The Blessed Blend (15 page)

Jim had loaded the chamber of the rifle before handing it to John, which was fortunate as John’s hands were just a bit unsteady. Euan held out his hands and said, “I’ll cover ye, lad. Go doon an’ close the gate t’ the barnyard an shut the stock up in the barn t’ keep ‘em safe. We may only get the
aen
shot. If they panic and get in the way, they’ll spoil it.”

He took the huge rifle, unlocked the safety, and drew a bead on the hog while John hurried down to do as Euan had asked. His thoughts were of protecting Callie and their bairns, and an absolute clarity of purpose settled over him that allowed him to hold the rifle steady.

He watched through the scope as the monstrous boar turned this way and that while the wolves and Brutus charged in and out to nip at its heels. Foamy spittle flecked the long, sharp tusks and the hog popped its mouth open and shut several times. The hog’s grunts and squeals carried across the glen where the lodge sat and echoed off the mountainside, as did Brutus’ barking and the wolves’ yodels, snarls, and growls.

John ran back up the stairs to the loft, his breathing rapid. “Wha’s he doing?” he asked.

“Callie’s pack’s harassing it,” Euan replied. “They’re too smart tae get close enough for the beastie tae grab one,
a wat weel,
but if one o’ ‘em makes just a wee mistake, they’ll be dead siccarly.”

“D’ ye want me tae take the gun?” John asked.

“Nae, lad. ‘Tis
my
woman an’ bairns t’ protect, ye ken,” Euan answered.

Euan didn’t see John’s smile. “Aye, lad, ‘tis,” John said.

Despite the pack’s harassment, the hog was largely undeterred by them and continued on his way towards the barnyard and poultry pen. Euan’s finger rested against the trigger as he waited to take the shot. He remembered Callie’s idea about shooting it in the leg but wasn’t sure he was marksman enough to pull that off.

Having raised pigs he knew that under the throat was the thinnest part of the hide and that the neck just behind the ears and before the shoulder was the most vulnerable. If the shot hit just right, then the shell would explode near enough to the jugular vein or carotid artery to mortally wound the monster. He had to make it count because he might not be able to get off another one and he feared what the maddened beast might do if merely wounded.

Euan kept a bead on his target but couldn’t pull off a shot without risking hitting Brutus or one of the wolves. “Get oon the talky there an’ tell Callie tae call her pack off,” he directed. “I canna get a clear shot.”

John relayed the message and within seconds they heard Callie whistle. The pack all flicked their ears towards the source but never took their eyes off the hog. Brutus, however, looked towards the house and that was all the opportunity Hell Hog needed. He lunged and knocked Brutus down and then tore into him as the pack tried to get him off.

Euan heard Callie scream out Brutus’ name and a shot rang out from the house. He swore, knowing that she would race out of the house to try to rescue her dog. Whether or not he hit one of the wolves became immaterial. He had to kill the hog.

He took aim and fired.

The first shot missed but kicked up a geyser of dirt where the bullet hit and exploded. Maddened by bloodlust and hunger, Hell Hog wasn’t fazed and continued tearing Brutus apart as the dog’s agonized cries filled the air. Euan swore at the missed shot and swore again as he heard the door to the porch slam open.

Darlene yelled at Callie to get back in the house.

Taking aim once again, Euan pulled the trigger and watched as blood and flesh exploded upon impact. The boar didn’t go down, however, and his enraged roar echoed off the mountainsides. Euan growled out several Gaelic curses.

“Ne’er mind tha’, Euan!” John shouted. “There goes Callie!”

She vaulted the fence and flew across the barnyard, rifle in hand. Euan hoisted the fifty-cal and jumped down the stairs with John right behind him. Both men raced towards the fence.

“Grab her!” he yelled at John as he cleared the gate and watched Callie go over the fence to the pasture.

Fueled by fear for her safety and anger at her stupidity for what she was doing, he caught up to her twenty yards inside the pasture and yanked her off of her feet as he continued past her towards the hog. Callie screamed in rage and swore like a sailor as John grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder. Darlene yelled at John to get Callie back to the house as Dave picked up her rifle, took aim at the hog, and fired.

Attracted by the commotion and pissed off by the sting from the bullet, Hell Hog turned towards the humans and roared out a challenge. His tail whipped back and forth over his back as he tore at the ground with his tusks. Brutus’ blood was all over the hog’s face and tusks like the macabre war paint of a berserker.

Euan stopped and dropped to his knees to take aim.

Hell Hog charged.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Euan could see the hog coming, saw the blood spurting out of its neck with each beat of its black heart, heard John yelling at him, and saw the pack moving to attack the hog’s backside. He heard the pounding of his own heart, the
whoosh
of his own breathing, and the loud crackle in his own throat as he swallowed. He aimed dead-center for the hog’s skull and pulled the trigger.

John, Callie, Dave, and Darlene heard the cannon-like blast from the rifle and saw the top of Hell Hog’s skull fly into pieces as the shot pierced it. They saw Euan thrown backwards by the recoil and watched him roll over a couple of times and try to get to his feet as Dave fired another shot. And they saw Hell Hog’s massive bulk moving like a speeding freight train as he closed in on the Scotsman.

And then it was over.

John dropped Callie and ran to help his friend. Callie jumped up and ran after John. Darlene and Dave ran after Callie.

The pack reached Hell Hog first, tearing at the twitching form with a vengeance. Pack looks after its own and Brutus had been part of the pack. The human under their enemy was the sire of their alpha’s cubs, so he was pack, too. They were out for blood.

Their growls and snarls were fierce enough to scare the very demons of hell but didn’t faze the humans reaching the kill. Callie ordered the pack off, calling each by name, while John and Dave grabbed the huge hog by its legs and pulled with all of their might to get the crushing weight of the carcass off of Euan. Darlene and Callie pushed from the other side and the bloody form of the monster boar rolled over to reveal an unconscious Euan. He was covered in blood but they couldn’t tell whether it was the hog’s or his. John, Callie, and Darlene began calling his name.

Three voices called to Euan, coming through the haze that enveloped him. Surely he had been killed and these were the angels calling him to stand before the Throne of Judgment. Then he felt the pain and figured he was still alive;
ye doona feel anythin’ when ye’re dead,
he thought.

He struggled to draw a breath and felt the burning of his air-deprived lungs. His body ached, he could taste blood, and he wondered if he’d been gutted by the huge tusks when the beast had slammed into him or crushed when it landed on top of him.

Callie saw Euan struggling to breathe and dropped down to place her mouth over his. Drawing in a tremendous breath, she blew it into his lungs with all of her might. Seeing that he was still struggling she repeated the action. Euan coughed and sputtered as his lungs drew in a shaky breath, then another. Darlene and Callie both started checking his body for broken bones while John and Dave looked on worriedly.

Euan looked up at Callie and wheezed, “Is this wha’ it takes t’ get me a kiss from ye?”

Callie sat back and gasped in shock. Then she swore and snapped, “If you’re playing me, Euan, I’ll
finish
what that damned pig started!”

She got up and wiped her hands on her jeans, glaring daggers at Euan. “But I’ll hand it to you, it was a good shot. You’ve more than earned your stripes around here with the menfolk for killing that hog.”

“An’ ye, too?” he asked.

Callie looked intently at him before shrugging and repeating softly, “It was a good shot, Euan.”

As she ran over to Brutus’ body, Dave and John helped Euan to his feet. “You were mighty brave, Euan,” Darlene said as she again checked him over. “Few men would have done what you did.”

“Aye, lad,” John agreed. “Ye were verra brave. Ye do Alba proud!”

“Jim’ll take the tusks from that old devil and make ye a trophy of some kind,” Dave advised. “Ye’ve earned ‘em.”

Euan smiled a bit as he wondered out loud, “Aye, but will it soften Callie’s heart tae me?”

Darlene patted his back and replied. “It couldn’t hurt, Euan. She knows what you did for her and for this place, but you know she’s going to be stubborn about it.”

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “She wouldna be Callie if she werena.”

Callie held her dog’s torn body in her arms and rocked back and forth. A keening wail rose up from her and the wolves joined in, howling mournfully. Neither John nor Euan were able to hold back the tears that welled up.

Neither man was ashamed of it, either.

Having heard first the yelling of the adults and the reports of the rifles, and now the howls of the pack, Red Wolf and Mountain Rose left the closet their mother had placed them in and made their way downstairs, out the door, and down to the pasture along with the guests. Coming up beside their father and grandmother, they saw Callie and the pack. “Why are they crying?” Mountain Rose asked even as she started to cry.

“Because Brutus is dead,” replied Red Wolf as he, too, started crying.

The children ran to their mother and petted the body of the faithful dog they had known all of their young lives. The blood and gore didn’t matter, only the shared grief of the pack. The children’s wails mixed with those of their mother and the wolves.

As John and Dave helped Euan limp towards Callie and the twins, the hunters emerged from the woods. Jim broke into a run towards his eldest daughter, not sure of exactly what had happened and fearing the worst. Caleb swore and ran after Jim, as did Eli and Mike.

Papa walked over, his gait measured with respect. He knew what had happened and his heart shared his granddaughter’s grief. The rest of the men remained at a distance, mindful of the privacy of those in mourning.

Euan knelt down on one knee behind Callie and put his arms around her. She tried to push him away but he refused to let go. Saying nothing, he offered his warmth and strength to her and their children as his tears fell upon Callie’s hair. They sat together like that for the next half hour as the pack sang their grief to the heavens.

Caleb and Eli went to the garage and got a tarp to place Brutus’ torn body on, and Darlene fetched a blanket to wrap him up in. Purvis and Jacobson retrieved some shovels and a couple of grubbing hoes to dig a grave and Jim directed them to a spot in the flower garden where the dog had loved to lie in the sun and sleep.

Numb with grief, Callie retrieved her dog’s favorite toys, his food bowl, the bone he’d been gnawing on, and his bed. The bed was placed in the grave for the big dog’s body to lie on, and his belongings were placed around him. The family threw in some more bones and treats before placing cedar branches over the body and sprinkling tobacco in the grave.

Jim offered a prayer in Cherokee and gave a handful of dirt to Callie. With tears streaming down her face, she whispered her goodbyes to Brutus and scattered the dirt gently across the blanket shrouding his body. The twins followed their mother’s example, as did the rest of the small assembly. Jim Purvis said something about the worth of a good hunting dog, and even Bill offered his condolences.

Hell Hog, for all his notoriety, would become a local tale the actual facts of which would be eventually forgotten over time. Brutus would be lauded for years to come as a canine saint who gave his life to protect his owners. His pups- of which the lusty cur left quite a few- would become even more valued among the local folk.

Darlene escorted Callie back to the house as Papa followed with the twins. The rest of the men looked over Hell Hog’s carcass. Several of the guests commented on the size of the massive boar and expressed a desire to bag one the next time they came.

“The shell didn’t explode,” Purvis noted. “Musta been a dud.”

“Still killed ‘im,” Billy said.

“Ought to measure him and take some pictures,” Steve Jacobson said. “Otherwise no one will believe this.”

Caleb ran to the house and retrieved the measuring tape and Jim’s camera, with its high resolution and low light shooting feature, to capture the scene for posterity. “You shot him,” he said to Euan. “You should pose with him for the credit.”

Bill Dougherty handed the fifty-cal to Euan, who held it with slightly trembling hands. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the enormity of the event was hitting him. It all felt so surreal, as if he was watching someone else in his body. He was aware of Caleb taking pictures and the rest of the men taking the monster hog’s measurements, but he wasn’t quite part of it. His thoughts were with his love and his children, and as soon as his presence was no longer needed in the pasture he made his way to the house.

They skinned Hell Hog, who measured ten feet and two inches in length from tip of nose to base of tail, and hauled the carcass off. Jim cut off the head and put it in a barrel of lye water to soak overnight in order to make extracting the teeth easier. He would make Euan a necklace of the tusks and teeth to wear as a badge of honor for his courage. “If you were Native, you’d receive an eagle feather for this,” he told Euan. “But you’re not and it’d be illegal for you to have one. All the same, you earned it.”