“Who was that on the phone?” Amy Slencik said as she came into the cabin on Grizzly Creek with an armful of beets from the garden.
“That was my job foreman,” Harry said sourly. “He says Ted Smith has pulled his crew off the underground wiring job.”
“He’s what?”
“Pulled out. Disappeared in the night. His boys came in and hauled off their backhoes and trucks about midnight. No sign of them in town today. Said they were losin’ money, so I could just go suck rocks.”
“But Harry, Ted bid that trenching job! He signed a contract with you.”
“So what’s a contract? He’s gone. Am I supposed to chase him to California? I can’t even hold up his last week’s payroll — he’s got it already.”
“Well, you can sue the bastard,” Amy said.
“I could if I was rich — but I haven’t got time or money to sue him. What I’ve got to do is get those trenches dug, somehow. You can’t lay underground without trenches. Goddamned bastard.” Harry walked over to the cabin window. “Well, at least I got your irrigation pump going again.”
“I know. And just in time. What was wrong?”
“Dead pack rat in the intake pipe. Plugged it up tight. Don’t ask me how he got in there, the foot valve was just fine, but there he was, inside.”
“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t the whole pump,” Amy said.
“That’s for sure.” Harry nodded. “Pack rats I can live with. People like Ted Smith are something else.” He stared down the creek toward the place where old Doc Chamberlain’s cabin was located, a hundred yards downstream in the cottonwoods. “I keep thinking we should just dump the construction company and retire out here full time. Show those bastards that somebody else can walk off a job too. Doc was talking about the same thing last summer, just taking up full-time residence here on the creek and let things in town go hang. Maybe we ought to talk to him again one of these days and see what he thinks right now. Maybe go down and buy him a drink tonight.”