My Dad's face was covered with bandages.
When we asked what had happened, he simply said, "I got shot."
The hunters had been spread in a line across the field, and when a covey flew up on the flank, Kermit whirled and fired. The buckshot shredded my father's hunting jacket, and soon he was picking pellets out of his face.
It was a hunting accident, very similar to the one involving Vice President Dick Cheney.
The job of buckshot removal for my Dad was completed at a local doctor's office. My father would later tell us, that one shot went through his upper lip and lodged between his front teeth. He spit that pellet out with his tongue.
Once the bandages were removed, my Dad looked like he was recovering from a case of the measles. And when he talked about the accident after that, he never blamed his brother. He just accepted it as something that can happen when you hunt quail in a group.
But that Sunday had one other lasting effect. My father never went hunting again.