R. Harper Mason

In the novel, Lyin’ Like a Dog there is man who is, without a doubt, a mean reneck. This is Richard’s first encounter with him.

“Dang, the sound just echoed through the woods, and I nearly jumped outta my skin ’cause a bullet smacked into a tree right beside me and bark flew out and stung my arm. Shoot, Sniffer jerked away and took off like a scalded dog.
“What in the world?” I yelled. “Who’s shootin’ at us?”
Heck, we were scared just absolutely outta our minds, and we didn’t move an inch ’cause we were afraid whoever was shooting at us might shoot again.
“That’s far enough, boys!” yelled somebody from up in front of us.
I jumped about three feet again when that fella yelled, and then he stepped out from behind a big pin oak tree holding a rifle. My gosh, he was one of the worst-looking men I’d ever seen. He had on an old crumpled felt hat and some ragged overalls with a blue work shirt pulled over them, and he was wearing some old beat-up work shoes with shoelaces hanging off the side. He had a stub of a cigar in his mouth and a kinda scruffy “I ain’t shaved in a while” look. Shoot, that guy looked as mean as some slimy snake.
It took us a little bit to calm down, and then I hollered back, “Why’d you shoot at us?” Well, I kinda threw out my shoulders like I was all put out and stuck my fingers in my belt.
“Hell, son, I didn’t shoot at you. If I’d shot at you, you’d be dead right now. I shot at that tree to get your attention.” He pulled the cigar outta his mouth, spit a stream of tobacco juice toward us, and gave us a sneer like “Y’all messing with the wrong man.”
“Whata you mean? We ain’t doing nothin’, just walkin’ ’long the creek bank,” I said. “Shootin’ at somebody’s against the law!”
“You’re trespassin’—comin’ on private property―and I’m the law in these woods. You understand that?” The man shifted his gun to his other hand like he was maybe gonna point it at us again, and I began to get real worried.
Well, I’m a little bit of a smart aleck, and I put my hands on my hips and stepped forward.
“Naw, I don’t understand that ’cause we ain’t a-trespassin’; this is Parson’s Timber Company land, and it ain’t posted or nothin’. Heck, we’re always roamin’ round on Parson’s land. Do you work for Parson’s?”
“Naw, I don’t work for no damn timber company, but if I say this is private property, then its private property. You understand that, boy?”
Well, the man kinda shifted his rifle again and gave us another hard look.
“Richard, shut up―let’s get outta here,” John Clayton whispered.
But shoot, I knew durn well we weren’t trespassing, and I just kept going on and on.
“Naw, it ain’t private property, and even if it is, you ain’t got the right to shoot at us just for walkin’ down the creek. We could have you arrested!” I kinda yelled that arrested part and shook my finger at him.
Dang, that was a big mistake ’cause, after I shook my finger at the man, he kinda squinted his eyes and his lips curled down. Whoa, I knew right then I shouldn’t have done that ’cause that man kinda leaned his head forward like he couldn’t believe I’d talked back to him, and then he licked his lips real mean. Then, my good lord, he raised his gun.
“Y’all is gonna regret pokin’ round down in this swamp!” he yelled.
“Dang! Dang! Dang!” I whispered to John Clayton. The hair on the back of my neck just stood straight up, and I stopped breathing.
“Oh my god, don’t!” yelled John Clayton, who was already backing away.
“Ahaaaaa, don’t shoot us!” I screamed, and, heck, I was running before them words was outta my mouth. ’Course, John Clayton did the same thing, and then I just nearly dropped dead of a heart attack.
Boom!
There was a rifle shot and dirt kicked up, and wow, did we turn it on. We flew through them big woods like nothing you’ve ever seen, and then, just as we started to slow down, another boom sounded, and a bullet tore through the trees above our heads. ’Course, that put us in high gear again, and we must have run another half-mile before we stopped. Well, we’d just stopped running when Sniffer, that cowardly dog, came sneaking outta the woods with his tail between his legs, giving me that “I’m so sorry I run off,” whiny look. John Clayton was panting like he’d run five miles.”

Lyin’ Like a Dog will be released March 1. If you would like to review this novel, please contact me. I only ask that you post your review on Amazon.com.