working,” Bill said.
Dan wiped perspiration from his forehead with his shirtsleeve as he lowered the weapon.
“What you need is a trap,” Robert said.
“Traps don’t work,” Dan said.
“My son has one that he caught a squirrel in,” Robert said.
Dan stood. “Really? A squirrel?”
“Yes. Would you like to borrow it?”
“Of course I’d like to borrow it. What are you, stupid?”
“We’ll bring it by.”
“Alison’s going to end up hating me,” Dan said.
“Why don’t you just forget the mole,” Bill said.
Dan looked at his brother as if he were crazy. “I can’t forget this animal, this plant-torturer.”
The following day, Robert came by with his son, Ward. Ward was eleven with very thick glasses that made his eyes look big. Ward held in his arms the trap. Bill could never look directly at Ward because of the way the boy’s eyes looked behind those lenses.
“Dan!” Bill called.
Dan came down the stairs, rubbing his hands together at the sight of the trap. He nodded a hello to Robert and looked at Ward. “So, let’s see the trap.”
The boy put the trap down on the floor and began to explain the workings to Dan. He pointed to the rectangular cage. “You put the food back here and when he hits that little wire, the door shuts and you’ve got him.”
“And we’ve got him,” Dan said. He took the trap and the boy into the kitchen to look for bait.
Alison came in through the front door. When she saw Robert she began to shake her head. “You didn’t bring that trap.”
Robert nodded.
She sighed loudly and walked into the kitchen.
Soon, they were all in the backyard. Ward was on the ground, setting the trap. Dan hovered over him. Alison paced.
“I don’t believe you people,” she said. She put her hands on her head. “Stop!”
Dan looked at her. “Calm down. It’s just a mole.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Why don’t you go inside.” Dan looked at his brother. “We’ve set it for a light strike.”
Ward stood up and away from the trap. They went into the house and waited in silence. They ate cake and drank iced tea. Alison sat opposite Dan and just stared at him.
“What is your problem?” Dan finally asked.
“I don’t have a problem,” she said. “The mole has a problem. You have a problem. I don’t have a problem. Tell me why you want to kill that little creature, that poor little creature.”
“That poor little creature, is a vandal. That poor little creature eats better than we do. What about the poor plants he’s killing?”
Things again were silent and tense. Alison’s eyes were still fixed on Dan. He studied the tea in his glass.
Then it was time to check the trap. Dan and Ward led the way out back. There was indeed a small furry ball in the cage. Dan held up the trap and looked at the animal. “At last, we meet.”
“Oh, he’s so cute,” Alison said.
Dan frowned at her, stepped away with the cage.
“He is cute,” Bill said.
“So what?” Dan said. “Atilla the Hun was cute.” He paused, looked at the mole. “He’s cute, but he’s no Bonnie Jean Cox.”
“Who?” Alison asked.
“Never mind.”
“You can’t kill him,” said Alison. “They’re blind, you know.”
Robert answered his son’s question before it was uttered. “No, you may not have him.”
Dan reached into the cage and cautiously grabbed the furry thing. The mole did not bite. He pulled it out and held it in the palm of his hand. “He isn’t all that cute.”
“He likes you,” Alison said. “Awwww.”
“He’s pretty cute,” Bill said.
Ward stroked the mole’s back with a finger. “He’s neat.”
“I’m not going to fall for this stuff,” Dan said. “Tell you what, I’ll let fate decide. I’ll give him a chance.” He went into the house, the mole still in his hand.
“What’s he up to?” Alison asked.
Bill shrugged.
Dan returned from the house with a baseball bat. Standing with them again, he said,