11
Once they had the flanks doused, Randall drove the truck around to the head, trading with Sheila because he figured he shouldn’t flaunt in Candace’s face who’d actually been driving all morning.
The crew had been busy and had a long line sliced through the soil. The trench ran twenty feet wide and from his flank, all the way down to the creek, and well up the other side.
“Spray the line behind us,” Candace instructed when he pulled up. The look she gave him said that switching drivers hadn’t fooled her for a second no matter how hard Sheila tried to look innocent in the passenger seat.
“Sure,” Randall eyed the grassy slope beyond the trench. “Just as soon as you get these amateurs to move their vehicles.”
Candace looked over her shoulder and swore. His path was blocked by a tangled
