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appreciate it, but that would take too long today.  Some of it would have to be done on foot since there is a bit of a mud bog that the tractor can't get through right now.  I'll count'em again tomorrow and we'll worry about it then if need be," Ollie answered with an insistent tone.
    "Do you have a gun you take with you into the field?" Evan asked.
    "I keep my shotgun on the tractor.  That's all I've ever had a need for around here," he said.
    With that being said, Evan rotated the paddle holster holding his .45 caliber Springfield Armory 1911 that he had on his strong side, freed it from his belt, and placed it on the table with the muzzle pointed in a safe direction.  He then did the same with his double mag pouch that was on his weak side, and placed it on the table as well.  "Keep this with you at all times.  Have it on your side so that if you step off of and away from your tractor you won't be away from your gun for even a second," he said.
    "Oh nonsense, you keep that, you need that more than me," Ollie replied in protest.
    "Trust me, I have more than this.  It won't be missed.  Just don't sell it on eBay or something," Evan said jokingly.
    "E what?" Ollie asked.
    "Oh never mind.  That was just a bad bygone technology joke," Evan replied.  "So anyway, it's settled."
    "OK, fine," Ollie said.  "So back to the other business at hand.  How is the confederacy going?"
    "Confederacy?" asked Jason in a confused manner.
    "Oh don't get wrapped around the axle on what you learned in school about the civil war.  A confederacy is a loosely formed alliance.  We all share a common goal, but stand as individuals.  So we, as in our trade and barter group, are a confederacy of sorts."
    "Oh that," Jason replied.  "Well, we have twelve of the fourteen surrounding properties on board."
    "Who are the two hold-outs?" asked Ollie.
    "The place just off of Big Ridge road that has an old run down farmhouse with a few double wide trailers set up out back is one.  The other is the Murphy place a little on down the road from there.  That is, I assume it's the Murphy place as that is what the mail box says," added Evan.
    "Well, that first one you mentioned is Frank Muncie's place.  I believe he died a few years back.  He was a rough ol' feller, but was overall a decent man.  His boys however, which should all three be in their thirties or so by now, are a different story.  Frank just didn't raise'm right.  He just let'em do whatever the heck they wanted all their lives, and needless to say they didn't turn out to be worth a damn.  Frank Jr., the oldest, was in and out of jail by the time he was eighteen.  Mostly for theft and petty stuff.  Once the other two boys got old enough though, the three of them together went bad in a hurry.  Word is they got into sellin' weed, and from there got into pushin' prescription pain pills and such.  Them ain't the kind of fellers you wanna be doin' business with anyway.  Now the Murphy's on the other hand, that concerns me.  What exactly happened there?" asked Ollie.
    "We didn't even get to the front gate," Jason said.
    "Yea, we drove our ATV's toward the front gate and someone fired a warning shot over our heads followed by someone yelling from the inside of the house to get the hell out of there.  We didn't want to get into it with anyone, so we just complied and moved on," answered Evan.
    "Hmmm, well I don't know what to think about that," Ollie said as he just looked down to the table with a concerned voice.  His frustration and concern was evident from his demeanor.  "Well, let's give it a day or two and then go pay them a visit.  If I'm with you maybe he won't go off half-cocked."
    "What's the situation over there that's got you concerned?" asked Jason.
    "Issac Murphy and I go way back," Ollie answered.  "He and I grew up together.  We've lived here all our lives.  He's a good man, but his wife passed on about five years ago and he didn't take it well.  They had been