Nobody's Fool
delinquent teenager.
Sully told Harold that the pickup had died this morning, describing its condition for Harold, who listened hopefully. âCould just be corrosion on your battery cables,â he offered.
âCould be,â Sully agreed. âBut it isnât.â
They had strolled outside, Rub tagging along a respectful stride behind, Dwayne lurking even farther in the background. âHow do you know?â Harold said.
Sully thought about it. He didnât know for sure, of course, but it just made fatalistic sense the truck would die today. Yesterday heâd had a job offer that was contingent upon having a truck, which meant the truck had to die. Mired as he was in a stupid streak, Sully credited the perversity ofcosmic law that governed such things. âCall it a hunch,â he told Harold.
âWhy donât you let me have a look,â Harold said. He didnât discredit hunches exactly, but he liked to check them out just in case. âWeâll send Dwayne out and have him tow it back.â
âThatâd be good,â Sully admitted, momentarily buoyed by Haroldâs common sense.
âYou met Dwayne?â Harold said, catching the boy, who wasnât expecting to be introduced, with his finger in his nose. âGo get Sullyâs truck and bring it here,â Harold told him. Dwayne nodded, headed for the wrecker.
âDwayne?â Harold called after him. âDonât you want to know where it is?â
Dwayne returned.
Sully gave him his address on Upper Main, told him the truck was parked at the curb.
âWhat color is it?â Dwayne asked.
Sully told him green. âItâll be the one that looks like itâs not worth towing,â he added.
Harold smiled as Dwayne retreated again. âMinute ago he was going to get a truck he didnât know the location of. Then after you tell him right where it is, he wants a full description.â
Rub was wiping his palms on his shirt. âHe picked his nose and then shook my hand,â he said angrily.
âHereâs what you should buy,â Harold said on the way past the junkyard, indicating a snowplow blade that was leaning up against the chain-link fence. âGuy that owned it made good money doing driveways.â
âHow come he sold it?â Sully said.
âHe didnât,â Harold said. âHis widow sold it. I picked it up at an auction.â
âI donât seem to have a truck to attach it to, is the problem,â Sully pointed out, although he was intrigued with the idea. With the town of Bath always cutting back on services and snow already in November, a plow might not be a bad idea. âI donât think I have the strength to push it myself.â
âIâll make you a deal if you decide you want it,â Harold said and quoted Sully a price that wasnât much more than what heâd paid for it at the auction. âDonât wait too long.â
âIâd have to rob a bank if Iâm going to buy a truck and the plow rig both,â Sully said.
âSome people borrow from banks,â Harold pointed out.
âNot people like me,â Sully said. âBanks like you to own something of equal value they can take from you in case you run into some bad luck.â
Harold had only two trucks at the moment. One was in pretty good shape. Sully took the other one for a test drive. It was marginally better than the truck he already owned, which was dead.
âI wouldnât charge you much for it,â Harold said when Sully returned and looked at the vehicle skeptically. âBut then itâs not worth much. I bought it for parts myself. Youâd be money ahead to buy the other one.â
âI know it,â Sully said. âBut the money Iâd be ahead is money I donât have.â
âWell,â Harold said. âWho knows. Maybe I can fix the one you got.â
At that moment they heard the wrecker returning and watched Dwayne pull into the yard towing a truck that was not Sullyâs. Neither was it green.
Harold sighed mightily. âIâll be darned,â he said quietly. Heâd almost said heâd be damned, but he caught himself at the last second.
The house Miles Anderson had bought occupied the southwest corner of the intersection. It was the largest of the big houses on Upper Main, a three-level brick affair with two small widowâs walks on the upper story and a huge
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