a life earns. Finally I nodded once. “You show up at six tomorrow. Bring gloves.”
He came. At six he was there, boots scuffed, hands ready. He bled a little on the barbed wire and didn’t whine. He pounded posts and kept rhythm. He didn’t talk much, which was the best part. Clay watched him like a man who wants to be wrong about somebody and very cautiously continue reading …
