By Steve Weddle
I'm on vacation, kicked back in a long-sleeved t-shirt and light pants under an umbrella on a North Carolina beach, reading a Robin Hobb novel. While I'm out, I figured you might want some Daniel Woodrell you probably haven't read. Enjoy.
"Johanna Stull," by Daniel Woodrell (Buffalo Almanack)
Eugene’s partners have gathered on the gravel bar below the rapids at Tulla Bridge, where so many tourists in canoes take spills and lose watches, rings, cameras, sunglasses and so much else, adding their treasure to our riverbed, and Eugene wanted me there. He wants me along as his witness when he tells this bunch how he’s not worried about the mailman any more, that testimony won’t get said, and the cows can be moved to a sale barn in a few days or a week. Buster Leroy Dolly is sitting on a folding chair, bare feet in the Twin Forks, canned beer between his legs, and a handful of other fully dressed fellas also hang about, smoking weed, snorting stuff that snorts, conspiring idly and drinking plenty in the fine sunshine. >>