The old man laughed. “Infamous is probably a better word, come to think of it. People still talk about me up there for the things I did. And I did a lot more than take money out of politicians’ pockets—though I’m very proud of that.”

“What sorts of things?”

Joseph wore a far-off look. “Well, money was good back then. People had more than they could stand, everybody had work, economy was good. If you played your cards right, you could talk a man right out of his own cash.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Games, gimmicks, stuff like that.”

“You mean card games?”

Joseph started to chuckle. “Card games are for men with no creativity.”

“You stole from people? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I prefer to call it ‘winning.’ And I won more times than I lost. I once won a man right out of a twelve-hundred-dollar cashier’s check.”

“By games?”

“Yep.”

“What kinda games?”

“They don’t have names, but they all go the same way. You meet a man, you size him up, you set him up, then you knock him down. You either win or lose. Simple as that.”

“You are a con. You know that?”

“Nope, a con goes to jail. I never did no time. I’m a legend to some people.”

Coot thought about the prospect of earning easy money by cheating people. And it made him sick to his stomach. He’d cheated enough people in his time. “I don’t wanna steal from folks.”

“Who said anything about stealing? We play them a game is all we do. And we make sure we win.”

“And how exactly would you do that?”

“Oh, there’re lots of ways. You got your fiddle game, pig in a poke, hot checks. Once I almost sold a man a piece of land he thought was owned by the U.S. government for three thousand bucks. And I woulda got away with it if he hadn’t been a congressman.”

“You were a thief.”

“I was a legend.”

“If you were such a legend, what made you quit?”

“I was young. I thought I was invincible. That’s when you start getting sloppy, and I almost got caught.”

“Well, I ain’t no thief,” said Coot. “I’d rather work for a living.” Coot lit a cigarette and pulled in a breath of morning to erase the smell of cattle. “I’d rather have honest money.”

“Yeah,” said Joseph. “’Course you would. Forget I mentioned it.”

“It’s forgotten.” Coot tugged the door handle of the massive rolling door and slid it with a broad sweep of his arm. It made a loud, booming noise.

Joseph squinted his eyes at the sunlight and brilliant scenery. Green hills, wildflowers of every color, ponds, live oak trees, and virgin farmland passed by. The scenery was almost as breathtaking as the smell.

“You jumping first this time,” asked Coot, “or am I?”