Brad fed the stock. This was Cliff’s job; he’d redistribute the workload as soon as he found someone to replace Cliff.
The clouds were thick tonight; not even a sliver of moonlight seeped through. Years ago, his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He checked doors and gates, and made sure everything was fastened and secured. The front porch light illuminated two figures on the porch. As he got closer, he could see Cliff, engaged in some heated discussion with Crystal. She stopped and backed away when she saw Brad. Cliff stepped toward her, an angry man who threw up his arms in defeat and stormed away, past Brad, jumping into his beat up, brown Chevy truck, spewing gravel as he drove away.
Brad really dug into each step. He slowed and then stopped on the bottom step when Crystal stumbled again
