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Short Story : A Farm's House

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Trevor tugged the zipper on his coat all the way up to keep the wind off his neck and squinted as the cows neared the barn. His father rode behind them on his ATV, driving them across the snowy field. He blinked snowflakes from his eyes and counted heads as they filed past, shuffling into the barn with plenty of grunting, lowing, and far too much farting. When the last one passed through the door, he pulled the doors shut behind them. “Get ’em all?” his father asked, pulling up behind him. “I only counted forty-nine.” His father frowned. “You sure?” “Yes, sir.” “Damn.” His father bounced his hand off the steering wheel. “Well, come on. Let’s go see if we missed one.” The windscreen blocked the wind well enough, but didn’t keep the …show more content…

Must weigh a few hundred pounds.” “Mountain lion? A black bear? Coyotes?” “Not likely. Only spotted a couple mountains lions around here and a single bear. They’ve never come this close before and never bothered the cattle. Coyotes might, but I don’t see enough tracks.” There was just one set of tracks where whatever attacked the cow dragged it back into the trees. Any prints left behind had been ruined. Trevor looked to his father. “What do we do?” His father reached back into the ATV. “We find the damn thing and kill it, before it kills another of our cows.” Trevor glanced to the overcast sky. “Can’t we wait until the snow stops?’ “Nah, by then the thing will be cozy in its lair and the snow will have covered the trail. Come on, don’t be wimp.” “Yes, sir.” They both grabbed their rifles from the ATV’s rack and trudged into the woods. Thankfully, the trees blocked most of the wind. Snow fell in uneven patches between trees who had dropped their leaves and evergreens who sheltered the ground beneath them. The trail of blood made the predator easy to follow. Convenient since it appeared to have dragged the half a cow deep into the woods. They went half a mile or more before the blood began to thin, making the trail harder to follow. The wind died down, but the snow picked up. Fat, fluffy flakes fell in a steady stream. The whole thing might have been beautiful if not for the trail of blood before them. They paused under a tall cedar to catch

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