Three days later, Lefty was sitting in his office sketching his vision for the exterior of Flaky Bea"s when the phone rang. As soon as he answered, Lefty knew something was very wrong. Spratt, who usually greeted him with the words, “Hey boy,” simply said, “I need you to come over here.”
“Is it Beaners?”
“No, it"s Millie. Your sister is flat out with the flu, but TJ is on his way. I can"t handle this. But you do death well.”
He smiled at Spratt"s statement, and it relieved him to know that the old geezer could still tease him even though his heart must be breaking over what lay ahead for his aging horse Millie, who had been failing for quite some time.
“I"m not sure how well I do death anymore,” Lefty said to himself as he pulled on his jeans. As he grabbed his car keys, he thought abo
