Good grief, the man was heavy. Jude shifted the pole onto his other shoulder, but it didn't help. Ezra was a dead weight, and he was going to be heavy even if you split the load amongst four men carrying him on a stretcher. The stony road was digging into the soles of Jude's feet, and he wished he'd brought thicker sandals. How long had they been carrying him? Jude's shoulders ached with the load, and the others weren't finding it any easier. Why hadn't somebody brought a cart - or a donkey, or anything useful? Jude knew why - because Ezra hadn't bought them for the building company.
He glanced back at Ezra, his stupid old head bobbing up and down with the movements of the stretcher.
They were carrying him head first, the miserable old whatsit, so he could see
where he'd been, but not where he'd be going (That way, he couldn't try telling
them where to go). Ezra was a useless works manager. Just because he'd
been longest working with the family firm, the bosses had made him manager of
the whole house building project. Him! Jude couldn't believe it. Everyone knew Ezra was a thief except the bosses,
who'd been fooled well and proper.
