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“Shoot away from each other.” With the .22 in one hand and a fresh box of shells in the other, I gave him a grin. “Sure thing.” Cousin hefted the single shot .22 rifle and didn’t answer the statement that required nothing more than what I’d given. Mama stood in front of the sink with a damp washcloth in hand as we wound through the kitchen and out the back door. “Sonny, you’re not letting them go out there with those rifles all by themselves, are you?” I heard his response as we passed the table. “Well, one of ’em’s a shotgun, and we...