“The killings?”
He nodded.
Rita said. “Its a night I won’t soon forget.”
“You were there? You saw it?”
“I was there.”
“I heard over a hundred and twenty were killed.”
“I never counted them.”
“I’ll open the gate for you.”
“Thanks.”
Rita rode slowly through the park, took a short detour along a narrow lane, stopped the bike for a few seconds, looked out at the large lake, the waterfowl flying, landing on the green surface, a man fishing from a small boat, sun reflecting like stars on the water. She wondered what he was fishing for. Pickerel maybe. She watched for a few more seconds then turned the motorcycle and rode to Sarah’s house.
Sarah’s father walked outside when he heard the exhaust from the motorcycle. He looked confused for a moment, then suddenly recognized her short blonde hair when she removed her helmet.
“Hello Mr. Smith.”
“Hi Rita. Call me Wally.”
“Okay, Wally. Is Sarah around?”
“She should be back soon. Her and June just slipped into Lafleche to get something from the store there. I have some home made stout.”
“Stout?”
“The best stout.”
The two sat on the back deck overlooking the lake, both sipping the dark colored drink. Rita liked the way it tasted. So smooth and creamy as it ran down her throat.
“I hear there was a dust up in Assiniboia a while back.”
Rita nodded. “Yeah.”
“Were you there?”
“I was there.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
She looked at the older man, his kind face, a retired farmers face. Leathery, wrinkled somewhat. His hands large, like big clubs almost. “Do you think it was wrong?”
“I don’t think anything. Do you think it was wrong?”
“I don’t know. At least there’s no more crazies with signs. That’s a good thing. Too bad so many of them were so young and stupid though.”
He smiled some. “Stupid hurts. You can’t blame the kids really. I blame the schools and the teachers. They teach them all that multiculturalism liberal crap. The left loves the muzzies. I remember Sarah coming home and telling me things. June and I went to the school and questioned her teacher. The teacher acted like Sarah belonged to her and not us. June had to get me out of there. I wanted to tear a strip off that commie bitch.” He frowned. “Sorry for the language.”
“What did you do?”
“I told the woman what I thought of her and her commie friends, then we pulled Sarah out of there and sent her to a private girl’s school in Regina. She finished her schooling there.”
Rita said nothing, sipped from her glass of stout.
He asked. “Can you stay for supper?”
Rita smiled. “What’s for supper?”
He laughed. “Particular are you?”
“Always.”
He looked at her holstered pistol. “Have you had to use that yet?”
“Only once.”
The sound of a vehicle could be heard coming from the front of the house. Sarah soon walked onto the deck, smiled.
“I knew it was you.”
Rita stood to her feet and they hugged for a few seconds. She said. “You’ve put on a few pounds. You look healthier now.”
“My mother’s cooking. I see my dad found someone to sample his beer.”
“Its not beer. Its stout,” said Wally.
“I know, daddy.” She looked at Rita. “Want to go for a walk down by the lake?”
“Sure. Your dad asked me to stay for supper.”
“Good. We’re having fried chicken tonight. We stopped at a farm and picked up a few. They’re frozen except for one.”
“Chicken sounds good to me.”
Wally stood to his feet. “You two go for a walk, I’m going to help June unload the car.”
The two women walked slowly near the edge of the water, many migratory birds swam on the surface, dove under the water for a meal. It was a cloudless day, still warm but not like the July heat wave. It was a comfortable warm and they both enjoyed walking without a jacket.
“Everyone around here heard about what happened.”
Rita looked at the petite young woman. “I guess.”
“You were there, weren’t you?”
Rita nodded. “I was there. I killed some people.”
Sarah stopped walking, put her arms around Rita. They stayed like that for a while until Sarah said. “Are you feeling really bad about that?”
“I guess I am. They were mostly teenagers.”
“So? They would have killed you. And they wouldn’t be feeling bad about it either.”
“I know.”
They sat down on some rough prairie grass, stayed quiet, watched the scenery, the wildlife all around them. Watched two gophers playing, wrestling like little children.
“You find a boyfriend yet?” asked Rita.
“No. All the guys who joined Islam hightailed it out of here right after the thing in Assiniboia. One boy likes me. A man, not a boy.”
“You like him?”
“Not like that. He’s nice though. What about you, Rita, anyone you like?”
“I guess not.”
Sarah put her arm around her shoulder. “If I was man, I’d want you for my girlfriend.”
Rita laughed. “That’s nice to know.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I was maybe thinking about joining the militia.”
“To
