Shoot Shovel and Shut Up by Jessica Thompson

Author:Jessica Thompson [Thompson, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Bria had to find Sam. The main house was quiet as Bria put on her usual tank top, button-up performance shirt, Wranglers, and boots. Everyone had made their way back to their homes after the service to change clothes and slowly find their own version of comfort, but when Bria knocked on the door to Sam’s apartment, no one answered. She even turned the knob and called into the sunlit space, but all that met her was the sweet funk of the fresh cheese that was currently in his cheese press. Bria paused on the landing outside his front door and gripped the stair railing with both hands. She sniffed deeply of the fall breeze and tried to think like Sam, then she knew exactly where to go.

Chores would be the only normal thing about this day and would be comforting to Sam.

Sam sat with his body scrunched up on a bucket with his hands working furiously under Bluebell, the milk cow. The barn was quiet except for the crunching sounds of Bluebell chewing her milking-time treat and the hissing sounds of the streams from each teat joining the rest of the milk in the big pot on the hay.

Bria knew that the relaxation of both the milker and the cow was of utmost importance during this time, so she hovered in the huge doorway and spoke low.

“Hey, Bluebell,” she cooed. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey” was all the response that Sam had the breath for. He comfortably rested his head on the big rounded rib cage of Bluebell, but his arms worked furiously and his knees stuck up on either side of him like a grasshopper’s.

“I need to talk to you.” Bria moved two steps closer and around the wall of the barn to approach Bluebell from the front and not surprise her. “Are you almost done?”

“Nah,” Sam panted. “But we can talk here … if we keep our voices down.”

Bria approached the tall, beige milk cow slowly, then stroked her neck. “Yeah, you know me, don’t you, Bluebell?”

Bluebell didn’t flinch. She chased the last bits of her sweet feed around the bottom of the round bucket. The lack of reaction was a good sign.

“So?” Sam turned to Bria while resting his head on the beast, making his hair tousled like a little boy’s.

“I …” Bria struggled with where to begin. “We need to … I’m not positive we’re done investigating.”

Sam didn’t answer. He milked on rhythmically and seemed to consider what she had said.

“I know everyone thinks it was all Sarah, and that she committed suicide.” Bria pulled up another bucket, being careful to lift it and not drag it so it wouldn’t make a loud scraping noise, and sat down next to Sam. “But I don’t think she was suicidal. I think … Isn’t it all too convenient?”

“Sarah was …”—Sam spoke in short bursts because of all the pressure from having his legs bent up on either side of him—“fiercely loyal … and efficient … I could see it …

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