Third Time A Charm

Mike Mayhew turned his truck off the gravel county road and parked next to a patch of freshly tilled ground in a big pasture. He rolled down the driver’s side window, inviting dawn’s damp chill inside the cab, and lit a cigarette as he took in the silence.

“If we don’t hear them pretty soon,” he whispered, “we won’t be here long.”

Seconds later, a booming gobble came from the trees beyond a sloping pasture in front of the truck. Mayhew flashed a smile that shined through the dark cab and slid out of the truck into the pasture. His cousin, Johnny Martin, and I fell in line behind Mayhew as he shuffled toward a row of short cedars...