Next morning, I was awake before anybody. I got up, did my business at the s**t pile, cleaned up, and was ready to go by the time Rath came out of his tent.
Dawn was just making its way into the canyon and a chill clung to us, everything damp with dew. I pulled on my wool jacket while Rath got up the fire and made coffee. Before I took any, I filled my cup with water and spent time rinsing and spitting, as would a man with a hole in his gums. I mopped with the bloody handkerchief and kept it to my mouth when I put coffee into the cup. At last I began to feel righted. I was now a detective on the job, nothing more.
“How’d it go?” asked Bonner over breakfast.
“How do you think?” I snapped, again playing the sorry fellow. “Man’s a brute with those pliers.”
“Told you,” Bonner returned.
“Y
