Chapter 21Andrew Maxwell lifted the back door on his SUV and removed a stocked cooler (the one with a handle, and wheels for pulling around easier), a white, five-gallon bucket with two fishing poles, a net, and his tackle box. He set the bucket on the top of the cooler. By the strap—his Ozark chair, he slung over a shoulder.
Maxwell wished he'd gotten out earlier. He'd slept in, which rarely happened, but when it did, it didn't matter. The fish bite better in the morning. His day wasn't about catching fish. It wasn't like he'd eat a thing he plucked out from Lake Ontario. It was the relaxation of the sport. Regardless, earlier mornings were still better. Watching the sunrise was part of the relaxation gig he enjoyed most.
Fall was his favorite time of year. He wore an orange hoodie unde
