Free Prudence by David Treuer

weren’t really any pines behind the Pines except for the few planted as a windbreak between the property and the woods. The woods themselves were hardwoods and poplar. The horseflies droned in the air, and Billy’s shirt stuck to his arms underneath his brown wool jacket. He hadn’t thought to take it off. Frankie had been too excited, too eager to search for the German, and Billy had been too eager to be with Frankie, and so he was sweating heavily. The air had the feel of rain—a heavy, waiting feel—but the sky was clear and the stationmaster at the depot said that it was supposed to remain that way. Even so, the air . . . it was as though a man could swim in it.
    Felix was in the lead, followed by Frankie—who had insisted on carrying the Winchester—and Billy, Ernie, and David were behind. Frankie peppered Felix with questions and Felix mumbled in reply. Billy suggested Ernie head north while Felix and David cut down by the slough to the south. Frankie finally caught on.
    “Yeah, Felix. Good idea. We’ll take the tote road here and meetyou on the other side of the slough. I’ll have a better field of fire with the Winchester on the road.”
    “Field of fire?” asked Ernie.
    “Well,” said Frankie, and he shrugged.
    “Okay,” said Felix. “Okay.”
    Ernie walked up to Billy and peered at him with bloodshot eyes, as though Billy had said something or offered some kind of challenge.
    “One for the road,” said Ernie, and he reached inside Billy’s coat, removed one of the pints, and, without saying anything else, turned and stalked off into the brush, the branches flapping closed behind him.
    Felix motioned to David and the two them turned and walked away through the trees to the south.
    Frankie raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Well?” Billy smiled.
    They slowed down. The deerflies hummed heavily around them. Billy wasn’t sure if the humming sound came from the bugs or the blood in his ears. He could hear his own heart. They followed the tote road for a distance without saying anything. Frankie scanned the woods, the Winchester pointing up and to the left.
    Frankie looked across at Billy. “Port arms,” he said. Billy smiled again.
    They continued down the road and then Billy steered them off into a small clearing.
    “I don’t think he’s out here, Frankie.”
    “He could be anywhere.”
    “He’s not here. Just slow down. Okay? Just slow down, Jesus. You’re really worked up.”
    “I’ve been doing exercises,” said Frankie, blushing.
    “Yeah?”
    “You know, to get ready for the Air Force.”
    “Oh?”
    “Push-ups. Toe touches. Cherry pickers. Like that.”
    “I suppose you’re stronger now,” ventured Billy. His heart beat fast.
    “Yeah. I think so. Running, too. When we went to Key West after graduation I ran on the beach every day.”
    “Let me feel.”
    Frankie turned to face him and Billy reached out and squeezed his arm.
    “Geez.”
    “Stop it.”
    “No. Really. Pretty good.”
    Frankie looked straight into Billy’s eyes.
    “I missed you, Billy. I missed you an awful lot.”
    As he said it, he reached up and picked a twig from Billy’s hair and leaned in, his eyes closed in expectation. Billy closed his eyes and let himself be kissed. How long had it been? A year? A full cycle of seasons and chores and school and all that work peeling pulp, and the letters, and the books, and his own pitiful letters back, smudged and probably misspelled. Billy kissed him back and savored the slight, ever so slight feel of Frankie’s stubble on his lips. His blood rushed in his ears.
    But then a sound crept through the blood. He heard something behind him and he turned to see Felix and David step out of the brush. And then Ernie came from the other direction.
    Ernie said something, but Billy’s head was buzzing and he couldn’t hear what it was. Maybe they hadn’t seen. It was possible. Maybe they saw but didn’t know what they were seeing. Frankie was stammering and