There were no more American-flag pinwheels in town; Harlan Mayfield had bought them all. Not because he was particularly patriotic, but because they were on sale after Fourth of July and he needed them to drive away the moles. The week prior, the moles had entered his backyard from the easterly side, over by Leon Shanklin’s place, and had since begun to meander north, leaving long slow tracks across the lawn. Harlan’s yard had never been the finest, despite his multiple attempts to seed it, even bringing in a professional at one point, if professional meant his wife’s third cousin