CHAPTER EIGHT
Upstate, most of the land was public, which meant that nobody was expected to use it. What was left was mostly too poor for farming. There were small towns here and there, where a few stubborn old folks made their way as best they could. Now and then I saw a driveway with a chain across and a “No Trespassing” sign, leading back to some city folk’s deer camps.
Wyatt was living up in the hills in a rented cabin. His was the last house on the road, but you couldn’t rightly call it a road. By the time I finally got there, I was beginning to think I had headed the wrong way entirely, because I hadn’t seen sign of anything human for awhile.
The house wasn’t much to look at, but all the important things were there—hot water, a wood-burning stove, good beds, and an indoor toilet.
