Jamie took out cigarettes and matches, looked off. Smoked. Then said, “I got a setter puppy for my boy off that sawbones Dodge up to Whitefield. They’re all out woodsrunning today.”

Terry ran his hands up and down the tops of his thighs. “I heard you got a new setup.”

Jamie went down on his haunches, still smoking. Looking at Terry. “You heard what?”

“You got a new setup.”

“Nope.” Jamie shook his head. “Same deal it’s always been.”

“Don’t shit me.”

“Shit you? I’m shitting nobody. Same deal.”

“Pelham?”

“What is it?”

“How far is it to Whitefield?”

“Whitefield?”

“From right here.”

“Jesus, Estus, I don’t know. Twelve—fourteen miles?”

Terry nodded. “Close. Now tell me why I’d walk all that way. And back. Most of a day. To ask a man to ask you to come see me.”

“You’re saying you think I got a problem of some kind.”

Terry spat into the grass.

“That Jeeter Carrick’s not worthless as he seems. There’s a streak of gumption to him, just needs to be nudged along. And I already know he’ll get ambitious on me and he already knows I’ll take him down however many pegs I feel I need to, the time comes. Which it will. I’m no fool, Estus, I know it will. But I can manage it for a while. I don’t see the way Carrick could get around me. I’m years away from losing my quickness, I do believe. And he was available, with some advantage to me. Sometimes the right thing happens that way. And I think he’s not so stupid as to not see that.”

“Well yes, I guess that might be right.”

“Binter wanted out. I had to move quick.”

“A course you did.”

Both quiet then. Nothing resolved. A chirp of tension rising in Jamie, reaching around in the dark for something he wasn’t even sure was there. Not unlike those times he’d waked of a sudden, middle of the night, reaching for Joey, not understanding why she was not there, where she could be, not even sure where he was.

Jamie stood and walked to where the horse trough still stood, the water full and clear, running in from a spring-fed line, the overflow a small worn vee in one end of the trough where the water ran off into a small stream. He cupped his hands and lifted water and drank, twice, the water sweet, cold to ache against his teeth. Turned back to Terry then and said, “But Jeeter Carrick’s not why you walked to Whitefield and back.”

“It’s a nice walk.”

“I suppose. This time of year. I expect there’s folks you could thumb a ride with.”

“I like to think I walk everyday then the odds go up for a quick death. Something sudden. I can’t stand the thought of lingering.”

“Healthy living. I wouldn’t’ve guessed it of you, Estus. What happens you miss a day?”