Free Miami Noir by Les Standiford Page B

around to the other end to buck the cut timber as it came off the saw.
    “We keep this up, we’ll strip these woods bare in no time,” John Talley said to Calvin. “Glad you come back.”
    “Ask and ye shall receive,” Calvin said. “I do believe in that.”
    Calvin and Speck hustled another log down onto the carriage. “How ’bout you, boy, what do you ask for when you say your prayers at night?” Calvin said.
    “Nothing,” Speck said.
    “I don’t believe that,” Calvin said. “Young, healthy boy like you must want a lot of things. I know I did when I was your age. Still do.” He stopped to wipe the sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve, watching Speck from behind the crook of his elbow.
    “I doubt I want what you want,” Speck said.
    The saw screamed and sent up a cloud of sawdust that settled down on Speck and Calvin, who had moved to the opposite end of the mill to catch the ripped lumber.
    “How ’bout it, boy,” Calvin said, effortlessly swinging a ten-foot pine plank down off the mill. “You think the man above sent us here?”
    The boy was sweating, trying to keep pace with the older man. “I thought it was the fella from the collection yard,” Speck said, and he loaded the plank onto the wagon bed.
    “Maybe you get that smart mouth from your mama too,” Calvin said.
    Just then the saw made a terrible screech as its teeth bit deep into the hard heart of the log. The blade stopped, but the tractor engine kept growling. Speck grabbed a piece of scrap board and reached in to push it against the log.
    John Talley came running from around the far end of the saw, waving his arms. “Cut it off!” he screamed.
    Calvin ran to the tractor and pushed in the throttle.
    The sawyer grabbed Speck by both shoulders. “Don’t ever reach in to that machinery,” he said. “You know better. That old mill’s touchy. Any trouble, that’s it. You shut it down. You hear?”
    Speck tossed the scrap aside, and the sawyer and Calvin rocked the log until they inched it away from the blade. Across the yard, Marcy called from the doorway of the main shack.
    “Dinner’s ready,” John Talley said.
    The men and Speck sat outside at the rough table and waited for the girl to carry the plates to them. She was flushed when she finally sat down. Calvin attacked his food while John Talley said grace. The girl wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. A strand of brown hair stuck out from under her hat and was matted across her pale brow.
    “This is real good,” the sawyer told Marcy, his mouth full of cornbread. “You ain’t eating?”
    “Not hungry,” Marcy said. “I just need to sit awhile.”
    “And I need some pepper,” Calvin said.
    She stood and began to make her way back to the shack, but halfway across the yard she slumped to her knees. Speck stood, but he didn’t move when he saw how Calvin looked at him.
    John Talley waited for the hired man too, but Calvin continued to eat. “You think you might better see to your daughter?” the sawyer said.
    “She’s all right,” Calvin answered, and he leaned over his plate and spooned in another mound of beans.
    “She’s hurt,” Speck said. “You did this.”
    Calvin’s fist, still holding the spoon, pounded the table as sudden and sharp as a thunderclap. “What do you know about it? If I say she’s fine, she’s fine. You can just stay the hell out of it.”
    “I won’t,” the boy said. “This ain’t right. You’re a goddamn criminal.”
    The sawyer straightened his spine. “That’s enough,” he said. “You, boy, hold your tongue.” He turned on Calvin. “And you had best remember why it is you’re here. I need help with this timber, but you can just keep on going down the line if you mean trouble.” And he went to help the girl back to the table.
    Speck could see the storm pass from Calvin, at least for the time being. His smile showed his stained teeth and pieces of his dinner.
    “She’s overcome by the heat,” the sawyer