Randy kicked at the solid ground below his feet. He watched the spot where the sun was advancing over the lawn and timed how long it took to burn the frost away. Mostly he waited to hear the sound of Vaughn’s truck start up, and when it did, the realization that he had ended up running for assistance, and that Vaughn and Lyle had been the only ones around who’d been able to help him out, made Randy want to start beating his forehead against the frame of the car door. God, he hated proving indignant people right.
When Vaughn arrived, after driving the few hundred feet between their properties, he looked tired and annoyed, as though he wished he was anywhere else doing anything but this. His coveralls were worn, and grease spattered. His flannel jacket looked like it had seen battle and bar
