Frank stretched his arms behind him, then popped his back with obvious pleasure. “This has been a hell of a weekend, considering. Why don’t we eat that gator, then pack this junk up and head back home?”

Snake gave Sonny and Morehouse a cagey look. “You boys got your new dog tags yet?”

Sonny reached into his pocket and flashed his Double Eagle gold piece. Morehouse did the same. Snake winked, then unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing not a gold piece, but a gleaming JFK half dollar minted in 1964. Someone had shot a bullet hole through the center of the coin, right through Kennedy’s head, and a second hole above the head allowed a leather thong to pass through it.

“Mine ain’t from my birth year, obviously,” Snake said. “Mine’s symbolic.” He gave a conspiratorial laugh. “Good times a-comin’, boys. And not a moment too soon. This country’s goin’ to hell in a handbasket.”

Sonny forced a smile and tried to look agreeable, but inside he wondered whether Frank had set his sights too high, considering the scale of the civil rights movement and the FBI’s involvement in the fight.

Snake poked Sonny in the chest. “How ’bout it, Son? You ready to bury Robert Kennedy beside his brother?”

Sonny fought the urge to pop Snake’s eardrum with a slap. “If Frank thinks we can do it, I’m ready.”

Snake gave him a coy look. “And Reverend King?”

“I’ll be looking forward to that one.”

Snake nodded, weird light dancing in his eyes. “You and me both. I got no use for a nigger preacher. Every one I ever knew had one hand in the collection plate and the other up the skirt of some sweet young thing.”

Just like your daddy, Sonny thought. But since Snake and Frank shared the same father, Sonny gave an obligatory laugh and watched Frank’s son drive the bass boat up onto the sandbar like some movie stuntman. Frank Jr. had joined the Marines a few months back and was due to ship out soon. He didn’t have his orders yet, but he’d told Frank there was a lot of scuttlebutt about a place halfway around the world called Vietnam. Supposedly, the United States was going to take over from the French, who’d had their asses kicked by the Asian commies, same as they had by the Germans in 1940. Sonny didn’t know beans about Vietnam, but he knew about fighting slant-eyes on the other side of the world. As a pastime, he could not recommend it. But Frank didn’t seem too concerned, so Sonny resolved to quit worrying for the boy.