It was the preacher who shot the goat. June didn’t know that the preacher was going to shoot the goat, but she didn’t seem bothered. For June, the goat being dead was as good an end as any. For June, the goat being dead was a solution. So whenever she told Prudence that the preacher shot the goat, her voice was abrupt. Prudence had wanted to get rid of the goat, had even found a yard for the goat. But June wouldn’t wait. The preacher had to shoot the goat. June was glad the goat was dead.

Prudence had been acting funny before the goat, though everyone thought that it was because of the preacher. For weeks, Prudence had told everyone that it was the medicine. Prudence hadn’t taken medicine since she was a kid, but people liked it whenever she gave them a reason. Prudence was always high-strung, but she was jumpier than before. She looked at people from the corner of her eye. She was friendly, too, like a caged animal. Prudence thought that it was because she was too big for her body. She was medium-sized, but she wanted to be taller. She wanted a fourth knuckle on each finger. Prudence wanted to be turned into a giantess by an alien, like the woman in the movie. Prudence wanted to climb water towers. Prudence didn’t want to fit into cars. But Prudence had found a yard for the goat. Prudence was sad the goat was dead.

June had killed other animals in the yard before. June had a strange man shoot Prudence’s dog once, while Prudence was away. Prudence had woken to another dog scrapped and a cat fed to chickens. June didn’t know how to take care of animals, though she was always bringing them home. They had even had a three-legged squirrel once, though June got rid of him, too. But June had never hated an animal the way that she hated the goat. She said that the goat would watch her through the kitchen window, with its evil eyes. She said that the goat would scratch the wall by her bedroom. She said that the goat would follow her. She said that the goat would always stay a few feet away. June said that the preacher had cooked the body, but that the neighbor had taken the head. June said all of this to Prudence, who paced the room with each individual hand folding in on itself. Prudence was not clenching, but clapping. An anxious, one-handed clap that made Prudence center herself within the room. June said all of this to Prudence, who listened, looking at June from the corner of her eye. June said all of this to Prudence.

June’s mother, Prudence’s mother’s mother, had hated the goat, too. June’s mother had threatened to kill the goat herself, which she would have done if the preacher hadn’t shot the goat. June’s mother was always killing animals, though her reasons for the killings changed. Sometimes she killed them for her garden, sometimes she killed them because she didn’t want them in the yard. Her methods changed, too. Baseball bats, poison, drowning. June’s mother didn’t have time for animals, or room for them. She did keep a terrier that was four sizes larger than it should have been. Her terrier looked as if it had eaten the terrier it once was. Her terrier looked as if June’s mother was fattening it up to kill it, too. So when June’s mother made eye contact with Prudence, Prudence fidgeted with her one-handed clap. Prudence kept eye contact, attentively, unflinchingly. June’s mother didn’t ask about the goat. June’s mother didn’t ask about the preacher. Instead June’s mother took a quick pull from her cigarette. What have you been doing? June’s mother asked.

Prudence measured circuits around the yard. Barefoot, Prudence counted the steps to and from the perimeter. Prudence didn’t make note of the numbers, and instead began again with each pivot. Whenever the preacher shot the goat, there were two other men on the property. Prudence hadn’t been afraid of the men, though she had been afraid for the goat. Prudence hadn’t been
afraid of any men, even with their guns, or their goats’ head, or with the knowledge that June and June’s mother had known each man biblically, respectively, repeatedly. Prudence was used to men. Prudence was used to June and June’s mother. Prudence was sad that the goat was dead. So when Prudence measured circuits around the yard, she tried not to think about the goat. She tried not to think about June. Prudence tried to think about the woman who had been turned into a giantess by an alien. Prudence tried to think about climbing water towers. Prudence tried to think about being unable to fit into cars.

You know, the preacher’s family is gonna eat that goat? June asked. Prudence tightened her lips, measured circuits. You ain’t right, June said.

The sun was hot that day. June couldn’t stand to be outside. Prudence would be fine, she thought, and turned away from her daughter walking back and forth from the porch to the road. Prudence would be fine, she decided, and unlatched the door to the kitchen. Prudence had always been sensitive. Animals, June sneered. Even as a child, Prudence had run to June after an alligator had swallowed a baby duck. Prudence had screamed as loud as she could, her tiny voice leaving her lungs like an abrasion, a corrosion. Prudence’s scream had been more violent than the act itself, slicing the air with its savage defiance. Later, Prudence had rescued a different set of ducklings only to find them eaten by ants the morning after. Prudence had decided that their deaths were her fault, and buried them that afternoon with remarkable severity. June had explained that alligators, as well as ants, had to eat, too. It was only right that all animals do what they can to survive. It was cold-blooded of Prudence, said June, to decide which animals can kill or be killed. June had decided young that she was the killing kind.

So when Prudence measured circuits around the yard, June tried not to think about the goat. She tried to think about the preacher who would cook the goat that she had allowed him to shoot. She tried to think about the man who could take the head of the goat. She tried not to think about Prudence, measuring circuits, fidgeting with her one-handed clap. Prudence had wanted to get rid of the goat, had even found a yard for the goat. But June wouldn’t wait. The preacher had to shoot the goat. June was glad the goat was dead.