Let Him Go: A Novel Read Free Page B

him.
    George’s back is still knotted tight from spending the morning working on the new office building. He held the sheetrock in place while a man a third his age hammered the nails.
    Because if it’s the difference between you staying or going, Ott says, I could maybe shift things around and have you working stock.
    I hired on here for wages. Not because I need to pat a horse now and then.
    Barlow Ott squints as if he were staring into the sun. But he’s only gazing up through the head-and-a-half distance between his eyes and George’s stone-blue ones.
    Jesus, Ott says. Does it ever occur to you to do things the easy way? A man’s willing to do you a favor . . .
    George glances back at his wife waiting in the Hudson. Speaking of paychecks.
    Right. Barlow Ott starts up the stairs to the trailer office. He leans hard on the handrail as if he needs to haul his body up the steps. Before he goes inside, he turns back to George Blackledge. Friday was payday so it won’t be much.
    I know what I’ve got coming. And if you’ve got it in cash, that would save me a trip back into town.
    George turns his back on the trailer as if any business done there did not bear witnessing. Back in the car, Margaret is craning her head out the window and lookingskyward. Overhead a hawk has found a thermal to ride, and its tilting, silent-winged body is the only moving thing between the bright sun and the shadowless dust below.
    The trailer’s door rattles open. Barlow Ott stands at the top of the steps and holds a few bills down to George, who takes them without counting and puts them into a wallet whose black leather has worn and frayed to gray at the fold and corners.
    Little extra there, Ott says, because it’s the last.
    Appreciate it.
    Because it’s the last.
    You need a receipt because it’s cash?
    The last. You understand what I’m saying? Like severance pay. You’re a damn good worker, George. You show up sober every day and on time. You do what you’re told and you don’t waste time leaning on your shovel. But I took you on as a favor. You don’t want the work, there’s plenty of strong young backs out there waiting to take your place. I can’t hold the job for you.
    As George listens to Barlow Ott’s lecture, the knots of his jaw work so hard and fast it seems as though he’ll swallow anything he has to say. But he gets the words out. I understand, Barlow. Then George holds his wallet aloft. And like I say, I appreciate it.
    He turns and starts toward the car, shoving his wallet back into his pocket where a faded rectangle in the denim has been waiting for the billfold’s return.
    To George’s back Barlow says, But tell that wife of yours I can always use a little extra help with the books.
    Over his shoulder George replies, She’d need to workwith the horses, but enough wind blows between the two men that those words might not have arrived at their destination.
    Once he’s back in the car George reports none of his conversation, so it’s left to Margaret to say, I couldn’t hear what the two of you were talking about, but it didn’t look all that cordial. Is there something between you and Barlow I don’t know about?
    George turns the key in the ignition and pulls down hard on the shift lever. As if he’s trying not to raise any dust, he drives slowly away from the trailer. I once ran in Barlow’s kid brother.
    Franklin? For good cause, I assume.
    He was using his wife as a punching bag. So yes, I’d say.
    What was Barlow’s position? Let me guess: she had it coming.
    Something like that.
    You never told me about that. Arresting Franklin, I mean.
    Didn’t I.
    But then I’m sure there were plenty of arrests you never told me about.
    Not much to most. I guess I brought home those that had some excitement to them.
    Or if I knew the principals?
    Hell, you probably knew them all. I never had much in the way of out-of-town business.
    They drive past a young man stripped down to his undershirt, and though his