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What was the point? Only one of the town's
sons, Marv Wilcox, was dispatched to Vietnam, and he came back with
a lot of souvenirs and a tidy bankroll. Marv went into business for
himself down in Newport News, doing contract work for the Navy.
    All towns have their secrets, and Lynnhaven
was no exception. But secrets are not secrets unless almost
everybody knows something about them, and then they become an
accepted, if submerged part of everyday life, too familiar and
mundane to be of lasting interest to any but a few gossips—and poor
fare for them. Adultery, cock or dog fights staged in the woods—the
Lutheran minister, Reverend Harnack, would address himself to these
goings-on one Sunday out of every four, but even he could muster
only routine disapproval. Secrets? Yes, all the usual ones.
    More or less.
     
     
    2. The Baithouse
     
    The old man tied one end of the string
tightly around a three-inch strip of pork rind. "That's all there
is to it," he said.
    "Aren't you going to use a hook?" Ned
asked.
    "Don't need no hook to catch crawdads. You
just wait and see."
    The old man tossed the pork rind into the
water and played out a short length of string. Ned watched it drift
briefly on the current before sinking out of sight.
    "Now what do you do?"
    "Just wait a few minutes, give 'em time to
gather round for a bite of lunch. Won't be long."
    "What's this stream called, Peeler?"
    "Ain't a stream, it's a creek, and it's
called Old Woods Creek. All this stretch of land is Old Woods."
    "Old Woods Creek," Ned repeated. "What's the
difference between a stream and a creek?"
    "If you can jump across it, it's a creek. If
you can't, it's a stream."
    "What's the difference between a stream and
a river then?" Peeler snorted. "River's just a stream somebody
decided to call a river, that's all." Then he added: "Unless you're
talkin' about the Mississippi and such. They're your bona fide
rivers, but there ain't so many of them. Most rivers are just
over-growed streams."
    "Think you got anything yet?" "Let's
see."
    Peeler hauled in the string. Four crayfish
dangled from the piece of pork rind.
    "Wow, look at them!" Ned exclaimed.
    "Greedy little cusses," Peeler said,
smiling. "Old Mr. Crawdad is such a fool he won't let go of his
food, even if it means he gets caught and ends up being used for
bass bait hisself."
    "Can they hurt you?"
    "Big one can give you a pinch, I guess, if
you're not too careful with 'em. But these lowly fellers can't do
nothin' to you."
    Peeler gently separated the crayfish from
the line and dropped them into a pail of water. Then he and the boy
moved a few yards further along before plunking the bait back into
the creek. Peeler rummaged around in the old burlap sack he carried
and pulled out a can of beer.
    "Can I have some?"
    "How old are you, Nedly?"
    “ I'll be ten in
August."
    "Good enough," Peeler said, grinning. He
handed the can of Iron City to Ned, who took a sip and grimaced.
"Better not tell your folks I give it to you."
    "I won't. I don't like it anyway."
    "Wait a few years and try again."
    "Peeler?"
    "Hmmn?"
    "Is that your real name?"
    "Is now."
    "Did you used to have another one?"
    ''Fraid so."
    "What was it?"
    "Now that's a secret."
    "I won't tell anyone."
    The old man arched an eyebrow in
mock-seriousness and studied his young companion for a few
moments.
    "How do I know you won't tell anybody?"
    "I promise."
    "You do?"
    "Honest."
    "Okay, I'll trust" you, but you better keep
your word or you'll get in big trouble."
    "I will, I promise."
    "Okay. My name was Hamish."
    "Hamish?"
    "Yep."
    "What kind of name is that?" Ned asked. He
had never heard it before.
    "Goddamned if I know," Peeler replied.
"Always hated it."
    "So why are you called Peeler now?"
    "Better'n Progger, ain't it?"
    "Progger?"
    "Yep."
    "Is that a name?"
    "Could be," Peeler said as he took three
more crayfish from the pork rind.
    Ned watched silently. Sometimes the old man
didn't make much sense, or if he did it wasn't always easy