Ben knew the construction yard they were at. He and his brother made purchases there many years ago; driving dad’s old Ford to make the pick up. He visually inspected the grounds and facilities remembering how there used to be stacks of lumber or bags of concrete and various other sundry items. Ben spat tobacco juice on the ground and continued to chew on the tobacco in his mouth. He had been chewing tobacco for about 15 years. It was a natural habit for him. Not a clean one, but then most of Ben Giguere’s life was unclean.

He hadn’t quite warmed up to this flatlander making this deal with the Canadian, but he joined the Green Mountain Boys and therefore felt obligated to cooperate with him. Ben insisted, he allow his brother, Preston to watch over their business dealings from a distant hill top with his Remington .30-’06. Ben told his brother that if things got bad, he could hit the Canadian and any of his associates if Ben happened to draw his sidearm. Preston seemed to be fine with this job. He’d never killed a man, yet, but had had scored several bucks and a few does over his 31 years on the planet. After all, life as they knew it had changed significantly since the Russians showed up. Ben wasn’t very happy about it.

Ben heard the [i]fucking Hayseed[/i] comment and thought, [i]’Joe the fucking rag bag douche flatlander is a fucking dick.’[/i] He smiled at Joe the fucking rag bag douche flatlander while slightly hefting the sack containing the $25,000 in US Currency. He then shot him hand-formed pistol with his right hand while silently mouthing a 'bang'. [i]’Asshole.’[/i]

Ben had never seen so much money in one place. He grew up on a farm and worked for a railroad. These are not employment opportunities flush with cash. It was a way of life he was comfortable with; it was the only way of life he knew. This transition to an insurgent’s was not much different. He fit in pretty well. It was not much different than when he and his brother went hunting.

As the men talked about their business dealings, Ben remained quiet about thirty yards away. He scanned the pine trees and hills in the back ground looking for his brother. He knew where he was, but he could not see him. He was hidden pretty well; may only about three hundred yards away. Ben was prepared to hand the satchel of money over to the Canadian.