She stopped to wring out the wool shirt. She shrugged it on again, walked. She was well up when she turned and there was Ella, the Queen, with her little shiny diary book in her hands and in the wide open too, tearing the pages out. Walking among the mules for just this purpose, perhaps. Too far for the 30-30. She wasn’t thinking right. She lifted the rifle anyway. She was a sniper now. The sniper set the bead on the Queen’s head. It hovered there and the finger tightened over the trigger but before the squeeze, a confluence of events occurred called “The Creature and the Queen,” as follows: Once upon a time, high in a box canyon, the Queen came out, square in the crosshairs, finally, as they say. Then what do you know? The Creature appeared too. Who would believe it? Two targets at the same time. Impossible. The Creature was bigger than she’d thought. The Queen was whiter. She was tearing the page into confetti, bits falling around her. The bead of the rifle stayed on the Queen since she was the most desired target, the most longed for. But 30-30 was entirely unsure now, yes or no, right or left. The rifle moved back and forth between the two. It was the 30-30’s fatal flaw. The Creature was much higher in the scree now. She could almost see it clearly. She could almost hear it breathing high thinner air as the Queen crossed toward the mules.

Grannie told her Dear Ones: For a sure shot, close the eyes before firing.

Let the rifle find the natural point of aim.

Breathe, reopen eyes. Is the picture sound?

Squeeze. Don’t pull it.

Squeeze tender, steady, continue past the point of release, hold after the shot is done.

Relax.