“Name’s Banner,” he told me, licking his chapped, shriveled lips. “Handsome horse, huh? Retired from the races.” I slapped a piece of roof tar into his wheelbarrow, where it let out a loud ring. “Oh.” From what little I ever saw of it, I suppose it was handsome. Had two distinct colors to it, in patches, like a cow or something—brown and white. “Looks like it’s the only one left here.” “Yeah. The guy said that most the other horses are racing at different tracks for a couple months. This one’s retired, though, like I said. Supposed to be euthanized.” “Youth and what?” “Euthanized. Put down.” He lifted the wheelbarrow handles and turned away. I had exactly fifty seconds to catch my breath, stretch my back, take a drink, whatever. We’d been working as a team for long enough now that I had it ingrained. Sometimes I’d just place my fists on my hips, lean back and close my eyes, arching my back to loosen it. And then open them again and reach for another strip of tar just as Lyn returned. Behind me I could hear Rison barking at the new guy, Dave. The delivery truck had arrived with its heavy-duty conveyor belt rising from the ground to the roof like a fire department ladder truck. From below two men loaded the belt with heavy bags of roofing. Dave was catching and stacking them here at the top. It was a bitch of a job—one I’d done a few times before—and I was glad the new guy was put on it. The math, of course, didn’t add up. If two guys were loading it from the bottom, and only one shmuck was catching them at the other end, something had to give. I looked around for Rison and found him near the stairs, pulling violently on a cigarette with a cell phone up near his face. “Let’s go, man, let’s finish this.” I threw my head back around. This was Lyn, standing behind the wheelbarrow and pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. I’d just miscalculated the fifty-second window.
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