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A familiar old man climbed out, slurring his words. “Remember me, cupcake?”
“Mr. Olson. What are you doing?”
“I came to congratulate you. Celebrate the big hero! Savior of unwanted dogs and destroyer of lives!”
“Merry, are you all right?” her dad puffed, coming up behind her. “Olson?” Her father looked beyond to the shards of white wood littered across the snow and shouted, “You destroyed my wife’s planter!”
Mr. Olson squinted past her. “I could give two shits about your wife’s planter, Chris Winters. I’m here to talk about your kid!” Mr. Olson stumbled, letting out a trembling whistle. “You raised a gem here. Your daughter doesn’t mind her own business. Do you know what she cost me?”
“I know that you were caught on video kicking a dog,” her dad said coldly. “It was on every local news channel. Maybe you should have kept your temper in check.”
“I’d been scammed! I was the victim and your daughter” —he spat the word at her—“added fuel to the fire.”
Merry shook her head, watching the keys in his hands. If he tried to get back into that car, she would tackle him. He was so drunk he could barely walk, let alone operate a vehicle.
“Mr. Olson, whatever happened to you isn’t my fault. If you’ll give me your keys, we can go up to the house and get some coffee and talk.”
“I don’t want any of your damn coffee,” he said, floundering back with his keys held high. “You want my keys? Why? So you can take my car too?”
“No, I want them so you don’t try to drive again,” she said patiently, taking another step toward him. “You could hurt someone.”
“I haven’t hurt nobody, you’re the one hurting people! The sheriff came out with those damn animal people and took my sheep. My dogs. Gave me a fucking court date!” he screamed, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and waving it at her. “Said I had to make an appearance or they’d double my fine.”
The old man opened his back door and bent inside. Merry saw her dad on the phone and she took a few swift steps until she saw the dog crate.
“They didn’t get everything though,” Mr. Olson muttered.
Panic surged through her at the scrape of the metal gate opening. If he released an aggressive dog with all of the people in the trees…families…
Jace. He liked to follow his dad around and help out.
“Mr. Olson, don’t!” she screamed, grabbing his shoulder.
He spun around suddenly and knocked her off balance. She fell to the ground on her butt and threw her hands over her face, waiting for a raging animal to come flying out of the back of the car.
A black blur flew overhead, squawking in outrage, and Merry lowered her arms, staring at the fat, beady-eyed chicken as it landed and took off.
“They didn’t get my chickens!” Mr. Olson crowed, clapping his hands. “You wanna take everything from me? Here!” He threw another red chicken in the air and it flapped frantically toward her. It landed a few feet behind her and hopped along after the other. “Have another!”
Her dad lifted her to her feet from behind. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah, but I think Mr. Olson is off his rocker.”
“You’re right about that.” Her dad ducked another screeching bird and hollered, “Olson, knock it off! We don’t want your damn chickens!”
“Your daughter does! I’m just giving her what she wants.” He opened the trunk and a dozen more birds poured out.
When two hens hopped out of the back seat and casually pecked the ground around her feet, Merry burst out laughing.
“Merry?”
Her dad watched her guffaw as though she were the crazy one and she wheezed, “You gotta admit,”—she gulped for breath—“as far as revenge plots go, it could have been worse.”
Her dad’s mouth twitched. “I guess you’re right, although the little bastards are going to poop everywhere.” When Mr. Olson went to the other side of his car and opened the front seat, her father ran around to stop him. “For the last time, Olson, stop releasing chickens.”
“Why? You don’t like chickens?” He opened another cage before her dad reached him and the two wrestled around for a moment before Olson got loose and staggered away, falling to the ground by the trunk. He frowned over the car as Merry laughed harder. “Why are you laughing? I’m ruining your great celebration!”
Merry managed to get ahold of herself and walked over to where the old man’s keys had fallen. “No, you didn’t, Mr. Olson,” she said, picking them up off the ground.
