Hungry Independents (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

could hear. “Oh,
     look. It’s big brother to the rescue. See you later, Preach, when
     we can talk in private.” Dylan turned and waved. “Oh, hey Mark, we
     were just talking about where Scout should dig his hole. I’ll keep
     looking for dogs.”
    Scout watched Dylan spinning his bat as he
     walked away.
    “Are you all right?” Mark asked, coming over.
     “What’s got you all worked up?”
    Scout looked past Mark to where Billy still
     stood at the corner of the house. The deep pocket of night’s
     shadows hid the little boy’s face. Billy turned and ran after
     Dylan, who patted him on the back like they were old pals.
    “Scout, what’s wrong?”
    He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Where
     should I dig this hole?”

 
Six
Scout
     
    By the time the second splinter tore into his
     hand, Scout hated digging. He gave serious consideration again to
     burning the dogs with gasoline. Forget saving gas—not at the
     expense of his palms. Luckily, this splinter stuck out far enough
     for him to pull it out with his teeth.
    Every so often, raucous laughter carried in
     the early morning darkness, setting Scout further on edge. Dylan
     and the couple boys hanging around him were busy doing nothing
     except talking. Scout couldn’t shake the feeling that the general
     topic of their conversation involved him. How were rumors spreading
     that he’d got Jimmy killed? Jimmy got Jimmy killed. Scout had just
     been along for the ride.
    The conversation with Dylan depressed him
     more than he wanted to admit. Only the constant attention to the
     hole he was digging allowed him to focus on something else, but
     once he found a good rhythm with the shovel, he only thought about
     one thing: Did he get Jimmy killed?
    Scout stood at the bottom of a two foot hole
     that was eight feet wide, and a lot of shoveling still needing to
     be done. He wanted somebody to come over and help him, but after
     Dylan’s accusation he didn’t know who to ask or who to trust.
    He struck the blade into the ground and hit
     something hard. His palms skidded down the worn handle and splinter
     number three slid into his thumb.
    “Damn it!”
    Laughter followed from Dylan’s little huddle.
     “Hear that, boys? I think Preach is working on his next sermon. It
     sounds a little dismal. I might have to skip that one.”
    Dylan’s pals hooted and slapped him on the
     back, like he couldn’t get any funnier.
    Scout sucked on the splinter in silent
     embarrassment, mad at himself for letting the curse word slip. He
     wanted to set an example of a godly life since he preached about it
     every Sunday, but the change from the way he used to live took time
     and obviously more attention.
    “You should put these on.” Samuel held out a
     pair of leatherwork gloves for Scout. He wore a pair himself and
     another shovel rested in the crook of his arm. “You should always
     wear gloves when you dig, especially if you’re going to use Jimmy’s
     shovel. It’s tossed a lot of dirt.”
    Scout took the gloves and continued gnawing
     the splinter out of his thumb. Samuel dropped into the hole and got
     to work, shoveling with a precision and speed that Scout found
     amazing and could never possibly match. Smooth steady strokes came
     one after another, and full scoops of dirt tumbled into piles
     around the rim. Scout tore out the splinter and spat into the hole.
     He pulled on the work gloves and took a side, negotiating out of
     Samuel’s way.
    Scout began again, working to match Samuel’s
     productivity. It wasn’t happening, so he tried to make a good
     showing.
    Samuel tapped Scout on the shoulder. “How
     ’bout you sit the rest out? You got a good start. I’ll take us home
     from here.”
    “Are you sure, man? I mean you were a
     little…” Scout wanted to be sensitive, but there really wasn’t any
     way around the subject, “…dead about thirty minutes ago. Shouldn’t
     you get some more rest?”
    “Dude, I got to work or