Girdler asked, “Absolutely. Then what will we shoot?”

“You all are hereby warned to be on the lookout for this dangerous gentleman here.” Sturm unrolled an 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper. The big monkey sat locked to the chair, wearing western clothing, in a primitive cheap two-tone print. In wooden, western-style letters, the sign said, “WANTED” above the monkey’s hat.

“I direct your attention to this particular detail here,” Sturm pointed to the monkey’s ears. “He’s got brass balls and brass earrings.” He pointed to the bottom of the sign, “ REWARD: $20,000.”

Sturm tossed the rolled up paper down the table. “That’s right. Twenty thousand dollars. That’s one bad monkey there. And he’s loose. Goddamn King Kong. Somewhere in town. So be careful. It’s a dangerous mission. So damn dangerous, I gotta be sure you’re serious. This particular hunt, this ain’t free. But the cost is next to nothing when you think about the twenty-thousand dollar reward on this outlaw’s head.” He stood behind his chair, only his shoulders and head visible. “So who’s up for a little outlaw hunting?”

* * * * *

The main course was brought out. Theo asked Gun, “Hey, you wash your hands before touching this plate?”

Frank did his best to ignore Theo, and just enjoy the food, but as soon as the plate was set in front of him, Theo grabbed it and switched it with his own plate. “There,” he said. “Now you can enjoy their spit. I know they spit in mine, and I ain’t gonna eat that shit.”

The Glouck’s faces betrayed nothing.

Frank switched plates with Chuck, who was still enjoying the effects of the tranquilizers to worry about anything as unimportant as tainted food.

Theo didn’t like it, but instead of pushing it with Frank, he poured his water on the ground and shook the empty glass at Ernie. “Hey. Hey water boy. Gimme some water. Now.”

Ernie picked up the water pitcher on the table and poured more into Theo’s glass without saying a word. For now, his fear of his mothers was overriding his hatred of Theo.

“Shit. You might have a career in this, if you work hard,” Theo said, took a drink, then poured the rest on the ground. “Now gimme some more.”

Gun stiffly poured ice water into Theo’s glass, like a robot whose joints had nearly rusted shut.

Frank did his best to ignore Theo; his mind wanted Annie. The curved shadows from the back deck were gone and the back yard was empty. He thought about excusing himself to go check on the lionesses, really just to look around and try and find her, but didn’t want Sturm to see him leaving the table.

* * * * *

Gun made it all the way through dessert before snapping. Theo had had too much beer. He said, “I know you’re half-coon, but even you can’t be that goddamn stupid. I told you I needed another fucking napkin, so hop to it…nigger.”

Gunther Ian Glouck was born at 8:56 AM, after 37 hours of labor. Edie was the only parent who signed the birth certificate. She’d been seen with over fifteen men during the two-week window of his inception, men of all ages, races. She refused to give the mens’ names, refused to give any information. He was three years younger than Edie’s next youngest and had learned very early that the only way to fight was dirty.

Gun snatched a fork with both hands from the stack of dirty dishes he was collecting, dropping the rest of the plates at the ground, and lunged at Theo. It didn’t matter that Theo was four years older and outweighed him by fifty or sixty pounds, Gun’s bottom teeth were bared, his eyes wild with fury. His left hand clawed at Theo’s face while the right came up all sneaky, aiming to puncture the lower intestine with the fork.

Plates hit the dirt and shattered. Two Glouck brothers materialized out of the darkness, grabbing Gun and wrestling him into the ground.

Theo jumped up. “Let him go! C’mon you pussies! Let’s do it!”

Asshole #2 started chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Assholes #1 and #3 joined in.

“Fifty bucks on the blond-haired kid, Sturm junior,” Girdler blurted happily, waving a bill.

“C’mon, you fucking pussy!” Theo shouted at Gun.

Ernie had a knee in Gun’s back. He turned and hissed, “Just cool down, you—”

“Ernie.” A mother’s voice, sharp as a rifle shot, cracked out of the tent.

Ernie turned back to Gun, rocked back a moment, and then punched Gun in the back of the head. Gun twitched and lay still, either genuinely unconscious or smart enough not to move.

“That’s enough, that’s enough,” Sturm said, rising to his feet, trying to get a better idea of what was happening down near the kitchen, since he wasn’t tall enough to see over the table. “We’re having a civilized dinner here. You can settle this later.” Frank suspected Sturm was afraid of Gun beating the shit out of Theo in front of the rest of the hunters, and couldn’t stand the shame of seeing his son lose a second fight to one of the Glouck family. A younger and smaller one too. “I’ve got other entertainment planned, something I believe you all will find much more interesting. I’ll meet you gentlemen out at the back of the barn. Frank will show you the way. I’ll be there before you’ve had a chance to refill them drinks.”

* * * * *

Frank led the group back to the lioness cage, still peeled white in the lights. Princess and Lady pressed into the barn corners, eyes shut tight, tails still. Only their ears moved.

A Glouck kid, the one with the stapled earlobe, ran out and took drink orders.

Everyone looked at Frank. He watched them back. Didn’t even bother to practice his smile. Asshole #2 coughed.

“Frank introduce you to the girls yet?” Sturm followed his voice out of the darkness, boots first, then black jeans, then a bare torso the color of a roasted almond, the grim slash of a mouth, and the black cowboy hat. The bandages were gone, revealing angry pink scars. You almost didn’t notice he was short until he came up to the cage and the top of his hat just barely rose above the shoulders of most of the men. “Well, Frank don’t say much, true, but he sure knows what he’s doing with my babies. He’s a goddamn Dr. Doolittle, no joke.”

Frank found his peculiar smile and saluted the men with his drink.

Theo came out of the barn and into the light of the corral leading Sarah. The old horse fought him all the way, stutter-stepping forward, her head up, eyes wide, clearly terrified. Theo jerked her along like he was trying to yank a large goose that was trying to take off back to the hard packed dirt.

Sturm took the reins, holding them at his hip, and kissed Sarah on the nose. The horse slowed down at once, the muscles sagged and relaxed. He whispered something low and sweet to her, got her to lower that long head even more, then kissed her between the eyes, and rubbed her ears.

He led her out into the dark field for a few minutes, then brought her back at the far end of the fenced corral. He unsnapped three padlocks and led Sarah inside. He kissed her nose again, and stepped back, shutting the gate and relocking the padlocks.

“Turn ’em loose, Frank,” Sturm called.

“What?” Frank shouted back.

“Turn ’em loose!”

“Who?”

“Who you think? Jesus Christ, boy.” Sturm caught himself. He laughed. “I’m sorry, son. Didn’t mean to lose my patience with you. I forgot you been touched, as they used to say. That horse kick to your noggin’ there. There, there over by your hand there. Open that padlock. Swing it wide, boy.”

And Frank finally got it. He figured out which padlock to unlock; it was a simple little thing really, a kind of gate mechanism, just grab it, push down, then pull back, and once he did, that would open a small, nearly hidden gate in the lioness cage, letting Lady and Princess into the larger corral, turning them loose on the horse.

Sturm hollered, “I got a fifty says my girls’ll take this horse under a minute.”