related?”
“Yeah, I had a stepfather.”
“How old is your sister?”
Another long pause. Bryant and Stevens stared at each other. Then, “She’s dead.” Bryant took some morbid pleasure when Commander Stevens sat back in his chair with a startled expression on his face. But Bryant felt intense pain himself.
“Oh, sorry. I dislike being intrusive over something like this, but what happened to her?”
Telling the story would not be so easy. He began slowly, describing his half sister’s death in as little detail as possible. But the details slipped through.
Shawn Bryant had become very fond of his half sister. Ellie, nine years old, was seven years younger, but did her best to keep up with him. She frequently hung out nearby when he worked with the horses and would sometimes beg to ride behind him on a horse or a four-wheeler. Bryant seldom resisted her worried, plaintive expression and whiney yet charming persistence. Both his stepfather and mother were supportive of the relationship. That is, until the last four-wheeler ride.
It had been a typical, mostly sunny day with few lazy clouds drifting across the crisp blue skies, creating shadows on the tawny hillsides that made up most of the ranch landscape. Juniper, sage, and rabbitbrush dotted these hills and competed for the scarce water. Summer in Eastern Oregon was often hot and dry with the occasional thunderstorm that ripped through the parched land, sometimes leaving a wildfire in its wake.
Bryant remembered the ride with his half sister like it was yesterday. He recalled the joy of riding with the wind whipping through his hair and the sound of Ellie giggling or sometimes screaming with excitement. It all ended when he chose a trail that traveled through a few old-growth juniper. Bryant had gone this way many times before without a problem. He was traveling at a reasonable rate of speed, perhaps a little fast to give Ellie a thrill. But apparently, the sound of the four-wheeler had disturbed a herd of mule deer. Bryant did not see them until it was too late. The lead deer made the decision to jump ahead of the frightening sound and crossed the path directly in front of the four-wheeler. The next deer jumped over the four-wheeler and landed on the other side. Bryant had yelled at Ellie to duck, and he followed suit. But it wasn’t enough.
The next deer landed directly on the four-wheeler and Bryant. In its terrified scramble to separate from the loud monster, its hooves cut into Shawn’s thighs and back. Finally, the panicked doe fell on its side, still on top of Bryant and Ellie. Shawn’s body was pushed forward, and he lost control of the handlebars; at the same time, the vehicle’s front tires hit an old juniper log. The four-wheeler lifted its back wheels high off the ground as the front tires struggled to cross the log. Ellie was launched into the air; her young body was flung into the dead limb of a very large juniper. Shawn was vaguely aware of her flying over his shoulder as he struggled with the deer and the large powerful machine. He lost the battle, and the four-wheeler flipped on its side, pinning his left leg against the old partially rotten log that stopped the machine dead in its tracks. The doe was pinned between the machine and Shawn, its life ebbing.
The cushion of the deer’s body saved Shawn from being more seriously insured, but he could not move the deer and the machine. With considerable exertion, he was able to move part of his body out from under the deadly weight.
He yelled, “Ellie!”
There was no response. He continued to struggle to break away from the deer, but the pain from his leg prevented him from making much progress. He couldn’t see Ellie and continued to call her name, with no result. Finally, he acknowledged to himself that he would have to wait for help from his family. It might take hours. He examined his leg and determined that he was bleeding and that the visible injuries were abrasions. When he tried to move his leg, he felt a shock of pain. There was nothing he could do but wait.
Hours later, he heard an engine grinding its way up the trail. He realized he had drifted off. Suddenly his pain was back in full force. The thought came to him that it might take a while longer to be found.
He began to yell, “Over here!”
After some time, the engine sound grew closer, and then it was there.
Shawn’s mother and stepfather had taken the larger four-wheeler, and when they arrived, his mother was yelling both his and Ellie’s names. They reached Shawn first and asked about Ellie as they attempted to move the four-wheeler and the deer off Shawn’s body. When Shawn said that he didn’t know where she was, his stepfather Hank Strauter told Shawn’s mother to look for Ellie. Linda Strauter shone the flashlight around the four-wheeler but saw no sign.
Suddenly Shawn heard his mother’s anguished cry. “Nooo, nooo, nooo, oh God no, Ellie, wake up!”
With Hank’s help, Shawn was out from under the weight of the dead deer and the four-wheeler. When Hank heard his wife cry, he ran toward the sound. Shawn could hear heavy breathing; then Hank wailed in anguish.
From that time, when Hank and Linda found the limp, lifeless body of their daughter, life on the ranch changed.
Despite the trauma of their daughter’s death, Hank and Linda found a way to get help for Shawn. They rushed him to the county hospital, ten miles away, and called the emergency room to prepare them for his arrival. Shawn had suffered two fractured ribs and multiple cuts and abrasions and a fractured leg. He was hospitalized for observation and pain management but was casted and released the next morning.
An emotional cloud filled with horror, disbelief, and anger hung over the family from that day forward. Linda withdrew for several months; her body seemed to shrink, and she slumped more than before. She spoke less and smiled not at all. After about six months, she seemed to recover some. But Hank took a different course.
Initially, he isolated from the family. He spent his time working around the ranch and talking little. Slowly, he became surly and hostile to everyone, but mostly toward Shawn. He had always been a beer drinker, but after Ellie’s death, he drank more whiskey, and his mood darkened. He began to be physically aggressive with his stepson, but Shawn was a little taller than Hank; and though he weighed less, he was heavily muscled from ranch work. Hank was also hostile and aggressive toward Linda and even kicked at and cursed Shawn’s dog. Shawn felt remorse over his sister’s death, and this prevented him from confronting Hank and pushing back against his anger. But that was about to change.
Three years prior to the accident, Shawn and Linda had picked out a pup from a neighbor’s litter and brought him home. They named him Nick. He was a mongrel as Hank often said, a mixture of Labrador retriever and German shepherd. He was a smart though sometimes rambunctious dog, and he often irritated Hank. Hank’s reaction to Nick changed after Ellie died. On one occasion, after Nick had harassed a foal and caused the mare to chase the dog, Hank became furious and threatened to shoot Nick. Shawn grabbed Nick’s collar and promised to make sure it didn’t happen again. He chained Nick and stood between Hank and his target. Eventually, Hank lost interest and walked away.
About two months later, on the anniversary of Ellie’s death, Hank drank more than ever before. He was staggering around inside the ranch house, yelling obscenities and verbally attacking Shawn, who had gone outside to avoid his tirade. Nick joined him and sat nearby, looking nervously toward the house.
Hank fumed, “Why the hell did he have to crash and kill her! He should have been more careful.”
Linda was talking to him and trying to calm him down. It was a wasted effort.
Suddenly Shawn heard his mother cry out, and then there was the sound of crashing furniture. He told Nick to “stay!”
