WE’D WALKED ABOUT TWO miles when Tucker jogged to catch up with us.
“Twenty dollars says I can get back here before you do,” he said, trying to catch his breath.
“That’s fine,” said Danny. “Fish and game will have your info.”
“And that means your old man’s van down by the river as well as your mamma’s singlewide,” said Billy.
I was laughing when I noticed a handful of deer stepping onto the road ahead of us—which were quickly joined by others until they spanned nearly the entire width of the pavement. It’s funny because I don’t remember feeling scared, only curious. It was comical, frankly, like something from a Far Side cartoon.
“If you’re going to shoot an elephant, Mr. Schneider, you better be prepared to finish the job,” I joked, but no one got it, only gazed off down the road at
