Helene sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and went back to those moments in Coldwater, Montana. Sometimes the memory returned on its own, usually when she least expected it. More often, like now, she called the memory back deliberately.

She felt the pleasing weight of her daddy’s revolver, leaping in her hand like a living thing when she pulled the trigger. The blast of fear as Roy did not fall, but instead raised his own pistol toward her. She ran to him without thinking, grabbed his gun arm with both hands and pulled him close, as if slow-dancing in the high school gym.

Even as he fired his pistol, over and over, she knew he was dying. She kept him on his feet beside her because she wanted to feel the life leaking out of him, wanted to know for sure when the fucker was really dead. But that wasn’t all of it.

While she held him tight with every ounce of her strength, she also knew where his pistol was pointed, and where Bogaloosa sat in his chair. She made sure Roy’s last bullets found Bogaloosa’s soft, worthless body.

Of course, Roy had known, too.

When his pistol was finally empty, he had stopped fighting and leaned into her embrace. He had put his bloody hand on her pregnant belly and she had felt that wild, gleeful smile against her cheek. Then he spoke into her ear.

His voice was reduced to a rattle, but his words were clear enough.

I’ve got you now, little rabbit.

The asshole couldn’t even use her name at the very end.

“Fuck you, Roy,” she said now, louder than she intended. “My name is Helene.”

Celeste startled awake and began to cry. Helene sat on the floor of that empty house, took her daughter in her arms, opened her shirt, and offered her a breast.

Outside, the last coyote paced restlessly through the trees, waiting for the sun to set so it could howl into the darkness, hoping for another predator to howl in reply.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’ll start with a big thanks to Margret, who spent a long pandemic trapped inside with her annoying husband. I blame COVID-19, but to be honest, I was pretty annoying before the pandemic and no doubt that will continue into the foreseeable future.

Next, thanks are due to my mom, who was a philosophy major at Michigan, for the many inspiring quotes over the years. When I was a kid, she used to wake me up by throwing back the curtains and saying, “It’s time to rise and experience the day!” (I quickly learned that if I didn’t get out of bed ASAP, the covers were next.)

Thanks to the rest of my family and friends for their help and support despite having to listen to hours of whining on my part.