Stan hunted on Sundays, and Bum knew where, at the old farm that belonged to his family out by the lake. It was Stan’s plan to build a big new house on his property as soon as he retired. Bum guessed Stan would be able to afford it, considering the risks Bum had taken for him. Bum had worked himself up for a confrontation all morning, mostly by popping meth. He was vibrating as he got out of the truck. He slapped his arms and legs and did a little dance, as if he’d been attacked by fire ants. He had enough sense to know it was just the meth. The sores that had erupted on his back and buttocks were caused by the meth too, but he loved the feeling of energy it gave him. It also allowed him to work all day in the mine, then moonlight for Stan at night. Bum followed the retort of rifle fire and found Stanvic near the lakeshore. Stanvic frowned when he saw him, and this made Bum angry. He took it to mean Stanvic wasn’t pleased to see him. Since all this started, it had been Bum who had done all the heavy lifting, driving the truck at night to load the coal, then hauling it to the buyer in Fox Run.
