Free Wellspring (Paskagankee, Book 3) by Allan Leverone Page A

he had explained to Pellerin that he didn’t
dare operate his Cat behind the Runner with the ground saturated the way it
was, because he was afraid the damned thing would get stuck in the mud and he
wouldn’t be able to remove it until July.
    Pellerin
had pissed and moaned and made like he was going to call another contractor,
but better men than Pellerin had tried to bullshit Dan and hadn’t succeeded
yet. Dan Melton was the only contractor north of Portland with the equipment
necessary to complete this job, and there was no way Bo Pellerin was going to
pay what Dumas Construction down in Portland would charge if they had to haul
an earthmover all the way up here.
    So
after hemming and hawing, cajoling and threatening, Pellerin had finally agreed
to wait. He was in a hurry because the state health department wouldn’t allow
him to operate his business without working restrooms, and the failure of his
septic system had put the Men’s and Lady’s out of commission until a new system
could be installed.
    “Christ,”
Pellerin had groused, “none of my male regulars would have a problem stepping
out back and pissin’ behind a tree. And we don’t get any women in here, ‘cept
for old Blanche Raskiewicz, and she don’t count ‘cause she’s tougher than the
rest of my customers put together. I’ll bet she pees standing up, anyway.”
    But
that was three days ago, and the drizzle had fallen steadily ever since, broken
up only by the occasional heavy downpour. Each day had seen Dan field two or
three calls from Bo, and each day had seen him explain the issue with the Cat
getting stuck in the mud again and again.
    But
each day had also seen Pellerin’s calls become a little more aggressive than
the last. The bar owner was losing a fair amount of money from the forced
closure. Hell, Dan guessed by now half the male population of Paskagankee was
probably suffering from the DT’s, thanks solely to the Ridge Runner’s shutdown.
    This
morning everything had come to a head. Pellerin’s voice had been rough and
insistent. “Listen here, Melton,” he said the minute Dan picked up the phone,
not even giving him the chance to say hello. “The weather guessers say we’re
going to have at least another day of
this shit and I just can’t afford to be out of commission that long. You get
your goddamn equipment over here and finish the job, or our deal’s off, and you
can forget about getting paid.”
    Dan sighed
heavily and agreed. His concern about the Cat was still just as valid as it had
been three days ago, but that goddamn Pellerin had just worn him down, plain
and simple. Dan Melton didn’t like arguing—although he supposed Mary
might dispute that claim—and besides, Pellerin did have a point. A
business owner could only keep his doors closed for so long just because of the
weather.
    So now,
the Cat slipped and slogged through the mud, rain falling on and around the
enclosed cab, while Dan tried not to fall asleep. So far the earthmover seemed
to be maintaining traction, and maybe with a little luck he would be able to drive
the thing out of here when he was finished, which he very nearly was.
    The
leach field was laid out in a rectangular grid pattern; each corner marked with
a red stake. Dan had scraped the top couple of feet of earth off the baffles,
and then carefully removed each one with a chain connected to the Cat’s big
bucket. He had piled all of the baffles neatly together and was now in the
process of digging the pit a little deeper in order to satisfy zoning
requirements that had changed in the decades that had passed since the old
system was constructed.
    And he
was almost finished. He had dug in a pattern, starting with the land farthest
away from the back of the Ridge Runner, and working his way in toward the
building. Now, though, he was running into a problem. He sighed. It figured.
That guy Murphy had really had his shit together when he invented his Law.
    The
teeth of the Cat’s iron bucket