Joe and Me by James Prosek

Author:James Prosek [Prosek, James]
Language: rus
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-29T15:17:32+00:00

BRUTUS

Conroy, holding the .40-caliber Glock handgun, the same kind that Haines has at his side when he’s on duty, stuck his hand through the fence, steadied the muzzle against the bull’s head, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the silent woods, and the bull heaved and fell over on the hay. Bob opened the gate, and Haines ran in with his knife and jumped on the bull, turned its head, and cut its throat. Rich red blood flowed onto the hay and through the mud. The bull’s strong legs kicked, and it gasped and heaved as Haines continued to saw at its throat. It was Charlie Bassman’s Scottish Highland bull, named Brutus, which Charlie had bought with the hope that it would mate with the three Scottish Highland cows that were kept in the same pen. But after a year, nothing had happened. Bassman had called Haines with a proposition. If Haines would come over and kill and butcher the bull, Bassman would give him half the meat.

It was a cold and cloudy November day when I headed over to Haines’s house. I parked in the driveway and went in. Haines handed me a plate of sausage with tomato sauce and a fresh roll.

“Here’s something to choke the tapeworm,” he said. “I don’t want you starving out there in the cold.”

He walked out of the kitchen and came back with a sheath. He pulled out a knife that had a twenty-inch blade and a six-inch horn handle.

“Here it is,” he said.

“What do you use that thing for?” I asked him

“After you shoot the bull, you have to cut its throat to bleed it out. You’ve got to do it immediately. If you don’t, the meat’!! be spoiled. Here,” he said, “look how sharp it is.” He took the blade and ran it over the white hairs on his arm to demonstrate that it was sharp enough to shave with. I took it from him and scraped it lightly over the back of my hand, shaving off a few small hairs.

When my plate was clean, we put on our jackets, got in Haines’s truck, and set out for Charlie Bassman’s house in the western part of Easton. I had never seen a bull being slaughtered before, and wasn’t sure how I would feel. For the moment, I was simply caught up in Haines’s excitement.

“Who’s going to shoot it?” I asked.

“I think Charlie’s daughter, Stephanie, wanted to ’cause it’s been mean to her.”

“Did it charge her?”

“No, but it’s come close.”

Butchering a bull was nothing new for Haines. Its death served a purpose; it was going to fill his freezer and feed him for several months. I knew not to bother to ask him if he would feel bad when it was dead.

“When’s the last time you killed a cow?” I asked him.

“Two years ago, a few cows escaped from Snow’s farm, which is just through the woods behind my house. They came down the hill through the Hydraulic property to my garden and trampled it, destroying practically a whole year’s worth of planting.

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