‘So?’ It’s messed up that I can be angry at him and protective of him in the same breath.
She shrugs. ‘So maybe it wasn’t you who shot the dog.’
And we’re done. ‘Next time I’ll throw the carcass in the creek and save myself the headache.’
Annie tilts her head. ‘You could’ve done that this time.’
‘Aww.’ I smirk. ‘You trying to find the good in me, Wilson?’
‘Simply pointing out the facts.’
It’s time for me to leave, but I don’t. ‘I’d dispose of it now, but we both know your impeccable conscience will have you fishing it out of the water and taking it to the Davis farm yourself.’
‘Most people just call that common decency.’
Turns out Annie Wilson’s a bit of a smart-arse. ‘You’re free to call it whatever you want.’ I look in the direction of the Davis farm. ‘Just do me a favour and don’t mention anything to anyone about seeing my dad with a rifle, okay?’
‘You want me to lie?’
I return my gaze to her. I can’t tell if she’s being serious or simply trying to get a rise out of me. ‘Don’t stress. If news travels around town that I’m killing people’s dogs, no one’s going to come and ask you anything.’
She swallows and searches my eyes. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Where?’
‘To the Davises’.’
Her words reek of kindness, which I’m absolutely not prepared for. ‘For what reason?’
She shrugs. ‘Moral support.’
I stare at her a moment. ‘I thought your kind aren’t allowed to be alone with the opposite sex?’
Her gaze falls to the dead dog in my arms. ‘I think I’d be reasonably safe in this instance.’
Why she thinks she would be safe with the guy who just confessed to shooting a dog, I’ve no idea. ‘I don’t need your Christian charity.’
She appears unfazed by my words, but I doubt much would faze this girl. I’ve heard the things people say to her at school, and I can only imagine what people say when she comes knocking at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.
‘Annie!’
We both look in the direction of the house, and there’s her mum, standing at the back door, squinting in our direction.
‘Just be honest,’ Annie says, increasing the distance between us. ‘They’ll understand if you tell them the truth.’
I roll my eyes as I turn away. ‘Why don’t you just pray for me instead?’
‘And hide the gun,’ she adds, ignoring my last comment. ‘For your dad’s sake.’
My feet stop, and when I look back at Annie, I see pity. We don’t get much pity around these parts nowadays. It ran out long ago. You get maybe a year to grieve and fall apart after losing a loved one, and then you’re supposed to get on with things. And I did, mostly, but Dad couldn’t. He fell apart even more in the second year. And a little more every year since.
I nod once at Annie, then walk on.