Rudy watches his old man carve away at the animal carcass, dumping its innards in the red bucket beside him.
Rudy looks anxious, his father notices.
“What, boy?” he asks in a gruff tone.
“I want to make music,” Rudy says.
His father chuckles, dumping the last of the entrails in the bucket beside him.
“Music ain’t fed this family for over 40 years, this land did.” he says.
He shoves the bucket into Rudy’s hands.
“Go on,” he says.
Rudy slinks away as the men laugh. On his face creeps a determination to prove his father wrong.