Kurt walked over to the homestead on Sunday morning, taking in deep lungfuls of air and trying to organize his speech. He’d talked with Dwayne plenty of times about May, but this conversation was going to be bigger, and Kurt wanted to say all the right things and come away with a plan of action he could start to implement.
Dwayne sat on the front porch, a knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. He didn’t seem to be carving anything in particular, as the ground was covered with simple shavings.
“Mornin’,” Kurt said as he mounted the steps and dropped into the chair beside Dwayne. “I swear it’s getting hot already.”
“It’s not even March.” Dwayne chuckled and shook his head. “You and your hot blood.”
“I can’t help it.” Kurt took off his cowboy hat and wiped the sweat from his
