-
The Lost Antlers
- University of South Carolina Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
121 The Lost Antlers 2008 LarrieChapmanwantedantlers,abigrackofantlersonanobledeer head.Wantedthemforhislivingroomtomakeupfortheonesthat hisformerwiveshadonebyonethrownout. LastdayoftheseasonandcoldashehadeverseenitinSouthCarolina, andhewastheo nlyonewhohadnotg ottenab uckthatyear.Bothhis grownsonshadgottentwoeach,andeachofthemendownatthehunting lodgehadgottenatleastone.Stillhewasbuckless.Hesatinhistree standandlookedacrossthegraywinterlandscape.Lookedathiswatch. Lookedbackatthewoodsbeneathhim.LookeddownathisRemington. Feltthec oldcomeafterhim.Tookanothersipfr omhisb ourbon flask, thenslippeditbackinhispocket. Therewasnosho rtageofdeer.Factistheyseemedtobetakingover thewholedamncountry.Inthesummertheyatehistomatoeswhenthey werestillgreen,evenatethehostashisex-wifehadplantedalongthefront walk—downtonubsintheground.Hecouldhardlygooutthedoorto hishousewithoutseeingseverallumberoffintothetreessurroundinghis subdivision.Ifhedidn’tliveinsidethecitylimits,hecouldhavenabbed onefromhisdeck.Butwhenhegothisdeerrifle and mountedhistree standoutinthewoodsatthehuntingclub,hesawnothingatall. Thecoldmadehisarthritickneesache,madehisshoulderachefrom thewoundhehadgotteninVietnamallthoseyearsback.Everyfewminutes thew indwouldgetupso mething fierceandst irthelea vesonthe TheLostAntlers 122 groundintotheair;thentheywouldfallasthewinddiedaway.Butonly thewindandtheleavesmoved.Nodeer. Whenhistwosons,bothchildrenfromhissecondmarriage,dropped himoffatthestandtwohoursearlier,theyhadwishedhimluck. “Gotallyourstuff?”Lonnieasked.Hewastheyoungerone,redheaded justasLarrieChapmanhadbeenwhenhehadhadhair,theonewhostill rememberedtoworryabouthim. Sohehadcheckedhisbackpackonemoretime—canteen, fieldglasses, powerbars,ammunition,cellphone,matches, flashlight. Claytonwasleaningo verfromtheothersideofthefrontseatofthe pickup.“Threehours,”hesaid. “Webeback.Youbeready.”Heheldup threegloved fingers.Therewasso mebasketballgameorsomethinghe wantedtowatchearlythatevening.“Getyourdamndeer!” Theywaiteduntilhewalkeddowntheridgeandgotsafelyinthestand beforetheydroveoff.Hewatchedthewispofwhiteexhaustsmokehang intheairasthe irtruckdisappearedalongtheoldlo ggingroadthatran alongtheridge. Thelastyearshadbeenhard.Itstartedwithhisheartattack fiveyears earlier.Damnnear died.Herememberedlyinginthe hospitalwithhis chestsplito pen—aq uadruplebypass.T hed octorlist edthething she couldnolongerdo. “Yougon’havetolayoffthebeefandtheFrenchfries.Layoffthesalt. Nopork.Nopizza.BigMacsareout.Thatsortofthing.Andthisdrinking yourwifeistellingmeabout—ithastobecurtailed.” Histhe n-wife,nowe x-wifeMarthawasstandingb ytheb ed,ar ms foldedacrossherchest.Shelookedlikeacrossbetweenaschoolteacher andaprisonwarden. “Glassofredwineaday is fine,”thedoctorcontinued,lookingatMartha .“Ifyoucanholdt othat.Butnomo reofthesenig htsoutwiththe boys.Nomorepokernights.Yougon’needtostayhome.Rest.Exercise regularly.Walktheneighborhoodwithyourwife.” LarrieChapmanwantedtospitinthedoctor’sface.Hehatedpeople tellinghimw hattodo,conspiringw ithhisw ifetolimithisfr eedom. [3.146.34.191] Project MUSE (2024-04-18 05:20 GMT) TheLostAntlers 123 Insteadofspitting,hetriedtobefunnyandalsotakeajabatthecold-asice Martha. “How’bout...