The phone rang.“Hairy, Helen. John was shoeing the Dun and the bastard kicked him. We need help feeding the cows.”“On my way as soon as I fill t...e stokers.”I banged on Karen’s bedroom door.“What?”“You better dress warm ... it snowed last night.”She must have looked out her window, “I’ll say it snowed.”“And still coming,” I said.“I’ll catch the bus.” She called the driver and told him she needed a ride. “What are you doing?”“Feeding John’s cows.”“Huh?”“Horse kicked him.”“Stay warm.”John had. Mitch was highly disappointed. He came to shoot fur bearing mammals, or maybe just people animals if they got uppity. For at least half an hour, he kept pulling on Arthur's sleeve, saying, "Now?" and fingering his 1948.22 cal Winchester 52 Target Rifle with the 15 power Lyman Targetspot with Scopelevel and Lyman rails that would guarantee a clean kill at five hundred yards ... the perfect rifle for eliminating rabid squirrels and their ilk. He had that killer look.Arthur would jerk Mitch's hand. More

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