PROLOGUE

The Reverend Charles Cruft Brannon usually dressed similar to other preachers—a starched white shirt with detachable collar, three-piece wool suit, silk tie, and Panama hat. However, when doing his other job—the one tonight, he didn't resemble a preacher. A worn out shirt, patched bib overalls, boots past their usefulness, and a tattered straw hat covered his solid body. Early fall chilled the air, hence he also wore a wool jacket too large even on his stocky frame. As he moved in the darkness, he hoped his disguise would fool anyone who might alert the bootleggers. The preacher slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping a sharp out to spot the bootlegger's lookouts before they spied him. He knew doing this put him in danger. The danger …show more content…
From his view hole he watched both lookouts stand and place their hands on their weapons.
Maybe their supply truck. I wish the team had come here. We'd nab these four, the truck driver, and anyone with him. The state paper would love that story!
At that moment a crash filled the room. C. C. dropped to the floor as if he had been shot, wishing he could wedge his way between the floorboards and into the crawlspace below. Gunshots smashed through the building's wood siding, spewing splinters in their wake, as he hugged the floor and prayed as he had never prayed before. “Start the car!” yelled a voice across the street. “Let’s get outta here, fast!”
The electric starter kicked in immediately, pulling the powerful V-8 engine to life as feet pounded the ground in a run. Doors slammed and the Chevrolet raced away from the gunfire scene. C. C. ignored his fear and ran out the back door in time to catch sight of the car careening from one edge to the other before it settled into a run straight down the rutted road, throwing dusty rooster tails high into the night air. Soon the quiet returned, broken only by bull frogs, cicadas, and an occasional