Bayler Daniels Trouble in the Glades

By S. A. Lawrence

Life in the Glades came easy, greeting Bayler like a welcome friend, and it felt good to return to the life he loved, trapping and fishing in its tributaries and waterways. His dreams of coming home and starting his family had come to a full realization. But he could not have foreseen a threat stemming from the city, pushing its way into his world. Now he must decide between His devotion to God, his strong sense of right and wrong, and his promise to Netty of protecting his familys safety. He pressed his knife into its sheath, and headed out to his truck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514435175

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Morning in the 'Glades

The sun rose hot in the Glades. A blanket of mist hovered above the banks and the caramel-colored water of the tributary. A soft breeze filled the air with a musty, pungent smell. The grunt of a large alligator sounded in the distance. Big ole bull, Bayler said to his dog Shellie. Judgin' by the sound, probably callin' to a good-lookin' female---he smiled to himself---or warnin' some young bull he's on dangerous ground!

The croaks of blue herons could be heard flying overhead, as two snowy egrets waded through the tall marsh grass along the banks of the brackish water. A covey of coots made their way, chirping and diving for the school of menhaden, toward the mouth of the runoff, while a snakebird dove under the water and reappeared twenty yards away. Mullet were jumping and swimming in the shallows.

He could hear the hum of dirt daubers flying along the bank as they worked on their nest and collected food. The early morning sounds filled the Glades with activity of life but still offered a calmness and sense of peace for Bayler, which few would even notice or care about.

Bayler Daniels started his day as he had since he was ten years old. His old leather snake boots, once brown, came up to just below his knees. The boots smelled of shellfish and gray mud, which covered the bottom of the runoff. He kept his gray coveralls tucked into his boots to keep them from getting wet.

He wore a blue canvas belt from his stint in the navy, which still fit as it did when he enlisted. A weathered leather sheath hung from the belt, holding the skinning knife his grandpa had given him on his twelfth birthday. It was sharper than an ole woman's tongue, his grandpa Tyler Daniels used to say. It was fourteen inches long from the hilt to the point and had a well-worn tung-oiled handle pressed together with brass rivets. His grandpa had made the knife over sixty years ago. Bayler used the knife often and could work it as if it were part of his hand. Next to it was a pouch his wife, Whynetta, had made from canvas for his needle-nose wire cutters.

Real fine day to be out here, Bayler thought as he paddled his eighteen-foot johnboat through the water. It was olive colored at one time, with a wide beam and a tunnel hull, and ran a shallow draft. The boat was better than fifty years old, scratched, and weathered; it smelled of fish, bait, mud, and sweat. It was not that Bayler didn't keep it clean; his dad, Payton Daniels, had taught him better than that. However, it was a fishing boat, and the years of fishing had embedded the scents that were now a part of it. It had a fifty-five horsepower outboard, with a pull start, which ran almost like it did when it was new.

When Bayler got back from his stint in the navy, his dad sold him the boat and went to work for a fertilizer company over in the town of Immokalee, thirty-five miles from Copeland. It was good to get back to the fishing and trapping that Bayler had always known, and he easily returned to life in the Glades.

Bayler continued to work his way down the tributary off Chokoloskee Bay, checking his trotlines, placing the meat fish into the port-side box on ice, and tossing the ladyfish and salt cat in the starboard side for the fertilizer company. He then checked the barb on the hook. If it was dull, he sharpened it; if bad, he replaced it. Then he would rebait the hook, toss the line out away from the boat, and let it settle back in place.

In the back of his boat sat Shell Cracker, 110 pounds of half-blood German shepherd, marsh wise and alert to everything Bayler was doing, keeping an eye out for anything that seemed amiss. Shellie had been coming with Bayler since he found him wandering on the road between Copeland and Sweetwater. Shellie was only a pup then and nothing but skin and bones when Bayler first saw him, eating a blue crab he had caught in the shallow tide pools along the trail.

The pup pawed at the crab until finally pulling it up on the bank. When he had it on dry ground, he'd step on its claw with one paw and grab the other claw, crushing it in his teeth. Then he'd grab the first claw under his foot and do likewise. Once the claws were out of the way, he would break open the shell and eat the insides. His muzzle bore signs his education had a price. So Bayler named him Shell Cracker. If that ain't the dangdest thing I ever saw, Bayler mused. Shellie quickly filled out on dog food and table scraps but never lost his love of crabs. Bayler seldom had to say anything; Shellie just seemed to know.

Bayler was a tall man, six feet two inches with broad shoulders, well seasoned by hard work in the Glades. His hands were strong and calloused. He kept his hair short and was clean shaven except for his mustache, which he had since his momma let him grow one. He wore an old navy ball cap with USS Reeves CG-24 embroidered on the front. He did not work out at any gym; he just worked out at life. Bayler could lift a fifty-pound pail of fish in each hand and walk from the back of his truck to the fish scales at the fertilizer plant without pausing for a rest.

His life was clean and uncomplicated. He preferred straight talk and figured that there was no need of hand waving or arm movement to get across what he had to say. He believed the Bible; his manners and speech gave no cause for people to think any differently. He didn't consider himself religious; God is, God said, and that pretty much summed it up. He took his family to church on Sunday morning and evening, as well as Wednesday night for prayer meeting, and Bayler read his Bible every night for an hour.

Bayler was not afraid of much in the Glades and figured he could handle anything that came up. The marsh was full of gators and such, but he respected the Glades and the balance of life. Besides, the gators wouldn't be getting too close, unless they became curious. His dad taught him at an early age to keep a good sharp ax in the boat case'n a gator needed tendin' too or he was lucky enough to come upon some heart palm cabbage.

Things had changed a lot from when his dad and grandpa were trapping out here. Used to be, Shellie, anything you could trap, skin, or fillet was fair for the takin', he said, hooking the float that marked the trotline. Now ya gotta have a license for fishin', crabbin', huntin', crappin', pert near everythin'. He grinned. Baylor pulled up the first hook on his trotline and took off a nice-sized mango snapper. He put on another piece of clam and tossed the hook back out and continued working his way down the line. He looked over at Shellie. What cha think, boy? Shellie glanced at him as if he understood. Bayler smiled and turned back to his work.

Just then, Shellie started to growl. What's wrong, boy? Bayler asked, as he followed Shellie's gaze, and saw the marsh grass spreading apart. Whatever it was, it was big, and Shellie didn't like it. There was barely a sound, just the faint rustling as the blades of dry saw grass brushed together. Then Bayler saw it enter the water. Anaconda, should have known, he thought to himself. Good boy, Shellie, good dog. We'll just leave him be.

Bayler finished running the trotlines and went to work on his crayfish traps. He had twenty-five traps still left; it would take a good hour to check and bait the rest of them. This line of traps ran along the northeast edge of Chevalier Bay. He pulled his boat around to the first trap where its float bobbed in the water, used a mooring hook, and grabbed the float, then pulled up the trap. There were about two dozen crayfish in the trap, so he put the keepers on ice in the front of the boat and released the small ones. Bayler then rebaited the trap with some of the scraps and carcasses of yesterday's catch, lowered it back to about the same place, tossed out the float, and moved on to the next trap.

He finished his traps and made his way back to the landing where he put in that morning. The temperature was already above eighty, and it was barely 10:00 a.m. It had been a good four hours since he put in, and there was still a lot of work to be done before sundown. Bayler caught two gallons of crayfish and eighty-five pounds of meat fish, plus the fish he would sell to the fertilizer plant. He'd even picked up two medium-sized softshell turtles. There had been many days not so great in the past, but today's catch would make the efforts pay out. He loaded the catch into the iceboxes on the back of his truck and covered them with more of the ice he brought from home. Ice was hard to come by in the Glades, but some years back, he'd saved enough money to buy a used ice machine from a restaurant that closed. So far, it has made enough ice to keep the catches fresh, with very little trouble along the way.

Bayler pulled the boat onto the trailer and strapped it down; he hooked up the pigtail for the lights and walked up to the cab of the truck. When he opened the door, Shellie jumped in and found his place; Bayler got in and fastened his seat belt. The truck started with the first bump of the ignition switch and roared to life. He pushed in the clutch and moved the column shifter to first. The gears made a slight protest as they aligned themselves. He gave it some gas, let out the clutch, and started down the familiar dirt road. He turned left on the paved road toward his home in Copeland.

The Danielses' home was centered on five acres of dry land that was sparsely covered with Bahia grass. Clumps of palmettos and prickly pear cactus lined the perimeter fences. A dirt driveway ran along the right side of the property to the backyard and barn. The house was a modest frame house with a large screened-in breezeway in front. The roof was corrugated galvanized steel; the sides of the house were overlapped slate tile, painted white. The windows were trimmed in green to match the front and rear doors. It had a large screened back porch.

When Bayler got out of the truck, Whynetta welcomed him home with a hand towel and a mason jar filled with ice-cold water. He gave her a kiss. Then he took the water and hand towel from her. Hey, baby, thanks a lot. He turned and walked to the barn to work on cleaning the catch.

Bayler had built the barn with heavy logs from the abandoned railroad depot in Copeland, left over from the Lee Tidewater Cypress Company. The barn was ten feet high and large enough to hold his truck and boat, with doors at both ends so he could easily drive straight through.

Under the left-side overhang was a stainless steel cleaning table, thirty inches wide with two large deep sinks at one end and an eight-inch hole over a washtub on the other for the fish scraps. On the right side, he had built two live tanks with aerators for sorting live crabs and a cooling unit to keep the catch alive until delivery to the fish market.

You have a good morning, today? Whynetta called out as she took clothes off the line.

Yeah, baby, it was pretty good. Saw a big ole anaconda today, nearly fifteen feet. You shoulda seen him.

No thanks! scowled Netty. You know how much I hate snakes, especially when they're big ones like that!

Bayler grinned. 'Member that one time we went camping and you made me walk out to the bathroom with you?

Bayler! Netty snapped.

You sat there and used the bathroom, an' that big ole black snake right there on back of the toilet, Bayler said, grinning even bigger now.

You know if I had seen it there, I would have never sat down, Netty scoffed.

Yeah, said Bayler, I know, an' you ain't been campin' since!

Yes, and I'm not about to go again either! said Netty emphatically. So how'd you do today?

Brought in better today than I done all week, said Bayler. Picked up 'bout eighty-five pounds of meat fish and a good bit of salt cat. Added to past three days' catch, it should fetch a good price. We'll be able to pay the 'lectric, buy gas for the truck and boat, an' even pick up groceries tomorrow in town.

Good, because I need some cleaning supplies, and the kids need school supplies.

School supplies! exclaimed Bayler I declare, Netty, what do they need when you're learnin' them yourself? I thought we already paid for them books the state said they needed to learn by! A look of frustration came across his face. What more do we need to buy?

Now it's not like that, dear, Netty replied. She finished folding the last bit of clothes and put them in the basket. Then she walked back to where Bayler was working. They just need pencils and paper, and I need to get Jonah a protractor, a compass, and a rule for his geometry studies. Ruthie needs a fine-tip writing pen so she can finish her essay. When she gets it done, she can turn it in for the final part of eighth-grade English. It shouldn't be more than seven or eight dollars at the most.

Well, said Bayler, I guess you got to do what you got to do. Seems like money just disappears as quick as it comes in.

Bayler took a long pull from the mason jar, stretched, and turned back to work. Netty walked back to the line, picked the basket of clothes up, and headed into the house. He made short work of cleaning the crayfish, then got ice from the icehouse and spread it over them. After he finished with it, he started on the meat fish. He grabbed a mangrove snapper and started to work; soon he had them all filleted. Bayler rinsed off the fillets and put them on ice, then rinsed off the cleaning table. He washed his knife and put it in its place on the back of the table, then transferred the fish for the fertilizer plant from the truck coolers over to the shipping coolers and poured ice over them. After he rinsed the mud off his boots and washed up, he picked up the water jar and headed back to the house. Bayler entered the back porch, took off his boots and coveralls, and walked into the kitchen.

It had been a while since breakfast, and the fish cooking on the stove smelled great, especially the way Netty fixed them. It was true that they ate a lot of fish, but Netty had so many different ways of fixing them, it was always good, and even if the kids got tired of it, no one dared to say a word.

There was a familiar tap on the back door as Shellie hit the door edge with his paw to bounce it open. Then he would get his nose in and open the screen door, walk in, and lie down by the davenport on his rug. Shellie had become a member of the family, and he watched after the kids as if they were his own pups.

Bayler, Netty asked, have you cleaned the turtle yet? Because I have to get it marinating if you want it for supper.

Bayler winced. No, dear, I'll run out and get it done right now.

Well, please hurry because lunch is almost ready, and I know how much you hate it being cold.

Just then, Jonah walked into the kitchen. Let me clean 'em, Daddy. I know how!

You finished your studies?

Yes, sir, said Jonah.

All right, but I'll walk out with you case'n you need me.

You two need to hurry! Netty called as they walked through the door.

Yes, Mom and Yes, dear were the response as the screen door opened and closed. Then Netty heard it open and close again as Shellie went out after Bayler and Jonah.

Bayler went out to the boat and took a pail out with the turtles inside still very much alive. He walked the bucket over to the cleaning table and tilted the bucket so the turtles could slide out into the sink. Since the turtles were still alive, Jonah took a piece of oak his dad had kept hanging on the cleaning bench and put it carefully out in front of one of the turtles' head.

Careful, Jonah, Bayler said. Don't never get in a hurry. Be slow and sure of what you're doin', or he could take a good-sized hunk out of your hand.

I know, Dad. You told me that before.

The turtle was quick, as its head shot out and the beak clamped down on the stick. The bite was hard, and Jonah could feel the power as the vibration traveled up the stick. It startled him at first, but he quickly gained composure and hoped that his dad didn't see him wince when the turtle lunged.

Jonah pulled up on the stick; it took all he had to keep his grip as the turtle pulled back. The neck was out a good nine inches when Jonah took the cleaning knife and sliced off the head; the turtle fell limp, down into the sink. Then he used the same technique on the other one. Afterward, he placed one of the turtles on the table. Jonah worked the fillet knife around the sides of the shell and soon had the roast exposed. Bayler watched with pride as his son cleaned the turtle and then moved on to the second one. Jonah cleaned the second one in the same fashion, moving the knife carefully, conscious of his father's watchful eye.

Jonah took a bit longer than Bayler would have, but he knew Jonah needed do it. In time, Jonah would become proficient. He remembered his first time, and it did not turn out near as well as Jonah was doing now. Jonah finished cleaning the turtles, and put the remains in the scrap bucket. Then Jonah washed the knife and cleaning table as he had seen his dad do many times before.

You did a fine job, son, Bayler said. Now let's get 'em inside so's your mom can get 'em soakin'. I'll bet dinners waitin' by now.

Yes, sir, said Jonah as he finished washing his hands. They walked back up to the house, and Bayler opened the door for Jonah. Jonah carried in the turtle so he could show his mom. Netty was putting the freshly brewed sweet tea in the pitcher and Ruthie was setting the table when the guys came back in.

You two need to hurry up, Super Lunch is on the table Netty said as they entered the kitchen, and put the turtle in the sink for now.

See what I done, Mom? Jonah said, holding the tray filled with the turtle meat.

"What I did, Netty corrected Jonah. Yes, now hurry and do what I asked you to! She continued to put the food on the table. And, Ruthie, knives on the right, forks on the left, and set out the glasses with ice for everyone."

Yes, Mom, said Ruthie as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

I saw that, young lady, said Netty.

Mom, I know how to set the table.

Well, you better check the last two place settings you just did then!

Ruthie looked back, aggravated with herself seeing the silverware reversed. I can't believe I did that, Ruthie thought. Really, what's it matter anyways? It's only us, trying to abate her embarrassment. Who else is gonna know or see?

You'll know! her mother replied. Do it right. Always do your best for yourself! Soon it will become habit, and you will do it without thinking.

Jonah walked to the sink and placed the tray of turtle meat in but accidentally dropped it. Jonah Elijah! his mom said. You can't drop things into the sink like that! It will mark the sink and you'll have to clean it, and besides, she continued, if you're not careful, it will chip the porcelain!

I'm sorry, Mom. I tried to put it in easy, but it slipped. It didn't chip, and there ain't any marks, he said apologetically.

"There aren't any marks, Jonah," said Netty.

Yes, ma'am, that's what I said. Jonah grinned.

Netty looked at him and shook her head warmly, then finished placing the food on the table.

Please don't forget the cider vinegar, Mom, said Ruthie.

Hey, Mama, can I have some ketchup for my fish please? asked Jonah.

Sure, Ruthie. Then she turned to Jonah and asked doubtfully, Did you get those hands clean?

Yes, Mama, he replied and followed it with Wanna see?

No, that's fine, said Netty. You have to eat with them!

But they're clean, Mom, I promise.

OK then, said Netty as she set the tea on the table and sat down. They all took their seats and waited for Bayler to begin.

Everyone, Bayler said, let's bow our heads.

They bowed their heads, and Bayler began, Dear Heavenly Father, we give thanks to you Lord for the bounty that is before us. We know that you are the provider of all things, and we give praise for your provisions. Dear Lord, please bless us this day, guide and protect us, and may we bring honor to you in all we do and say. In your Son's name I pray, amen. Then everyone opened their eyes and looked up, and, yes, even Shellie knew when the prayer was finished.

Mom, could you please pass the slaw, Jonah asked, and where's the ketchup at?

"Behind the at," Bayler quipped.

Bayler! She looked at him, grimacing, then turned to Jonah. "Don't you mean, 'May I have the ketchup please?'" asked his mother.

No, ma'am, said Jonah. I asked where was it at? 'Member, I asked you to please bring it 'fore the prayer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jonah, you did . . . I forgot. I'll get it, and in that case, it's 'Where is the ketchup?' not 'Where's the ketchup at,' and you'll have some coleslaw when it's passed around like everything else."

Yes, Mama, Jonah replied.

Fish, Daddy? asked Ruthie.

Sure, honey, Bayler said. Thanks.

No, Daddy, I meant please pass the fish!

Boy, you'd think you kids were starving. It'll come when it comes, he said. You just start the greens off in front of you there. Everything will get passed around 'fore you die of starvation. Dinner made its way around the table; the conversation of the day's events and plans for the afternoon began.

That was nice meal, dear. Everything was real good, remarked Bayler to Netty.

Thanks, dear. She smiled. Would you like some more tea?

Yes, please, maybe half a glass. I have to get on down to the fish house, so I need to leave pretty quick.

Are you going through Ochopee?

Reckon so, baby, lest they changed the way the road runs. Bayler grinned.

What I meant was, she said, somewhat exasperated, could you stop in Ochopee and pick up some pickling spice for me at the Five-and-Dime . . . and some lids and seals?

Hey, Dad, you going crabbin' today, when ya get back from Sweetwater? said Jonah.

Don't interrupt, Jonah. Can't you hear your mother talkin'? rebuked Bayler and he continued, I can do that, dear, when I get done over to the fish house. I should be headin' back around 3:00 p.m., and I'll fetch them on my way home. Then he turned to Jonah. Now what was so all fired important you wanted to know?

I wanted to know if I could go with you when you went crabbin' this afternoon, if you go.

We'll see, son was Bayler's reply as he stood and headed out the back door, still carrying his mason jar with ice tea.

Bayler Daniels! You bring back that glass right now! Netty said in a loud, firm voice. He grinned as he left it on the bookshelf by the door and walked on out heading for the barn.

Jonah followed his dad out the back door. Hey, Dad, can I go with you?

Jonah Elijah Daniels! Netty yelled. Get in here and clear off your place now! You know better than that!

Figure right now you better go clean off your place and put those dishes in the sink.

Yes, sir, said Jonah.

I'd just a soon you stayed home today. I need you to take those sorting baskets and put the crabs in them and change the water in the live tanks whilst I'm gone.

Yes, sir, but can I go crabbin' with ya later? pleaded Jonah.

We'll see how well you do cleaning the live tanks. First, you'd better get in there and clean up your dishes.

Yes, sir, said Jonah dejectedly. I'll see ya when ya get back.

All right then. I'll be back 'fore you know it. Oh, and fetch that glass I laid on the shelf back inside 'fore your momma has a conniption.

Bayler walked out to the truck, with Shellie at his heels, and unhooked the boat. Afterward, he took the fish and crayfish from the cooler and put them in the iceboxes on the truck, then covered them with fresh ice. He opened the door of the truck, and Shellie jumped in. Bayler got in and started it up, and off they went.

It was sixty-seven miles to Sweetwater on a two-lane highway; with traffic, it would take them a good hour and fifteen minutes to get there. He'd made the trip often, and the drive had become second nature for him.

Charlie Hammond was out on the loading dock when Bayler and Shellie pulled up. Charlie was a jovial sort, best described as pleasantly plump and slightly balding. He always kept a big stogie cigar in the side of his mouth and wore an old flannel shirt under his white apron. His beige uniform pants were tucked into black rubber boots for working around the fish scales and inspection table.

Bayler and Charlie had known each other a long time, back when Bayler was a kid, coming with his dad to sell their fish to Charlie's dad. Charlie and Bayler joined the navy together as well, along with a couple of their friends.

Charlie had come to know Shellie too and always had a treat waiting. He never gave Shellie a dog biscuit or a chew bone. Nope! Charlie had a nice fresh blue crab waiting, just to watch Shellie eat it. He had won many a bet on Shellie and blue crabs and thought the world of him as well.

Come here, Shellie, Charlie said. Come here and say hello, boy.

Shellie looked at Bayler; he nodded approval. Shellie jumped out of the truck and ran to Charlie, jumped up, and licked him right in the mouth. Charlie was laughing so hard, he dropped his cigar; he didn't seem to mind, though. Shellie was just the kind of dog Charlie would want but didn't have the time for. Bayler got out shaking his head and greeted Charlie.

Well, what's the price of fish doing these days, Charlie?

Oh, 'bout the same as Tuesday, Bayler. Price don't seem to change much, 'lessin people start wantin' more and more often.

Yeah, reckon not. Well, I brung in 'bout eighty-five pounds of meat fish and near sixty pounds of crayfish.

Well, said Charlie, I can use the crayfish sure enough, and the fillets are moving better than normal. Why don't you bring 'em on in, and we'll weigh 'em up. You need a cart to wheel 'em in with?

No thanks, said Bayler, I can get 'em.

*  *  *  *  {}  *  *  *  *

Jonah walked out to the barn and began the chores his dad had left for him. The sun was high in the sky, and ripples of heat could be seen above the ground in the distance. Jonah was built like his mother, thin and wiry with sandy blond hair and green eyes, short in stature. He wanted to be like his dad and had expectations of being just as tall. He was a good worker when he needed to be and knew better than let his dad come home and not have his chores done. The work wasn't too hard, but he'd rather be spending time with his friends. He knew of some good orange groves that needed exploring, and who knows what things can be found along the abandoned railroad tracks and the old number 16 engine?

He took the sorting baskets his dad had made and scooped the crabs out of the live wells/tanks, carefully keeping them separated by size. After he had finished the tanks, he transferred the crabs back into the live wells, now filled with clean salt water.

Ruthie finished the lunch dishes, while her mom prepared the turtle for supper that night. Ruthie was tall like her father and strong for a girl of fifteen. Her long fiery red hair, wavy and full, seemed symbolic of her Irish temper. She had beautiful blue eyes, framed by her full and well-tapered eyebrows. Her legs were long like her father's, but shapely with the same slender build as her mother.

Ruthie cleaned the countertops, put the lard container under the cabinets, and pulled the curtain closed. Then she wiped down the sink and cleaned the crumbs off the table. She really found kitchen work easy, though she did protest from time to time. However, Ruthie knew that everyone has chores, and she could just hear her mom saying, They won't clean themselves, so might as well get them out of the way.

I'm done with the dishes. Can I go see my friends now?

Maybe a little later. First, I need you to help me in the garden.

Oh, Mom! said Ruthie, exasperated.

It's not that much, honey. I just need some help getting the vegetables in before the sun scorches them.

OK. I got to hurry, though, 'cause I want to go to Keri-Anne's. What all you want picked? said Ruthie.

Netty shook her head. Please, Ruthie, watch your English. I'll be out in a bit to help you, but I need some vegetables to sell the IGA. Oh, and see if we have some okra to pick for supper tonight, she said as Ruthie headed out the back door.

The family garden ran an eighty-foot line with the front of the barn and was twenty feet deep. Ruthie and Jonah took turns keeping the garden weeded and tended to the vegetables in the garden.

I have problems telling when the zucchini is ready to pick, Mom, Ruthie called out from the garden. They are always green, until they go bad and turn yellow.

I'll come out in a minute, Ruthie, and show you how to tell, she heard her mom reply through the kitchen window.

After Jonah finished the crab wells, he went behind the barn to the chicken pens and walked through them, looking for signs of rat snakes that can steal the eggs and small chicks. When he finished the inspection, he took a basket and proceeded to gather the eggs. Most would be traded to the IGA in Immokalee, along with vegetables, to get necessary sundries, as well as other supplies.

As Netty started walking out to the garden from the house, she heard Ruthie scream,

Snake, Mom . . . Snake!

Netty called out, Jonah, Jonah! Come quick! But Jonah already heard his sister's scream. He put down the eggs, grabbed a rake leaning against the barn, and was on a dead run to where his sister was in the garden.

His sister was backing up from her position by the tomato baskets, and Jonah looked hard around the base of the plants. Underneath a large plant was a green-striped garter snake, about thirteen inches long.

He laughed at his sister. You call that a snake?

He took the rake and carefully lifted the snake up and out of its peaceful spot in the garden, laid it on the ground, and, grabbing it behind the head, picked the snake up.

It's just an old garter snake, sis. Jonah laughed and teased some more. You wanna hold it? as he reached it out toward Ruthie.

No! Get it away! screamed Ruthie.

Jonah Elijah Daniels! Netty warned as she approached the garden. You know better than that! Do you want me to tell your father what you just did?

Aw, Mom . . . I was just funnin' around. I wasn't gonna hurt her, Jonah said.

When a person's afraid of something, you never tease them with it. That is not funning around---that's just being mean, rebuked Netty. Now you can do the dishes and clean the kitchen the rest of this week, without Ruthie's help.

Aw, Mom, that's not fair! His eyes flashed to Ruthie, who had a smirk on her face.

You should have thought of that before this little stunt, she said. Now get that thing out of here and let it go by the woods . . . and hurry up in case I think of something else for you to do.

Mo-om! moaned Jonah. I wanted to go see String an' Beetle till Dad gets home.

I think you just lost that privilege. You can see your friends tomorrow. Now hurry up and don't forget to bring in those eggs! Netty said sternly. Then she turned to Ruthie and said in a calm voice, You know I don't like snakes either, but you have to learn to control yourself. Jonah may not always be there, and you'll have to deal with them.

I know, Mom, but I can't help it. I really hate them!

I know. I have trouble with them myself, but that's all part of where we live. She smiled and gave Ruthie a hug. Besides, your daddy says they keep the Yankees away. Ruthie looked up at her and smiled. Then Ruthie picked up the basket of vegetables she'd dropped, and they finished the picking. They took them to the kitchen to clean for the market and to prepare for the evening meal.

*  *  *  *  {}  *  *  *  *

OK, Bayler, that'll 'bout settle it, said Charlie with a smile. You did pretty good by me today. The crayfish totaled thirty-two pounds, and at eighty-five cents a pound equals $27.20. Combined with the fillets makes $250 I owe you.

I reckon that'll be just fine, Charlie, answered Bayler. Better than I expected---thought the sheepshead was two dollars thirty-five last week?

It was, as he counted out the cash. That mean I can give you less? He chuckled.

No, you just keep on countin', Charlie. It means now I can get a little something for Netty.

Well, I can understand that, Bayler. She's a right fine woman, and puttin' up with the likes of you, she deserves all she can get! he said, laughing.

Bayler grinned. Yep, you prob'ly right about that. Well, I guess I best be gettin' back over to Ochopee. She's got some honey-dos for me on my way back. I'll see ya Saturday.

OK, said Charlie. By the way, I need some mullet if ya can get any, whole or fillets---seem to be selling a lot lately.

OK, I'll get ya some tomorrow if ya need it---don't pay much, though, remarked Bayler.

You get me eighty pounds or better, an' I'll pay ya $1.50 a pound---that's fifty cents better than market, offered Charlie.

I guess you do need it pretty bad. I'll see what I can do, said Bayler and he turned toward the truck and walked out. Come on, Shellie, say bye to Charlie and let's go. You can see him tomorrow.

Bayler headed his truck back toward Ochopee. The fish market had been better than expected; it would help with everyday expenses and still provide a down payment for a sewing machine. He parked in front of the Ochopee Five-and-Dime, telling Shellie to stay put. He found the pickling spice Netty asked for and picked up two boxes. He noticed mason jars were on sale and got two boxes of quarts and two of pints.

Buck Miller ran the store and always had good things to say. Buck was in his upper sixties, about five feet eight, had curly gray hair and a mustache just as curly. He was trim and gangly and always offered a great smile with a desire to please.

Afternoon, Bayler, said Buck. How's that sweet woman you're married to?

Doing real fine, Buck. I'll tell her you asked. I'll pay for this stuff and take a look at the Montgomery Ward's catalog, if you still handle it.

Just so happens we do. Need some fishing stuff?

Not just now. Need to look at sewing machines. I think Netty was lookin' at 'em last time she was in here.

Yeah, Bayler, I think she was lookin' at one. Let me get Mavis and see if she knows. Buck spoke into the intercom to the back office. Mavis, would you come out here, please?

Mavis soon walked up to the front, smiling from ear to ear. Hey, Bayler, how's things at home? Family doing OK?

Mavis, Buck's wife of forty-plus years, was a small-framed handsome woman with well-defined facial features. She stood five feet five and weighed about 110 pounds. She was ten years older than Buck, whom she had met at her home church in Pennsylvania. Her family history was Pennsylvania Dutch, but she had been in Ochopee for so long, she believed she was a true Southerner in her heart. Mavis always wore her shoulder-length hair pulled back on the sides. She was a pleasure to talk to and made a person feel good, no matter what their situation.

Everyone's doin' real good, ma'am. 'Preciate you askin', said Bayler. Last week, wasn't Netty in here with Ruthie lookin' at the Ward's book?

Why, yes, Bayler, I remember. She was looking at sewing machines. Let me see if I can find it, Mavis said as she reached under the counter and pulled out the Montgomery-Ward's catalog. She thumbed two-thirds of the way into the book and opened it to the sewing machines. Here it is---automatic, programmable sewing machine with a computer processor, bobbin alarm, and variable stitch pattern, Ward's best, or so it claims.

Well, I don't know about all that, Mavis, Bayler said, somewhat apologetic, but I know it's what she wants, and her birthday is coming up. I'd like to order it if I may, and I have fifty dollars to put down today.

That'd be fine, Bayler. The total will be $439. I'll have the machine in a week or two, and you can pay the balance when you can.

Nope, but I thank you for the offer, Bayler responded without hesitation. Netty's birthday is in a month. I'll have it paid off by then.

Very well, Bayler, but you know your word's good enough for us here, said Buck. If you need some extra time, you don't even have to ask.

I 'preciate that, Buck, but I don't like havin' anything over my head. With that, Bayler laid down his fifty dollars and picked up his receipt. I'll see y'all later on then, and he headed back to Copeland. It was 3:20, and he was already late getting home.

Bayler pulled into the driveway and backed up the truck to the boat in the barn. He hooked up the boat and lights, then put a pair of gloves into the forward dry box under the front deck. He took and dumped the contents of the waste bucket from under the cleaning table into a five-gallon pail and set it in the back of the boat. Then Bayler picked up the four boxes of jars and the pickling spice and headed toward the back porch, followed by Shellie.

Jonah loved going out on the boat with his dad, especially when they ran the crab traps. He met Bayler at the back door and held it open for him. You ready to go, Dad?

Let me put these things away, son, and we'll get going. Bayler set the jars on the shelves on the back porch and walked into the kitchen. Hey, dear, he said, sorry I'm late---took a bit longer than I 'spected.

Netty was sitting at the table, cleaning the vegetables that she and Ruthie had picked earlier. That's OK, dear, she said as she picked up a handful of black-eyed peas. When will you get back?

Well, I 'spec' it'll be sometime after sunset 'cause Charlie asked me to get him some mullet for tomorrow. I've got to run those thirty-five crab traps on the northwest side of the bay an' then head over to the sand point on the southeast side for the mullet. I hope things will be done early, but . . . it's still fishin'.

Well, please be careful and hurry every chance you get.

I will, said Bayler. Come on, boy, we're burnin' daylight, as he headed out the back door for the barn.

Jonah came running out the back door, trying to catch up to his dad, letting the screen door slam behind him, when he heard his mother holler, Jonah Elijah! You know better than to let that door slam! Now you come back here and close it right, do you hear me?

Yes, Mama, Jonah said as he came back in, allowed to door to close halfway, then went back out and half held the door so it closed with a gentle click.

That's better, said Netty. Do it right next time and you won't have to come back.

OK, Mom, I'm sorry. See ya later, and off to the barn he ran.

Grab the net bucket and bring it out to the boat, Jonah, Bayler said, an' hurry, we got' to get goin'.

Yes, sir, said Jonah. Wait, Dad! I can't lift it---it's too heavy.

Son, it's not that heavy. You just have to decide you can do it. You want me to have your sister come and get it?

No! said Jonah adamantly. No, sir, ugh! grunted Jonah, the thought of his sister doing something he couldn't strong on his mind. I, eeegh, can get it, aghhhh! Dad! Jonah continued to grunt and breathe heavily as he fought getting the net bucket out to the boat.

Good job, son. Remember, use your legs and not your back liftin' heavy things.

Jonah watched as his father picked it up and set it in the front of the boat effortlessly. He shook his head and sighed as he walked to the truck and got in. Bayler opened the driver's door, so Shellie jumped in and settled in the middle. Then he got in. They pulled out and headed toward the bay.

The sun was shining brightly in their eyes as the boat headed toward the northwest side of the bay. Bayler worked hard to get the crab traps checked and rebaited with the waste from the morning's fish cleaning. There were many crabs in the traps, but half were too small and had to be thrown back in. They pulled out about 120 keepers and put them all in the port-side live well.

Bayler reset the traps and headed for the southeast side to Sandy Point known for its big mullet. The sun started to set in the west as Bayler guided the boat toward the point, and time was running short, but the sun was right for netting. The sun being low means no shadow on the water to spook the fish when he threw the net.

Bayler took the net out of the bucket; it was a twelve-foot commercial nylon cast net and weighed forty pounds dry. He got out of the boat and set the weights in the water on the sandbar and gathered three loops of the net in his right hand. Then he divided the weights hanging from the bottom of the net and laid half over his right hand and the loops.

OK, son, tell me when you see 'em.

They're over there on the left, I think. He pointed.

Bayler placed part of the weight rope in his teeth. Then he grabbed a handful of the netting and turned to his right. Jonah watched his dad swing around from right to left, lifting the net skyward as he turned and tossed it out away from himself. His dad's movements reminded him of a bullfighter spinning his cape. The net opened up like a parachute as it hit the water.

At first, there were just the ripples of water from the net's splash, and then the water became alive with activity. The mullet jumped into the netting, trying to get away, and then dove down toward the edges, looking for an escape. His father pulled tight on the draw rope, closing the net under the mullet, as the fish continued to fight. It was a good cast, and Bayler could see the large fish trying hard to gain their freedom.

The catch was heavy to pull in; Bayler held the rope and backed into shallower water to gain better control of the net. The fish tried hard to swim away from him, which sent them away from the weights and into the netting, assuring their capture. Bayler lifted the net and emptied it into the boat. Shellie watched with excitement as the fish flapped and bounced all over the deck. Jonah picked them up as fast as he could and put them in the starboard live well.

The first cast provided seventeen large mullet, three to five pounds each, and Bayler was well pleased. He reset the net in his hands and prepared for the next cast. He walked out toward the right side of the sandbar and watched for movement in the water to give away the fish's location. The fish were a little more wary now and kept a good fifteen to twenty feet away from him.

He held the net up; his arms were like a trip-hammer, cocked and waiting to be released. Then he saw some movement off to the left and turned to get a better position on the fish.

There they are, Dad, Jonah whispered as he saw the ripples on top of the water.

He set himself and spun around, throwing the net more outward, trying to reach the school. The net rose high in the air as it opened and traveled out away from Bayler. It opened like a large umbrella, crashing into the water. At first, the ripples, then the signs of life; mullet once again began thrashing about, looking for an escape. Bayler pulled tight on the draw rope to close the net and saw what he thought would be another super catch. Then Bayler felt something release in the net and fought hard to close it.

The net snagged, son. Get ready to catch what I put in the boat.

I'm ready, Dad.

It was obvious something had gone wrong, and Bayler worked feverishly to salvage what he could of the net's contents. He bent down and grabbed the weights, closing the bottom of the net with his hands. He stood back up and placed the weights into the boat. Jonah grabbed the fish as they fell out of the torn net. The catch provided eight more good-sized mullet, but Bayler knew he'd lost many more than that.

Bayler jumped into the boat and examined the net. Two drawstrings had been cut, and a large two-foot hole had been torn into the side. The drawstrings may have been cut by the sharp fins from the fish as they fought for freedom. However, the tear in the net must have come from oysters or perhaps from something lying on the bottom. He could repair the net, but by then, the sun would be fully down, and it would be too late to try for more. Bayler and Jonah headed back to the landing and home.

When they arrived home, Bayler took the net from the boat and hung it out to be cleaned, rinsed off, and dried. Jonah helped his dad pull the mullet out of the live well and put them into buckets and then carried the buckets over to the cleaning table. Bayler took a sorting basket and transferred the crabs from the boat. While Jonah sorted the crabs, Bayler gutted the mullet, rinsed them off, and placed them in a shipping container and put them in the cooler. Once the crabs were sorted, Jonah and Bayler cleaned the boat and put away the gear. Afterward, the two of them washed up and went in.

Netty had supper waiting when they entered. The family sat down at the table. Ruthie asked the blessing, and the food was passed around. The fried turtle Netty had prepared was succulent and tender, and the fresh vegetables rounded out the meal. Talk of the day's events, their fishing trip, and the torn net were the topics of conversation. Dessert was chilled watermelon and seemed to be a nice way to end the day.

While Jonah did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, Ruthie took lessons from her mother on quilting. Bayler sat in his favorite chair and studied his Bible. After Jonah finished in the kitchen, he went to get his bath, and then Ruthie took hers. The two of them said their good nights and were off to bed.

Bayler woke up promptly at four thirty. He didn't need an alarm clock; after so many years of getting up early, it had become a habit . . . even on Sunday. After he shaved and washed his face and hands, he got dressed and went to the kitchen. Morning, dear, said Bayler as he found his chair at the table and set his cup in a saucer on the table in front of him.

Netty was standing over the stove with bacon frying, a spatula in her hands. Morning, honey. Ready for some coffee?

He put a good amount of milk into the cup from a small pitcher on the table and answered, Sure, dear, that'd be great. Pour it on in. Netty picked up a Corning Ware coffeepot from the stove and filled his cup to the very top. He added two teaspoons of sugar and stirred vigorously. The coffee spilled over into the saucer. He set the cup aside and drank coffee from the saucer first, then picked up his cup.

How many do you want this morning? asked Netty as she cracked an egg open and dropped it into the hot butter in a nine-inch skillet.

Mmm, 'bout three this morning should be good . . . and maybe some rye toast.

Do you want them on the grits or beside them?

On's OK, and I guess four pieces of that good-smellin' bacon will hit the spot.

Be ready in just a minute. There's sliced tomatoes there if you'd like some. Would you like butter on your toast or the cumquat marmalade in front of you?

Believe I'll have both, since I can't decide.

Netty smiled, shaking her head while working over the stove preparing his breakfast. Ruthie and Kerri-Anne went berry picking, and she brought home two nice pints of blackberries yesterday afternoon. I'll get some for you if you'd like.

Ya know, dear, I'd rather you made them into some of that great cobbler I like so much, maybe for dessert tonight, he said with a smirk and a wink.

If I have time, she said, smiling, and winked back at him. I've got to run over to the IGA in Copeland, and I guess I need to go to the Five-and-Dime. Someone forgot the lids and seals for the jars, and I need some of them today for the tomatoes. Netty finished cooking the bacon and eggs, handed Bayler his breakfast, and sat down with her coffee.

I got to go to Sweetwater and carry the mullet to Charlie today. I can go by the Five-and-Dime on the way back, if that's OK?

Sure, and, by the way, the restaurant in Immokalee called. They need fifteen dozen large crabs and ten jumbos by 4:00 p.m. If you can take them with you, the Crab House in Ochopee asked for twenty dozen large and twelve jumbos.

Yeah, I saw the note last night. I'll run the southeast traps this morning and see what I got, and then you should be able to call them and confirm the order when I get back.

OK, I'll wait. I hope you get some big ones.

We'll see---been a pretty good week so far. Bayler finished his breakfast, and Netty poured his coffee into a travel mug, added some cream to it, and snapped the cover on. He kissed Netty good-bye and headed out to the porch and put on his coveralls and boots, then his knife belt. He pressed down on his knife and pliers to seat the sheath better and headed out the door toward the barn.

The morning drive to the landing was peaceful, and Bayler always enjoyed the sights and smells along the way. The old truck had no air conditioning, so the windows were always down. The Glades were unlike any other place in the world, from the thick swamps filled with bald cypress trees and palms, to the prairies filled with streams, lakes, and ponds, and the wide open marshes filled with tributaries and runoffs of the bays and lagoons.

The marine and animal life of the Glades was just as varied, with their secluded lakes and ponds, teaming with freshwater fish. The Glades also offered large varieties of birds, all of which brought pleasure to Bayler.

From time to time, he would sit in his boat and enjoy watching the birds as they went about their daily activities. From the majestic great egrets to a small flock of sacred ibis feeding along the banks, or the red-wing blackbirds that flew in and out of the marsh grass, or a small bunch of shrikes darting from branch to branch. Occasionally, he would even spot a red-shouldered hawk or maybe even a barred owl early in the morning along the road to the launch. After launching his boat, he made his way down the tributary. The water was calm with hardly a ripple.

He was still thinking of last night's happenings and the net trouble. He had thrown his net on Sandy Point plenty of times prior to the hurricanes last year and had no difficulty at all. After he ran the traps, he decided he would go back and see what it was that tore his net. The crab traps on the southeast side of the bay offered a nice assortment of crabs, and he would have no problem filling the orders that had come in the day before.

He checked the trotlines in Chevalier Bay and picked up some additional meat fish. However, he was startled when he pulled up one of the circle hooks; it had a strange, odd-shaped fish that he had never encountered before. The dark-colored fish had a strange-shaped head with a mouthful of teeth. On both sides of the tail area was a round black spot surrounded by an orange ring that resembled an eye. The fins were like boneless webbing, which traveled down the top and bottom of the fish, almost eel-like. Bayler was even more surprised when he caught a second one further down the line. He put them on ice with the meat fish, rebaited the lines, and started back across the bay. He would stop by the Fish and Game Office on the way back to town and see if they could identify the fish.

As Bayler passed by Sandy Point, the tide was out, so the point was visible. He walked through the area where he'd caught the mullet the night before, looking for anything that may have torn the net. Then he noticed something just below the surface. It was covered in rust and had an unusual shape. He bent down closer to the object and tried to remove the sand that covered most of it. As it became visible, it appeared to be some type of blade, and by the way it was caked with old oyster shells, it was most likely what damaged his net. He decided to take it back to his house where he could examine it closely. He placed it in his boat and headed in.

When Bayler's truck pulled up to the Fish and Game Office, Tom McKinsey, the local game officer, walked out to greet Bayler.

Hey, Bayler, how the heck are you? Tom was six feet and husky. He had sandy blond hair and a full beard. He always wore a stiff brimmed Mounties-style hat like a state trooper, only his was green, with the state Fish and Game seal on the front.

Doin' fine, Tom, doin' fine.

What brings you here today? You need a variance for all the extra fish you're catching? Tom chuckled.

Not hardly! He laughed, shaking his head and getting out of the truck. Shellie jumped out after Bayler.

Hello, Shellie. How you doing, boy? Shellie looked at Bayler---he nodded---and Shellie ran over and greeted Tom. Shake, boy, shake. Shellie sat down in front of Tom and held up his paw. Good, boy, Tom said as he took Shellie's paw. Tom smiled and glanced back to Bayler. So how can I help you today? petting Shellie on the back of the neck.

I come across a strange fish today, couple of them actually, as he walked back toward his boat.

As long as you been fishin' these waters, didn't think there was much you haven't seen, said Tom, following behind.

I woulda thought the same thing. You take a look and tell me your thinkin' on 'em, an' then we'll talk about it. Bayler walked back to the fish well with the ice in it, reached in, and uncovered one of the fish he'd caught that morning, still partially alive, and handed it to him.

Well, I'll be, said Tom, that is a strange fish---never seen one like that before. Let's go look it up. Tom walked inside to his office, with Bayler and Shellie right behind. Where'd you say you caught it?

At the mouth of the Chevalier tributary, comin' from Chokoloskee.

An old computer sat on the floor with the monitor sitting on top of Tom's desk. Tom sat down and pulled out a keyboard and mouse on a tray mounted underneath. Bayler walked over to the coffeepot. Mind if I have a cup?

Lord, no, Bayler, long as you've known me and you have to ask!

Bayler poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup, then sat down in a chair in front of Tom's desk; Shellie lay down next to him.

"It appears to be some type of lungfish, I