C4 antho - Chamber Four

Black Night Ranch
_______________
by Roy Giles
from Eclectica Magazine
“Sheep are born to die,” James Carl said, pointing his syringe
at Billy. “They think that’s their purpose. We want their
wool. They want to die. The trick is to make the stupid sonof-a-bitches
think you want them dead.” He vaccinated with
authority, tossing sheep aside like wool blankets when he finished
with each one.
“They’ll spite you that way and live. Don’t baby them.
Make them think you’re stabbing them to death.”
James Carl and Billy had hanging around their necks
clear bags of sheep dope with long rubber hoses attached to
needles big as framing nails. The sheep were packed tight
into the twenty-foot pen, squirming and crawling over one
another like maggots. Every time James Carl tossed one, the
whole bunch erupted into isolated geysers of sheep. Billy
kept losing his balance in the melee, exasperating the beasts.
It was the uncertainty of it. Falling. They couldn’t stand it.
An old ewe leapt at Billy’s head, dragging the needle in his
hand with her. The chisel end of the needle carved a deep
line in Billy’s cheek. The ewe’s front hooves clawed his back
as she made her way over.
“Fucking sheep!”
“Don’t baby them,” James Carl said, tossing two animals
at once. He was in a hurry. A group of Mexican shearers were
due at his ranch by noon, and he wanted to be ready for
them.
Billy had been looking forward to the shearing ever since
waking up. All through breakfast James Carl had talked