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The characters in this book are fictional products of the author’s imagination. Resemblance to any person or persons, either living or dead, to any names used, or to any specific locations, events or locales is purely coincidental.
A lanky, sandy haired man stepped out onto a long wooden porch and looked at the man who was standing near a trio of thirty-gallon steel barrels. “Yeah?”
"Them damned bears have been in the garbage again." Scott Lyndon, the younger brother of the man coming toward him, picked up an empty cereal box and tossed it in one of the barrels.
"How in the hell are they getting those lids off?"
"I don't know. We've tried everything short of padlocking them at night."
"Maybe we'll have to resort to that." Steve Lyndon raised deep blue eyes to the dense forest that covered the north hillside. "We’re going to have to think of something. We don't need any damned bears wandering into camp."