Amos Washington's hands were crossed as he stood propped against the cow pens peering intensely across the small pasture. Thomas Wheeler smiled as he sauntered toward Amos. Although the heat of summer was only a recent memory, Thomas wiped a bead of sweat from above his right eye.

"I guess we had better make a run into town Amos," Thomas began. "If these chickens are gonna keep laying I reckoned we're a gonna have to feed 'em."

"What about that piece of tin for the barn?" Amos asked.

"We'll get it while we're up there." Thomas announced. "We also gonna get us one of them there bird sandwiches from Miss Ruby's you always talkin about," he added.

"Get it with what?" Amos demanded.

Reaching into his overall bib and pulling out three dollars Thomas boasted, "With this."

"Where in the world did you come up with three dollars, Mr. Thomas?" Amos asked.

"I broke the Captain's horse. But don't tell Ma," Thomas instructed.

Thomas removed his small brimmed felt hat, replaced it further back over his light brown hair, and smiled mischievously at Amos. Indeed the smile was of mischief but it also offered a hint of confidence.

"I've told you 'bout flirtin' with danger now," Amos warned Thomas as he shook his finger. "You's a gonna listen to Ole Amos one of these days. Just listen to what I tell ya."

The two men boarded a thirty-nine Chevrolet truck and headed to Live Oak. It would be at least thirty minutes into town. The Wheelers lived about fifteen miles south west of Live Oak, the county seat of Suwannee County, Florida.

The Wheeler home was not fancy. It was however of plenty size and very functional. It sat on the remaining forty acres of the six hundred forty acre place Thomas' grandparents homesteaded and acquired through purchase.

"You want to let's go by Uncle Jack's?" Thomas asked Amos as they got onto the sandy grade that would lead the man and boy away from the Suwannee River.

Amos looked at Jack with disapproval. Amos was a black gentleman with gray hair. He believed to be around sixty two-years of age but still had the strength of a thirty year old. The faded overalls he wore always carried a pipe, smoking tobacco, and a plug of Days Work chewing tobacco. For thirty-five years, Amos Washington had worked for Thomas Wheeler's family and lived on their place. In fact, Amos was considered family.

In his trademark authoritative voice Amos said, "Now why do you want to go by Mr. Jack's for? "We ain't a gonna stop and besides Mr. Jack don't want to be a fooled up with us."

No more was said. Amos and Thomas were both men of few words, so to speak. Although Thomas was only fourteen years of age, he fit the criteria of being a man. He was responsible, hardworking, and deemed it his responsibility to see after the place and his family while his father was serving America during World War II. Although there was little horseplay in the lad, Thomas would usually sport a mischievous smile.

Finally Thomas and Amos reached the North Florida town of Live Oak. First stop was Miss Ruby's Bar B Que. After devouring a bird sandwich each, they headed on over to Guthrie's Farm Supply. There they could find chicken feed and roofing tin.

Guthrie's was located next to the railroad track in Live Oak. Although it had a large area for feed, fertilizer, lumber, and seed behind the store, there was but a single drive gate accessing the large area.

Due to excessive customers that day, the parking area of Guthrie's had been filled forcing Thomas to park inside the drive gate where the bagged feed was customarily loaded.

Amos and Thomas got out of the Chevrolet truck. Thomas went in to place his order while Amos lit his pipe and made small talk with Willie Boy Jones who was loading the laying mash in advance.

Inside, Thomas found a few familiar faces as he made way to the order counter.

"What can I get you today Thomas?" The clerk asked.

"A couple of sheets of that tin out there and I reckoned about eight bags of laying mash for the chickens," Thomas replied with his typical grin.

The clerk started writing a charge ticket for Thomas as the other gentlemen discussed hopes of the war ending.

"Thomas," the clerk began, "any word yet from your pa?"

There was a change in the smile of Thomas. That smile of mischief was transposed to a smile of sadness. "No sir, not yet."

Suddenly the front door busted open and Horace Brooker entered. Horace looked extremely mad as his cold eyes tuned into the young Thomas Wheeler. As he began to point at Thomas the clerk recognized something was not quite right.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Brooker?" The clerk asked.

"That boy, oh that boy," Brooker's voice trembled. "He came up and parked right in my way. I'm needing to get feed and his colored fellow claims he can't drive the truck. Well I don't think this little imbecile should be driving either."

The clerk put down his tablet and started to speak, "I think it was just an oversight now Mr. Broo......"

"Feeble-mindedness!" Brooker yelled.
"I'll move the truck now, Mr. Brooker," Thomas offered as he began walking to the door.

"You doggoned right you will," Brooker said. "Now get!"

Thomas stopped immediately and turned toward the angry man. The boy was no longer smiling as he stared for just a brief moment deep into the man's eyes. "I have heard all I care to hear from you, Mr. Brooker."

Brooker then advanced Thomas as he said, "I'm going to teach you some respect boy."

As the angry Brooker drew his hand back, Amos Washington grabbed a hold to it.

In a low voice that would intimidate any man Amos said, "Touch the boy and I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Brooker said as Amos administered pain to him.

Amos then released Thomas' would be assailant and began walking toward Thomas when he saw the boy swiftly pull his pistol.

"Put it down or I'll shoot you," Thomas warned.

Amos turned to face Brooker and saw the man had drawn a fire stoker from display to use on the back of Amos's head. No one spoke as Amos and Thomas walked out of Guthrie's.

As they pulled out onto the highway, Amos began contemplating what had just occurred.

"Thank you," Amos said.

"Thank you," replied Thomas. "He got pretty steamed back there."

"Aw he'll get past it," Amos said.
The smile of mischief returned to young Thomas Wheeler as Amos gave him a wink of approval.

"Hey Amos," Thomas began as they approached Mason's General Store.

"What do you say we stop here and get ourselves an RC Cola and a Moonpie."

"I'll buy," Amos said as Thomas wheeled the Chevrolet into the store's parking lot.
Mason's had always been one of Thomas' favorite places. He remembered his infatuation with the shiny new toys along the north wall of Mason's not so many years prior. It was at Mason's that Thomas later got his shotgun. Above all it was a friendly place to go. Mr. and Mrs. Mason, he thought seemed so fitted for their business. Of course the ever presence of their daughter, Penelope was another good reason for the young Mr. Wheeler to make an occasional purchase at the handy general store.

"Hello Mr. Mason, hello Mrs. Mason," Thomas said. "Me and ole Amos here sure would like to get a soda water and a Moonpie."

The Masons smiled at each other as Mr. Mason winked at Mrs. Mason and wiped his hands on the red apron he wore.

"Coming right up Thomas," Mr. Mason said.

"Penelope!" Mrs. Mason yelled. "Thomas is here."

"Amos, you doing all right today?" Mr. Mason asked.

"Doin' just fine, thank you," Amos responded.

"How is Rose doing Thomas?" Mrs. Mason asked.

"Oh, I guess Ma is doing pretty good Mrs. Mason. Every thing is going to be just fine you know," replied the young man.

"Well I know she is beside herself about your father," Mrs. Mason added.

"As I said," Thomas reiterated, "everything is going to be just fine ma'am."

Mr. Mason handed the young man his R.C. Cola and Thomas began chugging it down. As he brought the bottle back down, Thomas saw Penelope standing before him.

"Hey Thomas," she said.

"Well hello Miss Penelope," Thomas began. "And just how is the world treating you today?"

Penelope had no time to respond before the sheriff's deputy opened the front door and invited Amos and Thomas out for a word in private.

"The sheriff would like to have a word with you two," the deputy advised outside. He's waiting down at the office."

"We'll do," Thomas said and once again he and Amos were climbing aboard the thirty-nine Chevrolet.

The Sheriff's Office was located in the Suwannee County Courthouse so they were only a couple of blocks away.

"I expect Sheriff Green wants to have a word with us about our little run in with Horace Brooker," Amos speculated.

"He ought to know how Horace Brooker is," Thomas replied.

"Oh he does," Amos agreed. "He just ain't used to seein' nobody stand up to 'em."

The unlikely pair chuckled conservatively as Thomas parked the truck in front of the courthouse and in they went. Sheriff

Green was reviewing the weekly paper as Amos tapped upon his door.

"Please come in," the sheriff said.

The gentlemen exchanged handshakes and were seated. Sheriff Green was behind his desk with Amos and Thomas facing him.

"What happened down at Guthrie's?" The sheriff asked.

Amos and Thomas gave an accurate detail of the entire incident. They neither added to nor took anything away from their unfortunate encounter. When they were finished, the sheriff nodded steadily as if he was searching for words to say.

"That's how I heard it happened," the sheriff said. He then began to chuckle. "I guess Ole Horace is having another bad day."

"Yes sir," Amos and Thomas said simultaneously.

"Now, Thomas," Sheriff Green said, "this don't mean you can just go pulling your gun on people. Why are you carrying a gun in town anyway?"

"Well sir," Thomas began with a smile, "me and Amos here was doing some heavy duty cleaning around the place today and you know every rattler around is looking for a good place to winter. Seeing how I had my coat on over these here overalls, I just forgot I was carrying it until I walked into Guthrie's. But to be perfectly honest, I was glad."

"Good enough," said the sheriff.

Amos and Thomas were prepared to dismiss themselves when Sheriff Green asked to speak with Thomas in private. Amos showed himself to the door and the younger of the two sat back down.

"Anything on your pa?" The sheriff asked.

"Not yet," Thomas replied.

"How's your mama?" Green probed.

"Managing," answered Thomas.

Bill Green leaned back and gazed out the window. He was in his final term of office and looking forward to other problems to solve such as deciding to fish for bream or catfish. Bill had served Suwannee County well over the years and continued to do so just as he was doing at the moment.

"I am afraid I have some news that may not be so good Thomas," Bill said softly.
Thomas rose to his feet and felt his heart pound for the young man had stood his fair share of bad news. "Tell me like it is sheriff," he said.

"Now just set back down Thomas," Bill said. "Do you remember a fellow named Scott Pierce?"

"The one Pa testified against," Thomas replied while nodding his head.

"That's the one," Sheriff Green confirmed. "He got out of prison yesterday and I understand he's moving back out there by ya'll, son."

"Do you think there's going to be trouble?" Thomas Wheeler asked of the sheriff.

Bill Green lit a cigarette, blew out the match, and inhaled the cigarette smoke deeply. "I don't know," he said, "but if there is any trouble I expect you and Amos and your ma to let me handle it."

"O.K.," Thomas replied.

"I mean it," Bill said. "That is what they pay me for, Thomas. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," said the young man as he stood up and shook Bill Green's hand.

"You see your Uncle Jack much?" The good sheriff asked.

"Not much," Thomas remarked and turned toward the door.

As Thomas walked to the door, Bill saw much of Thomas' uncle, Jack McKinley in him. Content, Bill Green completed his smoke as Thomas walked back out to Amos and the thirty-nine Chevrolet