Janie Mae came bustling from the farmhouse armed with a brushrake in one arm and a squirt bottle of Roundup in the other. She had already strapped her gas mask on and was tromping across the yard with Billy Jo’s muckboots, that were three sizes too big.

She was quite a site to behold. And Billy Jo loved her. In all his years, he had loved no other woman as much as he had loved his Momma; until Janie Mae had come along.

Now here he stood with a boy wailing like a Banshee in his grip, a frantic mother trying to wrench the child from his rough hands and Janie Mae to the rescue.

Janie Mae beat the Speaking Maneater into submission with the brushrake and it calmly took up its previous position, whimpering and begging the other gape mouthed children to pick it up. (Jacob and Tanner seemed to be the only two who had no tear stains trailing down their dirty cheeks after the wrestling match.)

Janie Mae frowned. For good measure, took aim and shot one squirt from the Roundup into the “eye” of the flower.