
I trudged up the dirt and spotted a man sitting on the front porch of his cabin, reading, a rifle balanced on his knees.
I stopped. Most people kept a cup of coffee or tea close by when they read. Not a gun.
The man looked up from his book, scanned me from head to toe, and then smiled. “Need help?”
“Yes. My car broke down, and I can’t get reception. Do you have a phone with a land line?”
“Only kind of phone that works around here. C’mon in.”
I thanked him and walked onto the porch.
As I pulled open the screen door, a large SUV ground up the road and parked in front the cabin.
The man set aside his book. Any trace of a smile gone, he swiveled the rifle toward the vehicle as a tall man slammed the driver’s door.

