It was God punished him.
Just like I prayed for.
The top of that ol’ silo got took by the storm, the barn burned and the woman got sick, just like I prayed.
Oh, he had it coming all right, all of it—the fever cows and the horses shitting their guts onto the field in long strings.
I may have helped with some of them retributions, like mixing the poisons into the feed and maybe helping that barn get burning.
The old lady was sickly besides.
But I had nothing to do with the silo.
That part was God.