?A leetle faster, Zac.? And sure enough, the sturdy little 5’8? Californian, with his unkempt mop of dark brown hair – a military cut that hadn’... seen a barber for three weeks – would push on, closing the gap with the truck in front again. Proof, if it were needed for the Arabs, that motivational corporal punishment really works. Naturally, a few minutes later, he would tire again and his pace would drop, and the whip would be unfurled. Constantly, over eight miles, this same cycle. The goon. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but whenever Rosie leaned across the breakfast table, cupped her hands, and whispered, “Lunch,” I knew. She’d carry a basket down to Cayuse and stay long enough for her mother and me to catch up on our business.Which we did. Two, sometimes three times.“Mr. Murdock, you are something.”“So are you, Mrs. Robinson, so are you.”One morning, I remember the Sunday church bells ringing, the three of us were still in bed. Rebecca nudged her daughter, “I’m felling lazy,. More

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