Chapter 15 Water, Whiskey & War

“Maybe they kept at it. What were they up to after you left?”

“I have no idea.”

About then we pulled up to the standpipe and Scotty’s recently restored ’60 Ford flatbed with a 300 gallon tank was ahead of us . He was just finishing and stuck his head in the window to say hi, ending our conversation.

“How often you takin’ on water?” he asked.

“Trip a day, mostly for the garden,” said Roland.

“Hard way to grow vegetables. I’ll get out of your way then. Looks like you got work to do”

We filled the tank and started back up the hill hoping dinner would be about ready. We didn’t talk much on the ride up hill. The roar of the engine and whine of the transmission pulling hard in second or third gear limited conversation.

I pulled into the yard and let Roland out by the house, then lined the truck up with the garden. The irrigation hose lay on the fence where I’d left it the day before. I hooked it up and opened the valve part way. I’d come back after dinner. It would take a couple of hours to drain.

When I walked into the kitchen Mike was showing Roland a new issue of “Soldier of Fortune.” On the cover was a headline about Mercenaries in Africa.

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