I watched as my father pried the lure from the inside of the fish’s mouth. Once it was out, he put the small fish in the shallow water and held it until it glided out of his hand and into the depths. He held up the lure. “Here son, the hopper. It’s my old faithful. You keep that one for yourself. Use it when you come back. It works every time.” He knew I couldn’t stay away.
I took it from his hands and held it up. “Thanks, Dad.” Being there with my dad was so unlike any experience I’d had with him in recent years. We stopped in a little pub for lunch on our way to R&W ranch. Dale asked my father about work, which sent him into a twenty-minute description of a heart transplant he’d assisted on the week before. I stared up at the neon beer signs above the bar and tuned my father out while he talked. It was the first time I’d ever done that; usually I hung on his every word.
“Am I boring you, Nate?” He smiled but there was a serious edge to his voice.
“Not at all. I was just thinking about how nice it was to not talk about surgery for a while,” I said, a little edgy myself.
Dale crossed his arms and looked away. Without words, he basically said, You two work this out.
“You’re right, and that’s exactly why I thought it would be a good idea for you to come out here. Just tell me though, how’s your confidence? How do you feel about getting back to work?” His tone held true concern and I backed down.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think so. Now, let’s get this kid an order of Rocky Mountain oysters and call it a day. Whaddya say, Dale?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fuck you guys, I’m not falling for that one.”
We all laughed and then my father slapped me on the back. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”
The sun was starting its descent as we made our way to R&W ranch. We drove up a dirt road on one side of the property, then Dale hopped out to drop off medications to someone near the barn. When he returned, we started heading down the opposite way we had come up.
“This road heads back to the ranch. Someone saw Ava’s truck and trailer down here by the barrels.”
When the land flattened, I could see a barrel track and corral in the distance. As we got closer, the sun dropped behind the mountains. The light still flooding the sky turned cool and gray. Ava’s truck was parked next to the corral, but it wasn’t until we passed that we encountered a horrifying sight I would never forget.
Ava waved her arms at us to stop but we looked past her to the arena. We were speechless as we watched Dancer hop around frantically with a very visibly broken leg. Her back left leg below the knee joint was hanging off loosely and flopping around as she thrashed against the metal corral. We stopped and jumped out of the truck.
The sound of Dancer’s bridle clinking against the bars drowned out all other sounds. The other horse, the black filly, was saddled and tied to a post nearby. She vocalized and swished her tail, clearly distressed by the scene playing out in front of us. Dale approached Ava first. He yelled something at her but she pushed him and ran toward the truck, her face red from exhaustion. I yelled to her but she didn’t stop.
Dale came running after her. “Ava, don’t do that, please.”
She didn’t respond to Dale or acknowledge my father or me. She walked past us, to the back passenger door of Dale’s truck, pulled the seat forward, and removed a .22-caliber rifle. She loaded it and moved hurriedly toward the corral. We all followed as Dale tried desperately to make her stop.
“Ava, you may not hit the right spot. We can go back to the ranch, I’ll get the medicine and we can euthanize her the humane way.”
Holding the rifle to the ground, she turned and screamed, “There is nothing humane about that, Dale. It’ll take you at least an hour to get back here.”
“We might not need to put her down.”
“Look at her!” Her voice was so desperate and she was crying hysterically. “Look. At. HER!”
It was hard to look at Dancer. I couldn’t imagine how Ava was feeling.
“At least let me take the shot.”
She sniffled, wiped her face with the back of her hand, stood up straight, composing herself, and said, “No. I have to do it.”
She walked stoically into the corral and stood in front of Dancer, who was now on her belly, still thrashing against the aluminum posts. Ava lifted the weapon high and aimed right at the spot between Dancer’s ears. “Be still,” she said calmly. The horse immediately stopped moving. As unintelligent as I know horses are, there was a moment in Dancer’s stillness when I thought she knew Ava was trying to take her pain away. “Goodbye.”
She fired the gun.
The ringing of the shot echoed against the distant mountains, leaving a buzzing hum in my ears. Dancer’s body fell lifeless to the side. The kick from the rifle sent Ava stumbling back against a small shed in the corral behind her. She let loose one long sob before I went running toward her.