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Thomas Gratton watches soundlessly as Beech hands off the bucket to ins to indelicately butcher the corpse It doesn’t seem like there should be an artful way to butcher a cow, but there is, and this is not it For several longto hi to hum I am mesmerized by the utter unawareness of the entire process, the childlike pleasure Beech takes in a job ill done Thomas Gratton and I catch each other’s eye

"He learned his butchering from his mother, not me," Thoratified by my response anyway

"If you don’t like how I do it," Beech says, not looking up from his work, "I’d rather be at the pub, and this knife fits in your hand, too"

Thohty sound that comes from somewhere between his nostrils and the top of his mouth; it is a sound that, to runts He turns away fros flanking the courtyard "So I expect you’ll be riding in the race this year," he says

Beech doesn’t respond, because of course his father is speaking to me I reply, "I expect so"

Tho at the evening sun lighting the roof tiles to brilliant orange-red Eventually, he says, "Yes, I expect that’s what Malvern asks of you, then"

I have worked in the Malvern Yard since I was ten, and soot the job out of pity, but those people are wrong The Malverns’ livelihood and their name are under the roof of their stable -- they export sport horses to thethat, far less so as huh to know that the Grattons do not care for the that will allow hi pause to diffuse the weight of his question, and then I say, with a rattle of the bucket handle, "If it’s all right, I’ll settle the account for this later this week"

Thohs softly "You are the oldest nineteen I’ve ever met, Sean Kendrick"

I don’t reply, because he is probably right He tells ives runt as I leave the courtyard with the blood

I need to be thinking about bringing the ponies in frohbreds’ feed and hoill keep ht, but I aht I around, but part ofI’ht, Gabe breaks the only rule we have

I a other than dried beans, and I’m sick of beans I make an apple cake and feel rather virtuous about it Finn is annoyingwith an ancient, broken chain saw that he claiave him but that he probably pulled out of soears I’m cross because I’ht to be tidying, and I don’t want to tidy I sla over the eternally full sink, but Finn doesn’t hear me or pretends not to

Finally, before the sun coround in the west, I throw open the side door and stand there looking at Finnto me He is all buckled over the top of the chain sahich lies dismembered in front of him, pieces spread tidily over the packed dirt of the yard He wears one of Gabe’s sweaters that, while several years old, is still too large for him He has the sleeves doubled back into fat, perfectly even cuffs, and his dark hair is mussed into an oily rooster tail He looks like an orphan, and thatto co warm?" I sound a little bratty, but I don’t care

Finn says, without looking up, "In ato eat it all myself," I say He doesn’t reply; he’s lost in the mystery of the chain saw I think, just for that moment, that I hate brothers, because they never realize when so is is

I’ht be e his bicycle through the dusk toward us Neither of us says hi to hih, and closes it again, Finn because he is self-involved, and me because I am annoyed at Finn

Gabe puts his bicycle away in the little lean-to by the back of the house and then comes to stand behind Finn Gabe takes off his skullcap and holds it in his ar I’m not sure Gabe can actually tell what it is that Finn has eviscerated in the barely there blue light of evening, but Finn rocks the body of the chain saw slightly to give Gabe a better view This apparently tells Gabe everything he needs to know, because as Finn looks up, tilting his chin toward our older brother, Gabe just gives a little nod

Their unspoken language both entrances and infuriates me "There’s apple cake," I say "It’s still warm"

Gabe removes his skullcap from his armpit and turns to round

"And chain saw," I reply "Finn o with"

"Apple cake’s fine," Gabe says, but he sounds tired "Puck, don’t leave the door open It’s cold out here" I step back so that he can walk into the house, and as he does, I notice that he stinks of fish I hate it when the Beringers have hi fish He makes the whole house smell

Gabe pauses in the door I stare at him then, at the way he stands, his hand on the door fra his fingers or the chipped red paint beneath theer’s, and I suddenly want to hug him like I used to when I was sether, I need to talk to you and Kate"

Finn looks up, his face startled, but Gabe is already gone, disappeared past me into the roo eotten Finn’s attention in a way that ins to asse them into a battered cardboard box

I feel unsettled while I wait for Gabe to ee from his room The kitchen has turned into the sht when the darkness outside presses it smaller I hurriedly wash off three plates that match and cut a fat piece of apple cake for each of us, the biggest one for Gabe Setting them out on the table, three lonely plates where once there would’ve been five, depresses o with thee the teacups by our plates, it occurs to ether