Windstorms were frequent visitors to the valley; at least, they had been as long as Beck’s and Kirk’s families remembered. The only thing more frequent than wind, in fact, was their petty neighbor disputes:
Kirk called the police on Beck for some fireworks.
Beck’s wife blamed Kirk’s kids for broken gate slats.
And everyone said Kirk’s dog was just plain yappy.
But the day after the panel blew down between their yards, Beck showed up, right at Kirk’s door. “Reckon you could use a hand with that there rotten post,” was all he said.
And they got to work.