Then Eli spoke from the side of the road. “Why don’t you put that rifle down, son?” he said softly.
The young man spun, aiming his rifle toward where he’d heard the voice. Stan was confident that Eli was no longer there. Wasn’t even positive he’d ever been there. He threw his weight against John’s back, taking him to the ground. Timothy grabbed the rifle, started to toss it away, and then didn’t. He held it over his shoulder, looking as if he had some familiarity with the weapon—a 30.06 Stan thought. Timothy probably hunted for meat with one just like it.
Eli stepped onto the road. It was getting closer to dawn. Stan could actually make out his features. “I thought you were making your way around the rim to the north of here,” he said. “Not that I’m not glad to see you.”
“Took out the f
