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I’d seen this Mustang only in Motor Trend , but here was the real thing. Right in front of me. Live. The engine still hot. All shiny red and gleaming chrome, looking like it could eat up the road in one fell swoop. Daddy would’ve loved it. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in my entire life.
    What was weird was the guy who stepped out of the Mustang. He looked like that nerd called Poindexter in the dumb Barbie board game Rosie made me play when we were little, even the red hair on top of his thin milk-carton head. He was so skinny that Miss Georgia would say if you saw him from the side, you might miss him altogether.
    Mr Harrison drove up, too, but I hardly noticed him. I was too busy gawking at the Mustang and wondering why a nerdy guy like Poindexter had such a cool car. Until Mr Harrison pointed at my open mouth and said, “Watch out, or the bugs will fly in!” and laughed like he was the funniest guy ever.
    Mr Ha-ha Harrison headed on over to our house, and I shut my mouth but I kept looking at the Mustang. I heard Mr Harrison, though.
    “Betty, your house is looking lovely, as always. I’m sure we’ll get you a buyer in no time. In fact, I believe I might have one snagged already!”
    What? I felt myself gritting my teeth, but what I heard from Poindexter, inside the store, made me even madder.
    “So all this property is for sale? The store, too?”
    I whipped my head around and was in the What-U-Want before Beau had a chance to speak. “Who wants to know?” Was Poindexter the buyer Mr Harrison had snagged?
    Beau’s eyes went wide. “Wh-what he meant to say, sir, is he’d like to know your name. I-I’m Beau, and this here is Red.”
    Poindexter held his hand out to Beau, who touched the bill of his Quaker State cap with one hand and shook with his other.
    “I’m Bill Reynolds. From Richmond.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m a lawyer.”
    Right then I knew I didn’t like him. I remembered what Daddy said about the only thing slimier than Mr Harrison was a big-city lawyer, so I squinted my eyes at Mr Reynolds from Richmond. “Why do you want to know about our land?” I scared him, too, because he stepped back and stuttered. I realized that he was pretty young, at least for a lawyer.
    “I-I’m inquiring on behalf of a client .” He emphasized the word client like that made him the most important guy in the world. I’d seen Perry Mason on TV. I knew a client was just someone who hired a lawyer. So if Poindexter wasn’t the buyer, who was?
    “Well,” I said, “I don’t think any cli-ent of yours would be interested.”
    “Oh?” said Poindexter, looking at Beau, who was tugging his hair and staring at me wide-eyed.
    “Yeah,” I said slowly, giving myself time to think of a good reason. “Yeah, we got termites and wood rot. Everywhere.”
    Beau looked at me, shaking his head. “I don’t think—”
    “And,” I said, talking over Beau, “it’s too dangerous for another reason. You see, Mr Dunlop – he lives behind us – he doesn’t take kindly to folks who are strangers to these parts. Heck, he doesn’t even take kindly to us, and we’ve lived here for thousands of years.”
    Beau coughed.
    “Well, hundreds of years, anyway.”
    “I’m aware of Mr Dunlop,” Mr Reynolds said.
    How did he know about Mr Dunlop? “Well,” I said, “are you aware that he’d just as soon shoot you as look at you?”
    Mr Reynolds flinched, and Beau was tugging his hair with both hands now.
    “I see. Where, exactly, is his house?”
    I pointed behind the store. “Right back there. Shotgun distance.”
    His Poindexter face went even paler. “Well, thanks for that information,” he said, heading for the door.
    I figured I’d gotten rid of him for good.
    He took a deep breath and said, almost to himself, “I’ll have to go pay Mr Dunlop a visit.”
    What? It took me until he got in the Mustang before I remembered what Rosie had said and found my voice. I ran out to the steps. “Mr