What led grandma to pull that trigger will forever remain a secret. One she took with her to her grave.

She never spoke of that day. I only know about it because mother had been home. She had been in the barn reading, trying to escape her chores when she heard the shot and the raging shouts of her father.

He stormed out shouting, “Fine have it your way, Priscilla! If you want me gone so badly, then I’ll just leave you here to rot!”

Mother never saw him again. She never looked for him either. She figured whatever led her mother to try to kill the man must have been reason enough to not care about him.

I’ve always wondered though. I want to know the story. What if grandpa, a man I never met, really wasn’t the bad guy? What if grandma had just been crazy, murderous? She did always frighten me. But that could also be because every time she cooked me pies in her kitchen, I couldn’t help but stare at the mark in the wall where that stray bullet was embedded.

I wonder if the current owners know it’s there.