His caddy had been fucking up all morning, and now he’d disappeared. Denton had hooked a ball into the trees on ten and sent the caddy after it. There’d been no sign of him since. Now Denton leaned next to the snack cart, out of the sun, squinting at where the boy had gone into the pines.
Denton looked up. His caddy sat on a branch 30 feet above him, legs dangling, a small book open in his hand.
“Cut the crap and get down here. Five iron, let’s go.”
“There we go. You all right? Looks like you had quite a fall.”
He reached into his back pocket and handed Denton a small book. “Rules of golf, rule 28.”
