Avery saw the small door on the back wall of the chicken house. It hadn’t been there yesterday evening when she’d gathered eggs. Or at least she hadn’t noticed it then. It was so dark underneath the roosting bars, she might have overlooked it. But she didn’t think so.
Had her daddy made the opening between the coop and adjoining shed where the feed corn was kept when she was at school?
“When did you put the door in the chicken house, Daddy?” she asked him at supper that night.
“What door?” he said around a mouthful of cornbread.
“The one in back under the roosting bars.”
He washed down the cornbread with a big drink of buttermilk, and turned his full attention on Avery. She squirmed under the gaze of his narrowed blue eyes. They always seemed to see right through her and not like what they saw: a girl, not the son he had wanted. His only child, and there’d be no more since her birth had messed up Mama’s insides so bad she couldn’t have any more kids.
“You’re seeing things, girl, there ain’t no door. Why in hell would I put a door there anyway?” Continue reading “Red Rover”