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Moving past the barn, Booth, the Sheriff and Sweets walked down the dirt road, through some woods and into a small clearing. A single wide trailer was sitting in the middle of the clearing. It was an old trailer, but it seemed to be in good repair. A green, F150 pickup was parked next to the trailer.

Wary of Carl Decker's reputation, Booth gazed around the clearing before he walked over to the steps leading up to the door. Once there, he climbed half way up, leaned towards the door and knocked. He then backed down the steps and stood with the group waiting to see if Carl would come to the door. After a couple of minutes had passed, the trailer door opened. Standing in the doorway, Carl saw the Sheriff and possibly some Federal Agents. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Carl walked slowly down the stairs. Not sure what was going on, Carl faced the Sheriff. "What's up, Sheriff?"

Watching Carl for his reaction, Sheriff Dunkle shook his head. "Bad news, Carl . . . We've found your brother . . . He's dead."

Turning pale, Carl took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on his hips. "What did you say?"

He knew Carl had heard him, but he repeated himself. "Adam is dead . . . His body, along with Christy Clark's body, was found a few days ago. The FBI are looking into their murders." Pointing at Booth, the Sheriff continued, "This is Special Agent Booth. He'd like to talk to you about Adam."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Decker." Booth stayed where he was and kept an eye on Carl's hands. "Do you know why Adam and his girlfriend Christy Clark may have been murdered? Was Adam in trouble with anyone? Do you know if anyone had threatened him or her before they disappeared?"

Carl rubbed his eyes, trying to keep from crying. "Are you sure they were murdered, Agent Booth? I mean . . . I don't know why anyone would kill those two. They were harmless especially Christy."

Booth nodded his head. "They were definitely murdered, Mr. Decker. Their bodies were placed in barrels and the barrels were sealed. I don't know where the barrels have been, but they showed up a few days ago, floating in the Juniata River. You don't know of any threats that were made against your brother or Christy Clark?"

Filled with sadness, Carl wiped a few tears from his cheeks that had escaped his lashes. "The only threats that Adam ever got and that I knew about were from Tom Sparks and Jesse Winters, but that was a long time ago. I'd think if they were going to kill Adam then they would have done it years ago, not now. That wouldn't make any sense." Pausing, Carl thought about the situation. "You know . . . did you know that Christy was working on a book on the early families of Bedford County?"

Puzzled, Booth nodded his head. "Yes, her father told us. Do you think that's significant?"

Nodding his head, Carl grimly explained why. "I sure do. Christy found some old documents in a bible that belonged to Mavis Ford. Mavis gave the bible to Christy for her research. Mavis's son, Woodrow, found out about it and was making a lot of noise about it. Adam told me, just before he disappeared, that Woody tracked him and her down one day at Fort Bedford and made all kinds of threats if Christy didn't hand the bible and any documents she found in it back to Woody. Adam said that Woody scared the hell out of Christy."

This information was new to Booth and the Sheriff and it was promising. Glancing at the Sheriff then back at Carl, Booth asked the man, "Do you know what the documents were that Woody Ford was so upset about?"

Carl looked at the Sheriff and back at Booth. "Sure, Adam said the documents have to do with the land controversy over in Hopewell Township. The one between the Samuel Ford descendants and the Thomas Ford descendants."

The expression on the Sheriff's face interested Booth. His gaze moving from the Sheriff back to Carl, Booth decided that Carl had hit a sore spot with the Sheriff. "Is this land controversy important?"

Laughing bitterly, Sheriff Dunkle crossed his arms against his chest. "Maybe not important to outsiders, but very important in this county. When Martin Ford died, he had two sons by two different wives. Martin left a will leaving everything to his first son, Samuel Ford. The second son, Thomas Ford swore that his father had written a new will, splitting up everything between the two brothers. Since the second will was never found, Samuel Ford inherited a hell of a lot of land and Thomas Ford didn't get squat. Those families have been feuding ever since."

Curious, Booth stared at the sheriff. "Would these documents be worth killing over?"

Disgusted with the whole thing, Dunkle nodded his head. "You bet . . . We're talking about a hell of a lot of land. If the will showed up now, I can imagine there would be a hell of a lawsuit put against the descendants of Samuel Ford. It would be a huge mess and would probably create a hell of a lot of trouble for the descendants of Samuel Ford and believe me, the Thomas Ford descendants would like nothing better than to cause trouble for their distant cousins. They really hate each other."

"Enough to kill for?" Sweets interjected.

Nodding his head, Carl turned to look at the younger man. "You bet your ass."

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Meeting back at their vehicles, Booth glanced at the darkening sky. "It's getting late, Sheriff. Can we meet again tomorrow and go see this Woody Ford? I think we should really talk to him."

Sheriff Dunkle agreed. "Sure . . . I'll meet you at my office tomorrow at 9 a.m. We'll go over to Woody Ford's place of work from there."

Walking over to his car, Sheriff Dunkle entered his car and started up the engine. Sighing, the Sheriff thought about the feud. "Dam it, why now?" Putting his car in gear, he drove off leaving Booth and Sweets standing next to Booth's SUV.

After the Sheriff left, Sweets opened the passenger door. "He looked very unhappy walking back to his car."

Booth pulled his notebook out of his jacket pocket and jotted down a few notes. " I would be too, if I was the Sheriff around here. If that document really exists and comes to light then the shit is going to hit the fan and Sheriff Dunkle is not going to be able to avoid getting hit by some of it. It's a lose lose situation."

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That evening, Booth called home from his hotel room. he smiled when he heard Brennan's voice on the line. Hey, Bones. How was your day? How's your arm?"

Pleased to hear Booth's voice, Brennan smiled. "Don't worry Booth, the bruises on my arm are not quite as painful as they have been. My day went very well. I took a vacation day and stayed home to take care of some things I wanted to do around the apartment. Dad came over for a visit and stayed most of the afternoon. He just left a few minutes ago."

Wary, Booth had to ask her. "Max didn't buy Christine anything, did he?"

Brennan knew that he would ask her that. Booth could be so predictable sometimes. "I told Dad that he needed to stop bringing presents to Christine every time he comes over for a visit. He said he will try to refrain from overindulging. He says he's impulsive, so he doesn't know if he'll be able to completely comply with our wishes."

He missed her and Booth didn't want to talk about Max. "Forget about Max . . . Tell me, what are you wearing?"

Puzzled, Brennan thought that question was odd. "I have on a sweat shirt and running shorts. Why?"

Grinning, Booth teased her. "I plan to dream about you tonight and I wanted to know what you're going to be wearing in my dream."

Not sure if Booth was joking, Brennan advised him. "I don't think that's how dreams work Booth. You can't just pick what you want to dream about."

Chuckling, Booth imagined the adorable little crinkle between her eyes when she was confused. "Oh they do in my dreams. Tonight, when I'm dreaming about you, you're going to be wearing a sweat shirt and a pair of sexy running shorts."

Her gaze sweeping down, Brennan ran her left hand down the side of her shorts. "I don't think my running shorts would be considered sexy, Booth. I'm wearing the ones that I spilled bleach on."

Sighing, Booth rubbed his brow. "Work with me Bones . . . Don't destroy a beautiful dream before I even have it."

Laughing, Brennan decided to play along. "Well in that case . . . I lied to you. I'm wearing the running shorts that you said are too short for me to wear in public."

Amused, Booth smiled at the thought of those shorts. "That's my girl." Thinking about it further, Booth started to worry. "Uh, Bones . . . you aren't really wearing those shorts are you? I mean, you promised me that you would only wear those to sleep in. They're way too short . . . I mean the bottom of your ass practically shows in those."

Brennan decided to be naughty since he had wanted something to dream about. "You'll never know."

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