“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“You?”
“Yep.”
“As good as you are at it?”
Wilder blew out a laugh. “There is always someone better. I owe money.”
Bernie straightened up and looked at him.
“How much?”
“Right now, I owe ten thousand dollars.”
“Holy shit. You are in deep.”
“I know. It might be time to skip town.”
Bernie stared out across the yard, then looked at him.
“No one you can borrow it from?”
“Ten thousand dollars?”
“Did you try to get a loan?”
“My credit is shot, man. I might have to run again.”
“Again? I thought you said you were born and raised in Clifton?”
“We all say a lot of things when we’re in hiding.”
“No shit.” Bernie took a long drag on his cigarette, dropped it, stamped it out with his boot heel, and picked it up. “Rory doesn’t want any cigarette butts on the ground,” Bernie said with a chuckle.
“Somehow, I can see that.” Wilder continued to look across the yard.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Wilder.”
“Yeah, okay. Night,” he said.
When Bernie went inside, Wilder softly swore. Something was telling him Bernie was the one in on the rustling, and Wilder needed to get him to talk to him about it. He’d try to act as desperate as he could around him. He’d let Bernie know that he’d do anything to get that money.
Morning came way too soon, Wilder thought, as he made his way to the barn.
“Wilder, you can help Bernie in the parlor today,” Buster said.
“All right.” Wilder nodded, then followed Bernie to the milking parlor.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Bernie asked him as they walked out of the barn.
“Not much.”
“I honestly thought you’d be gone this morning.”
Wilder stopped walking, and Bernie came to a halt, then looked over his shoulder at him.
“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind.”