He stopped the tractor ten yards from where Cal was working and idled the engine. Cal stopped digging and looked up at Edwin sitting behind the wheel....The smell of dung mixed with that of the muck in the ditch. It seemed right.“Backhoe wouldn’t start,” Cal answered. “This ditch needs widening out.”“I can get the backhoe started. Ya got to jimmie the butterfly valve in the carburetor.”Cal almost asked his brother why he didn’t simply fix the carburetor. He started to, but stopped himself because. The look was obviously too young forher but that was sort of the point. It would attract the right kind ofguy.Looking back at her was a sort of overly sexy art chic, black turtleneck sweater covering a perky breast, ragged skin tight cutoff jeansover black tights and patent leather stilettos.Now to find a guy, Peggy had picked the place in Westerville carefullyon the internet. It was a chain bar that would certainly have the rightkind of guys hanging around and just as important a couple doors. More

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