and pulled out an empty can of beer. “If you were planning to get me so drunk I’d swear off drinking forever, you forgot the actual beer,” she joked.
Grandpa’s face was serious. “I brought you out here to teach you to shoot a gun.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
G RANDPA TOOK A HANDGUN out of the side pocket of his medicine bag and Dee’s smile faded. It was the one Mason had given her. She hadn’t seen Mason in several weeks, and she wondered what he was doing now. Probably tinkering with something, trying to make life without electricity a little easier. Maybe she and Grandpa could stop by the farm with the snowmobile one of these days. At the thought, she couldn’t keep her lips from curving back into a smile.
“Are you listening to me, Maddie?” asked Grandpa, his eyes stern. Dee made herself focus on what he was saying. “I want you to understand that a gun is serious business. You should never point one at someone you wouldn’t be willing to shoot. A gun isn’t for making idle threats.”
Grandpa reached into his pocket and pulled something out and unfolded it. It was a large piece of butcher paper with the outline of a man drawn on it.
“Put this up on that tree there,” said Grandpa, handing her a pushpin. Dee pinned the man target onto the tree, slightly stunned that Grandpa was giving her shooting lessons against her father’s wishes.
She paid close attention while Grandpa demonstrated how to hold a gun, and how to remove the safety. “You always want to keep it pointed at the ground, even if it’s not loaded. And you never wave a loaded gun around.” He handed her the loaded gun, the grip still warm from his hand. “Now, before you remove the safety, let me describe a situation to you. See that target over there? Think of him as a real man. He can be Hank if you want. He’s carrying a knife, and he’s broken into your house. He doesn’t know you’re here yet. Are you prepared to kill him?”
Dee’s stomach flip-flopped. “You said he broke into our house and he has a knife, right?”
Grandpa nodded.
Dee closed her eyes and imagined an intruder in the farmhouse, someone who might hurt Sammy or Katy. She steeled herself and opened her eyes. “Yes, I could kill him. Should I try it now?”
“First, tell me what you’d do.”
“I’d aim it at him and pull the trigger.”
“No,” said Grandpa. “That’s not what you should do. At this range your chances of hitting him are pretty low, especially because you haven’t had any practice. Get closer to him. Go on, walk up to him.”
Dee took a few steps closer to the paper target. She was still ten feet away.
“Closer, Maddie.”
Dee took five more steps. She could practically touch the target.
“All right, now don’t take the safety off. Show me where you’d aim.”
Dee lifted the gun and pointed it at the head of the target.
“Wrong,” said Grandpa.
“Won’t he die if I shoot him in the head?”
“Only if you make the shot. The head is a small target. Think. Where will you have the best chance of hitting him?”
Dee lowered the gun until it pointed at the target’s chest.
“Good,” said Grandpa. “You’ve got your target acquired, he’s moving toward you, he’s seen you. What do you do?”
“I shoot him in the chest.”
“How many times?”
“Three or four? Save some bullets in case I miss?”
“No. You are going to empty the entire clip into him.”
“The whole thing?”
“Maddie, if you ever have to shoot a man—and I pray to God you never will—you aren’t aiming to wound him. You are shooting to kill him.”
Dee looked at the paper target and swallowed hard. She could do this. She squeezed the trigger and the gun jumped back in her hands. She fired again and again until the empty chamber clicked. Her ears ringing, Dee lowered the gun slowly and stared at the paper target.
The entire abdomen was shot out, the edges burnt and shredded.
If this had been a real person he wouldn’t have
Grandpa’s face was serious. “I brought you out here to teach you to shoot a gun.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
G RANDPA TOOK A HANDGUN out of the side pocket of his medicine bag and Dee’s smile faded. It was the one Mason had given her. She hadn’t seen Mason in several weeks, and she wondered what he was doing now. Probably tinkering with something, trying to make life without electricity a little easier. Maybe she and Grandpa could stop by the farm with the snowmobile one of these days. At the thought, she couldn’t keep her lips from curving back into a smile.
“Are you listening to me, Maddie?” asked Grandpa, his eyes stern. Dee made herself focus on what he was saying. “I want you to understand that a gun is serious business. You should never point one at someone you wouldn’t be willing to shoot. A gun isn’t for making idle threats.”
Grandpa reached into his pocket and pulled something out and unfolded it. It was a large piece of butcher paper with the outline of a man drawn on it.
“Put this up on that tree there,” said Grandpa, handing her a pushpin. Dee pinned the man target onto the tree, slightly stunned that Grandpa was giving her shooting lessons against her father’s wishes.
She paid close attention while Grandpa demonstrated how to hold a gun, and how to remove the safety. “You always want to keep it pointed at the ground, even if it’s not loaded. And you never wave a loaded gun around.” He handed her the loaded gun, the grip still warm from his hand. “Now, before you remove the safety, let me describe a situation to you. See that target over there? Think of him as a real man. He can be Hank if you want. He’s carrying a knife, and he’s broken into your house. He doesn’t know you’re here yet. Are you prepared to kill him?”
Dee’s stomach flip-flopped. “You said he broke into our house and he has a knife, right?”
Grandpa nodded.
Dee closed her eyes and imagined an intruder in the farmhouse, someone who might hurt Sammy or Katy. She steeled herself and opened her eyes. “Yes, I could kill him. Should I try it now?”
“First, tell me what you’d do.”
“I’d aim it at him and pull the trigger.”
“No,” said Grandpa. “That’s not what you should do. At this range your chances of hitting him are pretty low, especially because you haven’t had any practice. Get closer to him. Go on, walk up to him.”
Dee took a few steps closer to the paper target. She was still ten feet away.
“Closer, Maddie.”
Dee took five more steps. She could practically touch the target.
“All right, now don’t take the safety off. Show me where you’d aim.”
Dee lifted the gun and pointed it at the head of the target.
“Wrong,” said Grandpa.
“Won’t he die if I shoot him in the head?”
“Only if you make the shot. The head is a small target. Think. Where will you have the best chance of hitting him?”
Dee lowered the gun until it pointed at the target’s chest.
“Good,” said Grandpa. “You’ve got your target acquired, he’s moving toward you, he’s seen you. What do you do?”
“I shoot him in the chest.”
“How many times?”
“Three or four? Save some bullets in case I miss?”
“No. You are going to empty the entire clip into him.”
“The whole thing?”
“Maddie, if you ever have to shoot a man—and I pray to God you never will—you aren’t aiming to wound him. You are shooting to kill him.”
Dee looked at the paper target and swallowed hard. She could do this. She squeezed the trigger and the gun jumped back in her hands. She fired again and again until the empty chamber clicked. Her ears ringing, Dee lowered the gun slowly and stared at the paper target.
The entire abdomen was shot out, the edges burnt and shredded.
If this had been a real person he wouldn’t have
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