Let the Good Prevail by Logan Miller

Author:Logan Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2016-08-02T19:10:20+00:00

25.

They parked the red, white, and blue cruiser on the mesa a thousand yards distant and surveilled the wood yard through the night and into the next day. In the late afternoon a blue sedan entered the long dirt driveway and stopped in front of the brother’s trailer. Gates read the license plate with his Leupold Mark 4 spotting scope and Sparks ran the vehicle on the laptop.

26.

Inside the woodshed the brothers pulled back the tarpaulin and revealed the heap of plundered marijuana. Sticky vapors of ripe bud pushed into their nostrils and they could taste the cannabis perfume on their tongues.

Edgar Rivera owned the blue sedan and stood with a bottle of IPA in his left hand, cold from the brothers’ fridge. His ass ached from the long drive and his knees were stiff. He pulled on the bottle and the beer provided comfort to his injuries from the road.

“How many plants you got here?” Edgar asked.

“A few hundred,” Jake said.

“Big fuckers.”

“Yes they are,” said Jake, playing expert. He had asked Caleb to allow him to run the deal, to captain any negotiation that might ensue. Caleb had agreed without protest. It was Jake’s show.

“Ten-footers?” Edgar asked.

“Yessir.”

Jake threw Caleb a look of growing confidence. It was all coming together, just like he said it would.

“How long have they been stored like this?” Edgar asked. His rounded features and sloping shoulders belied a shrewd and cunning intelligence.

“About four days.” Jake said.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Store them like this.” Edgar stepped across the dirt floor and bent down to inspect the health of the plants. He plucked a handful of serrated leaves and rubbed them between his fingers and dropped them to the floor. He pushed aside several thick stalks and peered into the middle of the pile. A mild steam rose from the organic mass and he could feel the moisture upon his face as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“How else were we supposed to store them?” Jake said.

“Properly. It’s still fucking wet. You guys have never harvested before, have you?”

“This is our first time.”

“It’s a shame,” Edgar said. “You guys definitely have a green thumb but you sure as hell don’t know shit about getting it ready to smoke. Why the fuck didn’t you ask somebody?”

Edgar glanced at Jake and received only a blank stare.

“You can’t just chop it down and pile it all in one heap like this,” Edgar said. “You need to dry out each plant separately. It’s probably already got mold and maybe even worms by now.”

Edgar snapped the crown bud from the top of a plant and stepped over to the open doorway. He studied the cannabis nugget in the sunlight, the purple resin crystals and the fine red hairs, the tiny involutions and the stickiness of the pungent herb. The smoky smoke.

“This bud is all fucked,” he said. “Look at it.”

“What does it matter how it looks?” Jake asked.

“All that matters right now is how it looks. You fucking serious? Do you care how your steak looks at a restaurant? Yes, you do.

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