Thirty Miles South Of Dry County Read Free

beneath thick ropes, and saw only my shoes. Like me, and Sven’s Volkswagen, they had seen better days.
    “Seems to me that ruinin’ a place is a funny way to go about acquirin’ it,” I told Sven.
    “Yeah, well.” Sven dropped to his haunches to probe a tendril of vine that were as big as his wrist. “Funny or not, that’s what he’s done. And I doubt it’s the store he wants. Just the land.”
    “Might want to be sure about that before you go causin’ a stir.”
    Sven raised his hand, his fingertips green and wet. “Oh I’m sure all right. You remember my brother, Stellan?”
    I did, but not fondly. The older of the two Hansson brothers had a stick up his ass so long he pole-vaulted instead of walkin’. Came out of the womb miserable and left everyone he met feelin’ the same.
    “Sure. Ain’t seen him since you broke his nose though.”
    “Right, and the reason I broke his nose is because I caught him in my office digging for the deed to the store, which I’m sure as God made geese he was fixing on handing over to Kirkland for about ten grand, which is probably twice what he owes his drug dealer.”
    “That wouldn’t have been legal though, would it?”
    “What’s legal anymore, Tan? Did the law ever fix anything or anyone in that goddamn town as long as we’ve known it? What about Sheriff Turner and his boy? They tried to restore law and look how they ended up. All Kirkland needed was the deed. Didn’t matter how he got his hands on it. As you can see…” He swept a tremblin’ hand over the landscape of moist vegetation before us. “…He isn’t your average megalomaniac.”
    “Best reason I can think of not to mess with him then,” Old Dick said. “’Less you know some witchery of your own.”
    “This isn’t witchery,” Sven said. “Kirkland’s just one of those rare men talented enough to make the world bend to his will. I’ve known folks like that before, and wasn’t a goddamn one of them I felt comfortable being around. We think they’re freaks because we don’t understand them, but this isn’t about understanding. He wants me to bend for him and I won’t, so he’s going to try to ruin me.”
    “And what are you goin’ to do about it?” I asked him.
    “Simple,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Ruin him first.”
    * * *
    With all hope of a peaceful day blown to smithereens, the focus within me shifted toward doin’ whatever I could to get Sven to change his mind. At that point, I didn’t know much about Kirkland, other than that he’d apparently become mayor of the town by self-appointment. There weren’t no council, least none that anyone had heard about. No vote and hardly a pause for introduction before he were runnin’ things. Why anyone would want to govern a town like Milestone were beyond me, and spoke volumes about the kind of man he must be.
    So, without botherin’ to take stock of his losses (though I guess it were all right there before us), Sven turned on a heel and stormed out, slammin’ his hands against the door so hard the bell didn’t even have a chance to ting! It just rattled dully against the wood and went quiet. Busted, probably.
    “Where you goin’?” I asked the Swede, sure I already knew.
    “Milestone.”
    He were younger than me by about fifteen years, about a hundred pounds heavier, and a damn sight faster. Not without considerable effort—which I’d pay for later—I caught up to him and locked a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and when he turned, there were a wild, dangerous look in his eyes that said he’d never dreamed of hittin’ an old man before but on that day wouldn’t have minded poppin’ me in the mouth to make himself feel better about the way his luck were goin’. Then that look drained like the dirty oil from beneath his Volkswagen and he ran his fingers through his hair. Sighed.
    “What, Tan?”
    “You’re fired up.”
    “No shit.”
    “So fired up you ain’t thinkin’ straight.”
    “I’m