The rabbit led them to the salt lick. The dozing steers looked up, startled, and saw the dog. They bellowed and ran into each other trying to get away. The dog didn't even notice them. It was after the rabbit. The cattle fled, kicking up dirt.

The rabbit zigzagged and ran into a salt block. Jimmy saw it happen, and heard the thunk. The rabbit stopped cold. It might have been able to recover, but it didn't have time. The dog caught it by the head and shook it.

The steers' hooves rumbled. Dust boiled into the sky. The little dog stood in the center of chaos, victorious, shaking the cottontail. Jimmy stopped at the edge of the salt lick, breathing hard. He laughed and clapped. Ernie came up beside him, coughing.

The dog tore open the rabbit and lay down in the center of the bare patch of earth to eat. Jimmy and Ernie went toward it, and it growled. They stopped and watched it for a while. It was as serious about eating as it had been about swimming. Jimmy had never seen a human being with such singleness of purpose. He admired the little dog.

"Guess he doesn't go hungry," Ernie said.

"He's too smart for that," Jimmy said. They went on to the house. The dog stayed behind and ate.

Jimmy and Ernie were reading comic books on the porch when Dad came home. It was four o'clock. Jimmy hadn't expected him home until after five.

Dad lurched out of the pickup. His foot slipped on the gravel, and he almost fell. He came up cussing. He started toward the house, saw Jimmy and Ernie, and looked disgusted. Jimmy glanced at Ernie. Ernie looked scared.

Jimmy stood up. "Hi, Dad," he said.

Dad looked across the yard. "What the hell you mean leaving that mower out?" he yelled. He sounded as if his tongue were too thick. "Supposed to goddamn rain. Ain't I told you to put it back when you're finished?"

"I was going to," Jimmy said. He was miserable.

"And you stopped with the job half done," Dad said. "What kind of lazy shit did I raise, huh?"

Jimmy's misery became rage. "It ran out of gas," he said. His voice was loud. "And there wasn't any more."

"I better go home," Ernie mumbled. He put down the comic book he had been reading and started toward his bike in the driveway.

"You talking back to me?" Dad bellowed.

Ernie looked back at Jimmy. His lips formed the word "Pray." Then he hurried to his bike and pedaled away. He had forgotten his backpack. It lay on the porch beside the comic book.

"You talking back to me?" Dad bellowed again.

Jimmy's skin was hot all over. He jumped off the porch. "I'll talk to you any way I like," he said, "you son of a bitch."

Dad lunged for him. Jimmy dodged, and Dad banged his shin against the porch. He turned toward Jimmy. His face was purple.

Jimmy ran to the backyard and past the chicken coop. The chickens scattered as he passed. Feathers flew. Jimmy could hear Dad's footsteps behind him. Dad wasn't yelling, wasn't saying anything. That scared Jimmy. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? If he had kept his mouth shut, Dad would have smacked him once or twice. Big deal. Now Dad wanted to kill him. He really wanted to kill him. Jimmy could tell.

He crashed through the evergreens and clambered over the barbed-wire fence. His cutoffs caught and tore. A barb scratched his thigh. He didn't stop. Dad was coming through the trees. Jimmy dropped to the hay meadow and ran hard for the second fence.

Hay whipped his legs. His heart slammed against his chest. Hot wind scraped his throat. He ran as fast as he could, up and over the hill and down. He couldn't hear Dad behind him anymore. As he climbed over the second fence, he risked a glance back. Dad had stopped at the top of the hill and was watching him.

Jimmy dropped into the pasture and kept running north, over the rise and down toward the pond. His arms were heavy and tingling. His head hurt. But he couldn't stop. He had called his father a son of a bitch. He passed the salt blocks. Some of them had smooth channels where they had been licked over and over again. He kept running.

The cattle were at the pond. Most of them stood in the shallow part beside the flat bank. The rest were lying on the mud. They saw Jimmy coming and tensed. He ran wide around them, up onto the dam. They didn't spook, but they watched him. They didn't trust him.

He stopped halfway across the dam and looked back. Dad was nowhere in sight. Jimmy stood there awhile, breathing hard and blinking away sweat. Then he sat down among the dry weeds. He hooked his elbows around his knees and grasped his right wrist with his left hand. He watched the steers watching him.

"Moo," he said.

The steers stared back with dull eyes.

"Moooo," Jimmy said.

Before long the steers were ignoring him. They drank the fouled water, lay on the mud, and switched their tails at flies. It was hot. Flies started buzzing around Jimmy, too. He pursed his lips and blew at them. Dad could go fuck himself with a crowbar.

His butt began to itch, but he didn't want to stand up. He leaned to one side and scratched, then leaned to the other side and scratched. It didn't help much. His underwear and cutoffs were still damp from swimming. They were sticking to his skin. He tried to pull them away, but they sucked right back. Short of stripping them off, there was nothing he could do that would help. He tried to ignore the irritation, but he couldn't. He scratched and pulled.

Ernie had said "Pray." Ernie believed in that stuff. Maybe there was something to it. Preachers were full of shit, but maybe God didn't have anything to do with that. God had, after all, seemed to answer Jimmy's prayer about the sparrow. And he hadn't even been serious. Maybe God had been telling him that he should be. Or maybe he'd just had a lucky shot.

If Mom didn't come home soon, he might as well run off or die. Mom coming back was the only thing that would keep Dad from killing him. Why was she staying away so long, anyway? What was she trying to prove? Did she think Dad would get all pitiful and go running after her, begging oh please come home I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry? It would be a cold summer in hell when Dad ever did anything like that. Goddamn her anyway. Goddamn both of them. Bitch and son of a bitch.

Jimmy closed his eyes. The sun was so hot on his head that it hurt. He started to pray.

"God," he said. "Lord." He didn't know how to do this. The prayers he had learned when he was little had all been poems. God is great, God is good, Let us thank Him for our food, Amen. Pass the gravy, pass the meat, pass the taters, Lord, let's eat. Amen.

He felt the crying coming up tight in his throat. He didn't want to let it happen. He had spent years training himself not to let it happen. Men didn't cry. Men who cried were queer. Pussies and fairies and faggots.

"God," he said. He hated his voice. It wasn't a voice at all. It wasn't even his. It was a baby's. "I'll do anything You want. I'll pay any price You want me to. But make Mom come back. Please."

He didn't know what else to say. He sat there and cried. Finally he remembered to say "Amen." He pulled up the bottom of his shirt and blew his nose.

The weeds off to his right whispered. He looked and saw the brown rat terrier. It was sitting six or seven feet away. It was grinning and panting. It seemed to be glad to see him.

"Hey, pup," Jimmy said. "Was that a good rabbit?"

The dog came closer, wagging its tail. It was a funny-looking thing. Its tail was stumpy and mud-caked. Its head was like a furry wedge of wood.

"Don't you have a home?" Jimmy asked. "Don't you have people to feed you and pet you?"

The dog came closer still. It was two feet away now.

"I'd be your people if I could," Jimmy said. He reached out. "But my dad doesn't like dogs. Maybe he'd change his mind if he knew you could feed yourself."