The Swamp Searchers

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After a week, Charlie still had found no trace of Bobo Hensley and the twenty thousand dollars. The strain was putting a twitch in Charlie’s narrow eyes. Being buried alive up here in the Smoky Mountains was doing unpleasant things to Leah, too. She was just about nuts from having the crickets, frogs, and whippoorwills talk to her at night.

Leah was something to make the local yodelers come out of the hills just for a look. She was tall, had black hair and green eyes, and she knew how to dress her engineering job and walk it around. Charlie was her second husband. Sometimes, when she was sore, Leah compared Charlie unfavorably with her first husband, who had committed suicide.

Being away from city lights was making her short with Charlie. She railed at him and cried in anger, and last night Charlie had slapped her.

With Barney, it was different. He fished every day. The twenty grand wasn’t his. Not Barney Loy’s. That was Charlie’s worry. It was a sort of accident that Barney was here with Charlie and Leah.

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