After a moment, Amanda said, “Thank you. I think I’ll be all right.”
“Your collar looks real nice with those ribbons on it,” he said. “I meant to tell you that.”
“Thank you, Ron.”
He said to her, “You’re shaking like a leaf. There’s no need for that. Nothing is going to happen. Okay, Amanda?”
“Okay. I won’t sing no more.”
“Best not,” he said with a grin that made her stomach clench.
“No more singing!” she said emphatically. Then: “Is humming okay, though?”
“Maybe at times. But if I were you I’d do it while I’m away.”
“Okay.” She sounded eager to please him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so. I really do.”
“And we’re good?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. He released his hug and kneaded her shoulders for a moment. “What do you have planned for lunch and dinner? You saw all that food I bought yesterday.”
She nodded. “I was thinking French dip sandwiches for lunch and fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner.”
“That sounds wonderful, Amanda.”
She turned around and smiled at him, genuinely relieved.
Ron left her and grabbed his jacket from the peg on the side of the door. He said to Kyle, “Come on. We’re going out.”
Kyle exchanged a glance with her before he went outside. He was assessing her, she thought, trying to gauge if she had changed.
She thought to herself: I have.
*
“GRAB THE TOOLBOX and follow me,” Ron said. It was a cool but sunny morning. Sunlight from the east streamed through the pine trees to the forest floor. Kyle noticed that it was taking longer each morning for the sun to warm things up.
Where is the toolbox?
“In the shed.”
As Kyle walked toward the shed Ron said, “See? I’m starting to understand the way you talk.”
Kyle nodded and opened the door. The rusty toolbox was on a workbench inside and he grasped the handle and lifted it down. He noticed that the workbench was covered with debris from Ron’s projects. There were lengths of copper wire, electrical tape, thin cable, and square 4.5 volt batteries.
The toolbox was heavy and the weight of it made him lean to the side as he followed Ron down a rough two-track road into the trees. He switched hands often.
Ron said, “Sometimes you just have to tell women things even if you don’t really mean it. I think they know you’re bullshitting them but at the same time it seems to cheer them up. I mean, seriously, tying little ribbons to a shock collar? Fucking Christmas songs? I’ll never understand those creatures.
“Maybe next time I go to town I’ll buy her some ice cream. That ought to keep her happy for a while.”
Kyle was lagging behind carrying the toolbox. Ron paused to wait for him. He didn’t offer to take the toolbox, just as he hadn’t offered to help Amanda off the floor.
“Try to keep up,” he said.
When Ron started marching again Kyle mouthed, Fuck you, Ron to his back.
The old road wound through the pine trees and soon Kyle could no longer see the cabin. He wondered why they even needed the stupid toolbox.
After another turn Ron paused and bent over and reached for something in the road. It was a length of wire that was partially coiled on the ground.
“I drove through it last night,” Ron said. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I forgot to take it down.”
Kyle had no idea what Ron was talking about. He lowered the toolbox and flexed his hand to get the circulation in it going again.
Ron wound the wire around his wrist and followed it off the road through some heavy brush and into the trees.
“Bring me more wire,” he ordered. “The pliers, too.”
Kyle opened the toolbox and found a heavy coil of it. He slid the pliers into the back of his jeans. He watched as Ron tied the end of the fresh wire to a loose assemblage of empty tin cans, then fed the wire over a branch and handed the coil to Kyle. He recalled Ron collecting the cans one by one after they’d eaten the contents. He made Amanda scrub out the inside before he took them.
“Back up and stretch that tight across the road about a foot high. I’ll hold the cans in the air on this end until you’re far enough.”
Kyle did as he was told. When he’d crossed to the other side of the road Ron said, “That’s good. Just stand there and keep the wire tight. Don’t let the cans fall.”
Ron emerged from the brush and took the coil from Kyle’s hands. He pulled more of it free and wrapped it around the trunk of a tree.
“Pliers,” he said to Kyle.
Ron cut the wire and twisted it around itself. When he was done, he twanged the taut line with the heel of his hand and the empty cans clattered from the other side of the road.
So no one will sneak up on us, Kyle said.
“You got it,” Ron said. “We’ll hear ’em coming long before they get to the cabin.”
He stood up and pointed vaguely through the trees indicating somewhere down the mountain. “I’ve got the rest of my C-4 down there rigged to trip wires and 4.5 volt batteries. Anybody coming up the road will get a hell of a surprise. But I used up all my inventory of explosives, so the best we can do now this close to the cabin are these old-fashioned empty cans. They work, though,” he said while demonstrating the setup again with a tug on the wire.
Kyle tried not to show his disappointment.
“Come on,” Ron said, “we’re going to rig up a couple more of these on some side trails.”
Ron dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fistful of objects: clear plastic packages along with the collar he’d taken off Tiffany the day before. He separated the collar and shoved it back into his pocket while he shook the packages with his other hand. They rang musically.
“Bear bells,” Ron said. “Hikers use them in Yellowstone Park. Supposedly, the bells let bears know people are coming. In our case they’ll let us know the same thing.”
*
KYLE LUGGED THE TOOLBOX through the trees for the rest of the morning. He assisted as Ron strung up four more trip wires across game trails close to the cabin in all four directions. Kyle wondered if Ron was anticipating a visit of some kind.
As Ron did the work he seemed to have returned to his hooded self of that morning. Obviously, something was on his mind.
When he bent over to secure the last wire to a tree, Kyle shot a glance into the toolbox at his feet. There were several screwdrivers in there as well as a heavy pipe wrench. He didn’t look at them as tools but as weapons.
But before Kyle could act, Ron stood up and turned around to face him. He said, “I knew what I had to do last night—what I’ve done a hundred times—and I fucked up. I’m losing my drive. I’m getting up there in years and the drive I need just doesn’t seem to be there like it used to be.”
Doing what? Kyle asked.
“Well, you probably noticed we don’t have a replacement for Tiffany. You did notice that, didn’t you?” Ron asked with a sneer. He was suddenly angry again.