CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (feel good novels txt) 📗

Where it goes. If he took the carcass to the second watcher, they might all make it through this without getting killed. First, no hotplate to cook her eggs, and now this, a western-worthy showdown in the street. The day was going downhill fast.

“Looks like I’m not in much of a position to argue if you’ve got backup. It’s all yours.” She stepped away from the dead animal and gave herself a better line of sight on the bush. She would have to make her two buckshot loads count and pray the girl stayed hidden behind the tree.

Chuck hefted the animal over a shoulder and turned his back on Delores, showing the pistol tucked into the back of his pants. She felt bad for him not owning a decent holster, though it would be hysterical if he shot himself in the butt cheek carrying it like that. He walked toward the corner of a nearby building. As he got there, he dropped the animal and reached for his pistol.

Delores hoisted her shotgun up, sighted in on the shadow in the bush, and fired before dodging to the side. The man behind the bush yelled in pain and moved, taking two wild pistol shots at Delores as he ran. Idiots, all of them. “That’s why you don’t shoot while running.” She drew a bead on her moving target, just like shooting skeet, and pulled the trigger. He went down, a pattern of red blossoming on his upper back and neck where the heavy shot hit.

No shots had come from Chuck or the man lurking behind the corner. She turned and saw why. Chuck stood in front of the other man who held a gun to his head. Chuck’s pistol rested on the ground at his feet. It was sloppy work on Chuck’s part, and now it had become her problem. Worse, she had no more shotgun shells with her.

The man holding Chuck said, “A double cross? Really? You assumed that would actually work? I’m shocked that you thought you could get away with it, but even more shocked at seeing the two of you working together. Who would have thought, Chuck and Delores being all chummy? You two hate each other.”

A shot rang out, and Delores flinched.

Chuck peed himself and screamed, then patted the back of his head, hunting for a wound. The man behind Chuck collapsed.

The girl stepped out from cover around the large sycamore and said to Chuck, “Give me a reason to shoot, and you’re next.” She aimed a small black semiautomatic pistol at him with a solid two-hand stance, feet spread apart.

Delores approved of her initiative, but it felt wrong to let the girl shoot him. She stepped forward to face Chuck as she spoke to the girl. “Sweetie, I promised him a truce. He’s a jerk, and he’s dumb as a bag of hammers, but he did more good than harm here today. It would be rude to shoot him until at least tomorrow. Save your bullets until the next time he comes over here to throw his weight around, and then plug him.” Delores tapped Chuck on the forehead twice with her index finger for emphasis. Glancing at the dead man at Chuck’s feet, she added, “You’ve definitely got your aim down, girl. One and done.”

Chuck shook his head. “You’re both crazy. I’m not coming back over here no matter what anyone says. Can I go now?” The smell of his urine grew as Delores stood before him. It was time to send him on his way.

Delores pointed toward the settlement and then made shooing movements with her hands. “The girl might change her mind and shoot you no matter what I say. How fast can you run, Chuck?”

As he ran out of sight around a building, the girl picked up the pistols left behind by Chuck and his friends, and grinned. “What about the bodies?”

“If the wild dogs don’t get rid of them, we can drag them off tomorrow to keep the stink down. That’s way too much work for today. I doubt Chuck will stray this way again any time soon.”

With the new inverter wired into place and tested, they shared the late afternoon by preparing a lovely dinner of pan-fried venison steaks and fried eggs. Delores sliced carrots and sweet peppers to add to the meal. The chickens got a special treat as they dined on raw bits of deer liver. Delores had never been a fan of liver and was happy to share it with them.

Delores flipped the steaks in the pan and stirred in some chopped onions. “If we’re going to be friends, we should know each other’s names. I’m Delores.”

“I’m Michelle, but Mom and Dad called me…by a pet name.”

It wouldn’t do to pressure the girl who obviously wanted to put at least some of her past behind her. “I wouldn’t ever intrude without your permission, so Michelle it is.”

Looking over their growing meal, Delores pulled out the good china and set out nice place settings with napkins and real sterling silverware, then offered Michelle a seat beside her at the small rooftop worktable.

“I think I might try growing a couple of apple trees up here to see if they will survive. You know, to add a little variety to the diet. What do you think?”

“That would be nice,” said the girl.

Delores wasn’t used to having someone answer when she talked to the chickens. It was nice to have a two-sided conversation, truth be told. The birds answered in their own way, but there was something about hearing another voice that Delores missed.

“After we’re done eating, I’ll show you how to dry and preserve the rest of the meat so it doesn’t go bad. It only took me a couple tries before I had some tasty venison jerky.” After more small talk about how preserve the meat on drying racks, Delores said, “You know, we made a great team down there in the