Quinn kept on reeling in the line, the shadows along the bank of the lake stretching out to the water’s edge. He could feel the sun on his face and along his arms. Tonight, he and Maggie planned to host a cookout at the farm with his mother, Boom, and maybe a few surprise guests. His mother hadn’t said it outright, but he expected his sister Caddy, his nephew Jason, and his old friend Donnie to show up from over in Austin. Lately, there had been some talk about Caddy and Donnie finally getting married.

“How about we hit Sonic,” Quinn said. “But skip the Frontier Village.”

“You don’t like that man Johnny Stagg,” Brandon said. “Do you?”

“I think some folks become mean,” Quinn said. “And others are born mean.”

“You think he can change?” Brandon asked. “Like John Wesley did?”

The thought of Stagg changing made Quinn smile quite a bit, reeling in the hook, and casting it back into the lake. He knew those big fat ones were hiding down there slow and deep, but they’d strike soon.

“I think Johnny Stagg won’t be satisfied until he uses up everything and everybody in Tibbehah County,” Quinn said. “It’s just in his nature. He’ll never quit. And he’ll recruit other soulless people like him to join his effort.”

“What’re you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to put that old man back in the cage where he belongs,” Quinn said. “I don’t quit, either.”

*   *   *

“Sure do appreciate you coming, Sheriff,” Johnny Stagg said, standing at the ticket counter to Frontier Village on opening day. The registers were pinging with all the cash and credit cards being run, Stagg now sure that this new direction had been the way to go.

Bruce Lovemaiden shook his hand and removed his white cowboy hat that he’d worn special for the occasion. Johnny Stagg had one on, too, bought from the Western wear shop on the Jericho Square. Black with a silver concho band.

“Brought my two grandboys with me today,” Lovemaiden said. Two big-headed fat kids, looking like miniature versions of the sheriff, stood up right next to him. The boys looked for all the world like twins to Johnny Stagg, except one boy was about two inches taller. They both had the same wide, doughy face and haircut with the bangs cut straight across their foreheads. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber.

“Send ’em right on in,” Stagg said, reaching into his slicker for some golden tokens. “And take these. You two rascals let me know when y’all run out.”

“We weren’t asking for no special favors, Mr. Stagg,” Lovemaiden said. “I’d be glad to pay the fifteen dollars to let ’em in.”

“Not today,” Stagg said with a wink, opening up the rope for them both. “Y’all go have yourself a good ole time.”