The Cure for Death by Lightning by Gail Anderson-Dargatz

Author:Gail Anderson-Dargatz [Anderson-Dargatz, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780307363886
Publisher: Knopf Canada
Published: 1996-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

I RAN AFTER BILLY, but when he reached Blood Road and turned again into the bush, throwing up his arms like a crazy man, I didn’t follow him. I crossed Blood Road in time to see an even crazier sight than Filthy Billy: my father and the Swede walked arm in arm towards me through the Boulees’ orchard. The Swede still carried the bottle in a bag. They both stumbled and swayed and talked so loud that people at the picnic watched them. Parker was nowhere in sight. Lily Bell was still with Dan and Dennis, though all three of them stood near the food table now with cups in their hands, watching my father and the Swede make fools of themselves. Dennis looked over at me and I looked away. I turned through the orchard to avoid my father and the Swede but couldn’t help but hear them. The sentimental cloud that comes over some drinking men had descended on Johansson.

“We were best friends,” said the Swede.

“Best friends?” said my father.

“We hunted together,” said the Swede.

My father took the bag from the Swede and drank and drank, and the Swede watched him, looking dismayed.

“We never hunted,” said my father, still holding the bag. “You shot deer on my land and left gates open so my sheep got out.”

“I gave you meat, didn’t I?”

“You gave me nothing.”

“Well, I meant to.”

“You stole game off my land.”

“You seem to be a bit confused about who owns what land,” said the Swede. “Anyhow, nobody owns the game.”

“What?”

“I saw you took a bit of liberty with the fence line.”

“What do you mean?”

“You came over onto my property.”

“You saying I stole land?”

“Not saying that at all. I’m just saying maybe you made a mistake.”

“I made no mistake. I fenced on my property line.”

The Swede and my father were no longer arm in arm. They stood a little apart, facing each other. My father clenched and unclenched his free hand. The Swede tried to take the bottle from him, but my father wouldn’t let him have it. “What exactly are you saying?” my father demanded.

“I’m saying if you didn’t make no mistake, then you’re a damned thief.”

My father threw down the bottle and punched Johansson. The Swede was on the ground, feeling the side of his mouth, as Mr. Ferguson and Morley Boulee ran up behind my father and held his arms back. He shook them off and kicked the Swede as he was getting up. The Swede feigned agony in his leg until my father was close enough, then butted my father in the stomach with his head. My father picked the Swede up by the belt loops, threw him on the ground again, and kicked him several times in the side as the Swede writhed this way and that, trying to avoid my father’s boots. Another two men pulled my father off and held him as Ferguson punched him in the stomach and as Morley Boulee tried and failed to stop Ferguson. My father buckled in, twisting to avoid the blows.

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