"So, MT ... how was your day?" His mother asked.

MT smiled since what he was about to reveal to his parents was better coming from his lips then from the neighborhood gossip.

"I made a new friend today," MT said. "His name is Perry Trogdon."

That raised his father's eyebrows and brought a smile to his step-mother's lips.

"I heard Barbara's boy was in town for the summer. Good for you," She said.

The grapevine gossip at the Piggly Wiggly market was the best in town. If MT's father had heard anything about the Trogdon family he wouldn't mention a thing. It just wasn't his way.

"Yeah, I showed him around, took him down to the creek and warned him about the snakes and poison ivy. I even got to see inside the mansion. Oh, Ms. Ball says hello. I didn't know she works there."

"Everyone has to have a job, dear. So what did you think of the house? Did you see Mr. Trogdon?"

"No, ma'am, I left before he got home. I will have to meet him at some point, at least to be polite," MT said.

"He doesn't bite," MT's father said. "He knows who you are."

"Are you friends with Mr. Trogdon?" MT asked.

"Friends? No, we're acquainted ... I know everyone in town and then some."

And that was true. Carl Teague ran the only garage in town and since most folks had a car it stood to reason that he'd meet them sooner or later.

None of that meant anything to MT, Carl was sure. He saw this boy Perry as a friend in a town where friendships were everything, especially in the younger generation. Perhaps it was time his son saw how the upper crust lived, and old Ben Trogdon would certainly open MT's eyes on that score.

Carl had always been proud of his son. The boy had grown up well despite the tragedy surrounding his birth. MT didn't feel responsible for his mother's death, and they had talked that subject out years before. But Carl had remarried to give the boy a mother and they had both lucked out. June was a fine woman and MT never treated her with anything but respect as if she were the one who bore him. That's as it should be.

But he was fifteen now, and despite the good grades in school, the boy wandered in life. It wouldn't do for the father to impose his will on the son and force him to become an auto mechanic; he didn't have the aptitude. Perhaps MT was destined for greater things and something in this life would hand him the answers.

With dinner over MT helped his mother clear the table and went out to the front porch to watch the world go by. They lived only a block off Lindsey Street, and half a block behind the drugstore. He was about to sit on the porch swing when he saw movement on the other side of the fence.

"Good Evening, Mrs. Thatcher," MT said.

"Hello, dear," the woman replied. She had her little gardening bucket filled with tools and a box of pansies balanced on her arm as she walked along the fence line.

"You need some help?" MT asked. And without waiting for a reply he hopped the fence and took the box before she dropped it.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Thatcher said. "Isn't it a glorious evening?"

"Yes, ma'am ... are you going to plant these flowers?"

"I was thinking so," She replied.

But MT looked down at the flowerbed and didn't see a single empty spot. The woman had so much stuff crammed in her garden it was starting to look like a jungle. But she was a sweet old lady and friends with his mom, even if she didn't have all her marbles.

MT set the box down beside the steps to the house. Mrs. Thatcher would wander around the yard until dark and probably forget what she wanted to do, but he couldn't stand there all night.

"I put your flowers over here," MT said, knowing it made no difference.

"Thank you, dear. Have a good evening," She said.

MT went back to the porch and watched her poking and prodding the garden with her little spade. It must be hell getting old like that, MT thought. But perhaps the mind shifted to block out the reality of old age. Mrs. Thatcher certainly was a happy person in her little yard, and isn't that what it was all about?

Perry would have been happy if MT had stuck around until his grandfather came home. But meeting the legend would do nothing to teach MT anything more about the grandson. They would hook up again tomorrow and had all summer to explore the creeks, hills and caves around Trogdon. He sure hoped Perry didn't say anything about the caves to the Old Man.

The boy was a horn dog ... wanting to touch MT's dick like that. That short time with Alvin had been one thing, but MT had been sure of his man and knew Alvin would never breathe a word of their activity. He didn't know Perry, not really. That little swim in the creek had been a test and a chance to see the boy naked.

Perry was impulsive, but he didn't whine when things didn't go his way. MT needed to trust the boy, and then maybe ... but why? MT didn't feel any kinship with Elvis, even though no one seemed to know what that man did for his ... uh, special needs. MT knew Elvis drove into Chattanooga several times a week, but most folks thought he was going for supplies. Was that the true purpose of those trips?

Sex was not something MT planned to explore with the girls in town. The ones his age were all dating older boys, and this past year at Marsh High School two of them had become pregnant. Hell no. MT wasn't in the lineup for that game.

If they were lucky the summer would go by without any incidents involving Perry. There were a couple of boys who lived in Alvin's old neighborhood who might be trouble if they discovered a Trogdon in their midst. That was the real reason MT had avoided the swimming hole and would continue to do so all summer. He had to protect Perry.

Tomorrow they would be off to Hawk's Point, the bluff in the foothills with one of the larger collections of caves. It was a safe place, well explored, unlike a lot of the other caves MT knew about in fairly inaccessible places. But first they would have to get there, and MT needed to take care of that slow leak in the front tire on his bike.

Darkness fell and without the sun adding its warmth to the breeze off the mountains the air turned decidedly cool. It wasn't hot in Trogdon yet. That touch of hell was reserved for July and the doldrums of August. MT smiled and went back in the house to watch a little television before he crawled off to bed.

He imagined Perry sitting with the Old Man all evening. That would not be any fun, but perhaps he enjoyed it. The kid was smart, no doubt about that. But he went to a private school without any girls to bother with and that was something MT could envy. It was only ten o'clock when MT walked out to the screened porch at the back and lay down on the daybed in the cool night air.

Dawn was his favorite time of day when he slept out on the porch. The chatter of birds and the sound of a few roosters were better than an alarm clock. When he awoke, MT pulled on his shorts and sneaked up the stairs to his bedroom for some clean clothes before heading down to the shower off the mud room. He liked being the first one to shower because he could use up all the hot water before his father got up and their little water heater managed to recover.

MT looked at his face in the mirror over the sink and was thankful that he didn't have to shave, but that time was coming. Perry might envy the hair on his body, but it hadn't spread all over quite yet. MT stood under the spray, shampooed his hair and then grasped the expected erection all that hot water always gave him.

His activity with Alvin still provided the images that served to bring him off after all this time. MT didn't question the thoughts since they brought about such a strong eruption. That was his only real experience and it would serve until something better took its place. And then he wondered what Perry might like to do.

Too soon, he would have to be patient. If you rushed into things it didn't give you time to think about the repercussions. MT soaped himself, rinsed off and reached for the towel. So Perry thought sucking dick was wicked, and yet he didn't mean it was evil. That was a good sign.

MT went into the kitchen after he dressed and started the coffee. His father would be up shortly, have his cup and then go shower. His mom stayed in bed until her husband was done and then on the mornings she worked rushed through her needs and was out the door by seven-thirty. Carl never seemed to hurry, but he was usually at Dubb's lunch counter by eight to have breakfast with his buddies. MT was on his own for breakfast, and that was just fine.

Today he had a bowl of Frosted Flakes and a half cup of coffee, carefully rinsing off everything and placing it in the dishwasher when he was done. He went out the kitchen door and discovered that there was still some air in that tire so at least he could ride to the garage.

MT rode up the street and past the drugstore to the gas station on the next block. His father's garage was right beside it. The lot was filled with cars, pickup trucks, and even a farm tractor. There were a whole bunch more cars and such in the back, but most of them wouldn't move any time soon.

The short of it was that some folks couldn't afford the repairs, and just left Carl holding the bag. MT knew almost every one of those vehicles, because when the time came he might get to drive one of them. The sound of an air wrench squealed from one of the garage bays. Leon and Junior were already at it.

MT could see one of the sheriff's cars was up on the lift inside being attended by the two black men. Beside the bay doors sat a muscular young white guy with grease smeared on his work shirt. As usual, Whit Nelson was eating his breakfast.

It was the same thing every morning, almost a ritual. Whit sat with his chair tilted back against the garage wall, a Moon Pie in one hand and a Royal Crown cola in the other. His momma would be appalled at what he ate, but she lived over in Fairview.

Whit was twenty-five now and had been out of the Army for almost a year. He came back from Iraq with a limp and a solid education in diesel mechanics. Both those traits had made Carl decide to give him a job as lead mechanic, and he was a pretty good one, too.

MT had always had a secret desire to know Whit better, but that wasn't about to happen. The man was pure country boy, from his mannerisms to his jokes, but he was never mean.

"Hey, MT," the man called out. He looked at the bike and smiled. "Told you those tires would wear out fast if you didn't stay on the road."

MT smiled. "Yeah, Whit, you were right. Front's got another leak."

The man laughed. "You better stop running over those nails. I can tell you were down to Wicket's Lumber Yard again. You down there chasing Cassie?"

The two black fellows laughed and Whit smiled at his joke. Mr. Wicket had an eighteen year old daughter who had a whole lot of boys all burnt up with desire over her sweet little ...

"Trouble, nothing but trouble. You know I'm not looking at that," MT said.

Whit finished his Moon Pie and pulled a wooden match out of his shirt pocket, inserting it in the left corner of his mouth. The Marlboro cigarette was dragged from the other shirt pocket and Whit lit it up with his Zippo in a one handed move that was pretty impressive.

The cigarette went in the right corner of his mouth and he puffed at it twice before putting the cola bottle to his lips and taking another sip. MT had studied the move and couldn't see how it would work. Match, cigarette, and bottle all at the same time. It was a studied maneuver that MT thought was more than cool.

He pushed his bike over into the corner of the garage and everyone went back to work. MT opened the drawer on his dad's tool box and pulled out the small unsealing tool and the socket set. Within a few minutes he had the tire off the bike and the tube out of the tire. He dunked the partially inflated tube in the water tank and found the spot where the end of a wheel spoke had worn a small hole in the tube.

The damn thing had three patch repairs already so he dropped it in the trash and pulled another one from the stash in the bottom drawer. Carl got them wholesale, a dozen at a time. MT wasn't the only boy in town who got flat tires. Five minutes later he had the tire back on the bike, good as new. Whit was right: he needed new tires, probably a whole new bike. This one was cobbled together from old parts.

"Thanks, Whit ... see ya," MT called out as he pulled a wheelie out the door. Whit gave him a wave, but any reply was drowned out by the squeal of the air wrench in his hand. It was still early, but MT had told Perry to be ready by eight o'clock. It was a long way out Highway 193 to Hawk's Point.

Fifteen minutes later he was wheeling down the driveway towards the mansion. What would it have been like if he'd grown up here? MT couldn't imagine a life of privilege, and yet he'd never really wanted much from his parents. Their expectations of him were not difficult to achieve, but he imagined it would be a whole lot different with all this wealth around.

Perry was in the summerhouse with the door standing open, but he was sitting in front of a small computer, a laptop. MT had used computers at school, but he didn't own one. Somehow that didn't seem important, until now.

"Hey, Perry," MT said.

"Wow, come look at this," Perry said.

On the screen was a photo of a cave with people standing in front of it. MT had seen the tourist brochures for the Ruby Falls Caverns up in Chattanooga. Dubb's had a few of those in a rack by the front door in case people wanted to go visit. It wasn't far from Trogdon, but he had never been there.

"This cavern is in Southern France. Mom and I went there a few years ago, it was an awesome trip," Perry said.

"What's that on the rock ... some kind of animal?" MT asked.

"Cave art, the early people who lived there painted animals on the walls of their cave ... wait a minute, let me look at something," Perry said.

His finger typed on the keyboard and MT was impressed. He didn't really know how to do too many things on a computer, but it seems Perry did.

"There you go, that's Lascaux ... we visited that one, a big tourist attraction. See, there's that picture again, it's supposed to be a horse ... wow, it was painted almost twenty thousand years ago."

"Really? That's cool," MT said. "So some ancient guy painted those animals?"

"Yeah, here's the whole article. It says they painted dozens of different animals, birds and even human figures ... Oh, damn. That cave we saw was a replica, not the real thing."

"What? Why would they do that?"

"Seems too many people were changing the environment in the real cave, it was spoiling the paintings. But look at this, it was discovered by four teenagers about seventy years ago. I don't suppose you've seen any paintings in all the caves you discovered."

MT laughed. "No, I never saw a thing. I guess the only people around here that long ago were the Indians."

"But they had all kinds of art," Perry said. "I wonder why they didn't paint in caves?"

"I don't know, maybe it wasn't important to them, but we can look if you want. Can we go?"

"Yeah, Bernice already packed our lunch ... I figured you might get hungry," Perry said.

MT nodded. "Good thinking."

Ten minutes later they were out on Highway 193 and headed north at a leisurely five miles an hour. MT and some friends had ridden their bikes all the way into Chattanooga the year before, almost forty miles round trip. It took them all day to accomplish, and was something he never wanted to try again.

To reach Hawk's Point they had to run parallel to the hills until they came in sight of Lookout Mountain. That was the highest point in the range here in Georgia, but the mountain straddled the border with Tennessee. Once they reached Lookout Road they could turn towards the bluff.

The limestone cliffs looked pretty daunting from below and they attracted rock climbers with their ropes and little hammers. But that was a silly way to reach the top when there was a perfectly good slope to climb only a half mile away. MT wasn't going to tell Perry about that, he would wait until the boy saw the cliff and was shocked at the height.

"What's that smell?" Perry yelled after they had gone about five miles.

"Dunno ... smells like something's been cooking too long," MT said.

They rode up the highway and circled back, trying to figure out which way the wind was blowing and pinpoint the source of the smell. It wasn't unpleasant, just strong, like paint thinner. There was a slight haze in the air as if something was burning upwind. It didn't take long before MT discovered the driveway off the main road all overgrown with bushes.

Perry wheeled up to the edge of the gavel shoulder alongside the asphalt road and looked at the brush. There was no mailbox but a piece of pipe stuck up where one might have been.

"I think there's a house up there," Perry said. He dismounted and went over to look at the brush. He pulled at a bush and it moved. "This stuff is all cut...like someone put it here to hide the road."

"We better not go up there then," MT said. He pointed at a familiar wooden post up at the fence line. "Your family owns this land anyways."

Hundreds of properties were owned by the Trogdon companies, each of them marked with a post and a small metal plate left by the surveyors. Perry went over to the post and looked. Sure enough, this was Trogdon land.

"What if there are trespassers? They might be doing something illegal," Perry said.

"We tell your grandfather and he calls the sheriff to go investigate," MT said. "But if some poor guy just painted his house he might get pissed if we send out the cops."

"We need to have a look," Perry said. MT knew there was no stopping the boy so he went along.

They stashed the bikes in the bushes along the highway and pushed their way through the cut brush. There was a faint overgrown roadway stretching out along the tree line to the far side of a grassy field and into the woods. But the ruts of truck tires clearly showed someone had recently used this road.

Staying close to the trees, MT strained his ears to see if there were any sounds, but all he heard were birds up in the branches overhead. They followed the road and moved in under the trees, watching the roadway climb the rise and disappear deeper into the woods.

"Have you been up this way before?" Perry asked.

"Not from this direction. But I've followed the creek line that runs along the base of the hills all the way to Hawk's Point. It took me all day to get there. But there must be a house or an old farm up this way."

Maybe the place was deserted, but the closer they got to the top of the hill the stronger the smell became. A squirrel chattered and ran across in front of them causing Perry to jump.

He laughed and MT put his finger to his lips. "Quiet," he whispered. "Sound carries a long way in the woods."

The silence grew spooky and they could see a smoky haze collecting in the tops of the trees. The smell of something burning filled the air and if there was a fire then someone had to be close by. Eventually the trees thinned and ahead MT could see a small farmhouse set in a clearing.

The house stood off to one side of a large yard filled with weeds, but there was a barn across the way. The source of the fire was in the barn, as billows of smoke could be seen pouring out the eves below the roof.

Perry stopped. "Looks like the barn is on fire," He said.

MT was a little wiser. "Someone is cooking in there ... probably moonshine. That's what we smell. We better leave now and get the sheriff."

"Nobody's here," Perry said, looking around. It did seem unusually quiet but MT wasn't convinced.

They crept further through the trees, skirting the clearing until they reached one side of the barn. MT never took his eyes off the house but it looked deserted, the roof caved in on one corner. The rough wooden sides of the barn were leaking even more smoke and that meant the interior was probably filled with it.

Perry pointed to the front corner of the barn and a small open doorway. This was crazy, MT decided. People that made moonshine usually had guns and were less than reputable members of the community. But Perry wouldn't know any of that, and he had already begun to move towards that door.

Perry looked inside and then stepped in, MT was close behind. An old tractor blocked their way but they slid around it. Moving along the inside wall they finally reached a point where they had a clear, if smoky view of the interior.

There were piles of corn cobs in an old horse stall and beside it sat the still. A large metal boiler sat up on a brick enclosure under which a fire had been made. It seems they were using corn cobs to stoke the fire. There was no vent on the enclosure, just an opening in the side and smoke poured out that hole filling the barn and easing out the eves.

The smell of the mixture bubbling away filled their senses and MT swore it made him dizzy, or maybe it was the smoke. A coil of metal tubing came out the top of the boiler and ran down into a wooden tub filled with water. Situated in the side of the tub was a pipe and that was dripping a clear liquid into a bucket sitting on the ground.

Neither of them had ever seen a still before, but the rig looked like what it ought to be...and that was moonshine dripping into the bucket. The sudden sound of a chainsaw outside made them both jump. The noise ran for a minute then cut off.

Half of the large barn door opened and two men came inside.

"I told you them corncobs were wet, now there's smoke all over the valley," One of the men said. "What you should have done was cut down some hardwood and stoked the fire with that. Save the corn cobs for after dark when it don't matter."

Perry and MT shrunk back into the shadows behind the tractor and huddled against the wall. The other man shrugged.

"I couldn't get the chainsaw working, Nathan. It's only a little smoke ... this batch is almost played out anyways. I have to make more mash tonight or we won't get enough."

MT saw the man and shivered. It was Josh Snowden's father. Everyone knew the guy was just out of prison and was no good. He'd seen the boy with this man in town several times in the past month. And poor Josh, the boy had always been a smiling happy kid at school until his daddy came home.

MT didn't recognize the other man at all. But one look said he was a hard character. His face was covered in a scraggly beard and his hair was long and unkempt. He looked like a mountain man right out of the backwoods, perhaps he was. But these men were making moonshine on Trogdon land and they both needed to get arrested.

"I have to drive over to Fairview and get some more yeast," the stranger said.

"Well, you ought to use the pasture gate, I don't want to re-arrange that brush again this time," Snowden said.

"Sorry, but I couldn't find my way in yesterday, that's all. We'll be out of here in three days anyway. This load ought to sell pretty quick don't you think?"

Snowden smiled. "Yeah, it tastes just fine ... you got the magic touch."

A mouse jumped on Perry's leg and the boy was startled, bumping into the wall boards behind him.

"What's that?" Snowden said. "Damn smoke. I can't see shit."

MT grabbed the mouse and it squeaked. He tossed it under the tractor and it scurried away across the floor.

"Just a mouse, stop worrying, ain't no one gonna find us up here," the stranger said. "I better go ... be back in a couple of hours."

The men walked out the door and a minute later MT heard the sound of a truck starting up. He tugged on Perry's arm, it was time to leave. They started to move when Snowden came back through the door and closed it. He looked around and walked over to the side door, closing it as well. The boys were trapped.

Snowden proceeded to stoke the fire with more of the corn cobs, causing a fresh blast of smoke to billow out into the barn. He sneezed and coughed, fanning the smoke away from his face.

There was no escaping now, Snowden would certainly see if a door was opened. They would have to wait ... maybe until the other guy came back. But the smoke was stinging their eyes and MT stifled a sneeze. God, it was hard to breathe in here.

Snowden must have felt the same way because he went to the large doors and opened them both, stepping outside. MT heard the man cough and spit ... it was their cue to move. Perry bumped into him, thinking they would be going out the side door but MT shook his head. No, they would have to go in the other direction and away from Snowden.

MT motioned for the boy to crawl along the floor towards the back of the barn. Lord knows what was all over that floor but they were in it and there was no stopping now. Snowden might be back at any second. They reached the back corner and MT stood up, placing his hands on the ladder to the hay loft.

He'd seen it when they first came in and now it loomed into the smoky distance above. MT didn't know if there was a way out up there but it was the only move they could make. Hand over hand MT climbed the ladder with Perry at his heels and they were soon in the loft above the still. Twenty feet away they could see the end of the barn and there was a small door to the outside through which hay was loaded.

The boards creaked as they crept along in the thick swirls of smoke. Both boys had tears streaming down their faces from the smoke and MT tried not to breathe. The door was held fast with a wooden pole which he could easily move. But once the door was open the smoke would fill this little corner of the barn as it escaped. That wasn't the only problem they faced. It was probably twenty feet to the ground from up there.

Perry grabbed his arm and MT turned to look. The boy's face was red, he was out of air. But hanging behind him was a rope and MT leaned over to grab it. He pushed the door open and it creaked a bit, but there was clear sky outside. Grabbing the rope MT motioned for Perry to descend first, the boy shook his head.

"You can't be afraid, you have to do it," MT gasped.

"Aw shit," Perry said.

He took the rope and MT told him to hand over hand down, keeping his feet against the barn siding. Perry looked grim but he eased himself out the door. He made it most of the way down when his hold let go. MT heard him hit the ground with a thump.

Rappelling wasn't something new to MT, but Perry had grown up a city boy. MT lowered himself on the rope, careful not to bounce off the barn siding and make noise. Perry was sitting up and rubbing his neck, but he was smiling. No time for talk, they ran like hell and melted into the trees behind the barn.

They headed towards the highway knowing full well that Snowden would see the smoke drifting up into the loft and out the door. If he went around back he would see the rope hanging down and know someone had been there. They had to move fast.

The brush whipped against MT's arms and legs, but he figured it was worse for Perry. The boy wasn't as fit since he didn't spend all his time climbing around in the hills. But no sooner had he thought that then Perry ran up beside him, legs pumping a mile a minute. Plain old fear had given wings to his feet.

It was miles back to the Trogdon gates and once they recovered their bikes they flew like the wind. Perry's neck hurt from the fall but otherwise he seemed okay. It took them about thirty minutes to get to the driveway and another two to locate Perry's grandfather.

One look at the boys and the Old Man knew something was up.

"You got moonshiners on your land, Pops," Perry said, gasping for air, and then he described the place.

"I know just where you mean," Trogdon said and got on the phone to call the sheriff's office. He finally hung up the phone and then smiled at MT.

"Hello, young Mr. Teague. We haven't met before, at least not formally, but I know your daddy."

"Yes, sir," MT said. "He's mentioned you a time or two."

"So how did you boys get involved with these moonshiners?" Trogdon asked.

"We smelled them cooking up from way down on the highway. I probably would have passed on by, but ... " And here MT stopped.

Trogdon nodded, and finished the sentence. "But Perry had to investigate. I appreciate your keeping him out of trouble. Now as for you, young man," He said turning to Perry. "You listen to MT. There are a whole lot of things going on around here you don't understand anything about, and what you did this morning could have been very dangerous."

Then he stopped to smile. "All right, boys will be boys. Shall we go watch the fun?" He asked.

Franklin opened the garage doors and MT soon heard the rumble of a large vehicle starting up. Out through the doors came this big old black Dodge 4 x 4 with huge mud tires and a heavy brush grill across the front.

Trogdon slid behind the wheel as Perry and MT piled into the passenger's side and off they went. They reached the blocked driveway in a matter of minutes, just in time to see the Sheriff and his deputies pull up.

The cut brush offered no obstacle to the large truck and Trogdon drove right through it beating a path for the Sheriff. They topped the rise with the Sheriff leading the way and MT wondered if there would be any gunplay. Snowden couldn't be that stupid, and it turned out he wasn't because he was passed out inside the barn. It seems the smoke finally got to him.

The deputies quickly put out the fire under the still and opened the doors to clear out the smoke. Snowden was recovering in the back seat of the Sheriff's car when Perry told them about the other man.

The Sheriff sent two of his men down the road to carefully replace the brush at the end of the driveway. They hid the vehicles in the woods and awaited the arrival of the stranger. By then Snowden was cuffed and knew he wasn't going anywhere but to jail. That's when he started to talk.

There were now four men with guns awaiting the return of the stranger ... but he never showed up. They waited two hours before MT figured something must have given them away.

"The smoke is gone and so is the smell," MT said. "That probably scared him off."

"Damn, I think you're right," Trogdon said. He turned to the Sheriff. "Do we know who the other man is?"

The Sheriff flipped through a stack of wanted posters on a clipboard until he found what he was after. Turning the page so Trogdon, Perry and MT could see it he nodded. "His name is Nathan Bates. He's wanted in four states and the FBI has been looking to catch him for the past few years.

"Perhaps we're lucky he didn't come back. It says he's armed and dangerous, but we know he doesn't work alone. He's a killer, Ben, and I'm not sure we're prepared to deal with him today. But if we catch him there's reward money on his head.

Trogdon turned to MT and smiled. "I guess you boys almost struck it rich."

"I'll pass on that," MT said. "We don't need to be chasing killers."

Trogdon nodded. The boy was right. There were things that needed to be said between them, but not here, not now. It was really Carl's business to tell the boy what he ought to know, family business. That was something he would have to encourage now that MT was Perry's friend. Perhaps a phone call would get the ball rolling.

MT's planned exploration with Perry was over, at least for the moment. They had both had enough excitement for one day. If he had known they were walking into such danger MT would never have allowed Perry to investigate the moonshiners. But somehow he knew this wasn't over.

The newspapers in Chattanooga would pick up on the story since they were the closest. If he was trying to keep Perry a secret for the summer MT knew that was now impossible with all this attention. Damn ... and things had been going so well.


On to Chapter Three

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