Bad Dirt: Wyoming Stories 2
Pulitzer Prize-winning author Annie Proulx follows the success of Close Range with another remarkable collection of short stories set in Wyoming.Bad Dirt is filled with the vivid and willful characters for which Proulx has become known. Each occupies a community or landscape described in rich and robust language, with an eye for detail unparalleled in American fiction.In ‘The Contest’, the men of Elk Tooth, Wyoming, vow to put aside their razors for two seasons and wait to see who has the longest beard come the 4th of July. Deb Sipple, the moving protagonist of ‘That Trickle Down Effect’, finds that his opportunism – and his smoking habit – lead to a massive destruction. And ‘What Kind of Furniture Would Jesus Pick?’ is the story of Gilbert Wolfscale, whose rabid devotion to his ranch drives off his wife and sons.Proulx displays her wit in every story of this stunning collection, as well as her knowledge of the West, of history, of ranching and farming. Her profound sympathy for characters who must use sheer will and courage to make it in tough territory makes this collection extraordinarily compelling.
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ANNIE PROULX
Bad Dirt
WYOMING STORIES
Fourth Estate
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
This paperback edition published by Fourth Estate 2009
First published in paperback by Harper Perennial in 2005, reprinted 4 times.
First published in Great Britain in 2004 by Fourth Estate
Originally published in the USA in 2004 by Scribner
Copyright © Dead Line, Ltd. 2004
Annie Proulx asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
‘The Trickle Down Effect’, ‘What Kind of Furniture Would Jesus Pick?’, ‘Man Crawling Out of Trees’ and ‘Summer of the Hot Tubs’ previously appeared in The New Yorker, ‘The Old Badger Game’ in Playboy; ‘The Contest’ in The Virginia Quarterly Review; and ‘The Wamsutter Wolf’ in The Paris Review.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This short story collection is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN 9780007198870
Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 9780007290130
Version 2016-06-15
For Muffy, Jon, Gail, Gillis, and Morgan
They say this is a wonderful world to live in, but I don’t believe I ever did really live in a wonderful world.
—CHARLIE STARKWEATHER
in his 1958 confession
ON A NOVEMBER DAY WYOMING GAME & FISH WARDEN Creel Zmundzinski was making his way down the Pinch-butt drainage through the thickening light of late afternoon. The last pieces of sunlight lathered his red-whiskered face with splashes of fire. The terrain was steep with lodgepole pine giving way on the lower slope to sagebrush and a few grassy meadows favored by elk on their winter migration to the southeast. Occasionally, when the sight lines were clear, he caught the distant glint of his truck and horse trailer in the gravel pullout far below. He rode very slowly, singing of the great Joe Bob, who was “… the pride of the backfield, the hero of his day”* in front of him walked the malefactor without hunting license who had been burying the guts of a cow moose when Creel came upon him. The man’s ATV was loaded with the hindquarters. The rest of the carcass had been left to rot.
“This is a protected no-hunt area,” said Creel. “Let’s see your hunting license.”
The ruby-complected senior slapped the many pockets in his hunting jacket. The jacket was new, with the price tag still affixed to the back hem. It was the flashing of the price tag that had caught Creel’s eye through the trees. Now the man pulled out his wallet and foraged.
While he waited Creel Zmundzinski listened for a sound he did not want to hear.
After a long search the man handed Creel a cardboard rectangle. It was a business card, and its information contained, along with phone numbers and a greatly reduced illustration of Chartres Cathedral, the words
Reverend Jefford J. Pecker
Persia Ministry
“Where is that, Persia?” asked Creel, thinking of Iran, as the 323 area code was unfamiliar to him. He thought he heard the dreaded sound in the distance.
“Per-SEE-uh, California,” said the reverend, correcting his pronunciation in a loud, nasal voice.
“That your church?” asked Creel, studying the illustration. Yes, down in the clump of willows at the base of the meadow he heard the wretched bawl of an orphan moose calf.
“It’s quite similar.”
“But it’s sure a long way from a hunting license.” His voice had become very cold. The minister did not know it, but of the fifty-three game wardens in Wyoming he had connected with the one who most hated moose cow killers who left orphan calves to figure things out for themselves in a world of predators and severe weather. For Creel Zmundzinski was an orphan himself who, after his parents were gone, lived with his aunt and uncle on their ranch in Encampment. But truancy, bad friends, and eventually, breaking and entering got him into the St. Francis Boys’ Home. Smoldering with anger at the injustice of life and full of self-pity, he continued to cause trouble whenever a chance came. He might have graduated from St. Francis to the state pen in Rawlins but for Orion Horncrackle, an aging Game & Fish warden.
