NO HUNTING

“We can’t go that way.”

“Tracks go here.” Adunya pointed. “See.”

“It says No Hunting.”

“How can that be? Deer go that way. Come, we follow.”

“We can’t. The sign says No Hunting.”

Adunya stared blankly at the boy, his finger suspended in a half-point toward the mule deer tracks. “I not understand.”

“This property belongs to some guy from Colorado.”

“Where is this Colorado? Is it close?”

“Not really.”

“If it is his land, why does he not live here?”

“Look, Adunya, we can’t hunt here. The sign says. Let’s just go back to the pond.”

Adunya glanced from the sign to the deer tracks to the boy. He pointed with his spear across the field. “Deer go this way.”

The boy shrugged. “It’s not our land. We can hunt on Dad’s, on Uncle Albin’s, on the public land, and sometimes on Old Man Hill’s when Dad is with us. We can’t hunt here. Nobody can.”

“Can your lion not hunt here? Or your wild dog?”

“Coyotes can hunt anywhere they want. Heck, one ran in front of the headlights right in town one night.”

“But sign say no hunting.”

“If you want to go hunting in there, go ahead, but I ain’t going. When you get arrested, you tell them what I said.” The boy turned his back to his Ethiopian friend and stared at the ground. If Adunya got caught, they would blame him. He knew they would.

Adunya tapped the boy on the back of the leg with the handle of his spear and then raised his palms when the boy turned. “Why I want to hunt here? The sign say no hunting.”

“You—.” The boy reached out, but Adunya was two steps away, sprinting down the road, his bare feet kicking up gravel and his teeth shining in an open-mouthed grin.