Marlin got closer, he saw that he didn’t recognize any of the men, either. They appeared to range in age from early twenties to mid-forties, and several of them discreetly held beer cans behind their legs as they noticed Marlin approaching. Some of them didn’t bother hiding their beers, and one man even held his can up in a lazy salute.
Anyone from the city would say this was a rough-looking crew. Redneck all the way. Scruffy. Most of them needed a shave and, in some cases, extensive dental work. A few of the men wore camo, but most were wearing pearl-snap denim shirts and worn-out jeans with Justin Ropers or snake boots. At least half of them had black felt hats on their heads, with a feather tucked in the headband. It was a signature look, and Marlin had already realized who he was dealing with. But the final tip-off was that there was a dog box—basically a big aluminum crate—mounted in the bed of nearly every truck.
Great. Dog runners.
That was the name given to hardcore hunters who used Walker and bluetick hounds, beagles, Jack Russell terriers, and a few other types of working dogs to chase deer in the Pineywoods of East Texas. The dog runners’ bloodlines usually went back many generations to the early settlers along the Neches River. Hunting with dogs was illegal, but it was sometimes hard to prove, because while a hunter couldn’t use dogs to pursue a deer during an active hunt, he could use dogs legally to trail a deer that was already wounded. Except in East Texas. The problem with dog runners was so prevalent, and so concentrated, in that area of the state, it was illegal to even trail a deer with a dog in twenty-two East Texas counties.
These dog runners were obviously here to try to collect the pig bounty, and Marlin wasn’t happy about it. Dog runners were notorious for breaking hunting laws. As far as the dog runners were concerned, they were just carrying on a tradition set by their daddies, and by their daddies before that, and so on. What right did the government have to tell them to quit doing what they had always done? It was their God-given right.
Not surprisingly, there wasn’t a dog to be seen. The types of dogs used to hunt wild pigs would instinctively separate one pig from the herd. That’s not what the hunters would want in this situation. They’d prefer to kill as many pigs as possible, as quickly as possible. So they hadn’t brought any dogs.
Marlin stopped about forty feet away and studied the group. They watched him right back. More accurately, most of them glared right back. A few of them laughed, as someone no doubt had just made some sort of wise-ass remark.
What Marlin needed to do was get out and talk to them. Ask if he could join the party. Be friendly—but make his presence known. Get a good look at their faces. Take note of any names he heard. Sometimes these informal visits went just fine, other times he found himself in the middle of a pack of first-class assholes.
Just as he reached for the door handle, he happened to glance in his rearview mirror. Behind him, on the other side of the parking lot, was a similar cluster of trucks. As he was craning around to look, he saw several more trucks across the highway, parked in front of a convenience store.
He knew right then it was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 10
Another side effect of Adderall—in addition to hives, breathing difficulties, blurred vision, change in sexual ability, irregular heartbeat, fever, anxiety, frequent urination, blistered skin, vomiting, slurred speech, and a host of other unpleasant possibilities—was “new or worsening mental or mood problems.”
Many people would interpret that to mean the user might get depressed, irritable, or even aggressive—and that was true. Dexter Crabtree had experienced all three. But the “mood problems” could also include delusions and hallucinations. Scary stuff. Crabtree couldn’t afford to have either of those.
He wondered: If you had a
Anyone from the city would say this was a rough-looking crew. Redneck all the way. Scruffy. Most of them needed a shave and, in some cases, extensive dental work. A few of the men wore camo, but most were wearing pearl-snap denim shirts and worn-out jeans with Justin Ropers or snake boots. At least half of them had black felt hats on their heads, with a feather tucked in the headband. It was a signature look, and Marlin had already realized who he was dealing with. But the final tip-off was that there was a dog box—basically a big aluminum crate—mounted in the bed of nearly every truck.
Great. Dog runners.
That was the name given to hardcore hunters who used Walker and bluetick hounds, beagles, Jack Russell terriers, and a few other types of working dogs to chase deer in the Pineywoods of East Texas. The dog runners’ bloodlines usually went back many generations to the early settlers along the Neches River. Hunting with dogs was illegal, but it was sometimes hard to prove, because while a hunter couldn’t use dogs to pursue a deer during an active hunt, he could use dogs legally to trail a deer that was already wounded. Except in East Texas. The problem with dog runners was so prevalent, and so concentrated, in that area of the state, it was illegal to even trail a deer with a dog in twenty-two East Texas counties.
These dog runners were obviously here to try to collect the pig bounty, and Marlin wasn’t happy about it. Dog runners were notorious for breaking hunting laws. As far as the dog runners were concerned, they were just carrying on a tradition set by their daddies, and by their daddies before that, and so on. What right did the government have to tell them to quit doing what they had always done? It was their God-given right.
Not surprisingly, there wasn’t a dog to be seen. The types of dogs used to hunt wild pigs would instinctively separate one pig from the herd. That’s not what the hunters would want in this situation. They’d prefer to kill as many pigs as possible, as quickly as possible. So they hadn’t brought any dogs.
Marlin stopped about forty feet away and studied the group. They watched him right back. More accurately, most of them glared right back. A few of them laughed, as someone no doubt had just made some sort of wise-ass remark.
What Marlin needed to do was get out and talk to them. Ask if he could join the party. Be friendly—but make his presence known. Get a good look at their faces. Take note of any names he heard. Sometimes these informal visits went just fine, other times he found himself in the middle of a pack of first-class assholes.
Just as he reached for the door handle, he happened to glance in his rearview mirror. Behind him, on the other side of the parking lot, was a similar cluster of trucks. As he was craning around to look, he saw several more trucks across the highway, parked in front of a convenience store.
He knew right then it was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 10
Another side effect of Adderall—in addition to hives, breathing difficulties, blurred vision, change in sexual ability, irregular heartbeat, fever, anxiety, frequent urination, blistered skin, vomiting, slurred speech, and a host of other unpleasant possibilities—was “new or worsening mental or mood problems.”
Many people would interpret that to mean the user might get depressed, irritable, or even aggressive—and that was true. Dexter Crabtree had experienced all three. But the “mood problems” could also include delusions and hallucinations. Scary stuff. Crabtree couldn’t afford to have either of those.
He wondered: If you had a
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