The Boys had been making the trip for close to fifty years. They had left a lot of rubber on the road.   This trip was like the others.  It took a while before they slowly engaged in any type of depth.  Reacquainting takes time.  When they were northbound, change softened tongues and thoughts. Youthful they became with weathered attitudes.  Acquired daily habits slipped off by the mile.  Their eyes narrowed and became watchful.  The day slowly darkened.

Thirty years earlier the three had joined Robert John’s Father who commanded a station wagon towing a Datsun mini truck; covered flatbed engorged with the trappings of decoys and gear.  It had been the first for Younger and the third for Smith.  Robert John was making his six or seventh since permitted to pull the trigger.   He had learned to shoot with his dad and uncle on a shallow water lake which…