The Whitetail Guardian: A Short Story

Photo from Chris F on Pexels

This piece, The Whitetail Guardian, is a short story, a work of fiction. Any and all references to real places, people, or situations, are purely coincidental.

The old bowling alley was almost eerie in its relative quiet. The only sounds were my footsteps and my fifteen pound bowling ball rolling down lane 8, the far end of this small house. There was no mistake this establishment played second fiddle to the bar and restaurant upstairs. The sounds of raucous parties and beer flowing could be heard more days than not. I had no business with such places. This little basement bowl was my sanctuary.

The lanes were wood. You could tell every time someone rolled a ball. The distinctive “thump” could be heard after even the smoothest of releases. Matterhorn Bowl was unlike any other. Eight lanes spread across a sparse space, no drinks or food save for two vending machines sandwiched between the two groups of rented equipment lockers. During this time in my life, bowling was my religion, and Matterhorn was my church.

I was usually alone after league on Saturday morning. My body had not yet succumbed to the decline associated with getting older. I was still eager to toss the rock even after the final league scores had been tallied. I was still eligible for U20 as a junior bowler at 19, so I opted for the Saturday morning leagues rather than being the young pup on one of the adult teams I watched bowl on Friday nights at the larger alley across town. Being underage didn’t exempt you from having to buy rounds, after all, and I wasn’t about to buy pitchers I couldn’t drink. I enjoyed the quiet Saturday mornings, anyway. Nobody there meant I could stay as long as I wanted, bowl, and just think.

The parking lot was empty save for a couple of cars, one belonging to me, the other to the pretty brunette behind the bowling alley counter—Heather, I think her name was. This was normal for a place where deer were more common than people. I remember seeing an old doe with a fawn a couple weeks back, foraging on the lawn near the dumpsters, unbothered by the vehicles and foot traffic coming and going. I welcomed the deer’s presence. They were beautiful creatures, graceful in their movements even in flight from danger. 

What I didn’t welcome was the man who came storming down the stairs and into the bowling alley as I was practicing on this day.

“You need to come with us,” the bearded man who had stormed down the stairs grumbled, “We have a bone to pick with you.”

 No context, no fanfare, just a direct command from the man with a scraggly brown beard and a gaze that wouldn’t quite meet mine. Was it him I had to answer to? Or was he on task for someone? Whether I wanted to or not, I had a feeling I was going to find out. 

“We?” I said, looking around the empty bowl, Heather’s eyes meeting mine briefly with concern. “I don’t see anyone here but you.”

The man’s jaw tightened, more from frustration than anger it seemed. Something in his eyes told me I was right about him being on task for someone else. 

“Shut up and take your ass outside,” he barked. “They’re waiting.”

This should have been my cue to run. I should have said something, even silently, to Heather. But something about this man’s nervous energy told me he didn’t want to be doing this either. I cleaned up my bowling gear, stuffed it into my rented locker, and paid Heather while mouthing, “It’s fine. I got this” before mounting the stairs and stepping out into the spring afternoon sunshine.

I’d no sooner stepped outside when I was grabbed from behind by two more people while the bearded guy played lookout. They hauled me into the parking lot and unceremoniously bundled me into a waiting truck—ironically parked right next to mine. An angry hand came down on my left shoulder, forcing me into the middle seat between himself and one of his friends. As he did, I glanced over my other shoulder and saw the old doe again, no fawn this time, ears flitting in the breeze. She seemed to regard me with silent concern as I was shoved into the truck.

“Is somebody going to tell me what the hell is going on,” I asked whoever was listening. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

Nobody said anything. Not exactly a surprise. 

I felt in my left jeans pocket, disguising my movements as I looked for my phone. It was gone. Of course it was. Couldn’t have me calling for help, could they?

As we drove, I watched the familiar landscape, trying to take my mind off of what might be waiting for me wherever we were going. I knew these roads. Highway 57. It looked like we were headed north. I suddenly knew exactly where we were headed. I knew these roads east of town, and they all seemed to lead to nowhere.

The truck came to an abrupt stop about half a mile down County Road K north of town. Gravel crunched under tires, then under feet as I was forced out of the truck. I looked both east and west. No traffic from either direction, no saving grace from whatever came next. A woman who looked to be a year or two younger than me stood in the middle of the road. It was clear now why I was here, even if I didn’t yet know what I’d done.

Kayla was a slender woman, light blonde hair pulled up and stuck through the back of an old Brewers cap. I knew who she was, and I knew the tough crowd with whom she ran. I still didn’t know what I was doing here, and now I was wondering what her part was.

I’d never spoken to her, at least not that I remembered. I’d only seen her randomly around town, usually flanked by one or two of the half-dozen people who flanked her now. Never once had she approached me, nor had I approached her. Yet here she was, three people on each side of her, sneering at me as if I’d killed her dog.

Beads of sweat pooled at my temples despite the crisp early spring air. I still did not know what Kayla wanted with me, but the look on her face told me she was not intending to leave me in the same condition in which I’d arrived. 

“You’re going to learn today what happens when you run your mouth to the wrong people,” she said, her voice carrying across the deserted road and through the trees beyond. “I’m going to wipe this pavement with your ugly, smart-mouthed face.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite my pounding heart. “What did I say? And more importantly, who told you I said it?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped. “Everybody here knows what you said about Derek. About me.”

Now it all made sense.

Derek stood smugly in the group of three to Kayla’s right, shirtless despite the crisp weather. The smirk he wore and the way he stood, arms crossed and trying to look tough, was too familiar to me. We had some history, but we hadn’t spoken since running into each other at a party a few months back. Unless…

I pushed the thought down before I spoke it aloud. No need to anger them further. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shot back. “I haven’t spoken to or about Derek in months. Anything you heard is probably bullshit.”

“Liar!” Her voice cracked with genuine anger. It was at this moment I realized that she actually believed whatever she’d heard. Someone had fed her a story, wound her up, and pointed her at me. I just didn’t know who or why.

“I don’t know what your endgame is here, Kayla,” I said, my voice calm and even despite my growing anxiety. “What I do know is I have no intention of fighting you. I think you knew that going into this. If you’d just tell me what started all of this, “I'm sure we can figure out a solution that keeps all of us whole and free. Again, I have no intention of fighting you.”

“Then fight me.” Derek’s voice cut through the tense air as he stepped forward. I recognized the brash tone in his voice, the same energy he had when I saw him last at that party. I realized now that though he wouldn’t admit it, Derek was behind all of this. He’d stirred Kayla up enough to do his dirty work. He knew I wouldn’t dare fight back if she confronted me. She was the perfect pawn, the perfect buffer between my wrath and he who deserved it.

As much as I would have loved to put that worthless idiot in his place, I knew even in my heightened state of anger and anxiety he wasn’t worth it. Not worth the arrest. Not worth the injury. Not worth—

Off to my left, the trees rustled, stopping everyone mid-breath. The snapping twigs tore through the silence like gunshots. Then I saw it, movement amongst the trees.

The deer emerged from the treeline with the confident grace of a stage performer responding to a cue.

It was an old doe. Her muzzle carried the gray tint of an animal who’d survived countless hunting seasons. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she stepped out. She didn’t stomp, snort, or bolt at the sight of us. She didn't freeze. She simply walked into the middle of the road, positioning herself between me and the gathered crowd, and stood there.

Watching. Waiting. 

Her ears remained back, casually scanning her surroundings. She regarded each of us as if we were a normal part of her world but she didn’t know what to make of us. Her dark brown eyes met mine, and in that split second, something shifted inside me. Was it recognition? Or was it just the surreal relief of an intervention I desperately needed?

Kayla stopped mid stride, distracted. Whatever threat she’d saved for me in that moment died in her throat as the old deer turned her head slowly, seeming to regard all present with the same patient assessment. 

Then Derek made his move.

Don’t even think about it you son of a bitch, I thought as I watched him make a slow but demonstrative approach toward the old deer. Leave the old girl alone.

But he didn’t leave her alone. Instead, he lunged forward, yelling like it was a bear and not an old deer he was trying to scare. Was he creating some sort of distraction? Or just proving he could scare something besides his own mirror? 

The doe gave me one last knowing glance—as if she’d seen me before—before bounding away with a grace that belied her age and disappearing into the trees as quickly as she’d appeared. 

As the white flash of doe’s tail disappeared into the trees, the sky darkened with that promised storm. Kayla and I stood there for a moment, regarding each other in mutual bewilderment as the first drops fell cold and insistent around us. Then there was a tap on my shoulder as someone walked by me to their vehicle.

“Get in,” the bearded guy—Joel, I found out later his name was Joel—said finally. “I’ll take you home.”

The crowd was already dispersing, climbing into vehicles and driving away as if nothing had happened. Kayla stood alone in the middle of that field, looking confused and deflated Derek had disappeared into one of the departing vehicles, likely satisfied he’d scared the deer, even if he couldn’t instill the same fear in me. Reluctantly, I got into Joel’s car.

I was unsure if I could trust Joel at first. He had, after all, driven me to what we both probably thought was my death march. But as I slid into his passenger seat, he reached into his pocket, withdrew my phone, and handed it to me. 

“Why are you being so nice suddenly?” I asked him finally. “You seemed all too eager to feed me to the wolves earlier.”

As I looked up into the rearview mirror, I saw him nod, turning the key and swinging out onto the abandoned road before he spoke.

“I don’t know you,” he said. “I have no reason to have anything against you. I was just doing what they wanted. I thought maybe if I did this, that Kayla would see I’d do anything for her, unlike that ungrateful boyfriend of hers. It sounds even more stupid now that I say it out loud.” He gave a humorless laugh as he eased the car forward from the stop sign.

I gave him a slow nod without turning my head. It all made sense now. Like me, Joel was just a pawn in this sick game. I regarded him with a quick glance as we came to a stop sign.

“Can you at least tell me what started all of this? The only thing I kept hearing is that I was ‘running my mouth.’ I don’t talk to anybody. I don’t go places except to that bowling alley you scooped me from. What was this about?”

“Derek told Kayla you said something about her and her boyfriend when he saw you last at some party, stupid high school level bullshit.”

I scoffed, knowing which party he was talking about and what really happened there.

“I don’t know if what they said is true or not,” Joel went on, “But when that deer showed up and everyone got distracted, I took a second to study your face. You weren’t angry. The look I saw was confusion. I could tell you genuinely had no idea what was going on. It was a look of fear maybe, but not guilt. Talking to you now, you don’t strike me as someone who runs off at the mouth out of nowhere.”

That’s more of a Derek thing, I thought but did not say.

I chuckled despite everything. “At least somebody got it right,” I said. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. I’ve barely spoken to anyone in months. I’ve been so focused on other things. Then I go bowling to relax and get tossed into a truck.”

“Yeah,” Joel said quietly, “I had my reservations, but the heart wants what it wants, and I wasn’t using my head.”

I nodded, and we drove in silence for a while. Rain pelted the roof as the storm picked up. The wipers on Joel’s sedan worked overtime keeping the windshield clear. The adrenaline was wearing off for both of us, replaced by a bone deep exhaustion and budding anger at what had happened. I could only imagine what Joel was feeling. Used? Cheated? I felt for him.

He pulled into the parking lot of Matterhorn, gliding into the parking spot next to my truck. I reached for the door handle to get out before he stopped me. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally meeting my gaze. “I knew deep down I shouldn’t have let this happen. I was blinded by a love that will probably never be returned to me. I thought if I helped Kayla she would see me differently. I didn’t know she’d intended to hurt you. They didn’t tell me that.”

“Of course they didn’t. If they had, you wouldn’t have gone through with it. I can see that in you. That’s why I don’t hold it against you. That’s why I’m not going to call the police when I get into my truck.”

Joel nodded, a small smile crossing his face. “You have every right to turn every one of us in, but not doing it shows what a good man you are. You didn’t deserve this. I’m sorry.”

I put up a hand. “No need to keep apologizing. You showed me something too, Joel. You could have left me out there. You could have left me there with Kayla. Who knows what she would have done if it had just been us. But you didn’t. You brought me back to my vehicle so I could go home. Thank you for that.”

Joel gave a single nod and I got out, walking around my truck to the driver’s side. I stood there for a second as he drove off, rain soaking my hair and clothes. As I drove home, left hand on the steering wheel, my right hand twitched as if to reach for my phone in the cupholder. 

I should report this, I thought.

But my hand went back to its position on the shifter, shaking a little, and I drove back to my place, all the while thinking about what had just happened. My phone buzzed the whole drive there, unanswered phone calls and messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at them just yet. 

Instead, I thought about that deer, and how she had unknowingly saved my life. 

Or perhaps she had known. 

After all, she stepped out of the woods just when I needed her, placing herself between me and whatever danger may have awaited. That knowing look in her eyes before she turned to run, like she’d see it all before, knew exactly what she was doing.

Maybe it was just coincidence, dumb luck. Deer are more common than people around here, after all. Perhaps my writer’s brain was assigning meaning to something that didn’t mean anything. Maybe I just needed to believe someone somewhere was watching out for me. 

But as I stepped out of my truck in my driveway, rain still soaking my clothes and hair, I chose to believe in the guardian. 

I couldn’t rely on an old doe to save me again. That much was true. I needed to choose my words—and the people I spoke to—more carefully. I needed to be more aware, not paranoid, just aware, of the stories circulating this small town. 

But perhaps there’s another meaning to all of this. Perhaps this means no one is ever truly alone. Maybe guardians come in many unexpected forms. The wisdom and grace that comes with age shows up exactly when we need it, even if we don’t notice. And maybe, just maybe, not everyone who takes you by the arm means to harm you. 

Maybe the wilderness knows more about us than we know about ourselves.

As I unlocked my house, I finally pulled out my phone and scrolled to my mom’s number. Knowing her, she’d insist I report what happened, press charges, make sure this never happened again. 

But first, I lingered a little longer, now unbothered by the falling rain, and sent a quiet message of gratitude to the gathering darkness. I thanked an old deer that had probably forgotten me already, if she’d ever known me at all. 

Sometimes, that’s all you can do.