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up between the deer’s ears, making it look like a Negro deer. “Shit, Hadley,” the Negro deer said. “Ain’t you never heard the story ‘bout Mr. Browning’s daddy and this old buck?”
    “Nope.”
    They paused at the kitchen door. “Watch the nose now,” Loomis warned. They angled it this way and that way, grunting as they sought to work the thing through. “You bust so much as a nostril off this head, and Mr. Browning will kick you out on your little ass. Your mama, too. I’ll be fine, of course.”
    “Of course.” Hadley took extra care with the nostrils. “So what’s the story, then?”
    “Mr. Browning’s daddy is Parnell T. Jr., and one time, Jr. and Mr. Browning went hunting in Montana together, and that’s where they shot this buck.”
    Once outside, Hadley was forced to walk backwards. Palmetto berries littered the path and it was like walking on marbles. He frowned at the Negro deer. “They?”
    “That’s right. Both men set their sites on the devil, only one of ‘em shot through the heart and the other shot through the ear. Did you happen to get a look at that hole, Crumpette?”
    Seeing how the deer’s ear had been flapping against his lip all the way to the summer kitchen, Hadley had seen the hole close up. 
    “Ass and damn!” Loomis said as they hoisted it onto the pickling bench. “Bastard’s heavier than it looks.”
    Loomis was fond of cussing whenever the situation presented itself. He had an impressive gift for making up profane combinations that no one else ever thought to use. Hadley’s personal favorite was nipple-balls.
    “Anyhow,” Loomis said. “They both claimed to fire the killing shot, and there was no way of settling the matter on account both men was using 22s. Things got so ugly between them, it was agreed they’d never speak again. It was also agreed they would take turns with the head on alternating months.”
    Suddenly the buck’s disappearance and re-appearance made more sense. “Jr. lives with Mr. Browning’s sister in Macon. I guess maybe Mr. Browning thinks it meant something today that the buck fell off the wall.”
    “It’s sad they never patched things up.”
    “Stupid is what it is. They both get to hang the sumbitch on their wall so what they got to complain about?” 
    Hadley gazed into the blinkless eyes of the mounted deer. It looked far more dignified now that it didn’t have Loomis’ hair sprouting up between its ears. “I reckon it’s a dissatisfying arrangement for them both. Nobody really wins because neither can feel a sense of ownership. Both men know that, even when it’s their turn, the time is comin’ when they’ll have to give it up again.” 
    Loomis shrugged. “If it was me, I’d rather not have it at all.”
    Mama peeked around the door just then. “Go on back to the house now, boys. Mr. Browning’s daddy passed this morning. There’s preparations to be made.”
    Hadley and Loomis looked at each other across the points of a broken antler. “We have ourselves a winner,” Loomis said.
    ###
    In addition to antler-gluing, Hadley’s duties at Browning House had grown to include a vast assortment of odd jobs. Had there been an actual To Do list (there wasn’t), it would have read something like this:
    a) Check vines for Black Measles, Little-leaf, mildew, cutworms, crown rot, and Grape-berry moths. 
    b) Chase off nematodes, beetles, rabbits, and gophers.
    c) Help with the milking, the wringing, and the pumping. 
    d) Maintain back boiler and household toilets. 
    e) Keep Lucinda Browning amused. 
    Mostly Hadley preferred “e” over chasing off nematodes, but he had a fondness for garden work. His first spring at Browning House, he added a few secret plants to Mr. Browning’s zinnia garden. The shed was full of seeds in dust-furred packets, if a boy was willing to poke through dried-up June bugs to get to them. Hadley wanted to see if he could get the old seeds to grow. He had a notion that white dahlias would