33
The night is black. The moon hiding behind clouds. Two in the morning according to the digital clock on the dash.
I catch a ride with Al to the ranch. We park up short of the entrance. Father Shaw rides in the backseat, alongside Florence, the head of the anti-frackers.
Al kills the engine and the headlights.
I turn in my seat. "Didn't think you'd come, Father. Thought this kinda thing was against God's code."
"So is destroying the land he created for us," he says.
"Then let's do it," I say. "We all clear on the plan?"
Al, Shaw and Florence all nod.
"Good," I say, opening the door. "Let's go."
We climb out of Al's Bronco, tools in hand, jogging quiet through the ranch entrance. It's not far to the assembled trucks and diggers. The place is quiet apart from crickets. The men sle
