Sam stood up and moved forward, smiling. “That’s great! Should I cover them in case it rains?”

Spike frowned a little. “It’s not that kind of dry.”

He looked at Sam to see if he understood. Sam smiled, eager.

“Rain won’t hurt it. You sure you don’t want that toilet fixed? I can’t do that, but I know a guy who can.”

Sam waved his arms. “Thanks very much, but we really like it the way it is. It’s nice shitting in the woods. Come back to the house and have a drink.”

Rennel went to one of the stacked logs and lifted it like a barbell, balanced it, and curled it up to his chin with his hands spaced carefully along its length. When he put it back he looked relieved.

It was strange to see Sam walking with Spike. My brother’s old dungarees and work boots and Sam’s old dungarees and heavy shoes. Spike said they could put the goat shed on a sledge so it could be dragged to wherever the goat was grazing. Sam thought that was wonderful.

Music came from the house. Sam went in to get Carlotta to make lemonade. Spike stopped at the door to leave his tools.

“You want to come over to the house with me, Sally? We haven’t seen you in a while.”

I could see my face mirrored in the freckles and creases of his. “I’m supposed to stay for dinner here.”

“Well, come over and see Jean when you can. We always figure you’re up to no good if we don’t see you for a couple of months.”

“I’m glad you’re helping Sam. He can use it.”

Spike looked through the door into the dark house. “Sam Aram? Is that his name? He’s a nice kid.”

“Yeah.”

Rennel walked up chewing a grass stem and trying to look competent. We went inside and I could hear dishes clinking in the kitchen. Spike took in the piles of cushions, the little inlaid boxes of dark wood, the strewn records and books, and the gaudy rugs. A poster of screaming women hung next to a Navajo blanket on the wall. There was an aftertaste of incense in the air, and all the ashtrays were full of butts. The music was not too loud today. Spike looked at me and I grinned. Sam entered carrying a tray of ceramic tea bowls and a coffee can full of lemonade. He slowly set it down on the floor. The ice in the lemonade chimed against the sides of the can.

“Sit down anywhere.”

Spike looked around, embarrassed. I flopped onto a pillow to show him. He eased down carefully and stretched out his stiff knee. Sam noticed.

“Is your leg sore?”

“No. There’s a metal plate in there instead of a kneecap. I wore the old one out kneeling on concrete while I weld.”