I received Cassie’s message around seven that night. I was on my second beer and I’d been wondering how long it would take Wayne to track down Dan’s stash. Dan. Cassie had let the name slip when she told me what was happening. Drug dealer Dan, the phrase had a ring to it and at least he wasn’t a Dave.
Despite the urgency in Cassie’s voice, I wasn’t in a rush to get down there. I wanted to enjoy a few moments of satisfaction before I dealt with the aftermath of my ruse. All afternoon I’d been listless. I’d sluiced the butchering shed, polished the rifle, sharpened my boning knife, and stitched another pair of moccasins for Cassie’s stall. Time had ticked by with that slow pace it always had when it’s observed.
The outcome of my sly scheme was unexpected. I figured once Wayne found Dan’s s
