Page 39 of Rage

“Well, there’s eighteen hundred pounds of trouble for you.”

Ivan glanced over at his neighbor, Perry, and grinned. “Trouble is trouble, I reckon.”

“Need a hand getting her out?”

“I don’t know what a couple of fat old men are going to do with an eighteen-hundred-pound cow that doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

“I believe that’s why God blessed us with teenaged sons.”

The two men laughed.

Ivan figured it was a good thing he’d brought their Percheron gelding, the old hay wagon, and an extra harness with them. When he’d left the house twenty minutes ago, he hadn’t been sure how he was going to get the cow out of the ravine. But a plan was starting to take shape.

“Druvvel’s tame as a dog,” he said. “Hand raised, you know. Maybe we could send the boys down there and rig up that harness on her. We’ll tie it up to my gelding and pull her out.”

“Horse looks up to the task,” Perry said.

“Old Johnny’s a good puller.” Turning, Ivan brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled to the boys who were standing next to the wagon. “Redd up!” Ready up. “Sis unvergleichlich hays.” It’s terribly hot. “Druvvel’s been without water for a few hours now and has that nice-looking little bull to feed.”

Grabbing the leather harness, Ivan’s son walked to the edge of the ravine and tossed it to the base. Perry’s son tied the rope to the wagon. Both boys used the rope to skitter down into the ravine. They carried the calf up first. Mama was none too happy about being separated from her newborn and landed a couple of well-placed kicks before the boys were able to get the harness on her. Topside, Ivan backed the gelding into place and tied the rope to the tug chains. The gelding hauled Druvvel out of the ravine as if she weighed nothing.

“Difficulty is a miracle at its first stage,” Perry said.

“That is the truth.” Ivan had just poured water into a bucket for the cow to drink when a yell emanated from down in the ravine.

“Datt! Someone dumped a barrel down here! Do you want us to bring it up?”

Ivan and Perry walked to the ravine’s edge and looked down. Sure enough, among the tangle of raspberry and bramble, a blue plastic drum lay on its side.

“Dumm-kobb,” Ivan muttered. Dumb people. “Fools dumping trash again.”

“Nice barrel, though,” Perry said.

A few unsavory individuals had been sneaking in through the gate at the back of the property and using the ravine to dump trash. Garbage bags. Old tires. Ivan even found a mattress once. The ravine was easily accessed from the township road, and despite the KEEP OUT sign Ivan had hung on the gate, people came in anyway.

“Does look brand-new,” Ivan said.

“Might be able to use it for feed or something,” Perry said.

“Depends what’s inside.” But even chemicals could be cleaned out with some good old-fashioned elbow grease. “Let’s check.”

Ivan crossed to the wagon and reached into the back for the pry bar and sledgehammer. “You coming?” he asked.

Perry eyed the steep sides of the ravine and shook his head. “How about if I keep an eye on that cow for you?”

“Don’t blame you,” Ivan grumbled, but he was grinning as he tossed the tools into the ravine. Grabbing the rope, he skidded down the steep side to where the boys stood.

“Is the barrel empty?” he asked his son.

The boy shook his head. “Heavy,” he said. “Full of something.”

“Let’s take a look.”

His son picked up the pry bar and set the tip to the seal. Ivan lifted the sledgehammer and set to work. Clang! Clang! Clang! The fourth whack sent the lid flying. Ivan caught sight of what looked like fur inside. The stench hit an instant later with the force of bird shot. Something dead inside. Slaughter renderings, he thought.

Vaguely, Ivan was aware of his son stumbling back. Perry’s son yelping and following suit. Dropping the sledgehammer, Ivan moved to the barrel, looked inside. He saw red hair caked with blood. The pale skin of a face. A person, he thought. Mouth open. Tongue sticking out. An arm twisted at a terrible angle.

“Ach!”