Chapter 16
Rowe
Pane’s wearing my dad’s old boots. They fit him like a glove. Well, at least that’s what he says. But personally, from the way his voice sounded pinched when he told me, I’m pretty sure they’re too small.
Too big on me and too tight on him. Those boots only fit one man, and he’s gone.
But there’s no time to dwell on the past, because Pane’s standing in the lumberyard of Mystic Meadows Hardware, geared up and ready to saw.
Again.
My heart’s thundering. The entire town’s back, holding their collective breath in anticipation. Even Coleman Barrier’s watching the spectacle from start to finish.
I cross my fingers, praying that Pane knocks this out of the park.
He takes up position, grabs the chain saw’s pull start, and yanks it hard. My heart leaps into my throat.
Please let it fire up on the first try.
It does.
The chain saw rumbles to life. Clarice Sinclair elbows me in the arm. “He’s off to a good start.”
Don’t ask me how these people organize so quickly. But however they spread messages—group chat, carrier pigeon—whatever it is, it works.
Cristina is the one person who isn’t here, though. She had errands to run. But she made me promise to keep her posted on Pane’s progress.
Speaking of which, he moves to cut the first log. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle to attention. It takes a minute to realize my physical response isn’t from nerves. It feels like someone’s watching me. I snap my head to the right and stiffen.
Luke’s here, and he’s got Sally Ray beside him. He seesmeseehim, and his gaze zooms away, back to Pane.
“What’re they doing here?” Clarice sneers.
“Whole town showed up. I’m sure they heard about him through the grapevine,” I grumble.
But it does tick me off that Luke’s hovering about like a mosquito, just waiting to stick his little needle mouth into my farm and suck it dry.
“There he goes,” Clarice says.
Ron, who’s on my other side, edges closer to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Trying to make sure Sally Ray don’t see me. If she knows I left the feedstore for this, she’ll have my ass.”
“It’s not like anyone’s gonna be buying feed right now anyway,” Clarice tells him. “Not when we got entertainment like this in front of us—strapping young man about to cut some logs.” She pumps her brows. “If you know what I mean.”
That may have been the grossest sexual innuendo I’ve ever heard. “I don’t know what you mean, Clarice—oh, here he goes.”
Pane’s chain saw slices through the first log like it’s a hot knife sliding through butter. A dinner knife, to be exact.
He does the same with the second log. But the third one is tilted, and I hope he remembers what I told him about pinching.
But Pane must be feeling invincible, because he begins to saw straight down.
The bar’s going to get pinched, I just know it. Please, please, I don’t want Pane to snap another chain saw, and I don’t want to witness Coleman Barrier flipping out again.
There will be no third chance if that happens.
