Edmund Deadmarsh had answered the Craigslist ad back in June. Long had lost an entire crew overnight—deported to Honduras—and he’d hired Deadmarsh for the usual twelve bucks an hour, reckoning he’d still need two more replacements. On the first day the man had moved four tons of rock. Not only that, he’d put it down with a set and finish that was nearly a work of art. After a week, Long had bumped his new man up to fifteen an hour and pulled the ad. Deadmarsh had been showing up for three straight months now, working through the height of summer when crews rarely lasted more than three jobs. The man just kept going, day after sweltering day, never slowing or asking for help. It was almost as if he was punishing himself.

Long backed the truck into place and stepped down from the cab. He nodded at Deadmarsh and got one in return. Cranking the Bobcat, he pulled the pallet off the trailer and placed it as close as possible to the wall. Gotta give the man some kind of help, he thought. He parked the machine, then went back in his truck and began fiddling with invoices as he sipped his Starbucks. Soon, however, Long found himself watching Deadmarsh. It was the damnedest thing, the way the guy moved around a worksite. He was quick, but never rushed. Never slipped in the mud or lost his balance setting a stone into place. And the strangest thing of all—he did it in near silence. No huffing or grunting or shuffling over the ground. Only yesterday, a surprised Long had turned around to find Deadmarsh right behind him with a boulder in his arms. Never made a sound. The damnedest thing.

Long got out of the truck when his cup ran dry. “Looks good,” he said, sidestepping down the embankment.

Deadmarsh slid a block into place, and asked, “Is the height what you wanted?”

“Looks about right. Did you measure it?”

“You took the measuring tape when you drove off for that last load.”

Long fished into his pocket and felt the metal square. “Oh yeah, so I did.” He took it out, pulled four feet from the reel, and set one end at the base of the wall. “Yep, right on.”

Deadmarsh nodded, but there was no apparent satisfaction. He just turned for another stone.

“You’re pretty darned good at this,” Long said. “You been in the line of work long?”

Deadmarsh pulled a stone from the pallet and turned smoothly. “About three months.”

Long grinned. “What’d you do before that?”

The stone slid perfectly into place. “Government work.”

“Civil service?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”