Senda del Arriero

>He grabbed the cereal container and set the milk to boil.
>”Want me to put some cinnamon in it?” He asked.
>Adelaide glanced up at him and responded, “Yes please.”
>John let the oatmeal simmer and tried to lean around the wall to look into the living room.
>For the next couple of minutes there was only the sound of a spoon and pan.
>He scooped it into a bowl and placed it in front of Adelaide, then sat back down with a refilled cup.
>”That boy’s still asleep, huh?”
>She looked back at him, his face buried into the back of the couch.
>Adelaide fought the urge to grin, smiling instead. It was more noticeable against her naturally bored face. “Out cold.”
>It went quiet almost immediately.
>John looked around the house, running his thumb across his fingertips.
>The old bolt-action rifle resting on the wall caught his attention.
>”That’s a big gun you got there. You a boar hunter?”
>Adelaide didn’t follow. She stared at him for a moment until she turned to where he was looking. Her gaze wandered to the couch, but she quickly looked back at him.
>”Oh, no. That’s my dad’s rifle.”
>”Ah, your dad was the hunter, right. He do it a lot?”
>Adelaide’s ears drooped slightly. “I think so. I never really asked my mom about it. But she did show me a couple pictures of him with his buddies.”
>John reached over and took Adelaide’s empty bowl and rinsed it under the sink.
>”So have you handled a gun at all, Adelaide?”
>”No sir.”
>”Well, now would be a good time to learn. Let’s just hope you never have to use it.”

>Anon shifted on the couch, looking over his shoulder. This morning was abnormally noisy.
>He let his head fall back on the cushion when he saw it was just Adelaide and his dad.
>The conversation was awkward, but it was nice seeing her talk to his dad for once. He pretty much had to speak for her.