Chapter 8About four the next afternoon, Daniel’s truck came crawling down the rut we called a road to the house. I got up quick and started throwing my clothes on, thinking I was late. But he got out and said he was early. I got us a brew, and we set out on the porch and studied the big, flat pasture that stretched from my front porch to the highway a mile to the north. He didn’t seem to have much on his mind, and wasn’t in a hurry, so we had a nice, peaceful visit for an hour before we loaded up and headed out for the boar’s nest.
I didn’t catch on until we were flying down the highway on the other side of Blue Valley. “You came down to see if I was drunk, didn’t you?”
He gave me a sly grin. “They told me you were siwashed if you were drunk.”
“Siwashed?”
“That’s a logger’s way of sayi
