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| My dad and me |
My father was the biggest man I’ve ever known, even though he was relatively small of stature. He did a man’s work on his family farm from the time he was twelve. He was a gifted athlete, hunted all his life, and boxed Golden Gloves as a young man. He was a man’s man.
I’ll never forget the day I thought he might kill the
neighbor kid.
My parents had invested a small fortune in a Brown Swiss
heifer, a lovely animal with large brown eyes and a beige and tan coat. They
were hoping she might improve the milk production of the small dairy herd on
our Western Colorado farm.
Not long after we bought her, Dad found her dead in the
pasture, a bullet-hole in her head. It was obvious to him that one of our
neighbors’ adult sons had shot her.
Unlike most of the “salt of the earth” neighbors in our
farming community, the Corcoran clan (not their real name) were sour,
unpleasant people, touchy and arrogant. Their two sons, Ray and Johnny, were in
their early 20's. They were bullies, and as a little boy, both of them scared
me. They had a reputation for physical violence and careless use of firearms. Dad
had good reason, but no evidence, to suspect Johnny the younger of the two.






