Dad turned into their driveway and rumbled bumpily along. When they reached the homestead, he parked hard and said, “Okay, Allbrights, today my girls learn how to shoot.”
He jumped out of the bus and dragged a bale of blackened, mildewed hay out from behind the chicken coop.
Mama lit up a cigarette. The smoke formed a gray corona above her blond hair. “This should be fun,” she said without joy.
“We have to learn how. Large Marge and Thelma both said so,” Leni said.
Mama nodded.
Leni moved to the driver’s seat. “Uh. Mama? You noticed that Dad is sorta … prickly about Mr. Walker, right?”
Mama turned. Their eyes met. “Is he?” she said coolly.
“You know he is. So. I mean. You know how he can get if you … you know. Flirt.”
Dad thumped on the front of the bus so hard Mama flinched and made a little sound, like a bitten-off scream. She dropped her cigarette and scrambled down to find it.
Leni knew her mama wouldn’t respond anyway; that was another facet of their family weirdness. Dad blew his temper and Mama somehow encouraged it. Like maybe she needed to know how much he loved her all the time.
Dad herded Leni and Mama out of the bus and over the bumpy terrain to where he’d set up the bale of hay with a target on it.
He lifted his rifle from its leather scabbard, aimed, and shot, hitting the target dead center in the head he’d drawn on a piece of paper with a Magic Marker. A bunch of birds flew up from the trees, scattered through the blue sky, cawing angrily at Dad for disturbing them. A giant bald eagle, with a wingspan of at least six feet, glided in to take their place. It perched on an uppermost branch of a tree, pointed its yellow beak down at them. “That’s what I expect of you two,” Dad said.
Mama exhaled smoke. “We’re going to be here awhile, baby girl.”
Dad handed Leni the rifle. “Okay, Red. Let’s see what you’ve got naturally. Look through the scope—don’t get too close—and when you have the target in your sight, squeeze the trigger. Slow and steady. Breathe evenly. Okay, aim. I’ll tell you when to shoot. Watch out for—”
She lifted the rifle, aimed, thought, Wow, Matthew, I can’t wait to tell you, and accidently pulled the trigger.
The rifle hit her shoulder hard enough to knock her off her feet and the sight slammed into her eye area with a crack that sounded like breaking bone.
Leni screamed in pain, dropped the rifle, and collapsed to her knees in the mud, clamping a hand over her throbbing eye. It hurt so badly she felt sick to her stomach, almost puked.
She was still screaming and crying when she felt someone drop in place beside her, felt a hand rubbing her back. “Shit, Red,” Dad said. “I didn’t tell you to shoot. You’re okay. Just breathe. It’s a normal rookie mistake. You’ll be fine.”
“Is she okay?” Mama screamed. “Is she?”
Dad pulled Leni to her feet. “No crying, Leni,” he said. “This isn’t some beauty-pageant training where you learn to sing for a college scholarship. You have to listen to me. This is your life I’m trying to save.”
“But…” It hurt so badly. A headache burst into pounding life behind her eyes. She couldn’t see well out of her injured eye. Half the world was blurry. It hurt even more that he didn’t care about how much it hurt. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for herself. She would bet Tom Walker never treated Matthew this way.
“Stop it, Lenora,” Dad said, giving her shoulder a little shake. “You said you liked Alaska and wanted to belong here.”
“Ernt, please, she’s not a soldier,” Mama said.
Dad spun Leni around, gripped her shoulders, shook her hard. “How many girls were abducted in Seattle before we left?”
“L-lots. One every month. Sometimes more.”
“Who were they?”
“Just girls. Teenagers, mostly?”
“And Patty Hearst was taken from her apartment, with her boyfriend right there, right?”
Leni wiped her eyes, nodded.
“You want to be a victim or a survivor, Lenora?”
Leni had such a headache she couldn’t think. “S-survivor?”
“We have to be ready for anything up here. I want you able to protect yourself.” His voice broke on that. She saw the emotion he was trying so hard to hide. He loved her. That was why he wanted her to be able to take care of herself. “What if I’m not here when something happens? When a bear breaks down the door or a pack of wolves surrounds you? I need to know you can protect your mom and save yourself.”
Leni sniffled hard, struggled for control. He was right. She needed to be strong. “I know.”
“Okay. Pick up the rifle,” Dad said. “Try again.”
Leni picked up the mud-splattered rifle. Aimed.
“Don’t hold the sight so close to your eye. The recoil is a mother on this. There. Hold it like that.” Dad gently repositioned the weapon. “Put your finger on the trigger. Lightly.”
She couldn’t do it. She was too scared of getting cracked in the eye again.
“Do it,” Dad said.
She took a deep breath and slid her forefinger along the trigger, feeling the cold steel curve.
She ducked her chin, drew back farther from the sight.
She forced herself to concentrate. The sounds faded away: the cawing of the crows and the wind clattering through the trees diminished until all she heard was the beating of her own heart.
She closed her left eye. Tried to calm down.
The world spiraled down to a single circle. Blurry at first, a double image.
Focus.
She saw the bale of hay, the white paper attached to it, the outline of a man’s head and shoulders. She was amazed by the clarity of the image. She adjusted the position of the rifle, took aim at the very center of the head.
Slowly, she squeezed the trigger.
The rifle cracked in recoil, hit her hard in the shoulder again, so hard she stumbled, but the sight didn’t hit her eye.
The bullet hit the bale of hay. Not the target, not even the white paper around the target, but the bale. She felt a surprising pride in that small achievement.
“I knew you could do it, Red. By the time we’re done, you’ll be sniper-good.”
SEVEN
Ms. Rhodes was at the chalkboard writing assignment pages when Leni got to school. “Ah,” the teacher said. “It looks like someone put the scope too close to her eye. Do you need an aspirin?”
“Rookie mistake,” Leni said, almost proud of her injury. It meant she was becoming an Alaskan. “I’m fine.”
Ms. Rhodes nodded. “Take your seat and open your history book.”
Leni and Matthew stared at each other as she entered the classroom. His smile was so big she saw his mouthful of crooked teeth.
She sidled into her desk, which clanked against his.
“Almost everyone gets popped in the eye the first time. I had a black eye for, like, a week. Does it hurt?”
“It did. But learning to shoot was so cool, I didn’t—”
“Moose!” Axle yelled, popping up from his seat and running to the window.
Leni and Matthew followed him. All of the kids crowded together at the window, watching a giant bull moose amble through the grassy area behind the schoolhouse. He knocked over the picnic table and began eating the bushes.
Matthew leaned close to Leni; his shoulder brushed hers. “I say we make excuses and book it out of school today. I’ll say I’m needed at home after lunch.”
Leni felt a little thrill at the idea of skipping school. She’d never done it before. “I could say I have a headache. I’d just have to be back here at three for pick-up.”
“Cool,” Matthew said.
“Okay, okay,” Ms. Rhodes said. “Enough of that. Leni, Axle, Matthew, turn to page one-seventeen in your Alaska state history book…”
For the rest of the morning, Leni and Matthew watched the clock nervously. Just before lunchtime, Leni pleaded a headache and said she needed to go home. “I can walk to the general store and call my parents on the ham radio.”
“Sure,” Ms. Rhodes said. The teacher didn’t seem to question the lie, and Leni scooted out of the classroom and closed the door behind her. She walked down to the road and ducked into the trees, waiting.