Bull Mountain(83)

And no one was ever going to take that away.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


I’d like to thank my wife, Neicy, for being my beautiful distraction, and for always keeping me grounded (“Baby, we got an offer on the book!” “Good, we need a new sofa.”), and for introducing me to life in North Georgia. Without her, there wouldn’t be a Bull Mountain. Thanks to my mom for always being supportive regardless of the swearing. Thanks to Zelmer Pulp, my writers group/gang, made up of some of the most talented people on earth, including Ryan Sayles, Chuck Regan, Chris Leek, Isaac Kirkman, and Joe Clifford. Now that there might actually be someone watching, I think we better burn down the clubhouse. Seriously, though, Google their names and buy their books. Tell them I sent you. Thank you to Brian Lindenmuth at Spinetingler Magazine for holding me up high enough to be seen by the big dogs. Thank you to Ron Earl Phillips for publishing my first story at shotgunhoney.net. Thank you to Susie Henry for lending me her woman’s perspective, and thank you to Dan Adams of the Dan Adams Band (look them up and buy their records) for providing Bull Mountain with a soundtrack. You may be living in Austin, buddy, but you’re a Georgia boy through and through. Thank you to my boys at the firehouse for all the stories. Keep it in the house, fellas.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my agent, Nat Sobel, for the belief he had in my work and for the pit-bull tenacity he showed in finding this book a home. My life is clearly divided into Before Nat and After Nat. Thank you to my editor, Sara Minnich, and the folks at Putnam for taking a chance on me and the good people of McFalls County. (No plot knots, Sara, I promise.)

And last: Thanks, Dad. For hiding the remote. For the comics. For never once giving up on anything. For the ride home from New York. And for Waylon. But mostly for being the best goddamn father a son could ask for. I miss you every day, old man. I’ll see you when I get there.