Where the Blackbird Sings – 2

PROSE – FLASH FICTION

With a nudge from Butchy, a well-seasoned mix breed woke me. His tired, bloodshot eyes looked like I felt. It was time to let him out to stretch his legs. He had been on guard all night by Mother’s side. I opened the door, and he was on his way. There was a chill in the room. The fire had burned down. I put some wood on the fire and stirred things up. I stood silently, staring into Mother’s bedroom. I just waited to see if there were any movements. She lay there so still. I started towards the room when she turned onto her side. I exhaled slowly and headed to the stove to make some coffee. Then I heard a single bark from Butchy and a scratch at the door. Butchy only scratched at the door when there was trouble. I looked out the door to a car coming towards the house. It would be here pretty quick; it was just enough time to get the scattergun and gather some rounds.

The car pulled up right in front of the porch. I could see the peeling paint of the banister in its reflection. The driver was a tall, wiry man who went by the name of Franklin Sharpe. I didn’t know the man personally, outside his dealings with Mother. But Mother said he was the biggest snake in six counties. So, with that in mind and Mother’s health, I wasn’t taking any chances. He exited the car and put a black cowboy with a thin silver band. The hat was sure pretty, though it didn’t help him much. Men with pretty hats and fancy cars never did set well with me. Once he exited his car, he started towards the house, placing that adorable hat square on his head.