anyone. Old timers sti
ll called the gray building Williams‟, like it was still a store. Most
young folks though it haunted or abandoned.Today, Tar Williams was abroad and stealthily making his way along the marshesnear the boat ramp. Over his shoulder he carried a heavy sack. He came at last to a flat-bottomed boat that was hidden in the reeds, and stopped. In the boat sat Grace Thorpe,with glittering little eyes and red hair. He was small of frame, with a pot gut like anunderfed child. His open mouth showed yellow, pointy teeth. Tar Williams waded intothe shallow water and dropped the sack into the boat. He said nothing.
“Well, come on,” the little man in the boat hissed. Spit sprayed from his mouth
when he spoke.In the death of afternoon, they made their way down Cane Creek, a browntributary that curled away from the Coosa River. The little red-headed man paddled. TarWilliams sat in the stern of the little boat and said nothing.
“Don‟t go gittin‟ all soppy on me.” Grace hissed and sprayed. “We gone git us
and ain‟t nobody gone be the wiser fer it.”
They traveled a spell down the creek, until it wound back towards the river. This
bend in the creek took them close behind Poppa Joe Greasy Dick‟s bait shop. The outline
of the building showed in stark relief against the red light of the dying sun. The trailersquatted forlorn beside it.
“Everybody‟s down gone into town, and he‟s setting out there alone with all a thatthere money they made last night!” Grace repeated to Tar the reasoning behind the raid.