The Final Shortcut Read Free

time because his family property was huge and remote. Never before had he come so close to losing at his favorite sport. He walked to the side of the road and sat down under a tree to rest. His right arm was bleeding from the shotgun blast, his shoulder ached, his back and sides hurt from the tumble off the truck. He had dirt and gravel in his eyes, mouth and clothes. But the agonizing throbbing in his head was gone. Now all he had to do was clean up the mess. The truck would go in the same hiding place as the others. And the bodies would also meet the same fate as many before. He could take his time now because no one ever came onto his private hunting ground. Everyone that heard about the short-cut never lived to tell a soul. As he sat there under the tree resting he could hear his father’s voice say, “Good job Junior.”
    “Thanks dad.” He closed his eyes and smiled. Then easily fell asleep in the warm morning sun. Everything was all right now, he had everything under control.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter 1
     
    Misty roads weave through dense forests in the Bluegrass mountains of Kentucky. Every curve could be an adventure or a tragedy. During the height of the coal mining boom roads were cut where needed. Many were broad and safe while others wound precariously tight around the rocks. Magnificent views were just one of the rewards for the locals that worked the mines. But after World War Two when the mines began to play out, the workers were faced with a decision. Stay in the hills or move to another mining operation.
    The year was 1947 and William Baumann was the proud father of his first child, a son. His young wife had always been frail and succumbed during childbirth. At 58 years old, the thought of moving was far from his mind. Instead he started a new business of his own. Over the years his closest friend Larry Hand had traveled the country delivering coal. And had built a fine trucking fleet in the process. The two of them had kindled the idea that growing marijuana would be a great way to make a living. It was a new fad that was catching on very fast. Faster than the laws could regulate. Larry had made many friends on the road and William had purchased some land in the hills. Enough to start a farm and provide a fresh start for their families.
    The newest Baumann, Martin, would grow to be a fine grower. And by his fifteenth birthday the business was booming. Tall, broad shouldered and strong, he presented the image of a burly mountain man. When his father died of heart failure a couple years later, he took over the business without a hiccup.
    Several other families had realized the potential of a cash crop. And the benefits of which were far reaching. The farms rescued the little mountain hamlet of Bontonville from certain demise. As the laws changed the community at large protected the farms and benefited from their enterprise. And by 1962, Bontonville was a healthy town again. Those not directly involved with the farms were amply compensated for their cooperation. An otherwise law-abiding town, it was like a large private club that held a dirty secret.
    Martin’s closest childhood friend, Clyde Stokes, had recently returned from a tour in the Marines. He quickly landed a job as a deputy sheriff with the understanding of which laws to ignore. The two of them had grown up together in the fields so it wasn’t hard for Clyde to comply. Almost six years older than Martin, he enjoyed a good joint and didn’t see any harm in it. Particularly with some extra money in his pocket each week. They effortlessly rekindled their friendship and spent endless hours talking and smoking. It wasn’t very long before Clyde hit on the idea to have a party so they could meet some girls. Neither of them was very good with social graces so it seemed like the best way to make new friends.
    The offices of the defunct Bluegrass Mining Company had been converted into a community hall. Situated deep in the woods, it had housed many