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"Ten. I'll have them up by nine."

"I've got school."

"I know you've got school." He came out through the gate and hooked it behind him. "I'll have them up. The buyer wants to see them in the lot, not in the chute. Your mama can come or not."

"She'll come."

"I figured she would."

"She'll want to know what he's paying."

"He's not paying anything Tuesday. He's looking."

"She'll want to know anyway."

"Then tell her I'll have a number by Thursday." He touched his hat. "Olivia. Brody. Appreciate it."

Brody said, "Anytime, cousin," in a voice she'd never heard him use on Owen, and Owen went to the barn.

He walked her to her truck. He didn't have to, it was thirty feet, and he did it with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

"Your mama's going to ask me to supper," he said.

"She asks everybody to supper."

"She doesn't always ask Owen."

"He doesn't like to stay."

"No." He looked at her truck door, not at her. "That's the light thing. I've got one more."

"Say it."

"He put orange paint on your daddy's cow and you wrote it down, and you looked like hell doing it." He said it kindly. "Not the cow. The rest."

She got her keys out. "Is it working?"

He was quiet long enough that she looked up.

"You were at that gate," Brody said. "You saw his face. You don't need me to tell you what's on it."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one you're getting."

"You said you'd carry it."

"I'm carrying it. I'm not carrying him. He's got to carry himself the last part, Liv, or it's not worth having." He knocked twice on her hood and stepped back. "Tell your mama I drank the coffee. She'll want to know."

"She'll want the lid back."

"She'll get it. Go home, Bateman."

"You're going in to see him."

"I'm going in to give a man back his gloves."

She drove out past the barn. He didn't come out of it.