“Nope. I’m not milking a bunch of shitty cows. And I’m not shoveling shit for him either. That wasn’t the deal. I won’t even tote pails of milk for him. That smell, milk and shit all mixed together, it makes me want to puke just thinking of it. Told myself I wouldn’t ever do her again.”

“You’re off a farm?”

“Little runt-ass scratch of rocks and stones up to Lyndonville. I’ve not looked back and don’t think to commence now.”

“It’s not but a couple months. Look sharp how things work it might not take that long.”

“Then what? Move the still somewhere else? All you got then’s a piece of machinery. How you aim to account for the raw materials?”

“Tell you what. You work off your debt, let me figure out the rest of it. That’s why we’re standing here, I’m good at figuring these things out.”

“You got my ass in a sling is what you mean to say.”

“You’re looking at this all wrong. You put a little effort in, you’re going to be valuable. You following me?”

Carrick shook his head. “I never ought to’ve tried the liquor business. I had a bad feeling about it, even when I was thinking I was going to skin those birds.”

“You got to make mistakes, starting out. It’s how you learn what to do right.”

“Shit.” Carrick turned away. “Let me meet this old fart.”

Crossing back over the meadow Carrick stopped of a sudden. Took a smoke from Jamie and lighted it, crushing the match into the grass. Blew out smoke and looked at Jamie.

“Back there, I’d said no and stuck to it, what’d you’d have done?”

Jamie studied him. Finally said, “You’ve got an interest now. See?”

Carrick nodded. “I’d be in that little river with my head stove.”

“Well, you’re not going to be running around flapping your mouth.”

Carrick looked off, somewhere else. Then back at Jamie. “Shitty fucking cows.”