CHAPTER 26
In the wee hours of the morning, footsteps crunching the dried grass awakened Layken. He raised up on his cot and wiped the sleep from his eyes. The darkness told him it was mighty early for visitors.
But the smell of coffee boiling meant Sara Beth had beat him up again. He slipped into his pants and boots, then shirt. Still buttoning it, he called out. “Who’s there?” He flipped on the porch light.
A tall, thin man with oil-slicked dark hair and close-set beady eyes stepped up to the door. “Hey, mister. Heard you were looking to hire a hand.”
Layken raked a hand through his hair and tucked in his shirt. “Sorry. You heard wrong. Ain’t got money to hire anyone.”
The man lazily rolled, then lit a cigarette and lounged against the doorframe. “You sure? The man that told me seem
