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guitar and held it like a weapon in front of her. “Daddy?”
    “Put that down,” the voice said. A man stepped forward out of the shadow of the rosebushes. “I’m not your damn daddy. Although, come to think of it, I would like to know where he is.”
    “Ryan Shoemaker,” Fran said. She put the guitar down on the ground. A second man stepped forward. “And Kyle Rainey.”
    “Howdy, Fran,” said Kyle. He spat. “We were lookin’ for your pappy, like Ryan says.”
    “If he calls I’ll let him know you were up here looking for him,” Fran said.
    Ryan lit up a cigarette, looked at her over the flame. “It was your daddy we wanted to ask, but I guess you could help us out instead.”
    “It don’t seem likely somehow,” Fran said. “But go on.”
    “Your daddy was meaning to drop off some of the sweet stuff the other night,” Kyle said. “Only, he started thinking about it on the drive down, and that’s never been a good idea where your daddy is concerned. He decided Jesus wanted him to pour out every last drop, and that’s what he did all the way down the mountain. If he weren’t a lucky man, some spark might’ve cotched while he were pouring, but I guess Jesus don’t want to meet him face-to-face just yet.”
    “And if that weren’t bad enough,” Ryan said, “when he got to the convenience, Jesus wanted him to get into the van and smash up all Andy’s liquor, too. Time we realized what was going on, there weren’t much left besides two bottles of Kahlua and a six-pack of wine coolers.”
    “One of them smashed, too,” Kyle said. “And then he took off afore we could have a word with him.”
    “Well, I’m sorry for your troubles, but I don’t see what it has to do with me,” Fran said.
    “What it has to do is we conferred some about it. Seems to us your pappy could provide us with entrée to some of the finest homes in the area. I hear summer people like their tipples.”
    “So then,” Fran said, “if I have this right, you’re hoping my daddy will make his restitution by becoming your accessory in breaking and entering.”
    “Or he could pay poor Andy back in kind,” Ryan said. “With some of that good stuff.”
    “He’ll have to run that by Jesus,” Fran said. “I ’spect it’s a better bet than the other, but you might have to wait till he and Jesus have had enough of each other.”
    “The thing is,” Ryan said, “I’m not a patient man. And it maybe so that your pappy is out of our reach at present moment, but here you are. And I’m guessing you can get us into a house or two.”
    “Or you could point us in the direction of your daddy’s private stash,” Kyle said.
    “And if I don’t choose to do neither?” Fran asked, crossing her arms.
    “Here’s the kicker, so to speak, Fran,” Kyle said. “Ryan has not been in a good mood these last few days. He bit a sheriff’s deputy on the arm last night in a bar. Which is why we weren’t up here sooner.”
    Fran stepped back. “Wait up. Okay? I’ll tell you a thing if you promise not to tell my daddy. Okay? There’s an old house farther up the road that nobody except me and my daddy knows about. Nobody lives there, and so my daddy put his still up in it. He’s got all sorts of articles stashed up there. I’ll take you up. But you can’t tell him what I done.”
    “Course not, darlin’,” Kyle said. “We don’t aim to cause a rift in the family. Just to get what we have coming.”
    And so Fran found herself climbing right back up that same road. She got her feet wet crossing the drain but kept as far ahead of Kyle and Ryan as she dared.
    When they got up to the house, Kyle whistled. “Fancy sort of ruin.”
    “Wait’ll you see what’s inside,” Fran said. She led them around to the back, then held the door open. “Sorry about the lights. The power goes off more than it stays on. My daddy usually brings up a flashlight. Want me to fetch one?”
    “We got matches,” Ryan said. “You stay right