
“That’s the guy who hit me,” Kinnick said.
Shane got out of the passenger seat, his clean-shaven face gaunt, mouth pinched, as if he hadn’t smiled in months. He, at least, appeared to be unarmed. He looked toward the house, trying to see inside.
And then, from the tree line behind them, out stepped Dean Burris, also in black and in a Kevlar vest, a handgun holstered
at his waist. He had a hand on Asher’s shoulder.
Bethany put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no.”
Asher, who was, for some reason, not wearing his boots, ran to the passenger side of the truck, to his father, who bent down
and hugged the boy.
Dean Burris stood with his hands on his hips. He walked farther up the driveway and called to the house, “Oh, Mr. Kinnick!
You’d best come out now. You’ve got company!”
***
The front door opened and Kinnick walked out alone. He pulled the door closed behind him. Let out a deep breath. He could
do this. A light breeze had picked up, and the air had gotten warmer; a fine sifting of dust blew off the driveway. Kinnick
walked past the wringer washing machine and down the wooden steps toward the three men, trying to look calm and unhurried.
“Hello, Mr. Burris,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
The three men before him stood in a triangle, Dean out front, Shane behind him to the right, hands on Asher’s shoulders, the
goateed man to Burris’s left and slightly behind him, leaning against the front of the truck.
“Well, if it isn’t Rhys Kinnick, staff writer,” Dean said. “You know what? When I asked about you, back in that town where
little David Jr.’s cell phone cut out last night, folks said, ‘Kinnick? Oh, sure, he lives up Hunters highway. About eleven
miles.’ And look, here you are.”
“Here I am,” Kinnick said, willing his voice to sound deep and tough.
“Where’s your cop friend?” Dean asked. “He’s not here to bail you out this time?”
“He’s on his way,” Kinnick lied. “With some of his buddies.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Dean said. “Asher says he’s at some nice lady’s house, recovering from the last time he tangled
with us.”
Kinnick breathed deeply, still trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Asher,” he said evenly, “why don’t you go in the house
with your mom and Leah while Brother Dean and I talk, okay?”
But Shane kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Asher looked up at his father, who continued to stare coldly at Kinnick.
Still, of the three men, Shane was clearly the least threatening, and the most unsure of himself. The other two, armed, wearing
Kevlar, had come here expecting some kind of battle. Who knew what they’d told poor, gullible Shane. He’d probably expected
to find blue-helmeted UN soldiers camped on his father-in-law’s land.
Kinnick gave Shane his most disarming smile and tried again. “Shane, whatever problem you have with me, let’s not put the
kids in danger, okay? Maybe take Asher inside? What do you say?” He looked pleadingly at his son-in-law. “And you and Bethany
can talk in there. You guys have a lot to figure out.”
Shane looked over at Brother Dean, who still had that grim smile on his face. “Don’t look at me,” Dean said to Shane, “unless
you want us to go in there and get your whore wife for you.”
“Shane,” Kinnick said. “Listen to me. These guys are not welcome in my house. Or on my land. But if you want to take Asher inside, and talk to Bethany, please, go ahead.”
“Don’t let that woman off the hook, Brother Shane!” Dean said. “?‘For if a man knows not how to rule his own house, how shall
he take care of the church of God?’?”
“Come on, Dad.” Asher looked up at Shane.
“I’ll show you the house. It’s full of old books.
And scratch paper. You know what that is, scratch paper?
” He took his father by the hand, and they started for the front porch.
“I jumped over that creek,” he said, pointing beyond the house. “I left my boots there.”
“Wait, you made it?” Kinnick asked as they passed. He put out a hand and Asher high-fived it. “Nice job.” Then Kinnick said
quietly to Shane, “Upstairs.” He had told Bethany to take Davy and Leah upstairs and to wait there. He also tried to send
Shane a mental message: please, don’t let them get hurt , but he couldn’t read the man’s eyes. When the front door closed, Kinnick turned back to Dean.
“I’ll tell you what,” Kinnick said. “I’ll take Shane back to town with his family. Nice of you to bring him up here, but you
guys can head out now.”
“Can we?” Dean Burris laughed. “But I don’t think we’re done talking, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He grinned maliciously.
“You know, I had no idea at the chess deal that you were the one who wrote them terrible stories about me back in the day.”
He turned to the goateed man. “Did I tell you what this creep called me, Bobby?”
Goateed Bobby, who had presumably heard the story several times, nodded.
“Dominion Eagle Killer!” Dean Burris said. “Man puts it in a headline and everything! Then I go run for county commissioner
a few years later, it’s all ‘Dominion Eagle Killer’ in the newspaper and I lose. All because this lousy son of a bitch thought
he was being so clever.”
Kinnick recalled that old reporter dodge: I don’t write the headlines . Instead, he said, “I wasn’t the wildlife agent who arrested you. Or the judge who sentenced you.”
“Well, they ain’t here, so I guess you’ll have to do.” Dean took two more steps toward Kinnick, his boots kicking up dust.
They were maybe four feet apart, now, Kinnick trying not to back down.
“Look,” Kinnick said, “I’m sorry if—”
But Burris interrupted. “Did you know that I have a copy of them stories you wrote? My mom clipped ’em out. You believe that? And not out of pride, either. How do you think that would make a mother feel, reading those lies about her son, like he’s some kind of criminal?”
In some ways, this was more comfortable territory, defending a story he’d written in the newspaper in don’t-shoot-the-messenger style; it made Kinnick think maybe he could get out of this after all. “Look, Dean, I’m really sorry the story affected you
that way,” Kinnick said. “It wasn’t my intention. All I was doing was reporting what happened in the courtroom.”
“I’m just saying I didn’t connect your name at first, when Shane told us about his sucker-punching father-in-law. But hell,
if I’d known ‘Rhys Kinnick, staff writer’ was the man at that chess deal, I wouldn’t have had Bobby here”—he looked back over
his shoulder—“work you over.” He turned back. “No, I’d have done it myself.”
Adrenaline coursed through Kinnick then. He had the urge to rush Dean, but he knew where that would lead. “Look, I didn’t
mean to—”
But Dean leaned forward and squinted at Kinnick’s face. “ Damn! Did we bust your cheek, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer?”
“Zygomatic arch,” Kinnick said.
“See that, Bobby!” He looked back at the goateed man. “You broke the man’s face! What’s the matter with you? Where’s your
manners?”
Bobby chuckled behind Dean.
“Let’s all calm down,” Kinnick said. He felt almost as if he and Dean had been cast in roles; he knew there had to be a way
past that. “Let’s not let this situation get out of hand.”
“Calm down?” Dean Burris said. “Oh, I’m calm. And the situation , as I see it, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer, got out of hand when you brought that lunatic up to the Rampart and he shot my
truck. The situation, Rhys Kinnick, is that you got my friend’s lawful-wedded wife in there, along with the pastor’s faggot
son, and I don’t see that you have any say in the situation . In fact, I just have one question for you, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He smiled. “Who has dominion now?”
“Listen—” Kinnick put his hands out in a peaceful gesture.
“Did you know I had a wife, too? Back then?”
Kinnick tried to recall; had he seen a woman in court? He shook his head.
“Yeah, not the sort of woman to wait a couple of years while you’re in a federal institution. She lives in Billings now.”
Dean took a deep breath. “I tell you what.” He pulled his handgun from its holster and flipped it over, so the handle was
facing out, Kinnick wondering briefly, Is he going to hand me his gun? “I’m gonna do you a favor,” Dean said.
Kinnick felt a charge go through his legs, and his mouth went dry. Jesus, the man wouldn’t shoot him, would he?
“I’ll even up our work and then we’ll go,” Burris said. And with that, he swung the butt of the gun at Kinnick’s head. Rhys
leaned back and got his arm up, blocking some of the blow, but the gun butt connected hard with his jaw, staggering him backward.
The pain, again, was excruciating. But Kinnick felt perversely proud that, this time, he hadn’t gone down.
Burris was red-faced. “Oh, no, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer, looks like I accidentally broke your jaw instead of the other cheek.”
He turned and looked again at the goateed man. “Sorry. I messed up your work, Bobby.”
Bobby didn’t answer this time.
Kinnick held his hand against his throbbing right jaw. It felt like, if he let go, the whole thing would simply fall off his
face and drop to the ground. He ran his tongue along a cracked molar and tried to stop the moan that escaped his mouth.
Burris turned back. “How about this? What if I break your left jaw, then your right cheek. Then you’ll have two breaks on each side. Top and bottom. You’ll be evened up. You’ll be—what’s the word?” He looked
confused for a moment, then turned back to Bobby, the goateed man. “What’s the word I’m looking for, Bobby? When both sides
are the same?”
“Thymetrical,” Kinnick managed to say.
And with that, Burris spun back and swung the gun in his fist again, but this time, Kinnick didn’t get his hand up and he took the brunt of it to his right cheek and eye socket, and, hearing the cracking sound of celery stalks again, he went down hard in the dirt.
He couldn’t stop the scream that came from his mouth.
“Ooh, I heard that one!” Burris said.
That’s when the front door of the house opened behind Kinnick, Shane coming out on the porch, hands out, peacemaker style.
“That’s enough, Dean!”
Dean laughed. “Is it, Shane? Is it enough? Boy, it didn’t take long to turn you back into a pussy-whipped little piece-a-shit,
did it?” Dean turned to Bobby again. “Little man can’t keep his woman at home, and he wants to tell me what’s enough ?”
“Dean—” Bobby began.
“I’m saying, you made your point,” Shane said. “Look, I appreciate your help. But you can go now. I got it from here.”
“You got it?” He gestured at Kinnick with the butt of the gun. “Your asshole father-in-law ruined my life, brought a cop to
my church, shot up my truck, and you think you got it?”
On the ground, Kinnick was dizzy with pain. He rolled over onto his hands and knees. He didn’t see the next blow coming—a
kick, Dean’s boot snapping his face back, his nose and mouth spattering the dirt driveway with blood as he landed on his back
again.
“ Stay away from him! ”
Splayed out on the ground, coughing blood, Kinnick looked back over his shoulder, through bleary eyes, to see his daughter descending the front porch steps with.
.. something in her hands. He squinted.
Was that... his little Dragonfly pellet-shooting air rifle?
His raccoon defense system—she must’ve found it upstairs.
Maybe when she moved the kids up there. She held the gun against her shoulder, and was looking down the barrel, as if she’d fired a rifle before, Kinnick wondering when, and how, and with whom.
Shane, maybe? More fatherly fail ure on his part, never teaching his daughter to shoot.
Of course, an air-powered pellet rifle wasn’t likely to break the skin, let alone stop a lunatic wearing a bulletproof vest. But as terrified as he was, Rhys couldn’t help but be proud of Bethany’s effort; hell, maybe Dean would be fooled, and think, for a moment, it was a real rifle, a kid’s . 22 perhaps, pointed at him.
“Bethany—” Shane sounded a warning. “Don’t—” He put his hand out, but she walked past it, the gun pointed at Burris’s face.
This latest development threatened to send Dean over the edge. “Shane,” he said, “control your whore wife, or I’ll do it for
you!”
Shane took another step toward Bethany. “Beth. Let’s calm down now—”
“Wait. Is that an air rifle?” Burris cut him off. He was squinting at Bethany. He looked over his shoulder once more at quiet, goateed Bobby. “You
seeing this, Bobby? Whore’s got a pellet gun. Maybe she’s gonna put my eye out with it.”
Bobby gave no answer.
“Beth.” Kinnick rolled over again and started crawling in the dirt toward his daughter. “ Pleathe .”
“We’re almost finished working on your father’s face, Sister Bethany,” Burris said, “but if you want, I can take a run at
yours next.” He took a step toward her. “Or, if you want, I can shove that gun up your—”
“Stop it!” Bethany said, and the tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Just stop it! Get out of here. Now!” She looked over
to her husband. “Shane. Please.” Her voice quavered. “They’re gonna kill him. And they’re terrifying the children.”
That’s when Dean Burris rushed her, yanked the pellet gun from her hands, and threw it aside. It clattered in the dirt. Bethany
put her hands up to stop him, but Burris grabbed her by the wrist, twisted, and spun her to the ground.
“Dean—” Shane started toward him.
From the ground, Kinnick, too, began crawling to help.
But Burris took Bethany by the hair and began dragging her backward toward his pickup. “Lying whore needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Dean!” Shane yelled. “Let go of her!”
From the ground, Bethany punched backward, over her shoulder, and hit Burris’s arm, but he just kept dragging her down the
driveway, her feet kicking up dust.
“Dean—” Shane pleaded again.
Bethany swung again and this time Dean reached down and smacked her in the ear with the gun butt, pulling her by the hair
with the other hand. “Someone needs to teach... this bitch—”
“Dean!” Shane said once more. “That’s enough!” And he started running toward them.