FrostLine by Justin Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

disappeared from the face of the earth, he’d be a happy man. Well, I ain’t disappearing. This is my home. Been home to my family since my grandfather bought it.”
    Most of Newbury’s Butlers had migrated up from Bridgeport after World War One.
    â€œAnd when I die, it’ll be Dicky’s home—I know what you’re thinking. You think when I die Dicky’ll sell. Well, that’s his business. When I’m dead and gone I won’t give a damn. But I’m not dying and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to live my life here. And you can tell that son of a bitch down the hill I just passed my VA physical with flying colors. They told me I’ll be farming at ninety.”
    â€œCongratulations.”
    â€œDamn straight—Christ, I’m twenty years younger than Uncle Pete. Maybe I’ll meet a waitress, too….Wouldn’t mind having a woman around here, again. I been alone a long time….You’re not married, are you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œSeem to have a bad habit of falling in love with the wrong woman.”
    â€œTell me about it. Jeez, Dicky’s mother was a looker….You know, Ben. If that sorry son of a bitch had just come up here, man to man, and asked, neighbor to neighbor, could we work out something with that lease—hell, I wouldn’t have spit in his face. But he sent goddammed yuppie lawyers. I set DaNang on ’em. Then he sends a pair of washed-up bureaucrats: Bert Wills from Middlebury? And some jerk spook drummed out of the CIA giving me a song and dance about the lease isn’t good. Ira Roth wrote that lease. Goddamned Devil couldn’t break it.”
    Mr. Butler liked Ira because back when he had hope that Dicky would straighten out, Ira had twice had charges thrown out of court.
    â€œWills and what’s-his-name—?”
    â€œWiggens?”
    â€œYup, Wiggens. They treated me like garbage. What if I were the sorry ’sucker they thought I was? They’d have scared me into giving up what was mine.”
    â€œHow’d you happen to lease it? It’s a funny-shaped little piece.”
    â€œI didn’t want the damned field. Crazy old Zarega insisted.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. The bear died. He wanted cows around.”
    â€œThe bear died?”
    â€œOf course he died. Must have been hitting forty. So I leased it, strung some fence, and I made sure to run a few head in. Old Man Zarega would shuffle out on his walker, lean on the fence, watch ’em for hours. He was a neat old guy. Sorry I didn’t get to know him sooner. But I was pretty crazy the first ten years I was home. Lived like a goddammed hermit.”
    â€œTell me if I’m out of line. But it sounds like you wouldn’t miss it if you leased it back to King.”
    â€œYou looking for a commission?”
    â€œIt’s how I make my living, Mr. Butler. You farm. I broker property.”
    â€œI hope you’re doing better than I am.”
    â€œI’ve seen better years.”
    â€œThank God I got my disability. Only way a dairy farmer can make a living is get shot for his country—you know people pay more for Perrier water than a quart of milk?”
    â€œI know that people send yuppie lawyers when they should have sent real estate agents.”
    â€œBullshit. He should have come himself. But he’s always been a guy to make other people do his dirty work—”
    He cocked his ear, suddenly tense. A second later I heard it too, the heavy thudding of a helicopter. It got closer and louder until it shook the rafters, screamed over the tin roof, and thundered toward Fox Trot.
    Mr. Butler sat rigid, hands clasped in double fists, strings of muscle trembling in his neck. When the sound had died entirely, he spoke in a cold and bitter voice.
    â€œThey’re using you, Ben. I thought you were better than this.”
    The helicopter had