few hours with any kind of luck. The blazing sun and the constant wind dried things up fast. You could toss a dipper of water on the ground, and it would evaporate almost before it landed.
Higby swore under his breath, sidled a worried glance at me. “Well, Tommy? What do you think?”
“Nothing to it,” I shrugged. “Nothing more than a spring shower.”
He said he sure as hell hoped I was right, and I lied that I’d bet money on it. I figured that he already knew that only a fool or a stranger prophesies the weather in West Texas, and there was no point in reminding him of it.
Camp was dark except for the water-barrel lantern and the lantern in the truck-parking area. Higby brought the pickup to a stop, spoke to me quietly as I started to climb out.
“A hell of a hard day, huh, Tommy? I imagine you can’t wait to hit the sack.”
“Well…” I hesitated. “If there’s something you want to talk to me about, Mr. Higby…”
“No, no, bed’s the best place for you. I guess you know I’ll want you on the hammers again tomorrow.”
“I figured,” I said. “But that wraps it up, right? I’m down for powder monkey’s helper and I’ll be back to it after tomorrow.”
“Stay on the hammers, Tommy,” he said softly. “You’ll be glad you did later. Stay there and make your overtime and keep out of trouble, and.…”
And that was as far as he got. Because I was about as exhausted as a man can get and every nerve of my body was raw, and that second mention of keeping out of trouble—well, it was too damned much. I was in plenty of trouble right then, and I’d got it all from being put on those lousy hammers.
“Look!” I exploded. “What the hell is this, Mr. Higby? What does the top man on a big pipeline job care what happens to a working stiff like me? Why are you bothering with me? What am I to you, anyway? I appreciate your sticking up for me with Depew, but.…”
“You don’t owe me a thing, Burwell. I did what I had to do; what I thought was right. And you’d better make that Mr. Depew.”
His voice was stony cold. It yanked me out of my mad like a skyhook, made me realize that I was way, way out of line in talking up to him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Higby,” I said. “Really sorry. If you want me on a hammer.…”
“I don’t. You’ll go back on powder tomorrow morning.”
“But…you’re not going to fire me, then?”
He shook his head. “I laid myself open for back-talk from a punk. It’s my own fault that I mistook him for a man. No”—he cut me off before I could interrupt. “No, I’m not going to fire you, Burwell. Not for this. If I did, I’d probably lose Four Trey along with you. And he has friends who might pull out if he did, and his friends have friends, and…So you’re safe, Burwell—for now, at least.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, miserably. “I ought to have my tail kicked.”
“You’re not worth it.” He opened the door on his side and started to get out. “I’ve wasted too much time on you already.”
He gave me a curt nod, strode away toward the high-pressure tent. I got out and went over to the wash bench.
It would be hard to tell you how I felt. Shabby, cheap, crummy—all those things and a lot more besides. A tinhorn through and through. A good man had tried to befriend me, and I’d thrown dirt in his face. It was a low-down thing to do, a punk thing, and I felt as low as a guy could get.
I made a pass at washing up. I went through the walkway between the tents, headed across the prairie toward the place where Carol was camped. Somehow, I wasn’t very set-up about seeing her tonight. I was even a little annoyed when I thought of her, which was unfair, but understandable.
Except for her, my touchiness about seeing her, I wouldn’t have blown up with Higby. Except for her, I would still have been aces with Four Trey, instead of having him half-leery of me.
I’d considered myself a man, a guy who’d finally grown up and come to
Higby swore under his breath, sidled a worried glance at me. “Well, Tommy? What do you think?”
“Nothing to it,” I shrugged. “Nothing more than a spring shower.”
He said he sure as hell hoped I was right, and I lied that I’d bet money on it. I figured that he already knew that only a fool or a stranger prophesies the weather in West Texas, and there was no point in reminding him of it.
Camp was dark except for the water-barrel lantern and the lantern in the truck-parking area. Higby brought the pickup to a stop, spoke to me quietly as I started to climb out.
“A hell of a hard day, huh, Tommy? I imagine you can’t wait to hit the sack.”
“Well…” I hesitated. “If there’s something you want to talk to me about, Mr. Higby…”
“No, no, bed’s the best place for you. I guess you know I’ll want you on the hammers again tomorrow.”
“I figured,” I said. “But that wraps it up, right? I’m down for powder monkey’s helper and I’ll be back to it after tomorrow.”
“Stay on the hammers, Tommy,” he said softly. “You’ll be glad you did later. Stay there and make your overtime and keep out of trouble, and.…”
And that was as far as he got. Because I was about as exhausted as a man can get and every nerve of my body was raw, and that second mention of keeping out of trouble—well, it was too damned much. I was in plenty of trouble right then, and I’d got it all from being put on those lousy hammers.
“Look!” I exploded. “What the hell is this, Mr. Higby? What does the top man on a big pipeline job care what happens to a working stiff like me? Why are you bothering with me? What am I to you, anyway? I appreciate your sticking up for me with Depew, but.…”
“You don’t owe me a thing, Burwell. I did what I had to do; what I thought was right. And you’d better make that Mr. Depew.”
His voice was stony cold. It yanked me out of my mad like a skyhook, made me realize that I was way, way out of line in talking up to him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Higby,” I said. “Really sorry. If you want me on a hammer.…”
“I don’t. You’ll go back on powder tomorrow morning.”
“But…you’re not going to fire me, then?”
He shook his head. “I laid myself open for back-talk from a punk. It’s my own fault that I mistook him for a man. No”—he cut me off before I could interrupt. “No, I’m not going to fire you, Burwell. Not for this. If I did, I’d probably lose Four Trey along with you. And he has friends who might pull out if he did, and his friends have friends, and…So you’re safe, Burwell—for now, at least.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, miserably. “I ought to have my tail kicked.”
“You’re not worth it.” He opened the door on his side and started to get out. “I’ve wasted too much time on you already.”
He gave me a curt nod, strode away toward the high-pressure tent. I got out and went over to the wash bench.
It would be hard to tell you how I felt. Shabby, cheap, crummy—all those things and a lot more besides. A tinhorn through and through. A good man had tried to befriend me, and I’d thrown dirt in his face. It was a low-down thing to do, a punk thing, and I felt as low as a guy could get.
I made a pass at washing up. I went through the walkway between the tents, headed across the prairie toward the place where Carol was camped. Somehow, I wasn’t very set-up about seeing her tonight. I was even a little annoyed when I thought of her, which was unfair, but understandable.
Except for her, my touchiness about seeing her, I wouldn’t have blown up with Higby. Except for her, I would still have been aces with Four Trey, instead of having him half-leery of me.
I’d considered myself a man, a guy who’d finally grown up and come to
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