He says, “I’ll take the dogs for a walk. “
She doesn’t turn around, she just nods. She thinks, “Her dogs are only for them! “. Then resumes his culinary activities. She knows where he is going. On the hunt ! As per usual.
In fact, he was not hunting. He hadn’t hunted for a long time, since an accident when he was young, he had seriously injured his uncle. An unforgivable thoughtlessness. An old story never forgotten.
However, he liked to join his fellow hunters, at the stroke of noon, for the aperitif. So he would put in his bag two or three bottles of white wine, three or four sachets of peanuts, he would put the leash on the two excited dogs, and leave the house after announcing “I’m going to walk the dogs.” “
For a kilometer, he followed the secondary road, then plunged into a path in the middle of the Grand Taillis. There he could let go of the dogs. He walked a few more hundred yards to the edge of the large field. It was generally here, on the border between woods and cultivated fields, that they all met together. The hunters were waiting for him, they had placed game bags, rifles and coats on the ground, and were seated in a circle. He often arrived last, placed his wine bottles in the center, took out the plastic cups and peanuts. It was only when he was seated with them that he greeted them one by one, with a little note to each one “So, Max, your back, are you feeling better?” And you, Louis, your wife let you out? Long time since I had not seen you, Henri! And when he was done, the bottles were swirled around and everyone was helping themselves with a happy look.
That day, the weather was hot, the ground perfectly dry, he decided to take the path that circumvents the Grand Taillis. He unties the dogs almost immediately, who start running, leaping across the fields. He watches them with his eyes, that they do not stray too far. Only the corn is tall and tight, he loses sight of them, hisses once or twice, weakly. He’s not really worried. He distinguishes their traces among the crops, where the corn is lightly lying. So he follows them and enters the field. He vaguely hears muffled noises, he hesitates, dogs, or men, or others. And he begins to fear that his dogs are no longer very visible and that his friends will mistake them for wild animals. So he hurries up. He walks with difficulty, spreading the ears with his arms, completely covered by the plants. It is also true that he is not very tall, and that he is leaning forward to see where he is walking.
There is only one shot. Which echoes strangely in the middle of the cornfield. A single shot, followed by a single cry. Low, just a whimper. The silence that follows is quickly filled with the sound of boots running over hard earth, the rubbing of ears of grain stirred by men and dogs. A circle forms around him, around his body collapsed on the ground, agitated by slight jolts. Blood flows slowly, a puddle spreads at the foot of the corn stalks. We look at each other, we wonder, we hesitate.
One of the hunters, one of his friends, starts running towards the village, crosses the road, reaches his car. The time that he warns the gendarmes, the doctor, the SAMU, the time is long, too long.
He died in the ambulance which took him to the hospital.
Later that day. She sees her man’s friends arrive, the whole gang, guns broken on their shoulders, heads bowed. One of them keeps the two dogs on a leash. He walks towards her slowly. He was the one who fired. He explains, in a few stammering words. She understands quickly, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t cry, not yet. He hands her the two leashes. Then the men retreat towards the portal, still silent. Miserable and ashamed.
She ties the dogs to the ring next to the door. She walks into the house with a determined step. Long moments, when nothing seems to be able to move. When she comes out, she holds the rifle, his own rifle, which he has not used for a long time. She inserted two cartridges, big, her last hunt was to be wild boar. She stands in front of the two dogs, the animals are agitated, worried and moaning. She shoots. Twice.
